Every day is the same thing, the same routine. Every morning I wake up earlier than I would like too, and waste my daylight inside a confined concrete building that feeds off of conformed thinking and dead end ideas. Seated at desks, row after row, are robots in training being programmed by words written on white walls with various colors, coded for correction.
We walk the halls of so- called "social structure" like veins and arteries with no source of life. Sit. Stand. Strut. No strolling. We must coagulate with the clicks of the clock. Strive. They cut our wires and reroute them periodically. Don't soar. Stay. They have us tied down by the laces of our shoes to keep us here, to keep us from wandering, because wandering leads to wondering. We are each a 12 point letter, of the same font, standing, double spaced, staring at the same blank paper in front of us.
Except every now and then, there's someone that gives off a little more reception than is acceptable. Between the cords connecting our control panels is cartilage, flowing through our system software is life and thoughts and memory. When our thumb drive is hooked up to our monitor, our eyes open bigger, with three cones, we see a spectrum that was once incapable. When we leave our daily life with a wrong, or right, turn we feel the drops of water falling from the sky on our hands and we don't immediately go up in flames, instead we let out a sigh of relief.
The next day I try to install this into others, but only to be told I am simply short circuited. But I know better now, I am not malfunctioning. I was struck by lightning and now my brain is storming.
short story we had to write for graphic design class to inspire surreal imagery
