A little fun piece that I wrote a few years back. I like it as it is, and I like it as a first chapter. Never been able to make up my mind. Keep it as a very short short story, or write on… So I’m asking.
Short Story or First Chapter?
The day I finally got my powers.
I’ve always hated other people for irrational reasons. Many people do, I guess, but my hate was deep, and my irrationality wide and all encompassing. I felt like a hawk living among fish, always asking myself, something is wrong here, I’m not like these people, but never being able to truly understand why.
My anger did not recede as my teenage years disappeared from view with the ebbing tide of time. I became a young adult. Throughout my twenties, my hate for humanity became a riptide that consistently pulled at my sanity with momentous force. I felt like I was about loose my grip and sink into a deep and endless abyss from which not even light escapes.
“What is this hate?” You may ask, and you’d be right to ask, but it’s difficult to rationally explain an irrational thing.
Hate. Such a strange little word. What does it even mean: to hate? Have you ever asked yourself that question? Oh, I know you’ve felt hate, but have you ever stopped to ask yourself what hate really is? What purpose it serves?
I can see it so clearly now. Everything is so clear. Hate is the mechanism by which humans become robots.
No. Not real robots. However, truly predictable, preprogrammed biological machines; yes.
I was such a machine. By my thirties there was nothing left of me. Having completely eroded my reason even the hate receded leaving me to my empty programmed existence. I was made into a machine and I never saw it coming.
It was a strange time in my life. Almost absurd.
The first thing I did when I got my powers was to completely disintegrate my alarm clock. The bondage starts with the alarm clock, that’s how they get you, and I was never, ever, ever again going to be a slave to that hellish destroyer of souls ever again.