That, and reading Clowncar's excellent post about the beautiful Einstein lens forged of raw space stuff and gravity got me thinking science, and about how frighteningly little we really know about anything, and my mind stuck the two together like some sort of bizarre Reese's Cup.
"You got your sleek elegant science in my poor grasp of diction!" "A-hyuck, I got my-all purdy mouth on yer science."
Naturally this is utter fiction, no intent to match any reality or other dimension's reality. I tried very hard NOT to write like me, tried to write this as someone entirely different, someone writing in their little secret diary they keep under the mattress. I tried to avoid writing like I knew what I was doing, in other words. Feedback is very strongly desired.
I'm going to do it today. Going to kill myself. I can't stand the touching anymore.
We were so stupid. People. All of us. God we were stupid, and so full of ourselves. I've got the newspaper article here, going to leave it marking my place so--shit, I don't know why. I just am. I can see the headline in my sleep: "Large Halon Collider Test A Success! 'God Particle' Found!"
I can see it rippling. They're touching it. They touch every goddamned thing. Everything all the time moving, everything always being touched. Everything ripples, moves, tears. Everything is always moving.
God what idiots they must have been. I hope they all died first. Actually, no. I hope they're still alive, all of them. I HOPE they're alive to see the piles of bodies, alive to hear the news reports about the mass suicides, the pacts, the religious crazies. I heard China has been setting up suicide assistance places, where people line up by the thousands so army men can shoot them and toss them in huge lime pits. I hope those big-heads are constantly being TOUCHED, skin crawling all the time with plucking, groping...whatever they have for fingers.
Someone at the soup line today was saying that she'd heard that it had almost opened a door, that we almost let...everything, she said. "They almost let EVERYTHING through." But not quite. It was more like cracking the window a little bit, so that the wind can get in but not the birds and the tigers. Just enough room to stick a finger through to TOUCH us. Something. Some things. From nobody knows where. All we know is that after it happened, people started going crazy. Being touched all the time, everything. People, things, the water, everything, like we're all forever being poked and groped and touched by something we can't see, something just outside of your vision, like being poked in the dark and not knowing who or what touched you. All the time. All the goddamned time.
I can't stand it anymore. I've got my brother's .38 Police Special. It's funny, I can hear him saying it all important, like when he brought it home. "Police. Special." Like you could hear the capital letters. Once in a while it moves just a tiny bit as They poke it, touch it, stroke it. Get your fingers off it, you creeps. It's his. Mine. Not yours.
I like how it feels. Like a machine, all cold and dead. Like I'm going to be shortly. Like it's going to make me. That way I won't feel the touching anymore.
Its funny. I used to ask my boyfriend to touch me. I'd lean over and let my blouse open up, let him see my tits, ask him to touch them. Open my legs and ask him to touch me. He died four days ago. Walked around the safety thing at his work and right into some kinda machine. Tore him to bits. How could I have ever wanted anyone anything to touch me? I'm bruised all over. The painkillers don't even make me sleep anymore. I'm tired of waking up screaming, tired of waking up feeling fingers tentacles whatever They have touching me all over, mauling me, hurting me. They say they know how to stop it. That's bullshit. All I got to say is they'd better hurry up before there's no-one else left to help.
I lasted longer than you by four days, Steve. hah.
Yeah, I Hope you live. I hope you find this, you Turd. I hope you read it. You and your clever ideas about finding God. I bet you didn't know God had a million billion fingers to push and prod and grope. I hope you like being touched, you fucker.
I'll see you in Hell.