I wrote this piece last week and once it was on "paper", I decided not to submit it. It was just too depressing and lacked a degree of "sci-fi-ness". However, reading today's tomorrow, I thought now it would be appropriate as a Day After under the guise of someone who would be a customer for immotality pills or at the very least omniscience pills. So here goes....
Melancholy of a Cluttered Mind
by Michael "Freeman" Herbaugh
A Day After for Remedies by Ian Rennie
Would we really accomplish anything if we could use 100% of our brain? I’ve read the Internet and believe me we’re just not that interesting. History, autobiography, fiction, non-fiction, science-fiction, romance, mystery, everything has been done, the rest is all plagiarism, libraries no longer hold intrigue for me. With a reading rate of 100,000 pages per second, what’s that? 3.15 trillion pages in a year. We’ll round down to 3 trillion for food and bathroom breaks.
I know now how to achieve a medical/gene therapy sense of immortality, but why would I want it? Depression, now that is a universal truth in the cold emptiness of space. Ignorance is bliss – I’ve wandered down “Lobotomy Row” but truth be told I’m too cowardly to reverse the procedure on my own. Could I live with not knowing what I used to know?
Time consumption, distraction, that’s what I seek now. Encryption hacking that was good for a year and gave me access to other distractions. It provided access to all the Hubble footage and projects of the like, another year down and gone is my sense of awe with it. I’d love to dig up my old teacher who used the line “Knowledge for knowledge’s sake”. I’d do some desecration on his ass.
Truth be told, I’m bored. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. My greatest challenge? Testing every theory about surpassing C, the speed of light. It can’t be done. There, I’ve crushed the spirit of most science fiction fans out there. Are you happy now? I’ve gotta get off this rock, but how?
If I could develop a personality disorder, then at least I’d have someone to talk to. But it would only be an affectation, so I’ve spent the last two decades mute.
I’ve tried to shut it down, shutting out thought, a null state. Couldn’t do it. So I sit, in my humble home with my hand full of take out menus, waiting. Waiting for the aliens to arrive, it’s my only hope for something new, a distraction. I can’t reach them, so I wait for them to come to me. That or death.
Have I depressed you?
I’m sorry, I’m just messing with you. Knowing everything is fantastic! I drive a Vector. Know exactly what to say to any beautiful girl I meet, in any language. I travel the world. I have all-access passes everywhere and am the first to see, hear or play with new stuff every day. Food you would not believe, sensory inputs to astound.
I wish. I really should get back on my meds.