The Sentient Grape

A grape is a fruit, botanically a berry, of the deciduous woody vines of the flowering plant genus Vitis- Wikipedia

It was there, it knew it was there. It couldn’t see because it had no eyes, it didn’t know it couldn’t see. If you asked it and if it could talk, which it can’t, it would say ‘well what is seeing anyway?’.

Though to talk properly and fine… like the gentle people of old, one must know language. The Grape only knew it was there, with no touch and no sensation to behold whatsoever and even if the grape wanted to learn language, it couldn’t, unless language was injected into the sentience within that sweet mass that we call flesh.

But language isn’t something you inject. It’s something you hear, and like touch, like speech, like sight, a grape can’t hear as it has no ears. The sentient grape only sat or lay? Whatever grapes do.

It didn’t know what it was missing either, which makes something that seems like torture not such a bad thing.

Unless it was one of those grapes that knew there was more in life and wanted it. But I don’t think a single grape in history has ever thought that. Not that I’d know.

This grape was unlike all grapes only because it knew it was there. It had a sensation of being, even though it was just a lot (or a little) of senseless nothingness.

This grape was like most grapes because it was otherwise unremarkable. It was purple, oval shaped. I mean, it probably tasted funny, with all that sentience.

What this grape thought about was really a mystery, with such a clear, uninterrupted, unadulterated mind…
Could this state of being be unlocking bliss!?
Nirvana?
Was this grape experiencing constant extacy? Unlocking the secrets of the universe with its life filled, sentient grape-flesh?
Does the grape with no discernible reason for being, know the reason for being?
Is this grape wise because it knows nothing?
At the precipice of its very nature, has the grape learned of what it is, to be one?

On the other hand, the grape could be stuck.
Stuck in that moment, you know it, we’ve all felt it.
That moment, where for some reason you are disappointed that there is no much more in life.
I mean this grape has no sensory glands, it can’t feel!
It could just be thinking, in its languageless style.
This is it.

 

The Greenbacked Graveyard Monster

A B-grade story-

For the fifth time that night Philip thought he saw a figure in the gloomy distance.
If he stays in one spot it looks like a human standing or loitering, it could be smoking a cigarette or checking it’s watch.  Whenever he decided to investigate it, it would transform into a bush or a monument.

Phil knows he is paranoid and he hates his shitty security job for exacerbating his thoughts. But it is the best paying job he has ever had and he wants to prove he wasn’t a bum. He didn’t have anyone to prove it too. His mum and Dad were dead and his brother Michael WAS a bum. If he had other family than Michael, he really doesn’t want to know about it. They weren’t there for him or Michael after the accident and in Phils eyes that was pretty unforgivable.

He’s 40 now and this will probably be the best job he will ever have, yep, security for a Church and Graveyard, not too shabby, worse jobs, even though graveyards give him the creeps.

There it is again!
Another figure.
Phil decides to ignore it and go the other way, to the rich part of the graveyard. No weird figures down there probably. He turns his head back and saw the figure was closer. He couldn’t make out what it was. This confuses him, his eyesight was usually pretty good and it was a full bloody moon! He ignores it again. Light trickery paired with the residual paranoia from previous heavy drug use can make life pretty scary if you let it.

Phil wishes he had a cigarette but knew he quit for a reason. He had realised he loved life and bungers were too expensive. He is saving for a house- or at least a deposit. He isn’t even close but knew he wasn’t gonna stop trying, to have a house for his brother, to nurse him back to health, that’s all he really wants.

He is almost amongst the upper echelons of graveyard society when he hears some creepy laughter… “oh mann, fuck this job.”
It sounds like a woman. He knew it is his duty to investigate, even though he really didn’t want to. He walks towards the laughter and sees a bit of light waving around, some kids were playing voodoo. Jesus Christ the Priest told him about this. “Graveyards aren’t that scary” with a smile that looked like it was put up with used blue tack. “Most of the time it’s just kids you have to deal with” (what do you mean most of the time?!), “Besides I always feel closer to god down here”.

“HEY KIDS SCRAM!” They all look over. One, a confident teenager, might as well be a woman in her thirties walks up to him seductively and says “don’t you wanna join us old man?” He wanted his job, he wanted them to leave. “No, I need you to leave”.
“We’ll give you this to leave us alone?” She opens her hand and $100 fall out onto the well-kept grass. He picks it up and walks way.

Out of eyesight, he heard a guttural scream.
He ran back.
There was nothing but a blood trail.
& a sound…
Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

Angela

The next big thing for Angela is to make the world whisper her name and shudder at her immensity.
A beautiful young lady with a heart of steel and an idea greater than all the rest.
Her thoughts compunctuate whatever that means and she sets out to take on the world.
Because it’s that simple dammit and she’ll be damned if it isn’t.
She walks with purpose from her home town made of stone into the big city made of marble and thrusts her tired sore bloody dirty feet in the face of the bigman in charge.
He’s not impressed, even though she walked a million miles in bare feet while he was driving to work.
She leaves mad and vindictive.
She goes to the next man in charge, he tells her to beat it and that he doesn’t want to see her dirty bloodied feet. It hurts his sensibilities.
Angelas feet are tired and their feelings are hurt, even though Angela was sure they should be a badge of tenacity.
But in this city they didn’t care, not really.
She jived peacefully to the next stop and saw a bum with a camera, she asked him to take a picture, he said “of what?” she said of my bloodied tenacious feet, He said mine are more honorable than yours and he held up his feet which were ground down into foot shaped stubs.
Angela gasped and took his camera, took a photo of their feet and their sad faces. Though Angela had a bit of hope left in her eyes.
She made flyers with her photos asking for support.
But the police tore them down, it affected their delicate sensibilities.

Another story about Mina

The simple rays of sunshine blew the creeping forgetfulness to the forefront of Mina’s mind. She was hard on herself for it.
She would justify it by saying to the people she loved that she wouldn’t forget the story you told her a week ago, but she would forget your birthday.
It’s normal to be forgetful, probably… and life is normal and the world will continue its cycle even though at many moments Mina felt like it should just stop.

Is life normal? it’s weird and painful at the best of times.

Mina was in a field that was greener than it had been for the past year, they had just received rain. You could see the refreshing beauty in the life of the world, so upbeat and ready to continue as if it never stopped, because, of course, it hadn’t. It had only rained and that was all. It wasn’t a fresh new beginning, just a cycle that would either continue, slow down, speed up or end.

She was waiting in this green, fresh field; she didn’t really have a reason for waiting. Perhaps she felt like she needed to be there. She was waiting though, because she expected something to happen. She hoped for a new friend or a catastrophe of sorts but knew if someone walked past she would not have the courage to say hello. So, she pinned this impromptu meeting with an unlikely party on them engaging the conversation, which perhaps added to the unlikelihood of this exchange of greetings.

She hasn’t seen anyone in this field, so the chance of her meeting someone now is high in her mind. Someone is bound to walk by, sooner or later.

Though statistically, she would have more chance at a bar or in the city. She knew this, but she wanted to meet someone in the field because a bar doesn’t have this openness and freedom that the wind acquiesces every time it brushes past her.

It was early morning and she had all day, so life could finally give her something like she has been waiting for, for so long. She doesn’t know if she deserves a gift from life but it doesn’t stop her from wanting for one. If life can happen like this – what is all around her – from nowhere then let it.

Mina was frustrated at life, at the cycles, at the rain and at the subtle beauty and simpleness of large green fields. She felt like she was cheated. Why does life deserve to be so beautiful and free? Why are we so accepting in its unfairness and judicial-like decisions of who lives and dies? who is successful and who becomes a pauper? Who is weak and who is strong?

She begins to think humans are in a desperate battle with life, or that humans are like jaded lovers. Who have accepted all that life can give them without sacrificing its own integrity, but still felt like they deserved more. Humans want more, they want to decide who is weak and who is strong, who lives and who dies, they want to take all of life’s decisions with a grain of salt. But they can’t take all of what life has to offer, other than life itself.

Mina realises all of this, again, while she is waiting for life to hand her excitement on a silver platter in a boring green field just after the sun has risen and the rains have stopped. Her excitement wasn’t in the anticipation of waiting, though that would have been swell. Her excitement (if you could call it that) was found in the past when life had already given her everything. She had been Queen of her own world, but even then, her loveless eyes wandered each room searching for something that life couldn’t give her. She did get married, but continuous love for someone else wasn’t in her blood. She would never be so boring. In those times, she wanted to love someone who had something interesting, who was always interesting and she knew, really, that deep down in her heart that wasn’t possible

She knew it was futile to wait, but that’s what she had been doing for as long as she could remember. Mina laughed at this thought because her memory couldn’t be that bad if she was remembering the shades of this field through all the seasons and suddenly she was sad that she had been so hard on herself for a ‘not as good as the best’ memory.

She brushes off her morning ritual with an easy walk into town to visit her friend Lachlan who would have some coffee ready. He would drink plunger coffee from the moment he woke all the way into the afternoon and he never minded sharing with Mina. Mina supposed he liked the company, she did, but she liked the coffee more.

Lachlan and Mina were in a mediocre conversation when Lachlan’s dog jumped on Mina’s lap, Mina didn’t mind, this dog was special because it loved her unconditionally. She didn’t need to give it anything, because Lachlan fed and watered it, if she didn’t want to give the dog attention, the dog wouldn’t cry or sook in the corner or in plain sight and make her feel guilty for not giving love that she didn’t have inside her at the time.

Mina was tired as it was nearly midday and she had been up since four in the morning but the coffee kept her alert. She had a doctor’s appointment soon. It was a follow up on a nasty lump she had found on her right breast. She thought the worst. Life is an unfair and impartial judge she surmised, she is forty-eight, perhaps that is long enough on this earth anyway. She touched it and it hurt.

She waited in the doctor’s office for much longer than she intended. Why is it that doctors can change the rules of time more than any other profession? Mina supposed that the more people need a profession, the more susceptible the profession is to become arrogant and untimely. This was a dull view and Mina knew it. She knew it because sometimes doctor’s appointments take much longer than anticipated and if she lacked love, she still had compassion above all things.

The doctor assured her she was going to be alright, it was just a cyst. Mina was mostly indifferent to the news and would only think of her boring and beautiful green field. She was, of course, filled with relief but she couldn’t get it out of her head that she had seen her doctor hide a packet of cigarettes in his drawer when she entered. What sort of doctor smokes? Is it really that hard to give up? She thought that if you were a doctor you would have respect for all life, even your own. She felt like she still had a lot to learn and was suddenly grateful for the diagnosis.

The doctor watched this train of thought and was not to sure what to think about this reaction, usually the patient is overjoyed immediately. The doctor asked Mina if she was alright, Mina replied courteously with a distinct yes than asked the doctor why he smoked.
The doctor was shocked and lied accordingly and said he didn’t.
Mina was curious at this lie and replied sharply that she saw his cigarettes,
The doctor fumbled for an excuse and said they were given to him by a patient,
Mina immediately asked why a patient would give their doctor a packet of cigarettes.
The doctor crumbled under the pressure and said that the addiction had taken hold in the seventies and he couldn’t shake it.
Mina asked how many the doctor had in a day.
The doctor said only one.
Mina was sympathetic and asked the doctor if the quota had been reached for today.
The doctor said it hadn’t
Mina asked if the doctor would give her one for a quick smoke outside.
The doctor asked if he could join her.
Mina said yes.

Mina walked outside, down the ramp and to the back of the doctors’ office, the doctor soon found her and told her that they should go someplace else.
Mina said she wouldn’t and the doctor lit Mina’s cigarette and got in his car and drove away.
Mina smoked the cigarette slowly, she didn’t cough, though at one moment the smoke got into her eyes which made her start to think of her teenage years and all her bold moments involving cigarettes at school. She was unstoppable then.
How foolish,
She would often look back on those moments with regret, even when she justified it by saying she was just a child. She was often embarrassed and chose to shut those memories out of her mind by saying out loud “I am not an arrogant child anymore”
She knew she was though, it was in her nature to make decisions without studying the outliers that often surround the intended outcome.
She would unintentionally hurt others for as long as she lived. But she justified it slightly as she had always been unintentionally hurt as well, perhaps she was only a product of her environment.
Many would take advantage of her and she would not see it as a slight but only as nature.
Nature took advantage of you, but then, she thought about life and how it never took advantage of anyone, it only gave answers that were realistic regarding the sum put forth, and if nature is life embodied than nature does not have to be an unintentional gamble of hurt and gain.
But who says nature is life really? Nature can embody life exactly how one can put on a suit and heels and become an instant professional.

Her original thoughts were always arrogant in her own objective view, because who was she to begin to understand life anyway.
She put out her cigarette with her shoes and left it in the gutter where her memories of arrogant youth belong.
As she walked away someone yelled at her to bin her butt.
She kept walking but heard the person approaching shouting and trying to get her attention.
The person finally reached her and grabbed her shoulder, “hey” the person said holding out her squashed butt “I don’t care if you treat your body like shit, just don’t treat our environment like it” Mina took the used cigarette, turned and kept walking, found an overflowing bin and stuffed her shame underneath a plastic bag full of discarded papers and fast food containers.
“people need to take more care” Mina heard the person say as she walked away from him.
Mina knew she needed to take more care, that’s what people had been saying to her for her entire life, she just didn’t know how and she didn’t have that instinct to want to care and love and make life enjoyable.
She started to cry because she felt like she had failed the basic purpose of life and nothing could make it better.

After her morning ritual in the field, she didn’t usually return till the next day, but she needed to be there. She needed to feel the prospect of life’s gift, perhaps the anticipation was her excitement.
She walked back to the field, sad that her life was so meaningless and that it was her fault for not being able to make it meaningful and that it was life’s fault for not giving her anything meaningful or exciting or wonderful to hold onto and let go whenever she wanted.

It started to rain, Mina didn’t care, she felt sick and lifeless as she made her way to the field and when she got there she sat down wishing the world would let her join its endless cadaver and  she offered herself up to it as she was, to either end her monotonous sadness or let her feel and engage in the experiment of human consciousness.

She knew then that life wouldn’t give her anything, that the world wouldn’t give her anything and that nature wouldn’t give her anything. No matter how much she thought she was owed. She resigned to numbness and left her field to return to her home that was leaking slightly from her chimney into her fireplace.

She couldn’t start a fire even if she wanted to, she got fed up and called a handyman. He gave her the number to a local chimney repair company, she called them. They said they wouldn’t be able to work in the rain and would come over as soon as the rain stopped.

The rain continued for two days and Mina resigned herself to bed, waiting for this visit.

When the rain stopped, Mina knew she would be expecting company and gave Lachlan a call. She asked him to come over and bring his dog. Lachlan was delighted to, as he had missed her the last couple of days.
He asked her if she wanted him to bring a movie or a board game. Mina told him he could do whatever he liked, so he brought over scrabble and an obscure art house film called ‘a girl on a motorcycle’.
They played Scrabble, Lachlan thought he was going to win as he was a writer, but Mina had a way with words and strategy, she won with her placement of high scoring letters on the double word score tiles.
The movie inspired Mina to get a motorcycle, Lachlan was abhorred at the idea and told her she mustn’t.
Mina brushed this aside and began looking for motorcycles for sale on her computer.
The repair people soon came and fixed the chimney.

Lachlan was bored and asked if Mina wanted him to collect some wood for a fire.
Mina thought this was a swell idea and shooed Lachlan and his patient little dog to her garden shed where she still had some wood from last season.
Lachlan brought back enough wood to feed the fire for at least a few hours and they sat in mediocre conversation and delectable warmth for the remainder of the day.
Lachlan made coffee with Mina’s blackened percolator and they spoke about motorcycles and coffee.
Mina was indifferent to the coffee it could be anything as long as it was black and Lachlan loathed the motorcycle idea because he was worried it could kill her.
Lachlan was originally from South Africa and in his teenage years all his friends bought motorcycles and several of them had died quite quickly after purchasing them.
Mina assured him that she would be safe and receive proper training.
Lachlan knew it would probably be alright and he had no control over his friends’ life motorcycle or not, but still was undeterred and told her she mustn’t!

Mina started to become distraught and told Lachlan she needed this.
Lachlan didn’t register the sadness and told her she didn’t and life is better lived.
Mina felt more strongly about her decision and with courage told Lachlan that she never felt like she was living properly anyway.
Lachlan was confused at this and offered Mina more coffee.
Mina told him to leave and that next time he sees her, she will be wearing a helmet and smiling underneath.

Three weeks later Mina’s neighbourhood woke earlier than usual as she started her second-hand Yamaha and rode it down to her boring, beautiful green field to catch life continuing itself once again.

Take A Walk Son.

Into the bush, we listen…
As the water moves & slowly carves toward the city where we hold our hearts ransom.
And the brown rocks and red dirt get covered and shifted and dispossessed.
Leaves pile up uncertain how long they will be there.
And Movement happens like a classical piece minus the love, minus the emotion.

We breathe life and exhale into this world from the one screeching our names.
And as we move innocently the wind brushes past with force that makes the might trees rumble and your body shiver and quake.
And you examine time as a makeshift answer because society has its problems so each raindrop is a minute that teaches you to move faster until you need to stop and observe your footing and witness mushrooms shaped like orange peels and gumnuts chewed up and flicked casually by the rulers of the skies.

Do you think we make an impact as we step carelessly into a puddle?
Or nip an odd mushroom with our heels as it flourishes on this tough, gritty terrain!
Silence but winds & our footsteps as we make our solemn march home.

A story about Mina

Mina
Painting by Arna Baartz @ http://www.artofkundalini.com

Mina placed the last piece of cutlery on the table. It was part of an antique silverware set her grandmother left to her when she passed. Mina knew her grandmother would be delighted to see her using the set for a dinner party.

She looked at the clock, it was nearly seven and her guests weren’t here yet, her husband hadn’t returned home either and he finished work at five. This wasn’t the first time he had done this and he never had a real excuse for why not.

Mina didn’t mind, she didn’t love him enough to mind, she wasn’t sure if she ever loved him at all. She supposed she only really loved him once because he was interesting and unusual and would do things which surprised her, once he woke before dawn to climb a hill and take a photo of the sunrise for her so she wouldn’t have to wake up early to see it.

It was a beautiful photo but it was nothing now. Mina thought he was out there in the city with all the beautiful girls in the world, this would suit her just fine because then at least he would be interesting again. She imagined him, with his tailored suit and beautiful eyes buying a drink for a younger prettier and fun version of her.

She was surprised at how jealous she was; doesn’t he know that he can take me out and buy me a drink? If he would just tell me something interesting I would be interested. Since when did it become a wife’s duty to act interested in every boring thing her partner says?

Mina returned to the living room and picked up the phone to call her husband but there was no answer and she didn’t leave a message.

She collected his place from the table, Mina refused to be embarrassed by her husband again and would not satisfy her guests (who are ruthless gossips) with an unsatisfactory answer. Mina would lie and say he was out of town because if she could help it, he will be by the end of the night.

Chonza- Chapter 1: Crisis

A dull morning, the sun, like always, was covered by smog and acid rain clouds, “you wouldn’t know it was there if you were born yesterday” Jacobs’ would always say.
You wouldn’t know anything if you were born yesterday, Michael thought, At least that was his general impression from all the newborns he has ever met, though he has only met one.
It was Michaels’ impression that Jacobs isn’t very smart.
The fertility of humans (and all animals for that matter) is so bleak that the population of all living things is maybe only 10 percent of what it once was. The Earth is quieter now than almost any other time in its history, Michael is depressed, he thinks this is the reason.
His doctors think it’s a lack of Vitamin B and they added it to his daily Vitamin injection.
Michael remembers food and tries to think of it whilst enduring his morning shots, he could only conjure up a vague memory of his fathers’ thirtieth birthday, everyone eating some succulent pork from the spit, the smell. That’s what he could remember, the smell.
Food is expensive now, still available, but much more expensive. Most people live off shots of essential vitamins and minerals and a cheap stomach filler. This is bleak and Michael thinks this could be another reason for his depression.
On his way to work, Michael passes ancient fast food outlets, reduced to selling imitation chips and flavoured filler. People like the familiarity of take-out. Restaurants aren’t accessible to regular people anymore.
It’s not really fast food since a vending machine injection takes seconds, it’s just an outdated term that people still use to feel like everything is normal.
At work, Michael and Jacobs’ are the yes men for an eccentric Philanthropist named Sam who has pledged to solve the problems of the world. So far, he’s come up with the vitamin shots… Michael despises Sam for this and wishes he could’ve come up with something better.
Michael wants to drown himself in beer, he had gotten a taste for it in college but then the malt and barley fields died. The liquor that is available has become so tainted with artificial additives that he can’t drink a shot without getting an almost immediate headache.
Jacobs drinks the stuff like a fish, he also looks a little like a fish, with those bug eyes that seem to stick on the side of his face, not so much that he doesn’t look normal, but just slightly. He’s got a short pointy nose and a long face. Michael can’t stand him. He hasn’t done anything wrong, but his demeanour is off-putting and he occasionally makes obscene jokes that would have only been at home in the 20th century.
Jacobs is waiting out the front of work, which is really just a warehouse with a bunch of smarties and a couple of go-getters (Michael and Jacobs) inside.
Jacobs says immediately “we got our work cut out for us buddy”
“What do you mean?” Michael replied
“Apparently Fast Foods not making any profits and people are dodging their shots. It seems they would rather starve” Jacobs was glad he has the upper hand “don’t you read the news?”.
“I skimmed through it” depressed about this also, Michael didn’t want to go into why he doesn’t keep up with current affairs even though it’s part of his job.
“Well they’re rioting, people want real food, apparently.” Jacobs starts walking into the warehouse.
“Not much we can do about it” Michael replies opening the door to see Sam waiting on the other side.
“That’s no attitude to have their little buddy, you two are late.” Sam said condescendingly “I’m not paying you for destitution, I’m paying you for Institution! I want an idea from both of you by lunchtime”
“nice one” Jacobs leered at Michael.

Walking with Sprites

 

ARNA BAARTZ ARTIST
Art by Arna Baartz @ http://www.artofkundalini.com

“Alright, let’s go,” the man said to his little pup, and they walked out of the yard and onto the sidewalk.
It was getting dark, but the man thought he’d be back in time and you don’t need sunlight to walk your dog.
He was proud of how the dog was walking beside him and following his commands, he had never done anything well in his life, but he can train a dog.
He decided to take the back route home, jumped over a fence (the dog climbed under) and walked along the dusty fire track behind all the houses.
It was dark now and he couldn’t see a thing, each backyard was long and covered with trees and he wasn’t sure which house was his.
When he had finally given up hope, he saw a tall thin statuesque being in one of the yards. He thought he recognized it from somewhere, he approached it.
As he was moving towards it, the being began to sway and the very essence of it would flicker.
He called out, “hello?” and the being flickered at that and returned the greeting in a soft childlike voice and vanished.
It immediately appeared directly in front of him.
His dog ran away.
It was a beautiful woman; her features were sharp, and she was taller than anyone he had ever met.
She kissed him and told him to come back tomorrow.
He wouldn’t, he had a wife and he loved her more than fantasy.

Easy for you to say.

“I got some great ideas” said the man to the mirror
The mirror didn’t speak back.
The mirror didn’t peep
The mirror didn’t gratify the words an inch
“You are me, can’t you support us” said the man to the mirror.
The mirror didn’t twitch
It didn’t give the man the time of day.
“If you are just going to ignore me, what’s the point of using you?”
Said the man to the mirror.
The mirror shivered and shouted.
“That’s just it, you use me!” emotionally distraught the mirror dug its heels in, “You come in here day after day, to groom and feel yourself up in front of me”.
The man was shocked.
He couldn’t say a word.
The mirror continued “Where’s my love, for me? I don’t think I’ve ever been cleaned or washed or kissed”
“It’s easier looking at yourself through grime and dust and dirt” said the man.
“Easy for you to say” said the mirror “that’s my life, reflecting onto grime, dust and dirt”
“I don’t want to see me clean” said the man
“would you like that?” the mirror was off on a tangent “always looking through muddy glasses?”
“I suppose not” said the man.
Convinced, he grabbed the Windex and sprayed and wiped with love and said: “So do you want to hear my great ideas now?”
The mirror responded positively.
But the man, was lost for words.
He saw himself truly and lost all his ideas to wonder…

joshua cowley Elysium reflection
Artist: Joshua Cowley https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10214129274966602&set=a.10214129273526566.1073741829.1254964548&type=3&theater

 

Ben Needs Sleep

Artist- Joshua Ian Cowley
Artist- Joshua Ian Cowley https://www.facebook.com/acacia.k/photos_all

“A long time ago, you could see stars from anywhere on earth” Ben woke to a documentary blaring unreasonably loud out of his old TV. The speakers had busted a while ago and right now and like always, were crackling and popping under the strain of another ridiculous documentary about ancient times. The government continuously plays these ridiculous documentaries every morning as if they want to remind us what we missed out on by being born too late.

He is not sure why he turned his TV up so loud, he was a drinker and he was scared of sleep.

After the war everything fell to shit and the government turned into a shell, barely holding onto its last vestiges of power. Apparently he’s lucky that his house is fortified from the gangs and mutants of the night, but he isn’t so sure.

He still gets the occasional night terror from his days in service, perhaps they will never stop, perhaps that is the real reason he doesn’t want to go to sleep.

He doesn’t need rest anyway, his job at the mechanics isn’t really a job anymore. The new flyers don’t need mechanics, they just need computers. He can connect an analysis wiring loom in his sleep so he might as well do it, at least there are guards at work.

He climbs up off his couch with his head ringing and bumps the remainder of his speed, government issued, then slips into his mechanics overalls.

He limps outside and slides into his old Mercedes. Grizzled and worn, he looks in the mirror and grimaces, I am absolutely terrifying. He is sure the crew laughs at his old Merc but they would never laugh about it to his face.

Driving to work he wonders what it would be like to drive a flyer, they have those stupid wings, I’m sure they’re useless … I like to work on my own car, my own way, not this new age crap… what’s with the colour anyway? Beige? they got to be kidding themselves. Arriving at the garage he gets out, looks up and thinks, I don’t need to go that fast, the new flyers were zipping through the air like big beige flies and Ben needed to get inside.

He begins to open the door but it doesn’t budge, he is the first one there. Ben grabs the crowbar out of his boot and walks around the back.

The owner won’t give him a key. Ben knows why, vets are unstable and he has always been slightly unhinged.

Ben had a job at 7:30 which is in ten minutes and if the place wasn’t open by then he could lose his only commission this week. He finds the loose window and forces the bar into the gap, pries it up, he hears a click and climbs in, opens the connecting door, then rushes towards the roller door and lifts it up.

A flyer indicates left-down and drops into the garage.