Pain is something you can not see,
It is not fiery orange,
or blinding white.
Pain is not the black cat,
or long crooked pink nose.
It can not be told in the grey soot,
or smoky clouds.
-Faboom,
by Mark Charke
"Hello?" she shouted through the mists. Her voice echoed. "Is anybody there?"
No answer.
She shivered. It was so icy... what a strange fog. It was so thick, she couldn't see anything. She cried out in pain, and pulled her arm away. There was a cut on it, a straight red line across her tattoo; the one that said she was CYBER 338.
Who did that? Was it the fog? Smoky tendrils snaked around her and she shrank away in terror.
"Whoever you are, come out!" she yelled again, "I'm not afraid!"
A dark shape appeared, still shrouded in the mists. She shielded her eyes; yes, there was someone there. "Who are you?"
She sat up, still gasping.
The only sounds were the cars below.
She was in her new apartment, in her new bed. The window was open and the curtains flapped in the breeze.
Dreams within dreams....
She had been living her new life for two weeks now; she liked it. There was something soothing about having a nice, solid identity. She loved her work, her apartment, the co-workers, the clothes, the restaurants.. she loved her life. But it was never perfect.
Her back hurt all the time. It wasn't doubling-up pain, but a slight, throbbing, persistent ache. She had occasional headaches from staring at the computer screen so long if she didn't wear her glasses. As time passed, she began to get weaker, and sick; she didn't know why. Did creatures like her become ill? Lately, her arm would seizure and glow green. She wanted to cure it, but she didn't know what was wrong.
Sighing, she sank back in her bed and listened to the gentle wind and street noises. Tomorrow was Saturday. At least she didn't have to go to work. She was afraid of what could happen while she was in this state.
In the morning she felt a little better, despite the faint circles around her eyes. She hoped her weakness would be cured with food, but it never was. She stood before the wide windows; eyes closed, feeling the sunlight on her eyelashes and cheeks, a faint smile on her lips. During the weekends, she liked to sit on her couch in her bathrobe, and soak in the sun for a few minutes. Sundays were nothing days, where she could sit back and relax in her apartment, on her couch, in her living room. She knew she was being materialistic, but it seemed to her that these shallow, silly things were all she had, all she really owned.
There was a knock on the door. It was her new neighbor, waiting; a fellow in his late twenties named Ben. They often ate breakfast together; it was more convenient. He spoke seriously, and sometimes he was a little bland, but she welcomed him as an anchor of normalness in her sea of constant chaos and uncertainty.
"Hey," she greeted, letting him in. "Just a minute, while I go get dressed."
He looked slightly annoyed. "I've seen you in your pajamas lots of times. No need to change into spiffed clothes at my expense."
She laughed. "Since when have you seen me in my PJs?"
"A couple of times. We were in Tahiti and you were wearing the slinkiest pink nightgown-"
She punched him playfully. He winced and rubbed his shoulder, and she regretted forgetting about her strength. "Get off it! You were dreaming."
He paused. "Yeah, probably."
He pretended to slap her butt, but she grabbed his hand.
She closed her eyes trying to concentrate. The sudden daymare (she called them this because they were like nightmares, except during the day) released a flood of whisperings within her mind- broken, disjointed, melding into one another.
"Are you a vampire?"
"Are you an angel?"
"Demon! Get away demon!"
"Are you a monster?"
"What are you?"
"Who are you?"
"You are my grand-daughter, no matter what you are."
"I hate you! Your existence brings the world nothing but pain!"
"I am steel made into flesh..."
"Are you a robot?"
"I am not normal."
"I can't, Kayla; I love you."
"STOP IT!" she shrieked, eyes closed, "LET ME GO!"
The murmuring became louder, like the wind howling, surrounding her, until she wasn't sure if it came from outside, or in her head.
"Hello."
She looked up, surprised. There was a little boy, in her apartment, in dirty clothes with long, scraggly red hair. "Where did you come from?"
"My name's Julian. Are you okay?"
"I.. I don't understand."
"No you're not, you're sick. I think you should go to the hospital."
"Maybe I am sick," said Kayla, forgetting where she was and touched by the boy's friendliness, "But the hospital couldn't-"
"Well... well maybe I could. Do you need anything?"
Her eyes became moist. Who was this boy? He was so kind... she reached out to touch him and he faded away.
"What?"
There was no one in the apartment but her.
The whispering returned in a rush. She lost track of time; she felt like she was swept away in sea, with no control. The sun moved; but she did not see it. She did not see anything but blackness.
"Why did you do this to me?" "I am a monster." "I am alone." "Get away.. you.. you freak!" "Why should I bother? No one's ever helped me before." "I do what I do to survive." "Everyone feels like they don't belong in the world once in a while." "I'm not like you. I don't live by your rules." "Humans are stupid." "I'm going to kill him." "Grandmama!"
She was literally going insane. When she closed her eyes, there were images dancing in her eyes, mocking her, coupled by a melting soundtrack, that was disjointed and made no sense. When she opened her eyes, she saw people; people who seemed so real, three-dimensional, solid, walking around her apartment.
The visitors paid no attention that they were in a stranger's apartment. But she was no stranger; they seemed to know her. They spoke to her, replied to her. Were they real? Were they ghosts? Were they figments of her imagination? She had no idea! She was so confused... she tore at her hair, at her scalp, just to get at her weird mind, to fix it, to stop it...
"No! I didn't mean to!" cried the man, lying on her couch. He was dirty and bleeding.
"What are you afraid of?" she screamed, "Why are you in my apartment?"
"I'm sorry... I swear, I'm sorry..." he sobbed, "Please don't do this me!"
"Answer me!" she demanded, "Who did this to you?"
Suddenly his arm began spurting blood. He screamed, like a girl actually, but very loudly. She had a silly thought among the chaos in her mind, that her neighbors were going to complain about the noise. "Please! I have nothing! I didn't take your money, I swear! I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...."
His neck was sliced open by an unseen assailent and he died. He too, faded away from the apartment.
"You did this..."
She turned around and nearly fell back. There was another one, a woman with crinkled hair and a jagged grin, breathing down her neck. She was pale... almost blue... like a ghost.
"Naomi... you're a demon, Naomi, sent from the Lord to punish me for my wickedness! Demons with the faces of angels... music... strings with wings, kitten time..." she wailed in a singsong voice.
"Who is Naomi? I don't understand. Did I do this to you? Can you see me? You're looking at me, answer me, am I the demon? What's happening to me?"
"I saw you kill a lion today, the little black people think you're a goddess, but I know you're not.."
The woman was joined by a gnarled old African man, accusingly pointing a finger at her.
"You're not natural. I know... there have been others like you..."
There was a crash. She whirled around, still sensing the two visitors there, to see her new vase broken on the ground. There was a man there, a big man, with a black mask over his squarish face and red eyes. "Duh?" he said.
"EVERYBODY, GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT!" she screamed childishly.
The big man came running at her, while the two behind her were still moaning, wailing. Instinct kicking in, she leaped up and gave a kick. The big man faded and her kick touched nothing. She fell gracefully back to the ground, without making a loud thump. The moaning and wailing became louder, adding their voices to the rushing whisperings inside her head. Or did these people come from inside her head? They looked so real... She covered her ears to block it out. Visions swam in her sight, visions of people, places, colors all swirled and jumbled, like a mixed up movie, its footage all cut up and dumped in her lap, and she was supposed to figure out what it meant...
"Shoo! Go away!"
She felt small hands on her back, and wondered if they were real. "Are you okay?"
"You're not real," she muttered, eyes closed, "Nothing's real."
"I scared them away. They won't hurt you anymore. They don't mean to, you know, they can't help it."
She finally looked up, into the eyes of a little girl, about nine or ten. She was chubby; she had chin-length black hair, like Kayla's, and she wore overalls. Her eyes caught her attention; they were black with a greenish tinge, and a strange light. She had only seen two people with eyes like that: Cybersix and herself.
"You can see me?"
"Yes."
"Are you real?"
"Am I real to you?"
She began to cry now, a grown woman. "I don't know... I don't know anymore. You look real, but oh, I don't know, I don't know..."
