Blink. Into reality. Out of reality. Blink. There are lights on the horizion of a midnight black sky. Blink. A little girl is crying and reaching out for my hand. I reach out to her but I just miss her fingertips. Blink. Bloodred walls are closing into me, I can't breathe. Blink. A gun is at my head I scream, and them the lights go out.
This is my eternal tourture. My everyday for the rest of my life. Repeating images of terror, and almosts. My life of almosts. Proposing to your love of your life every day in the blinks, only to be refused every day. Trying to help a sobbing girl, when your fingers can never touch.
This is how it works in Telikan. Do something "bad" once, and your life becomes a living hell. Forced to drink a never emptying bottle of fealsin until you die, a feeling like an imaginary fishing hook in the bottle is ripping your heart out, pulling you into another reality never letting you escape. This happened to me all just for one stupid reason.
This did not just happen to me. Thousands of people are imprisoned every year by the agency, never to be let out. Never to see there families again. To die alone, in a small rot smelling cell in the depths of the catacoms, hearing the tourtured screams of the others echo all around you.
One stupid reason. My life could have all been different. I could have been a father, a hero, a role model, an inspiration to the Telikan youth. I could of accomplished my dreams. I could have done anything. That all changed when The Telikan Age commenced.
The Telikans are ruled by The Officers, or as we captives like to refer to them as, "The Malice group". They go around the sanction, making sure everything is in absolute perfection. Every house is decorated the same way, there is not a speck of dust anywhere, and all the children are specifically programed to The Officers needs. They program some to become doctors. Some to become members of congress, and some to become nobodys, or "bugs" as threy are refered to lovingly by the citizens of this place.
I was supposed to be a congress man. In fact, I was supposed to be programed to become the new head officer when I got older. But I was there in the golden times. The times before The Officers even exsisted, The Golden Age. The age, where the grass was brilliant green and the weather was natural. It came and went with the seasons, dusting the real, soft Earth groud with glasslike snowflakes and crunchy auburn leaves. The time when people where aloud to sing, sing as loud as they well pleased, letting the joy of the music float out of their lungs and drift over and land softly in the neighboring ears, smiles of content melted over there faces.
I saw the joys of The Golden Age that The Officers could not see. The Officers could only see the dirty streets and the humid, smokey air from global warming that was engulfing the planet in a suffocating smog. They tried to solve the problem, but in the wrong way. Perfection. By hiding it, instead of making a change, not cleaning it so it could blend harmoniously with the natural beauty that I saw. That is why I am tourtured. Forever tourtured by the cursed bottle of hate.
When they came out with the modifying serum, I was one of the people who refused it. I refused to be changed. Some people surcommed to it willingly, ready to get out of the world and be someone new. I will never understand why anyone ever chose that. I was a part of STROBE. Survivors Together Reunited Officers By Earth. STROBE was a group that I had formed when I heard about The Telikan Age that united the people who still belived in The Golden Age. It was my fault that we are here. Here in this place, alone.
We were caught. As simple as that. Almost every one of us was swept out of their houses in the middle of the night, to be forced to drink the felisin. They new scientists of the time descovered the new form of tourture that they where eager to test on us. What better test subjects than the rebels.
There where only a couple of people who escaped. They are still out there. Hiding in the shadows, becoming the faces of silent change. I wish it was me out there. I wish it was me making the difference.
But here I am. Blink. Into one reality. Out of another. Blink. Screams of terror and sadness. Blink. Blink. Blink. Here I am. My name is James. James Felix Parker. I am part of STROBE. I will make a change in this dying world. I will refuse this as my life. I will not let the hook tear at my heart.