Saturday, March 25, 2006

ASCII Nightmares: a true story

You are sitting by a desk, wearing a labratory white coat. The room is large and empty, save three other people. They are dressed similarly, with badges that read TRUE, DISPLAY and CPU. You look at yours: it says FALSE. You have no other name. Your desk is next to the heater. You find this reassuring.
CPU motions to you to carry on. You read out loud
you pause, according to your script. TRUE, sitting opposite you, says:
and you continue:
You stop. CPU is looking through his notes, and cuts a piece of paper using scisors.
The woman called DISPLAY collects the piece of paper and glues it to the wall. It's blank. She sits down: you continue.

Noise travels to the room from outside: police sirens. Raggae music. A conversation in Polish, (they sound like workers on a cigarette break). You think you're in Hackney. You think you're getting paid for this. You're not sure anymore.

When exactly did all this start, you cannot recall. Nor do you have any idea when it will finish. Your memories have been erased, wiped out. Your script, on the desk, read only zeros and ones. Occasionally you look at the wall to find some meaning. Characters join to make words, and words make sentences. You know you have to write this to the end.

You feel you are about to fall asleep.

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