1.1.00

My torturer wears a mask of liquid crystal. Bends over my table and I am mesmerized, immobilized by all the trivial answers found there. I feel like I'm under clouds. Eyes hooked open, I cannot stop seeing, cannot rest my gaze. Oh, the fibers rot and already the words slip away from me! Soon I will be powerless, one of the inarticulate. What a clever device this is! Improving upon the oldest and surest method of control, it may as well be a kang on which I lie, a cable of opium at my breath.

future past index