Today the attacks began. It wasn't anything like I'd expected. I thought that because they were from another dimension, that they'd only attack the parts of us that were in their dimension. I thought they only could attack those parts. I thought our bodies, our homes, our machines and everything else in this world but our "souls" would be safe. I was wrong.
I don't know all the details yet, but it appears that sometime around 6am Eastern Time, "anomalies" started to appear apparently at random all over the world. They were all different shapes and sizes. Some were on the ground. Some were in the air. Some were probably even underground, though I guess it would be hard to see those. No one really knows when the exact time was when they started, but what we do know is their effect: complete stasis in the fourth dimension. Time. The bastards froze time. Really clever, I suppose. I forgot that they shared more than one dimension with us, forgot that time was even a dimension. And I had no idea that it could be manipulated on this level.
No one noticed at first, of course. Not until people started trying to move into the affected areas. It was so strange, watching the footage of a mother attempting to push her stroller past the edge of one of the anomalies. The stroller flattened completely as every single atom became stuck in time as it entered the anomaly. The mother, terrified at the disappearance of her child, tugged frantically at the stroller's handle, which was still outside the edge of the anomaly. It of course didn't move. The mother pulled harder, and harder, and panic started to take over. She screamed for someone to help, help her pull her daughter away from this, thing that had eaten her. A couple of men heard her scream, and ran over to help her. Even with three people pulling, though, the stroller was stuck. The mother then screamed that she wouldn't leave her baby, that she was going after her. She jumped into the anomaly. She of course became flat as well.
When the clip was done, I wondered who had filmed the clip and why the camera man didn't try to help her.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Day 10
The world shuts its eyes tightly and lets out a low moan. It knows it's it pain, but it feels so helpless to stop it. Instead it takes another hit and falls asleep. At least when it dreams it can pretend everything is fine.
But I can't sleep. I lie awake all night. My fevered dreams chill me more than the pains of reality. Once the illusion is dispelled, the drugs are no comfort.
I want to warn others, to rally more to the cause. Maybe we can fix this thing. But I fear no one will listen. And the few that do will not be enough, and they'll be stuck like me. In even more hopeless pain than before.
I can't carry on normal conversations anymore. Everything feels so superficial, with the weight of knowing what's coming. I have this heavy burden on me, to speak out and warn the others, but I know they won't listen. They'll just think I'm crazy. They already do. So I keep quiet. Wretched in my cowardice. I want to tell them so bad, I want to say...
Wake up.
But I can't sleep. I lie awake all night. My fevered dreams chill me more than the pains of reality. Once the illusion is dispelled, the drugs are no comfort.
I want to warn others, to rally more to the cause. Maybe we can fix this thing. But I fear no one will listen. And the few that do will not be enough, and they'll be stuck like me. In even more hopeless pain than before.
I can't carry on normal conversations anymore. Everything feels so superficial, with the weight of knowing what's coming. I have this heavy burden on me, to speak out and warn the others, but I know they won't listen. They'll just think I'm crazy. They already do. So I keep quiet. Wretched in my cowardice. I want to tell them so bad, I want to say...
Wake up.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Day 9
"Do you have any sisters?" I asked as I folded the sheets for my bed. I had gotten used to his presence in my room, and it didn't bother me anymore when he popped out of nowhere and started following me around. I guess once you start talking to someone, it's hard to be so...what's the word? Defensive? Anyway, I feel less anxious when I see him.
"What do you mean?" He was studying the way I divided my blanket into thirds by folding the two ends together on top of the middle part.
"I mean, you always talk about your brothers. What about sisters?"
"Yes, of course." He shifted. I'm not sure how, or what that even means, but he...shifted. "I suppose you could call my brothers sisters, if you'd like. None of us have any gender. I just said brothers because that seems to be a more common way to refer to gender-neutral beings in your language."
I snorted. Typical male. Always thinks everything revolves around men, that the world way made for them. I told him this.
"I'm as female as I am male," he said. "And by the looks of your journal, it looks like you 'arbitrarily' chose to define me as male, too."
That bastard was right. Although to be fair, that's only because I thought he was a male at first. But did I think he was a male because we always refer to everyone as males, or because he more resembled one?
Or is he just fucking with me? I never know.
"What do you mean?" He was studying the way I divided my blanket into thirds by folding the two ends together on top of the middle part.
"I mean, you always talk about your brothers. What about sisters?"
"Yes, of course." He shifted. I'm not sure how, or what that even means, but he...shifted. "I suppose you could call my brothers sisters, if you'd like. None of us have any gender. I just said brothers because that seems to be a more common way to refer to gender-neutral beings in your language."
I snorted. Typical male. Always thinks everything revolves around men, that the world way made for them. I told him this.
"I'm as female as I am male," he said. "And by the looks of your journal, it looks like you 'arbitrarily' chose to define me as male, too."
That bastard was right. Although to be fair, that's only because I thought he was a male at first. But did I think he was a male because we always refer to everyone as males, or because he more resembled one?
Or is he just fucking with me? I never know.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Day 8
My psychiatrist today asked me about my friends. I told her I didn't have any.
"None at all?" She asked.
"Not a single one."
"What about when you were little?"
"None of the other kids liked to play with me."
She wrote tons of notes down on her little sketch pad, or whatever it is they use to write notes on.
"Sometimes," I said, "when I was little, I used to draw friends in the dirt and talk to them. They were the only ones who would listen to me."
"Really? And what about your parents?"
I choked up a bit at that point. "They...they didn't get along very well. Mommy used to...well, Daddy didn't like it when Mommy went out. Said she was dressed like a slut. Mommy used to shout at Daddy. Before she left." I covered my face before continuing. "I never saw her again."
"Mmhmm." More furious notes.
I had lots of friends when I was a kid, of course. I still do--leastwise, as many as you would expect a "crazy" woman would. I am pretty, and popular. My parents both died in a car crash when I was sixteen. They were happily married.
It is so much fun to play with her mind.
"None at all?" She asked.
"Not a single one."
"What about when you were little?"
"None of the other kids liked to play with me."
She wrote tons of notes down on her little sketch pad, or whatever it is they use to write notes on.
"Sometimes," I said, "when I was little, I used to draw friends in the dirt and talk to them. They were the only ones who would listen to me."
"Really? And what about your parents?"
I choked up a bit at that point. "They...they didn't get along very well. Mommy used to...well, Daddy didn't like it when Mommy went out. Said she was dressed like a slut. Mommy used to shout at Daddy. Before she left." I covered my face before continuing. "I never saw her again."
"Mmhmm." More furious notes.
I had lots of friends when I was a kid, of course. I still do--leastwise, as many as you would expect a "crazy" woman would. I am pretty, and popular. My parents both died in a car crash when I was sixteen. They were happily married.
It is so much fun to play with her mind.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Day 7
"I was once like you," he said. "An outcast, laughed at by everyone around me for my absurd ideas. I wasn't just like you, of course--no one locked me away or anything--but people did think I was a little strange. Strange because I believed something nobody else did, just like you."
"What's that?" I asked him.
"That you could see me."
"Why would they think I couldn't see you?" I didn't bother asking who they were--I assumed he meant the uniform "they" by which we all mean other people, people we don't like or don't know, people we can say mean things about without feeling the pangs of a guilty conscience.
"Well, because you shouldn't be able to. Because we don't exist--leastwise not in the sense that you us the word."
"And how do we use it?"
"You use it to mean things you can see."
"Wait...what?"
"Have you ever tried describing me to anyone?"
I opened my mouth and shut it, because I didn't really know what to say. Instead I just started pacing around the room, eyes locked on him. I could definitely see him. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what he looked like, but I found I couldn't. I opened my eyes and looked at him again. There he was, plain as day, sitting in the middle of the floor. But for the life of me, even now, as I'm writing this, I can't recall what he looked like. I wonder if I could have even written down what I'd seen while I was looking at him.
"That's weird," I said.
"Indeed. That's also why so many of my brothers laughed when I told them you could see me. They said there was no way a human could see something that wasn't there."
"But you are here. I mean, you are here, right?" I sat down on the floor in front of him and reached out my hand to touch his...face? I don't know.
He stood up and walked away before I could touch him. "By here do you mean occupying this space? And by space do you mean a series of connected three dimensional points in height, width, and depth? If so, then no, I'm not here."
"What do you mean?" I asked, standing up and hugging my sides. It was starting to feel a bit colder in my room.
"My brothers have wondered for many years why it was your kind never interacted with us, why it was that you always passed through us as if we didn't exist. It wasn't until recently--well, a long time ago, I guess, by the way you count--that we discovered the reason you don't interact with us is that none of you can see us. And by see I mean see, taste, touch and smell and the like. Sense I suppose would be a better word, but I like see. Anyway, you only see in four dimensions--height, width, depth, as I mentioned before, and time. Of course you only see time as we do, as one single point. I don't know of anyone who can see time as more than such, or even see a different part of time than the one everyone sees. But if he did, then I suppose he would interact with that point in time, rather than the one we see, and by the time we saw it it would appear as if he saw the same point we see. So who's to say we don't all see different points?"
"What?"
"Sorry, I can see I'm beginning to ramble. My brothers have always called me a bit of a philosopher--though I think that's just something someone can call a thinker if they don't want to have to worry about what the thinker thinks. Anyway, my point was...what was my point? What were we talking about?"
"Humans seeing in only four dimensions."
"Ah, yes, that's right. Anyway, as I was saying it's been recently discovered that you humans only see in four dimensions--not eight like we do--and since my brothers and I only live in one of those dimensions, you can't see us."
"I'm assuming the one dimension you live in is time, right?"
"Of course. Everyone lives in that dimension. You humans and all of your 'universe,' the Sssyruuk and their pets, the Bhakti, the...well, you get the idea. The point is that you humans are incredibly special because as far as we know, you're the only creatures that live in all eight dimensions but can only see in four."
"So you live in other dimensions as well?" It was at this point that I walked over to my bedroom door and peered out the window they put on it so they can watch me like a lab rat. I stopped believing what he was telling me as soon as he started talking about dimensions.
"Just one other dimension," he said, looking out the window. I think. I mean, I didn't see his eyes, of course, but I think he was looking--sensing--out the window. "We share with you the dimension that you call 'spirit'."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, and now I guess you're going to tell me that all the crazy people here can see into different dimensions, and that's why they're acting so weird."
He laughed. "Of course not. They're acting weird because they're crazy."
Well, at least we agreed on one thing.
"What's that?" I asked him.
"That you could see me."
"Why would they think I couldn't see you?" I didn't bother asking who they were--I assumed he meant the uniform "they" by which we all mean other people, people we don't like or don't know, people we can say mean things about without feeling the pangs of a guilty conscience.
"Well, because you shouldn't be able to. Because we don't exist--leastwise not in the sense that you us the word."
"And how do we use it?"
"You use it to mean things you can see."
"Wait...what?"
"Have you ever tried describing me to anyone?"
I opened my mouth and shut it, because I didn't really know what to say. Instead I just started pacing around the room, eyes locked on him. I could definitely see him. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what he looked like, but I found I couldn't. I opened my eyes and looked at him again. There he was, plain as day, sitting in the middle of the floor. But for the life of me, even now, as I'm writing this, I can't recall what he looked like. I wonder if I could have even written down what I'd seen while I was looking at him.
"That's weird," I said.
"Indeed. That's also why so many of my brothers laughed when I told them you could see me. They said there was no way a human could see something that wasn't there."
"But you are here. I mean, you are here, right?" I sat down on the floor in front of him and reached out my hand to touch his...face? I don't know.
He stood up and walked away before I could touch him. "By here do you mean occupying this space? And by space do you mean a series of connected three dimensional points in height, width, and depth? If so, then no, I'm not here."
"What do you mean?" I asked, standing up and hugging my sides. It was starting to feel a bit colder in my room.
"My brothers have wondered for many years why it was your kind never interacted with us, why it was that you always passed through us as if we didn't exist. It wasn't until recently--well, a long time ago, I guess, by the way you count--that we discovered the reason you don't interact with us is that none of you can see us. And by see I mean see, taste, touch and smell and the like. Sense I suppose would be a better word, but I like see. Anyway, you only see in four dimensions--height, width, depth, as I mentioned before, and time. Of course you only see time as we do, as one single point. I don't know of anyone who can see time as more than such, or even see a different part of time than the one everyone sees. But if he did, then I suppose he would interact with that point in time, rather than the one we see, and by the time we saw it it would appear as if he saw the same point we see. So who's to say we don't all see different points?"
"What?"
"Sorry, I can see I'm beginning to ramble. My brothers have always called me a bit of a philosopher--though I think that's just something someone can call a thinker if they don't want to have to worry about what the thinker thinks. Anyway, my point was...what was my point? What were we talking about?"
"Humans seeing in only four dimensions."
"Ah, yes, that's right. Anyway, as I was saying it's been recently discovered that you humans only see in four dimensions--not eight like we do--and since my brothers and I only live in one of those dimensions, you can't see us."
"I'm assuming the one dimension you live in is time, right?"
"Of course. Everyone lives in that dimension. You humans and all of your 'universe,' the Sssyruuk and their pets, the Bhakti, the...well, you get the idea. The point is that you humans are incredibly special because as far as we know, you're the only creatures that live in all eight dimensions but can only see in four."
"So you live in other dimensions as well?" It was at this point that I walked over to my bedroom door and peered out the window they put on it so they can watch me like a lab rat. I stopped believing what he was telling me as soon as he started talking about dimensions.
"Just one other dimension," he said, looking out the window. I think. I mean, I didn't see his eyes, of course, but I think he was looking--sensing--out the window. "We share with you the dimension that you call 'spirit'."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, and now I guess you're going to tell me that all the crazy people here can see into different dimensions, and that's why they're acting so weird."
He laughed. "Of course not. They're acting weird because they're crazy."
Well, at least we agreed on one thing.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Day 6
Have you ever gotten so lonely that you start imagining that you're talking to someone else inside your head? You go through an entire conversation, imagine what you'd say to this person or that person, imagine their responses, defend what you say vehemently, or consider their points and change your mind. I do that so much I'm beginning to wonder if I know how to simply think to myself. All of my thoughts are directed toward someone else. But who? Well, you, obviously. You, the person I'm talking to right now. In my head. So...me? Hell, I don't know what I'm thinking anymore! These people lock me up and tell me I'm crazy so often I'm beginning to believe them. No, not really. I just think that...everyone else is? No, not really, but that they're just a little...off. Or I'm just a little off. Or special. Maybe I simply see things others can't. But if I'm the only one who sees them, how do I know they're really there? What's the difference between that and crazy?
I wish people would talk to me. Well, no, not just talk. There's plenty here who want to talk--tell me that I'm crazy, or worse, tell me their crazy stories. I think that's what's really bothering me. Everyone here that's not crazy is convinced I am. I'm stuck, branded into this this ragtag group of sorry mindless apes. How can anyone stay sane when the only sane people around are convinced that you're crazy?
Of course...he...talks to me. He has since that day in the bathroom. Talks to me all the time. Whenever I'm alone in the room. Tells me all sorts of stories about his people, the ones forced to walk in the shadows. Tells me how every second of their lives is filled with pain like we humans can never know. Says it's like the last minutes of someone dying of cancer, only all the time. That's how they live.
I asked him how he knew that's what it was like at all, seeing as he has never been a human dying of cancer. He just laughed at me and said, "Katie, maybe when you've experienced true suffering, you'll understand."
I told him my name was Sandra. He laughed and said he was going to call me Katie, anyway, because it fit my looks better. He said with a name like Sandra I should've been a little thicker and a redhead, or at least strawberry blonde. I told him I'm only thin because the hospital food is terrible, and I only eat to keep from being hungry.
"See," he said. "Now you're talking more like a Susan. Which is how I know you're lying. Cause you're a Katie."
He was right, of course. I've always been careful about my weight, always watching how many calories I take in a day, making sure to exercise at least three times a week. But how would he know? Unless he's been following me since...
No, he hasn't. He's just good at reading people. Especially ones he watches all day long.
And he likes messing with my head. Which makes him the same as the doctors, as far as I'm concerned.
I wish people would talk to me. Well, no, not just talk. There's plenty here who want to talk--tell me that I'm crazy, or worse, tell me their crazy stories. I think that's what's really bothering me. Everyone here that's not crazy is convinced I am. I'm stuck, branded into this this ragtag group of sorry mindless apes. How can anyone stay sane when the only sane people around are convinced that you're crazy?
Of course...he...talks to me. He has since that day in the bathroom. Talks to me all the time. Whenever I'm alone in the room. Tells me all sorts of stories about his people, the ones forced to walk in the shadows. Tells me how every second of their lives is filled with pain like we humans can never know. Says it's like the last minutes of someone dying of cancer, only all the time. That's how they live.
I asked him how he knew that's what it was like at all, seeing as he has never been a human dying of cancer. He just laughed at me and said, "Katie, maybe when you've experienced true suffering, you'll understand."
I told him my name was Sandra. He laughed and said he was going to call me Katie, anyway, because it fit my looks better. He said with a name like Sandra I should've been a little thicker and a redhead, or at least strawberry blonde. I told him I'm only thin because the hospital food is terrible, and I only eat to keep from being hungry.
"See," he said. "Now you're talking more like a Susan. Which is how I know you're lying. Cause you're a Katie."
He was right, of course. I've always been careful about my weight, always watching how many calories I take in a day, making sure to exercise at least three times a week. But how would he know? Unless he's been following me since...
No, he hasn't. He's just good at reading people. Especially ones he watches all day long.
And he likes messing with my head. Which makes him the same as the doctors, as far as I'm concerned.
Friday, November 14, 2008
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