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Deviation Actions
Literature Text
"You're lucky to be alive, James." His micro-chipped guide telling him, sending a jolt of a buzz against his skull.
"I am?" A vision of his only company nodding his head was sent to his line of sight, confusing the poor man even more. He shook his head in distress, his head in his hands. He can hear it sigh against his ear, sending off his already racing nerves.
"Why can't you just embrace it, James? You're alive and healthy, that's all that matters. Who needs friends and family anyhow when you have me?"
"Well it's not everyday that I get bossed around by a talking micro-chip attached to my head, so sorry for my lack of enthusiasm." He barks sarcastically at his newfound nuisance.
"News flash, Princess, I'm not going anywhere!" A sudden spark flies form the chip, a jolt of pain bouncing against it's subject's skin,
"Oh, look at what you've done, you're overworking my circuits! Let's just both shut-up, eh? I've got an idea, why don't we get some fresh air?" James shakes his head, gazing at the world outside.
"I'd rather rot-"
"You will go outside, now!" He loses control over his body as his guide takes over, his muscles twitching from the sudden change. He begins to feel hopelessness as he is forced to open the door and walk outside, immediately choking on the dirt and debris in the air.
"Toughen up, Cookie. Stop being such a wimp." James struggles to hold in the coughing fit brewing in his lungs, not wanting to irritate the small piece of electricity anymore than he already has.
"Just look at this beautiful mess, why don't you? The way the buildings were not-so-gracefully torn apart, brick by brick. You're the only person alive you know. You're special."
"I'm screwed." He blurts out without meaning to, expecting to be shocked as a punishment.
"You know what, I really don't like your attitude. I really don't need this, James!" If you think you can survive on your own, then good luck to you and your weak excuse of a body!" He hears a little ding of a bell before the silence.
"Sir, are you there?" No response; he's all alone now in this torn down world. Not even an AI could handle this poor man's lonesome thoughts.
Poor man.
"I am?" A vision of his only company nodding his head was sent to his line of sight, confusing the poor man even more. He shook his head in distress, his head in his hands. He can hear it sigh against his ear, sending off his already racing nerves.
"Why can't you just embrace it, James? You're alive and healthy, that's all that matters. Who needs friends and family anyhow when you have me?"
"Well it's not everyday that I get bossed around by a talking micro-chip attached to my head, so sorry for my lack of enthusiasm." He barks sarcastically at his newfound nuisance.
"News flash, Princess, I'm not going anywhere!" A sudden spark flies form the chip, a jolt of pain bouncing against it's subject's skin,
"Oh, look at what you've done, you're overworking my circuits! Let's just both shut-up, eh? I've got an idea, why don't we get some fresh air?" James shakes his head, gazing at the world outside.
"I'd rather rot-"
"You will go outside, now!" He loses control over his body as his guide takes over, his muscles twitching from the sudden change. He begins to feel hopelessness as he is forced to open the door and walk outside, immediately choking on the dirt and debris in the air.
"Toughen up, Cookie. Stop being such a wimp." James struggles to hold in the coughing fit brewing in his lungs, not wanting to irritate the small piece of electricity anymore than he already has.
"Just look at this beautiful mess, why don't you? The way the buildings were not-so-gracefully torn apart, brick by brick. You're the only person alive you know. You're special."
"I'm screwed." He blurts out without meaning to, expecting to be shocked as a punishment.
"You know what, I really don't like your attitude. I really don't need this, James!" If you think you can survive on your own, then good luck to you and your weak excuse of a body!" He hears a little ding of a bell before the silence.
"Sir, are you there?" No response; he's all alone now in this torn down world. Not even an AI could handle this poor man's lonesome thoughts.
Poor man.
For Writers-Workshop May 2014 The Metamorphisis workshop.
Word Count: 405
© 2014 - 2024 WrittenEdge
Comments10
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Overall a good concept, but one I think would be better served with further development. Four-hundred five words seems too short for everything you have going on in this piece.