Sunday, May 7, 2017

Flowers and Light

"Up is down, down is ground and sky is where I look."
Sophie mouthed the words in her mind as she stared out at the afternoon like sky. She wanted to get up, she had been wanting to get up for as long as she could remember. It didn’t seem as strange to her as she thought it should. She knew she was on the grid in After Life and part of her was still struggling to understand why she couldn’t wake up from this dream state.
She struggled to recall how she had conjured up the login screen where she felt herself getting to this point, but could not get beyond the stage of remembering the white prompt on the dark gray screen. She concentrated on the blueish haze of what she knew was a virtual atmosphere and followed the line of sight and light that outlined the tops of the flowers in the meadow she had been laying in. She repeated the poem “Up is down, down is ground and sky is where I look.”
Silence in a digital world is deafening, Sophie thought, and at that moment an ambient sound file began to play and she smiled at the reassuring soft din of chirping birds and crickets. She knew it was a sound file because she herself had created it back in 2008 when she first came across a loop sound and play seamless ambient script in the OS scripting Library. Sophie closed her eyes and stretched her hands behind her head as she lay back down into the grass, more satisfied than scared now. 
The light began to fade in and out and played across her closed eyelids as if the digital world she knew she was in was reading her very thoughts and had all of a sudden written a line of code for clouds and atmosphere.

Shadows are such unpredictable creatures. They creep over a surface in exactly the same manner that light does, only they appear to lend depth to every crack and crevice of a subject, immediately rendering whatever they come in contact with somewhat more so than what the brightest light could ever illuminate; Or, they completely obscure it into a corner of ambient nothingness.
Sophie's thoughts were like that now. She was nowhere near the light or the darkness, but somewhere closer to the in-between gray of a shadowy corner. A faint memory kept teasing her in the form of a craving, but she could not recall which sense fit the feeling, or how to use such things as smell, taste, touch etc, to express herself. She could not recall how long she had been laying in the tall grass of the meadow she was in, or if the afternoon like sky had been morning at one point, but she knew for a fact that she could smell absolutely nothing, and she thought, above all else, that THAT, was extremely odd.

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