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Tuesday May 01st 2012, 12:57 pm

Wendy and I are at some sort of holiday event, at someone’s house, like an important family dinner or something. There are people I don’t know there, but somehow I’ve the impression that we’re supposed to think of them as our family. The room is dimly but warmly lit. Off to one side of the dining table I can see closed greenish gold window curtains made of some thick fabric, the bottom edge sits lightly on a beige carpet. One of the other house guests, or possibly a person who lives wherever we are, lounges in an old dingy green recliner chair. They have a greasy combover hair cut, as if trying to hide going bald, they are wearing a sky blue button shirt with the collar unfastened so you can see they have a white under-shirt on as well, and rudimentary black framed eye-glasses,. They’re watching TV, but its some old style TV, like the ones they used to make in the 70’s where the glass tube-screen is placed inside some decorative wooden cabinet with ornate beveling and such. I can’t make out whats on the TV, its sort of blurry, I can just tell that its all faded colors. I’ve been handed this very large key chain like object, and on this are a bunch greeting cards, maybe 50 various designs, that have punched holes in each corner so they can be attached to the key chain, but they too are oversized. Someone that I can’t quite make out is telling me that these are cards for Wendy that I should read, all from her estranged sister. As I’m trying to sift through them to read some of it, I notice that there are parts that are personal handwritten sections, while other sections are what you’d expect to see, pre-written designed sentiments from the card manufacturer. In the pre-written sections there are little hand written personal notes in the margins or between lines of type. I can’t really see what the words say, but do somehow know that the personal hand written bits are annotations to the manufacturer designed sentiments, as if remarking on the content of what these segments are saying. None of this feels like a happy time.

Time and space shift. Now Wendy and I find ourselves in some huge metropolitan city. We’re panicked and on the run. The streets are grimy and everything has this blue grey hue to it all. Suddenly we’re confronted, captured, by these soldiers wearing military uniforms that remind of old nazi uniforms, but these are steel blue in color with a simple black stripe on the side of one arm sleeve. The soldiers are armed with rifles and machine guns. I’ve been placed in a very small room, that almost feels like the inside of a small RV. I’m sitting in a chair, like a nice office chair, and Wendy isn’t here. Across from me in another more cushy brown chair sits another man with short dark hair and wearing a simple white buttoned shirt with dark brown suit slacks. He is completely calm and has a clipboard and pen in his hands. I suddenly stand up having moved slightly closer to this man, looking down at him. I notice that next to him is a very tiny window, with dark brown wooden window blinds that are closed. Even though I’m posturing over him slightly, the man is completely calm as he looks up at me.

He says, “I’m sorry but we have to do this. We are going to have to inject you.” And then he’s holding a syringe filled with some sort of dark yellow-gold liquid. He calmly continues to speak, “You’re going to die very slowly. But it will look as if you’ve had a heart attack.”

I then lash out, I have some heavy object in my hand, like a brick or something, and smash the man in the face with it. He barely reacts, remains completely calm. I crack his head again with my found weapon. He remains unaffected, so I keep hitting, striking again and again. Still no reaction or really any sign of harming him either, he is utterly calm. But I notice something strange. At the top of his head there is what looks like a seam, slightly split open, and I can see what almost looks like a metallic fastener of some kind. I hit him again with as much force as I can muster. This time his face falls away like a hard-shell mask, revealing another face underneath. I’m startled by this, I step back a bit, and this man, or I thought was a man, remains calm. This other newly revealed face has the same features as the one I knocked away but appears to be made of semi-clear plastic, sort of milky in color. I can see vague indication of metal through this. But also, from the angle I’m now looking at this thing, I can slightly see the side of his face area near his hair line. There are layers of maybe 7 to 8 deep, side by side layers. Indicating in my mind that each layer is another face, that I could knock this new plastic face off and it would reveal yet another. I could repeat this bludgeoning over and over, revealing face after face.

I stare at this thing in front of me feeling dumbfounded and terrified. Its then I realize that someone else is in the room as well. To my right sits another man, in another cushy brown chair. But this man is unshaven, wearing all dingy black, slightly dirty. His medium length brown hair has a disheveled look. His hands are stained with dirt and lay passively on the chair’s arm rests. He hasn’t been able to shower in quite sometime. It also seems like he too is a captive. He’s not really looking at me though, but rather more looking in the direction of the fake man I’ve attacked, who still remains completely calm and not speaking. This other captive is almost solemn, as if resigned to his fate.

He says in a very flat voice, “Look, there is nothing any of us can do against them. Attacking them does no good, because they can keep reinventing themselves. They’re not even alive, they’re machines. You can’t stop this from happening.”

I stand there in the middle of the small room, suddenly feeling very defeated. A wave of futility washes over me.

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