December 11, 2013
Ripping through the streets of Hong Kong in a black Mercedes convertible, we arrive on the corner of a warehouse-like pub similar to the deserted parts of downtown Los Angeles.
“Hey, give me those.”
“Nope they are too important.”
“Where is he?”
I went to Hong Kong with Vaughn to meet Yves. I was transporting some very important sunglass prototypes, one in each pocket of my black jacket.
Crossing the street, a limo tank from a few years in the future, dark green and scraped, blocks the road. Turn around and walk around the corner away from it, and there’s another. Fear.
I walk into a trailer, lit bright white. I see human’s, that aren’t humans anymore. In 8 incubators lye bodies, smaller than a grown human with visible rib cages, paws, and morphed faces. Over their faces I see an intricate ballet of tubes flowing out and in from their face; they are elegant, and terrifying. I see Yves.
Vaughn is speaking to an officer. He wears protective gloves, a mask, and shield for a riot. In his hand is what looks like a nail gun, but much bigger, and coming from it’s head is a wine-like corkscrew opener, slim, skinny, and not straight.
The officer thrusts the tip into the concave crevice in his neck. A smoke is released.
“It’s paranoid android!”
“Hey! Come here! Shoot me too motherfucker!”
I wake up with what looks like a scorpion tale. A new body.
Perhaps, this was a way of preparing the body for the future detachment of self and soul for travel and life purposes. But what happens to your body once you leave it?