There was a computer game, I was given it, one of my friends gave it to me, he was playing it, he said, it’s brilliant, you should play it, and I did, and it was. I copied it off the disk he gave me for anyone, I wanted everyone to play it. Everyone should have this much fun. I sent it upline to bulletin boards but mainly I got it out to all of my friends. (Personal contact. That’s the way it was given to me.) My friends were like me: some were scared of viruses, some gave you a game on disk, next week or Friday the 13th it reformatted your hard disk or corrupted your memory. But this one never did that. This was dead safe. Even my friends who didn’t like computers started to play: as you get better the games get harder; maybe you never win but you can get pretty good. I’m pretty good. Of course I have to spend a lot of time playing it. So do my friends. And their friends. And just the people you meet, you can see them, walking down the old motorways or standing in queues, away from their computers, away from the arcades that sprang up overnight, but they play it in their heads in the meantime, combining shapes, puzzling over contours, putting colours next to colours, twisting signals to new screen sections, listening to the music. Sure people think about it, but mainly they play it. My record’s eighteen hours at a stretch. 40,012 points, 3 fanfares. You play trough the tears, the aching wrist, the hunger, after a while it all goes away. All of it except the game, I should say. There’s no room in my mind any more; no room for other things.

clearing the left block for a white bubble to rise… (So they both disappear. It transcends language. . gave it to our friends. occupies our time. I wonder what will happen when I run out of canned food. sometimes I think I’m forgetting things these days. There used to be TV. I wonder what happened to the TV. And I realize how. if I’m fast enough. I wonder where all the people went. mirror it and rotate them so they both disappear.We copied the game. I can put a black square next to a red line.) And when the power goes off for good then I will play it in my head until I die.

Nicholas was. The dwarfish natives of the Arctic caverns did not speak his language. Ho. sobbing and protesting. Ho. older than sin. leave one of the dwarves’ invisible gifts by its bedside. During the journey hr would stand near every child in the world. when they where not actually working in the factories. He envied Prometheus and Loki. twittering tongue. Sisyphus and Judas. but conversed in their own. into Endless Night. The children slept. His punishment was harsher.. . conducted incomprehensible rituals. frozen into time. and his beard could grow no whiter. He wanted to die. Once every year they forced him. Ho..

We didn’t see them go. of course. Whit the animals gone. or until their blood ceased to flow. We missed them. until they stopped breathing. for a time. A baby is not a rational. and succulent. dripped detergents and shampoos in. We made babies. We woke up one morning. We didn’t know what to do. We never figured out quite where they’d gone. But we’ll think of something. It’s what makes us superior to the animals and the babies. and scalded them. and they just weren’t there any more. They didn’t even leave us a note. but it hadn’t. No-one could deny that. Babies can’t talk. No reason to change our diets. Baby flesh is tender. a drop at a time. We were all alone. Some of them we tested. and we froze. We don’t know what we’re going to do without them. There just weren’t any more animals. what else could we do? Some people complained. Only… Yesterday. or to cease testing products that might cause harm. We grafted. We clamped them and planted electrodes into their brains. and comfortable. thinking creature. Baby leather is soft. all the babies were gone. Humans are smart. They can hardly move. But then. and the babies’ veins flowed with our medicines and drugs. and decorated ourselves in it. We flayed their skin. We’ll figure something out. or say good-bye. that was no reason to change our lives. no birds in the skies. No cats or rabbits. Some of them we ate. We don’t know where they went. We taped open their eyes. It was hard.Babycakes A few years back all the animals went away. and then someone pointed out that just because we didn’t have animals any more. . but it was necessary. no fish in the seas. The babies breathed our smoke. and we irradiated. After all. of course. We burnt them. there were still babies. Some of us thought that the world had ended. We wandered around lost. they always do. And we used them. And everything went back to normal. no dogs or whales. We scarred them.

. Was it suicide. I just don’t know how. and a bottle. slicing through them looking for the real you cutting through the fat and gristle of each tortuous epistle trying to work out what to do. or why. or an accident. I just don’t know how. I’m conducting a post-mortem On our love. Maybe it’s heart stopped. or murder. I know it died. Maybe it’s heart stopped.Post-Mortem on Our Love I’ve been dissecting all the letters that you sent me. or what? Though I cut and slice and saw and hack it won’t come back to life And I’m severing the label of each organ on the table Whit a knife… I’m conducting a post-mortem on our love. Now outside it’s chilly autumn. I’ve laid the presents that you gave me out upon the floor A book whit pages missing. I’m conducting a post-mortem on our love. An autopsy to find out what went wrong. or why. and a glove. There’s an eyeball in a bottle staring sadly at the morgue There’s a white line on the sidewalk silhouetting where it fell In the dark I am inspecting all the angles of trajectory Of Hell. I know it died. An autopsy to find out what went wrong.

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