I had nothing to lose. Perhaps I should try spending my break on the moon. The air was lavender scented, my body rejuvenated to a healthy state. My heart was overwhelmed with joy and happiness, and all I could think of was yesterday’s romantic picnic. The scenery was picturesque, the food delectable, but more importantly, the moment was flawless. The chemistry between us was scintillating, as she outshone even the brightest of stars. She was strange, that Lana. We hardly knew who she was, yet we were invited to a party. I desperately wanted to go, just because I could.
I sat in the corner of the room, legs curled up, with my hands pulling at my hair. The sun seemed to gleam everywhere else except this corner. the situation was not good. Everybody here, at this "party", had their feedstocks hacked. Not Good. I decided that it was time to face my options. Maybe I could’ve done something to correct the situation instead of having to get an artificial feedstock. Maybe there was another way. Maybe there was no other way. Alike the zephyr that caressed me, a strong squall breezed through the corner. Marching out of the apartment with steely resolve, I sprinted over to the same street that I saw her last. There she stood, the divine angel, my saviour. Her delicate hair shimmered in sunlight, her face unrivalled by any supermodel. I rushed to her, panting in exhaustion, with my panda eyes paralysed in awe of her splendour. I try to patch things up with her, I want to question her. But then I saw. Her feedstock was hacked as well, evident by her speech patterns; short words being used.
Later on, I feel that she is clearly uncomfortable with me talking to her, but I don’t care, I have to try and make amends. I ask again but this time with a sterner voice, she looks worried now, slowly trying to move away from me. She tells me that she is expected to be somewhere in five minutes time. Why is she trying to run? Is she trying to re-enact the memories of the time we were holding hands running through the flower fields? I grasp her wrist, but she wriggles and squirms, an attempt to gather attention from civilians. I clutch even tighter now, enraged at her doings. I hear her scream that she wants to get back to her life. She doesn't know that this is her life. Her feedstock's feed efficiency clearly has some issues.
I woke up on a white bed. Looking around, there some wires connected to my feedstock. Feed efficiency at 52.3%? Not good, the regular efficiency was 98%. I relinquish my grip, and for now, all seems calm. I slowly make my way out of my bed and edge towards hers. I request for her number, explaining how I have desperately tried to stay in touch with her and how her current number isn’t valid. She refuses. In shock, I told her to think of all the good things that have happened. Time paused for a moment, as I ceased talking, open-mouthed. Did I just tell her to think of all the good things that have happened? From there, I realised that I couldn’t differentiate the real and fake memories with her. For all I could tell, none of them had actually happened, or maybe they all had. She whispered: "everything must go". My vision is blacked-out.
Though the protagonist was largely unaware of it, his feedstock had been hacked and his state of mind was rapidly collapsing, a decline that mirrors Lana's eventual recovery. In some ways, the protagonist represented what I believe we should stand for. Just as Lana does not quite die, it is never explicitly stated that it falls, though the damage, like the damage to Lana, is completely unrepairable. The world may also end as a result, with the severe damage to the health of the general population and enormous ecological disasters. Meanwhile, the protagonist, the consumer, and the image of the world is becoming is being ignored and thus the protagonist tries to connect with Lana. I am now going to leave the end as to what one may assume.
