"Bloody
brilliant," I said. "So I am completely screwed. How
far gone are these procedures of yours?"
"You
mean the procedure in your mind?" the doctor asked.
"What
else!" I retorted. "How flippin' much has been wiped
out from the insides of my head?"
"Well,
according to my approximation, it has maybe been six hours since
the zyloid transmitter within your brain suffered a total meltdown.
Of course, I use the term meltdown as a crude figure of
speech; naturally it did not actually melt, please understand
none of your brain has actually melted in fact. It is just a term
of convenience so that you, being rather dimwitted and uninspired
writer, can understand.
"So
you mean to say that my imagination is slowly being purged and
replaced with thoughts that you feel would be more appropriate?"
My anger was intensifying...
"Well,
we do not like the phrase purged. It seems to have far
too many negative connotations. We prefer to use the term, cleansed
and redirected. By now your brain has already began bridging.
That is to say filling in the spaces where your previous memories,
the ones that both created and inspired your pathetic attempts
at writing used to exist. As your subconscious factory changes,
you are automatically making adjustments via a channel to surface
consciousness; in effect, a whole new and, dare I say, vastly
improved you is being gradually reborn. Fresh enhanced memories
are being formed, and you are reassembling a new world from them."
"Reassembling
a world?" I echoed.
"Yes,
you heard correct; at this very moment you are preparing to move
into that entirely new world. So the world you are experiencing
right now is quickly changing to adapt. The world that you have
lived in prior, you should understand, is only one out of endless
possibilities. You see, as your memory and perceived life experience
changes, so in fact does that world that you comprehend to live
in. It is actually a remarkably simple process."
"But
what about time?" I asked as I began to frantically consider
a way of escape.
"Time
is simply a paradox within the mind. You see, as you assemble
new memories, you are in fact creating a parallel world."
The doctor chuckled to himself.
"So
all that I currently understand will be changed?"
"Absolutely
and good riddance in my opinion; never again shall you endeavor
to compose a feeble, ill conceived, sarcastic horror story. Your
stories, please understand, have completely no worth in the ideal
world that I dream of, stories that no-one of any merit would
even find appealing. Instead all that you will be able to write
is out-of-this-world science-fiction type prose utilizing clean
logical thought of the highest order. A metamorphosis of staggering
proportions, you shall finally be a writer of worth. You see,
in that enlightened world I envision, everyone will enjoy and
appreciate precisely the same things; whether it is food, music,
religion or literature."
I
helplessly peered about me, and realizing that I, like so many
before me, was now doomed to my fate, I closed my eyes and inwardly
screamed…
The end.
