From the top of the hill I saw, to my keen disappointment, that this was not a pleasant coastal town at all, but rather a monstrous octopus of some kind that passed itself off as an urban conglomeration. I already knew octopuses were excellent mimics with highly evolved intelligence and that they impersonated, for defensive and predatory reasons, sea snakes, jellyfish and stingrays, as well as many other creatures. It seemed they had now taken mimicry to the next level and were imitating entire cities.
What were their motives for doing so, I wondered. What were they trying to achieve? How many other objects or cities were actually camouflaged octopuses? Perhaps the Earth itself, or indeed the whole Universe, was just a cephalopod in disguise?
It was abundantly clear to me now that all those crazy conspiracy theories were right with their claim that a nefarious organisation has spread across the world and penetrated all strata of societies with its harmful influence. Nay, it went much further than that. It no longer was the case of a cabal controlling our world; rather our world literally was one and the same as this evil creature.
What if I myself was just a sucker on one of its giant tentacles? That would certainly explain why I have so often been gullible and easily deceived. Could this be the reason the Company sent me for a vacation to this "town" – to gain insight into my own nature, as well as into the true character of the world? But if so, then how could I possibly profit from such a devastating revelation of who I really am?
Waking Up to Life
Some time ago, a woman with a gun in her hand demanded of me and my companions that we provide good reasons why life is worth living; otherwise she was going to terminate us.
I thought to myself, 'This is the very question I've struggled with for so long and now I am being forced to provide a definitive answer. Do I make up some fancy reason and thus escape with my life? But if I lie, then my life is not really worth pursuing.'
In the distance, I saw my friends getting finished off - obviously their answers weren't good enough.
It was now my turn. I entered and faced the interrogator. In a voice devoid of any tone, she commanded me to present my case.
"Life is hard, really hard sometimes," I replied to her, "and a lot of times I don't want to go on struggling against the unyielding, overpowering forces. Yet I want to continue living. That is all I can say. I want to live."
The interrogator gazed at me with an empty look - a look lacking any human expression - deciding on her answer.
Just as she was about to make her pronouncement, I woke up to life.
Boris Glikman is a writer, poet and philosopher from Melbourne, Australia. His stories, poems and non-fiction articles have been published in various online and print publications, as well as being featured on national radio and other radio programs. He says: “Writing for me is a spiritual activity of the highest degree. Writing gives me the conduit to a world that is unreachable by any other means, a world that is populated by Eternal Truths, Ineffable Questions and Infinite Beauty. It is my hope that these stories of mine will allow the reader to also catch a glimpse of this universe.” His story, "Grades of Dream," appeared in Issue #71 of The Cafe Irreal.