the borg have a plan 6: the dream half-remembered

i don’t know. can’t remember.

the whole world is spinning. what’s that? oh, a tattoo? no? what? implant shmimplant.

i think i’d like to go sleepy bo-bos now. what? your face looks funny.

stop staring at me. i wish you’d not talk so loud. how can you be so chirpy?

what’s that? hey, that’s smooth.

ouch!

where am i?

blue rings of saturn fill the viewscreen. i am an amoeba. my blobby flesh expands and is consumed. so many voices spilling down my spine like trickles of red wine. fizzy on my tongue.

huh?

no. i don’t know what you did with the remote.

turn the channel.

turn the fucking channel!

the static, it won’t re-tune.

nothing.

quiet.

equilibrium.

and somewhere, out there in the distance, a lone sailor plots his course. the stars shine, and his face is held, proud against the wind. “we are sailing,” he tells me. “forever sailing.”
shut up.

be silent.

you’re going to spoil it all. the mood, you see.

the children. he said the children would come for us. with knives.

what children? his children.

i don’t understand. fast eddie reaps the whirlwind.

ouch! quit sticking needles into me. what are you doing?

i think i want to sleep now.

voices. too many. itching my eardrums.

who is it? come in. oh, hi. how are you? did you get my letter? i wrote it two weeks ago. i don’t understand. if you didn’t get it, did it get lost in the post? it’s such a small thing.

by the way, did you know that you’ve just been assimilated?