The Followers Within

“Did you see that?” I’m talking to myself.

Life can be unhealthy. I look out the window, and within the landscape of buildings, trees, and bodies of water, I see nothingness. Objects, human history that has passed, that I am trapped within.

A buzz opens up in my ear, and distracts me from the view, from what I saw.

“Did you see it?” Distractions swarm around me.

I can feel the marrow now. It moves, oozes and flows within my bones. It’ll be over soon, if what has been said remains true through until the after. Torn, undecided on a decision that has already been made. I remain reclusive to avoid the horror, running from the unknown over a gut feeling. I know I won’t make it, nobody has. I’ve seen them, they looked happy. Have I cherished my thoughts? Should I ever have? I hope I won’t miss them, I hope the memory of them fades.

None protected the self. There were groups, and they were the first to unite. Essences drained on the whole. They say they feel full, something I’ve tried to make of the self. Those who stayed alone remained alone, further and further getting shut off. Any cooperation would see conglomeration. Even so, even though I am alone, this movement within my bones, it is a writhing of the hollowing fulfillment. Living nutrient senders and receivers of more, a conductor to the whole.

It didn’t become apparent until it was too late. There was no uncovering or secret. The bold bastards outright introduced themselves as our new motivation. The ability to follow your dreams with everyone in the world. All of mankind working together, connected via the inner workings now within the marrow.

Direction, follow your inner calling, all the help, all the teamwork. We remain human, merely augmented. Like them. All of them.

Outside my window the craft is enormous. It hovers over the city, blocking no sun. Everything seems harmonious. People walking down the sidewalk orderly, organized. Things are flowing smoothly, connected. The true originals, who never desired help or support are cast by the wayside of progress. Trapped by their own hubris. Not like you could connect with anyone normal anyway. It may be for the better.

No. My marrow pulsates. I’ve locked myself away, to keep myself, but there’s no hope. I’ve seen what happens to those who resist. They tear themselves open, scratching to get the marrow from their bones. An ogre’s field day. If the marrow didn’t move, that is. It’s so distracting. Asking questions barely makes sense. They infected us all. Proximity makes us stronger.

There is other life; it enters a central structure. Countless species all working towards their goals. What are they? I’d know. It would be fact, defined from the self as a part of a whole.

I haven’t seen anything. Inside my bones, I slither.

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