Screen in my Face
When I wake, I’m cold. I’m sat on a metal moving chair that glides along, unsuspended from the ground, carrying me somewhere. I cannot see the floor. The chair is leaned so that my face is buried in a screen in front of me. This is what I watched as a kid in “Wall-E”. Where am I any way?
Suddenly, my chair stops. I am annoyed, I had gone back to being relaxed and so very abruptly it was ruined. I curse and I try to look down at my belt, but my stomach hurts. My neck hurts. I can’t. My head aught to go back looking into the screen. The colors and images move so fast I cannot process the vulgarities they’re shoving in my brain. But it is entertainment. So, I watch. When will I get out of this chair?