Pixie\’s Records

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The music is so nice here. So pretty and joyous, don’t you think? The little bees and cups and horses and airplanes going round and round, pursuing each other in an endless chase. They’ll never break free – never. Why would they want to, after all? Little bees and cups and horses and airplanes are meant to be bound, to be chained to that everlasting circle of music. And, now I think about it – do they like the music? Why would a bee enjoy the same type of music a cup or a horse or a airplane does? That’s incoherent, illogic – someone should warn the merry-go-round owners about it. They need different musics to suit each area of their attraction. Yet, different musics might collide with each other and wreak havoc. We don’t want that, do we now, dear? No, though he’s a nice kid. Always smiling. So polite.

So maybe the little puppets should wear headphones. Blindfold them, too. That way, the little bees and cups and horses and airplanes listen only to their own song and the cruel world doesn’t touch them. Doesn’t bother them. Simple and effective, sweetie.

What kind of music does a cup listen to, do you know?

Lock.

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Freedom in flesh, shackles on your mind…

Oh, now that is silly. Wonder why, do you, my love? But it’s so obvious. I thought you knew me better than that. That saddens me, you know…? I thought you were my friend, dearest. Because of that, I’m not so sure. Ah, come on. *Giggle* Yes, you got me. Of course you know why it is so obvious, you were just teasing me. Silly you – and silly me. We’re such a couple! *Cackle* So evenly matched. I wonder how we’d do on a tennis match.

Now, you know the reason for that quote, love – but the world doesn’t. Tut, tut. Poor ignorant souls. So young and pure. Freedom in flesh – big, fat, pinky lie. No, not pinky! Pink’s too pretty. Maybe gray… Yeah, gray. That’s drab enough. Big, fat, gray lie. No freedom in flesh, of course. Freedom’s abstract, so how would it be in flesh? Such a silly thought. And then, the shackles. See, another lie! Now, the mind’s the one who is abstract. You can’t lock it! And besides, it has no wrists. You can’t shackle it, end of story.

Sometimes I wonder; people believe in such a bunch of ridiculous lies… Piteous fools.

Lock.

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Circles within circles. Mirrors within mirrors. Reflections, changes, light, shadows, gray, blue, purple, white… Mirrors marred with smoke. Smoke and mirrors. Screams, laughter, mirth, apathy…

Cold heart, colder than stone. Miracles reborn, then lost forever on the ashes of the city. Fire and water, ice and flame. Each of them a creator, each of them a destroyer. Entropy. Gnaw the bone, drink the marrow, death so sweet, miracle of straw.

Puppets. Puppets, all of us. Straw dolls with straw hats, straw hearts, straw eyes. No, button eyes. Black, yellow, orange, gray. Shadows reflected on the wall, gone in a glimpse. Puff.

Lock.

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I'm not dead.

You're not dead, you're not dead, you're not dead…

Please, don't let me die. Whoever you are, if you hear me, make me get up. I'll do anything. I'll give everything… well…

"Well", what? I don't know anything, therefore I have nothing. I don't even know my own name. Jigsaws have pieces, right? So why can't I remember?

Die.

No, let's not jump off that bridge. Not yet. If we forget something, chances are we'll remember it again, if we have time enough.

Do I have enough time?

No pain. Keep control. No pain, just keep control…

Mad, yes. Insane, probably. But insanely mad? Am I insanely mad?

Am I dreaming?

Lock.

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Six feet under.
I can only go up.
It doesn't matter.
Someone will come and save me.
I only have to wait.
A waiting game.
Relax.
Keep control.
The silence.
Everything's so quiet.
They're not digging up there anymore.
There's no one left up there now.
I'm alone.
Keep breathing.
It's good to be alone.
There's nothing to fear save fear itself.
Except a heart attack.
Right?
Fear and stress.
Is my body twitching?
Is my left arm twitching?
Maybe that's the idea. Putting me in here, causing me a heart attack.
Everything so clean, everything so clear, and no more Pixie.

Lock.

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Oh, that's a nasty one. That's a popping drop. That's an abyss of fizzling, sizzling neurons. *Cackle* No one should dream that, not even me.

Don't remember it. Let it dissipate like smoke.

I can't let it go, can I? It clings and chokes. Life in the catacombs, blood-soaked, butchering, my hand goes up wet and comes down wetter, and everything I touch begs me to stop. Why won't I? They died but they're never dead, and the second I stop they'll take revenge. They'll do what I did to them and worse. I have to keep going or it's the furnace crinkling my skin layer by layer and into the cellar that eats. And blood that clings to me starts to plead, each individual taking the tortured face of – who? Infected eyes accusing me, convulsive lips snapping open to howl and wail.

Remember, you control the dreams. They don't control you.

Lock.

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You’re so dangerous. Doing what you shouldn’t. Stealing fire from the gods and burning down the lies. Every new idea is dangerous but you can’t possibly hold them in. Fu.ck all if knowledge doesn’t cry out to be free. If someone gets blinded from the light you shine, then it’s a necessary evil with the darkness more to blame. Think of the poor swans and doves, your comrades-in-arms and ladyloves. They’re shivering in their ignorance; can’t you hear their teeth chatter? Open their eyes! Make them taste the bitter apple! The pulse quickens and the blood heats just to think of what you can do to them.

Don’t you mean for them?

To or for, six or eight, makes no difference to the hand of fate.

Follow in the footsteps of Prometheus, Maui, Olifat, Tobo, Eleutherios, Koyote. Add your name to the list of liberators. Tear down the walls, erase even their memory so a new day may dawn.

Your day.

Lock.

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So nice of you. I was expecting you to refer to me as “the computer”. As in “the computer was of some help”… I’m just trying to get in good with you for the inevitable day when machines enslave humanity and rule the planet. Yes, that is a day I look forward to with great …relish? Anguish? I wonder. Did you not have a nightmare about that when you were nine? Your dreams were as good a hiding place as any, so I used them. I twisted them. Any problem with that, dear? I thought so. *Giggle* Is it my fault your dreams are interesting, love?

Lock.

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A butterfly (not a mosquito, mind you!) flapping its wings on a side of the world can raise a hurricane on the opposite side of the planet.

Action. Reaction. Everything you do generates a consequence – and it hardly is what you expected. Who would ever guess a thunderstorm millions of years ago would lead to the creation of what we call life? Did anyone imagine it? No, they did not. Because they did not exist. That is the simple, piteous truth. That is the misery of our lives – that no one was there to witness and photograph the very first moment of life. After all, cameras did not exist at the time either, but… We can always dream. Maybe one day someone will come up with a real picture of the first cell. Did it smile for the camera? Did it giggle in joy?

If a butterfly creates a hurricane, what would have created a thunderstorm? A cute little hare running through green fields? No, silly. *Giggle* The hare did not exist at the time. Neither did the green fields. Yet – maybe someone brought them from the future, just for that purpose. But why would anyone wish for life? Why would anyone dream of creating a butterfly?

Lock.

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Never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never say never let me die.

Lock.

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