There—a light flashing in the dark distance. What could it be? A heart? A soul? But what defines a soul? What defines distinction from the rest? It dangled there, on a rope, from the ceiling, swaying back...and forth...from side...to side...then, other lights in the darkness lit up; all the same, with similar yellowish-orange colors. They clicked on with a hollow and echoing click of the switch.
Silence.
There were thousands of light bulbs, hanging from the ceiling, twisting against their own weight like a hanged man's feet that twists and turns. They were the same light bulb with the same exact color—except for one.
Except for one light blue light bulb in the center of the dark universe, swinging on its own, covered and swarmed by fading, disgustingly yellow bulbs that swayed in the same direction—with the same movements. The blue light bulb was all the same, but drastically different at the same time. He looked like a light bulb but was blue. Truly blue.
Listen, there in the distance: footsteps. In the shadows of the light bulbs, a human walked up to the little blue lightbulb, reached out her quite feminine hand, and proceeded to screw the lightbulb out of its socket. Then, the blue light faded, and darkness seeped across the canvas.
Look, a yellow light in place of the blue, all the same, never different. It swayed the same, it blinked the same, but most importantly, it thought the same—just like any other faded yellow light bulb.
YOU ARE READING
Further North
Science FictionA robot that dreams has the power to upheave societal norms and thoughts about an androids place in society. The doctor, in need of assistance with his underground drug dealing business, sends Julian to deliver a highly dangerous and addictive desi...
