Dear Stranger,
I don’t really know why I’m writing. I don’t feel like writing. I feel like murdering my already dead father, truth be told. I feel like screaming, breaking things and just sitting in empty silence all at once. I hate my father, I hate DreamTrue, I hate every person who ever used it.
Kit’s dead. So is Jed, his partner, and the two fighters that went with them to respond to the call that came in. Two idiots who used mDT and dreamed together with a couple of mates watching on. Two different nightmares in the same room. Eight people dead. Including Kit. I wish I could have just shot the bastards myself. Kit would be alive then.
I don’t know how to tell Mum. How do I tell her?
How?
YOU ARE READING
Souvenir's Of Self
Ficção CientíficaIn the future people are always looking for the next big thing in entertainment and Joe's father gives it to them. It's a drug/machine combo that allows dreams to come into reality. The technology is stolen a few years later and is modified allowing...
