.the desert is long.

.the desert is long.

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación jue, sep 7, 2017
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Ficción
Ciencia Ficción
Nothing is real. Trees aren't real, gummy worms aren't real, my cat isn'tt real, gods aren't real, and nihilism isn't real. Humans most certainly are not real; they are the cause of this mass corruption of "reality". I wouldn't consider myself a xenocidal megalomaniac, but I do have the radical whim to end it all. Because then maybe something could be real.
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I wasn't special, I wasn't a marine or a scientist sent here from earth to study Pandora, I was a behaviorist-some say behaviorists are scientists too; but the brain isn't made up of mathematics and hope, it's like the roots of trees. Forever speaking but unheard. I study people's brains and their behavior. I don't look at it with hope and faith. I'm nothing special, not really. When I was accepted to help with Project Pandora, I was exhilarated. This was my big break, something to get me out there. I never expected for it to spiral into my life unprofessionally-become personal, emotional. That I would have to fight in a war between man and alien, choose between my own people and a clan of beings that accepted me-welcomed me, trained and made me one of them. This wasn't supposed to become personal, but it did.

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