Edited Journal Part One

ENTRY SEVENTY SIX:

I woke up screaming. The nightmares were bad tonight, though the usual stuff. This time I had been a marine. I was part of a team that infiltrated a group of hackers. These guys were good, but not as good as us. The truth was that we had been arrested and sent to prison for life for some of the attrocities that had been committed. But, we were given a deal. A get out of jail free card in exchange for inifltrating this group and sabatoging their equipment. It was a risky business, but most of us thought it worth it. Well, we managed to get the job done, but were detected. We had to fire fight our way out of there. I was shot three times. Well, eventually we made it out of there and back to the rendevus point and got evacuated. After a few days in the hospital, we were taken to be debreifed. Except, we were strapped down and given injections. I could feel the liquid flowing through me. Burning and scarring my blood vessels. It hurt so bad I woke up screaming and leaned over and threw up in the trash can.

I looked at the clock. I had been asleep three hours. Almost a record, but becoming more frequent, at least. The dreams were more like memories. Some slippery part of my past that someone had attempted to remove, but some residue ramained. I usually couldn't sleep past about two or two and a half hours. And the weirdest thing was that I actually had scarrs where I dreamt I was shot. And I can't remember how I got them.

Anyways, I got up and had my usual breakfast. A bowl of cereal. Same brand I've had for the past I don't know how many years. It was sitting there for me, on the table with a bowl and spoon, Milk, and a container of sugar. Just the way I like it. After that, I did my usual morning shave and shower routine. Then I got dressed and left for work.

Apartment 444. That's mine. My apartment is fairly deserted after the war. This area of the neighboorhood got hit pretty hard. And afterwards most of the androids were sold to people. Some worked and lived on their own, but not many. One of my neighbors has several he likes to tinker with.

The old maintainence elevator rumbled and squeaked as it carried me down. It was rusty from lack of repair. And the area stank of mildew and other shit. The roof leaked like a seive and we've had periodic showers for the past week or so.

Outside, the sky was bleak and grey. There were dark clouds pregnant with more rain. I happened to get a break for now. It was just drizzling and I remembered my raincoat.

The walk was almost always uneventful. Three blocks down and five over. The alleys were sometimes dangerous, so I stuck to the main roads. But, today something in one of the alleys caught my eye.

I saw its bright reflection as I passed. I couldn't believe my eyes. I moved cautiously into the alley. Yes. It was what I thought. It was a genuine bicycle. Still in perfect shape. You didn't see many of those. People just walked or drove nowadays.

I decided it wasn't worth the risk of hanging around and moved on. The office was just down this alley and several blocks from there. So, I proceeded on. Every now and then I thought I heard someone or something behind me. But, whenever I turned to look, there was nobody and nothing.

Well, anyways, I made it to the office just fine. My therapist said to write in this journal every now and then, so here I write.

ENTRY EIGHTY FIVE:

Talk about creepy. My next cubicle neighbor tells me that while I was at lunch some men in suits came to look for me. Didn't say what they wanted, but they didn't look very nice. Well, not much I could do about it.

On the way home from the office I decided to stop by and see the bicycle one more time. I just couldn't believe I actually got to see one. And one in such a condition. The drizzle had even let up.

But, alas, when I arrived at the entrance to the alley, I could see that the bicycle was gone. It was replaced, however, with two men in black suits. They appeared to be talking to each other and to someone over a radio. I decided to move on.

As I made my way home, I could swear that I was being watched. Was it the bum on the corner? That guy and two girls over there in the park near the apartment complex? I couldn't tell.

I managed to keep my usual calm demeanor all the way up to my place, but I locked the door after me with all the locks that it had and sat down on the sofa and began to think. Writing stories was a hobby of mine and helped me relax. Eventually I fixed dinner and watched some TV. I'm about to go to bed. Maybe tomorrow will be better.