Walls of the Mind
Simon Bedsit surveyed the metallic wall with distaste, the three pipes ejecting weird, pulsing light filled smoke, the wires leading to the offices of The Controllers, its straining rivets and popping paint. This flimsy damaged structure was all that was guarding his weak body clothed in grey overalls from the onslaught of pure radiation and terrifying creatures in the ravaged, smoking south Devon landscape beyond. Despite himself he thought back to the time before – before all this – when the landscape was green and lush and when human kind was not forced to be constantly on guard against bio-technical horrors, ready to bite, rip and shred human flesh.
To the time before the Beast had come, and for a moment his heart filled with yearning – to drink tea once more at the Palm Court Hotel – with his old friend Frobisher laughing across the table, the Hotel he knew was now the centre of an infestation of highly intelligent Howler Monkeys, who were armed and dangerous and poised for attack. “Can't I be somewhere different?” he asked the author - “No – and don't ask again!” Boomed a voice from above “That wall is the fourth wall – you have transgressed it once to often - you will become another stupid Internet meme, Bedsit boy!” Simon Bedsit concentrated on the wall – it was both literal and figurative and to break it would overcome the walls of fiction and allow the howling horrors beyond to enter human space. “What then?” he wondered – “What then?”