A contribution by Ty41

“It hides in your cells, the only question is: in which ones and where?” The bonnet maker leads me into a kind of high-tech torture chamber. Brimming with hope, I slide into the myth-enshrouded Purpose Cocoon, a kind of floating tank in the form of a tight-fitting suit, pneumatically powered to gently massage any imaginable spot, its hood equipped with all sorts of psychotronic finesse.
“The treatment can lead to auditory hallucinations, follow what finds resonance in your innermost.” She flips a red switch. The pumps, pins, pads, picks, pucks, and what not start their work. Immediately I‘m chasing imagined chants while miraculous body sensations emerge reminding me of something that I absolutely must not forget again, and yet it slips away instantly, wanting to be pursued with thimbles, forks, and soap. I get lost in the boughs and gears of possibility and profit margins, and only much later I realize the hunting may take hours, eons or even a lifetime.

(9/10. Next up: “Nine Lives”)

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