Mind Bleed by Penelope Friday Hear "Mind Bleed" (Requires Adobe Flash) | Download | |

I had a mind bleed yesterday. That's what They call it when Their programming goes wrong and suddenly you remember something of your past, or think something new, something that They haven't put in your head. I'm writing this now, quickly, before my re-programming has properly set in and I forget. Then I've got to find somewhere to put this where They won't find it.

I don't know who might read this. If it's one of Them, it'll be incinerated. Right now, I can remember books – there were some that told truths and some that told of imaginary worlds, like the one They created for us. But the old books didn't try and pretend they were true. They got rid of books as soon as They could. They say that anything that isn't Their truth is a lie, and evil. But I think of this as my 'book.'

(Continued below)

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It might be someone else in the program who finds this. I wonder if reading this would cause a mind bleed. I hope it would: I have this fantasy where lots of people read it and have mind bleeds and decide that they want to live in their own world, a real world, not something created by Them. Then we all gang together and we beat Them into submission.

What will probably happen, though, is that anyone reading this will think I'm crazy. In need of Conditioning. Conditioning, it turns out, is what They call re-programming. They say it's for people who are weak or ill, who need hospital treatment. We always felt sorry for people who had to have Conditioning. Some people are in and out of Conditioning all the time.

Mrs. Jee, for example. She's had it maybe six or seven times. About once a year, as long as I've been able to notice. Just before going in, she used to talk about Them, mutter about mind control. We all heard her, and there was a collective embarrassed silence. Poor thing, we thought, so horrible to be mad.

We all thought the same thing. This time tomorrow I'll be thinking it again, I suppose. Right now, I'm the crazy one – and I know I'm telling the truth. Tomorrow I'll be sane again, happily living a lie.

Everyone I talk to will agree with everything I say, because we are all programmed to think the same things. Disagreement is the first sign of a mind bleed.

I got a sum wrong. That was all, a simple sum. And when the Learning Facilitator pointed out my mistake, I wouldn’t accept it. I still believed I was right, and I said so. I should have known better. I should have agreed meekly and shut up. But perhaps that wouldn't have helped. They would have noticed the original objection and acted to stop it going further.

I was sent to the Waiting Room at once, accompanied by Elle, a girl from College. They never let you go anywhere alone if They can help it – probably scared of what you might find out. I'd been there once before, when I'd accidentally cut my hand in Craft Time. The Fixer mended the cut, and I'd been back in time for the next Session. I wasn't concerned, therefore. I judged it on the previous occasion, and expected to get a lecture for my sins (clumsiness had been my sin last time, laziness would presumably be the accusation this) before being sent back. It would be over soon, I thought. But this time things were different.

Things were very different.

On our way down to the Waiting Room, things kept running through my head. Crazy stuff, wrong stuff - but things that seemed so obvious and true that I knew they were right, no matter how mad they seemed. Elle's touch was gentle. But she was obviously scared of me as one was of a mad person. Even if I'd said it, even if I'd said a tenth of what I was remembering … she wouldn't have believed. I wouldn't, if I'd heard it from someone else. How can I blame her?

She left me in the Waiting Room. I smiled at her, and she twitched as if I'd abused her, like I was contagious. I wish it were true. I wish everyone I'd seen that day knew what I know now. If they did, this wouldn't be happening. We'd fight back against Them, somehow. But it's only me and it won’t be too long until I won't remember either.

I won't remember the way the Fixer in the Waiting Room pushed me straight into Conditioning. I won't remember seeing two of Them awaiting me. I won't remember the noise, even though it was so loud it sounded as if a pneumatic drill was boring into my skull – except the sound was coming from inside my head, not from outside. I won't remember opening my mouth to scream, and seeing Them watch me as dispassionately as if I were some creature no more important than a fly. And I won't remember the way they told me to forget – forget – forget.

Soon I will live Their fake life again and think it true.