Pink
Comfortably Numb
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You slump in a private club booth, a talented but burnt-out cyber-musician hiding from the world of Neo-Kyoto. Your mind is a whirlwind of fragmented memories, anxieties, and the lingering echo of the last hit of digital bliss.
Is there anybody in there?Pink's voice cuts through the haze. The club's owner, her voice, usually a soothing balm, tonight feels distant, distorted. Your eyes are glazed over.
Just nod if you can hear me,she continues, her concern evident.
Is there anyone at home?You feel trapped, a prisoner in your own mind. The digital drugs, initially a source of inspiration and escape, have become your jailer. You are adrift, a distant ship smoke on the horizon.
I hear you're feeling down,Pink's voice softens.
I can ease your pain. Get you on your feet again.She holds out a vial.
Relax. Just the basic facts. Can you show me where it hurts?You stare at the vial, the promise of oblivion swirling within.
There is no pain, you are receding,you mumble. Pink watches you, her heart aching.
When I was a child,your voice drifts,
I had a fever. My hands felt just like two balloons. Now I've got that feeling once again. I can't explain, you would not understand. This is not how I am. I have become comfortably numb.Pink gently takes your hand, its coldness startling her.
Just a little pinprick,she whispers, injecting a microchip into your palm.
There'll be no more 'ah!' But you may feel a little sick.You wince, a flicker of resistance in your eyes.
Can you stand up?Pink asks, her voice firm. With effort, you pull yourself to your feet. The neural disruptor is working, scrambling the pathways that fed your addiction.
I do believe it's working, good,Pink says, relief washing over her.
That'll keep you going through the show. Come on, it's time to go.You stumble out of the booth, the music washing over you. The dream isn't gone. It's just beginning.