Psychobabble #12: Random Flash, I guess…

So I wanted to have at least SOMETHING posted today but once again I couldn’t think of anything to write about…. So I just decided to start typing out something and see where it went. And this is the end product. I don’t really know what kind of story this is, but it’s exactly 500 words and it’s fiction…  So it’s technically flash fiction! It’s just not much of a story and more so… well it’s psychobabble. *insert laugh track*


 

Placidity

 

She was sprawled out in the backseat of a sedan as the smoke that had collected inside escaped from the sunroof. She breathed in heavily, trying to inhale the last of the fumes leaving the car. The bright light of a nearby street lamp streamed through the remains of the smog that still clouded the windows of the car. It was sometime past one. The few people that still lived on the street were all asleep. All except for her. Once again sleep evaded her. For the fourth time this week.

After another minute of simply breathing, she sat up. She had to get out. Had to leave. Say goodbye to this whole thing. She clamored over the drivers seat and attempted to start the car. The key turned in the ignition, but engine merely sputtered. She groaned, falling over the steering wheel and gazing out of the windshield. The key was turned once more and the engine sputtered once again. She couldn’t even leave if she wanted too… The whole city was walled in. And if she even were to get out, where the hell would she go? She knew absolutely nothing about the world outside of the walls. The unknown terrors of the outside were far worse than the known terrors of the inside. Or at least that’s what she assumed.

She reached around the drivers seat, grabbing the dimly lit bud lying beside the backseat. And the synthetic shit did nothing to put her mind at ease. At this point she only smoked it to keep up appearances. Keeping up appearances piss early in morning. But it was the one thing people had left, their appearances. And she had always been the faded chick that rank of smoke. Even though the organic stuff was long gone, drugs still prevailed through artificial means. Hell, everything was artificial. People themselves were becoming artificial, filling their bodies with machinery to extend their meaningless little lives. Looking at her arm, she snickered. She could have easily lived without the fake, robotic arm. No, people weren’t becoming artificial to extend their lives… They did it to keep up with the times.

Leaning out of the window, she gazed up at the black sky above. All black save for the sole, shining moon. No stars. There were never any stars anymore. She took a final huff of the bud, filling her lungs with the intoxicating smoke. She dropped the bud on the street and opened her mouth, letting the smoke leave her body and lift gently to the heavens. Not even the damn sky was real. A screen covered the city; always showing cloudless days and starless nights. It was all to keep the people inside placid. Placidity was the now. In the walled off city, in the dead of the night, in the car drained of energy, she was smoking synthetic shit that did absolutely nothing. For the fourth day in a row. This was the current… normal. Meaningless and ceaseless placidity… was normal.

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