Drifting millions of miles

Another fucking day standing in this lineup behind one lunatic and in front of another. Both are chattering about nothing - apparently some rock star has decided to perform a concert. Here. For the inmates. Bad idea if you ask me. He'll probably end up getting stabbed full of needles and being raped by at least a dozen patients.

Jesus, what is this shit? I don't know how they expect this unidentifiable substance to be treated like food. But Trigger's right. If it looked like food, the crazies wouldn't eat at all. They tried that once. Cooked up steak for a national holiday or something. Damn good. Then some fucker with wires instead of a brain thought his looked a bit like his old girlfriend. Next thing everybody was running around screaming, afraid that we were all eating love.

Love. There's a notion. State-sponsored emotional addiction if you ask me. Taking meatheads with money and loading their bodies with hormones only to sell them the animated body of some dead porn star they can have sex with. Suddenly these poor bastards are no longer productive, can't keep their jobs, and end up penniless on the streets or in here.

They've discovered that I've been giving my medications to Trigger, so now I've got to take them before they'll feed me. Out of fear that I'll save them and spit them up, they're now doing it administered. God, I hate needles - it's not the sharp prick or the sudden rush as the drugs enter my blood, it's just that it seems so unnatural. Nowhere near as stylish as shoving a fistful of powder into your mouth or nose. Trigger's furious. His main source of extras is no more. He's just sitting there, a bomb waiting to go off at the slightest push.

Some android just bumped into him. No harm really, but it's excuse enough. So Trigger rips his arm off. The droid just stands there, laughing. I can barely even see what's happening through the drugs - it's been a long time - but I think that the robot just took his arm back and pounded a security guard. More are running this way, but I can tell by the way Trigger's head is cocked that he's about to have some fun.

Kernel's looking at me as if to ask me if I'm alright. I don't think I am. There are all these voices inside my head, screaming. I see the face of that girl again. God, I wish I knew who she was. Beautiful. It's shifting and I've fallen into the nightmare of the angel again. As I see Switch jumping up to help out Trigger and the droid pummel a few security guards, Kernel's mouth opens up and I'm falling into it. I think he's holding me because I've fallen to the floor.

There is a flash of bright light and an explosion. I see a strange face looking over me and suddenly a moment of clarity. I stand to my feet and grab Kernel's arm. I yell at Trigger to follow me, that we're going to get the fuck out. His deranged and bleeding face smiles back at me. He'll follow.

Somehow I know where the explosion came from because I can hear a familiar voice screaming for help. It's my doctor. The asshole who wants to replace my brain with something a bit more efficient. It seems the rebels are shelling the building and the first good one went right through his wall and took his leg with it. With Kernel and Trigger behind me, I know my chance to escape has come. I look down on his pathetic tear-streaked face before kicking his jaw off. I run through the portal toward freedom before finally collapsing under the weight of the drugs in my system.