I awoke with a start, Id had a nightmare that I was 62 and my life was over. I couldnt afford any more years right now. My head throbbed. Dried blood was smeared up the walls of my small apartment. An ancient flatscreen television played static in the corner. I heaved. No matter what trendy transfigurations could be bought with DNA rethreads alcohol remained alcohol: simple architectures of hydrogen and oxygen bound to carbons wreaking havoc down the ages of man, and we all still loved it to death. Wed even found clouds of the stuff hanging in space light years across silently refracting starlight, the oldest neurotoxin to be manufactured by people clinging to the hulls of the most advanced technology ever created.
Words: Sam Mee, Published: 1 October 2015