I, Broken
to understand dreams with background music, the word time repeating over and over again in tune to drum beats heavy with chords you can’t name you don’t know how, only one in a thousand people can recognize pitch by hearing alone; you don’t even know the differences among do, re, mi… Where do you begin with do? A note is a group of phrases scribbled on scrap; an octave is a word used to impress a stranger. The images are a montage transitioning with every beat a hundred thousand still photos speckled with explosions of white light, sources unknown/unknowable; the characters running from one frame to the next. Where to, what from?
Inside the hut, she
cradles a winnow basket on her lap,
combing grains of rice for pebbles,
for husks. She watches waves
form round her fingers.
She is thinking of return;
she is thinking, soon.
Then she gathers some grains
in her hands, lets them go,
lets them rain from her palms.
The door behind her creaks
and she jolts to look—
but only the wind greets her.
Outside, the field is drowning
in the sun’s redness.
As if the field is bleeding
or perhaps, on fire.
My mommy is a robot and she’s with me every day. She’s always inside this little screen my daddy bought for me. Whenever I get home from school and dad gets home from office; he would press a button, enter a word, and POOF! Would come my mommy smiling at me.
Yes, she is a robot but she has eyes and a nose and a mouth just like your mommy does. But she doesn’t have hands or knees or feet. Sometimes she does when she moves around the screen like the people in TV. But it’s okay if she is just a face because I can talk to her and she can talk to me.
Do you know what a robot is? My mommy is a robot but she wasn’t always one. She used to be a person too. A real live mommy who can hug me, and kiss me, and tuck me in at night. But then she disappeared one day; I don’t know where she went. So my father bought this screen for me and she appeared again.
Sometimes it worries me because it’s always raining inside her screen. Mommy says it’s static. Is that robot-speak for rain?
When it’s night time here, it’s daytime in her screen. And when it’s daytime here, it’s nighttime in her screen.
Sometimes it worries me because they have ice-rains where she is and it covers her world with ice. I wonder if robots ever feel cold like people do. My mommy says it’s okay because she has a heater.
“I never forget to turn on my heater” she said. But every night, I drape a blanket over her just to be sure.
Sometimes it worries me because I can’t bring her to school. My classmates don’t believe that my mommy is a robot. They say robots can’t be mommies and mommies can’t be robots.
So I went to my teacher and asked her if I can bring robot mom to school. But she just smiled at me and said, “You know robots aren’t allowed in school.”
“But moms are allowed” I told her.
“Just this once, then” Teacher said. “But you have to ask permission from your daddy first because robot mommies are really hard to carry around.”
I went to daddy and asked him if I can bring mommy to school. But he just smiled at me and said
“It’s too big to bring around school, baby. And your school has no internet.”
So I went to mommy and asked her if she can give my school an internet. Maybe robots can give internets to school.
“Oh no, baby girl, I can’t do that” mommy said. “But I won’t be a robot forever, you know. Soon I will come home and I would be able to hug you and kiss you and tuck you in at night. And then I can meet your classmates too. Hey, maybe I’ll come back this Christmas!”
Oh I can’t wait until Christmas! A robot mom who can turn into a real live one too! Moms like that are very hard to find. I must be lucky because my mommy is a robot but she’s not just a robot, she can be a real live mommy too.
Many thanks to Migi de Belen.
Drug: Mescobine
Mescobine is a psychoactive drug that is classified as both a depressant and a stimulant. It is either taken orally or snorted; oral ingestion being the more famous (and less dangerous) choice. Its three major ingredients are mescaline (the active ingredient in the hallucinogen peyote cactus), nicotine (the active ingredient in cigarettes), and psylocybin (the active ingredient in mushrooms). Trace amounts of MDMA (methylenedioxymethamphetamine, also known as ecstasy—a hallucinogen and a derivative of amphetamines) have also been found.
In anecdotal reports, users claim generally three major stages of its effect. First is the stimulation where there are changes in visual perception—very clear and vivid hallucinations such as cobweb figures, tunnels, and spirals appearing in bright and various colors. This stimulated effect only lasts for 30 to 60 minutes after the intake. Afterwards, the user gets sedated; producing pleasant, relaxed feelings, and, in some cases, euphoria. In both stages, inhibition is greatly reduced and intellect or consciousness is not impaired. On the third stage, depression and paranoia takes place.
Street Name: Stick, Cobe, Nib
Nervous System:
Because of the presence of three strong drugs in its ingredient, mescobine sends various messages to the nervous system. The presence of mescaline increases the activity of the neurotransmitters norepinephrine (released when physiological changes are activated by a stressful event) and dopamine (has important roles in mood, specifically when unexpected rewards are presented or expected but failed to see). Both psilocybin and the trace amounts of MDMA inhibits serotonin (plays a role in aggression, anger, vomiting, and sexuality) receptors. The strong presence of nicotine may just be the reason for its wavering effect. Nicotine activates certain receptors that cause arousal and then soon afterwards, it blocks these same receptors and produces calming.
Dangers:
To date, mescobine is the most dangerous drug known to man because of its mixed effect. Prolonged usage may very likely confuse the central nervous system, irrevocably driving the user to psychosis.
Mescobine was a designer drug, popular in rave parties. Currently, it is being widely used as a weapon; more specifically to sedate prisoners of war.
at ‘yon na. Iyon na ang katapusan. ‘Pagkat ang pagdampi ng balat sa balat ay may kakayahang magpaguho ng pagkakahulugan, bumuo ng isang panibagong mundo ng mga pakiwari.
Maaaring umusbong ang salitang mahal bilang isang bulong sa pagitan ng balat ko, balat mo. Maaaring magbago ang salitang kaibigan sa sandaling tanggalin mo ang iyong kamay, sa iyong kampay, sa iyong bawat galaw.
Tandaan mong walang salitang mag-aatubiling baluktutin ang kaniyang sarili.
Pilit nilang uunawain ang mga simbolong maaaring wala namang laman.
Kukuwadruhan ng lumulubog na araw ang kubo sa gitna ng bukid.
Mula sa loob, susuyurin ng babae ang mga bato at ang mga balat ng palay
sa bilao ng bigas sa kanyang kandungan. Papanoorin niya itong gumawa ng alon
sa ligid ng kanyang mga daliri. Iisipin niyang, sandali na lang.
Iisipin niyang babalik siya.
Hahakutin niya ang mga butil sa kanyang kamay
at saka hahayaan itong umagos pabalik sa bilao.
Lalangitngit ang kubo at tila manggagaling sa likod ang ingay,
tila may papasok. Lilingon siya—
ngunit hangin lang ang sasalubong sa kanya.
Sa labas, walang magagawa ang bukid kundi malunod
sa tuluyang pagbuhos ng araw ng pulang kulay sa paligid.
Mula sa loob, iisipin niyang dumudugo ang bukid
o di kaya’y nasusunog.
Nagpapaliwanag ang lalaki tungkol sa mga bituin,
sa kalangitan, at sa mga imposibleng bagay.
Sabi niya, nakasalalay ang kagandahan sa distansya:
mga bagay na imposibleng makamit. Mga bagay
na hindi maaaring mahawakan. Samantalang ang babae
ay binibilang ang mga nunal sa mukha ng lalaki—
isinasalarawan ang mga konstelasyong maaaring mabuo
sa bakas ng kanyang daliri. Ngayon nama’y pinapaliwanag
ng lalaki ang kalabisan ng mga black hole:
ang kapangyarihang manggayuma ng mga bagay
upang bigyan lamang ito ng wakas. Samantalang tinititigan
ng babae ang mga anino nila na nabubuo ng poste
ng ilaw sa itaas. At nang may dumaan na sasakyan,
nilamon ng anino ng lalake ang anino niya.
and he is not with her.
It is morning now and he is gone.
She closes her eyes and remembers
the theatrics of last night:
shouts, decisions hastily made
and can never be taken back,
a slamming door.
Now the aftermath sinks
in.
As a child,
she believed that dust illuminated
by the morning sun were little fairies
who have come to grant her a wish.
She used to dance with them,
praying, one by one giving them names.
Now the aftermath sinks
into regret. She is no longer a child.
She clenches a small bunch of her blanket
in her hand. It is morning
and she wants to pick up
the utterances from last night
and eat them whole.
She stands up and opens the windows by the bed.
Then she is a child again, dancing
with the dust fairies, wishing
him back. She will give them names—
God’s names. Until all
His billion names have been spoken,
and nothing more is left to utter
