Remote Viewing

…"It feels like I've only just gone sleep before I haf wake up again. It's absolutely fuck me spiders cold, and there's coppers shinin' a light in me face and going on:

"wakey wakey sir, can't have you sleeping on park benches I'm afraid."

"Yer not afraid o' nuthin' yer daft basturd, I'm homeless fer fuck's sake."

This pig's all full of himself, stinks of washing up powder and fuckin' perfume and a load er other shite and he's telling me:

"There are many shelters about sir, I'm sure they're not all full."

I cut 'im off before he starts boring me.

"Fuck off I'm going, I'm goin yer bastards, I know yer just want me fer die!"

"No, no sir, we don't want you to die, we just want you to..."

Bollocks, bollocks to the lot of 'em, I come up with a plan to get meself a nice warm bed for the night, like. Grab this empty bottle of Pils I've been sleeping with and just smash it on the floor, start waving it ar em fuck off I'll stab yuz. I feel terrible now, like, after they kicked seven bells out of me, but you know what I mean? I didn't have a penny in me pocket and now I'm sitting here, central heating, just had me dinner, its fuckin great. Looks like av gorra stay the night an all, must be they don't want me back on streets until me face has healed up a bit…

…So it's been going on like this for a bit now, I can't tell how many days I've been 'ere cus there's no winders though. But they've kept me well fed, and I'm even getting something they call behavioral readjustment, which sounds a bit much if y'ask me. It's sort of like therapy, tryin' work out why I'm such a fuckin' loser an never had a job or kids or nowt. It's all done through the telly in me cell, proper easy like, they just flash up pictures and word cards and it gets in yer 'ead. It helps you to root out all yer worst memories, get right down and look at yerself with none of the shite. I've been tryin find out how long I've been here, but there's no one else around, and the telly only comes on fer behavioral readjustment. I can have that whenever I want, but it gets boring after a bit, especially the bits when I can't move from off the chair an' am just glued like a lemon in front of videos of ants spawning and bombs exploding…

…So I set meself a task, on the bits when I can move around me cell, I scratch a line on the pipe for every drip of water, then I count the drips, then scratch more lines. It's good exercise, and the telly says it's good to have a hobby, but wankin' in't a hobby and that's why I can't do that. It says sleeping in't really a hobby neither and that's why I can't do that no more aswell. The behavioral readjustment's goin' well though, sometimes I have to make up maps for pictures of buildings, and if I get the map right they give me this syrup stuff that tastes dead nice. I was watchin' the telly when I saw a map for a buildin' that they didn't even show me yet, and they gave me a can of Super for that…

…So the other day they decided it were time upgrade me cell, and I have to say I agree with 'em, I've been goin' sickhouse on the buildings and stuff, so they said I had to take the next step. I think the word is…efficient, yeah, this is much more efficient. It's sort of like a big metal coffin full of warm water, and you just float inside it with an air pipe goin' in an' a shit pipe goin' out. You can't see fuck all, you can't hear fuck all, and the water makes it feel like yer body's just, gone. Then the picture starts takin' shape, whatever it was runnin' the telly runs this show 'undred times faster. It's not just maps of buildings no more neither, I can see the roads that people walk through each other, everyone runnin' a different note on a piano. Makin' music in each other's 'eads. I can put me own music in there, but the bossmen want everythin' their way. They pump out pure shit, project T.D. they call it. Total Demoralization. They say what I'm in's called Deep Therapy. I told 'em aswell, I says:

"So I'm in D.T., in T.D?"

That always makes 'em laugh.