Afterwards I’m lying there staring at the ceiling and thinking about other women that I’ve had sex with. She asks me what I’m thinking. I tell her humanity’s inevitable future is a technological evolution, a sort of digital hive mind. When we run out of space we’ll find a way to become it, shedding our mortal skins and moving as pure energy. There’s a rolling snicker and she slips her arm under my neck. I love the way you think, she says. No you don’t, I think. I count to thirty and start again. Obsolete bodies and expended energies.
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.