Reprogramming
Reprogramming creative-writing stories
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               Every good story starts with waking up right? Right?? Right?!                I don’t
By zombievirusandpeanutbutter https://zombievirusandpea...

Reprogramming

by zombievirusandpeanutbutter

               Every

good story starts with waking up right? Right?? Right?!                I don’t

know where I am. But I’m awake. I’m awake. I’m awake. Where am I? I’m awake. It’s

dark. No. It’s light. The curtains are drawn, but I see the sliver of sunlight

slicing its way through the gap in the curtains, reaching out to slice me too.                I try

to sit up. I can’t. I can’t move. I’m tied down. I begin to panic. I’m awake.

Where am I. Something beeps. A door opens. The room is filled with light,

voices. Someone leans over me, my mother, there’s someone next to her, they

look like a nurse.                “Where

am i?! What’s going on”                My

mother gently cups my face in her hands, “Oh Aria, dear Aria. We’re in the

hospital. You had a psychotic break. Your meds. They’re not working. I don’t

know what to do. We’re trying something different. Your doctor recommended something

different.”                For

just a moment my brain calms down. Up until now it’s been screaming, on fire, exploding.

But for a moment everything stops. Everything breaths.                “What?”                “You’re

going into surgery,” she tells me.                “I don’t

understand.” And everything is exploding again. “I don’t understand! I don’t

understand?! What are you going to do??”                My

mother squeezes my hand, firmly, as though she can bring me down. “Medication

doesn’t do enough. There are new techniques. With all the computer and robotic

and AI advances. They’ve found ways to reprogram the human brain. There have

been so many successes with others with mental health issues. So many who now

lead normal, functional lives”                Exploding

exploding exploding. I panic. I’m trashing against my bonds.                “FUCK

YOU! WHO ARE YOU TO SAY WHAT’S NORMAL! WHO ARE YOU TO FUCK AROUND IN MY HEAD!

YOU CAN’T DO THIS! YOU CAN’T DO THIS! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY WILL DO IN

THERE! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’LL CHANGE!”                My

mother is crying. I quiet.                “I’m

sorry”                “I don’t

know what to do Aria. You don’t know how difficult this is. You don’t know how

difficult you are. If this could fix you, not just help you or manage you like

medication. If this could fix you…”                “I’m so

sorry mama.”                For a

long time we are silent.                “Mama…what

if I’m not me anymore…after…”                She

smiles at me through her tears and runs one hand through my hair.                “Oh

Aria, you asked me that same thing before we ever first started you on medication.”

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