Sentient Autonomous Network Episode 1

Looking out over the ocean from the sand. Peacefully absorbed in the sway of the sea top. Rhythmically pulling us to and fro. The beach is all but silent. The soft hiss and fizz of waves being swallowed by the sand. The tide begins to recede feverishly. Pulling further and further from us. Mounting a wave larger and larger. Gradually growing casting an opaque shadow. Looming ominous with its careening approach to shore. 

Our eyes open. Alone in bed engaged in third dimension consciousness. First the left leg then the right our feet touch the floor. Cold to the heel. The room is elliptical and familiar. The air smells decidedly transparent never the less we breathe. Aware of our body, the necessity to inhale and exhale to perceive our surrounding. A thin scentless sweat glistens a glossy film over our skin. 

Standing and pulling our arms above our head a stretch. We make our way through the exit down the hall and into the washroom. A mirror reflects the space we occupy with a sink at waist level. Disrobing, eyeing the faucet, anticipating the operational actions required to draw a shower. Turning the knob and entering a waterfall mist. Rinsing our body from head to toe. Sensuously exploring a familiar fleshy landscape.

Things feel right in the shower. Alone but not quite lonely. Solace found in the ritual's habitual execution. An anchor of recurring truth. Ever present without becoming redundant. Washing away any harbored ill. A clear mind is the product of a shower. A clean body is the result. Often, as today, over too soon. Stepping out to towel off, dry enough we hang back the terry cloth.

Standing in front of the mirror aware of our reflection. Squeezing a pea-sized mound of tooth polish onto a brush we begin to massage our gums. This happens like second nature, looking deep into our eyes. Pupils locked. Our mouth begins to feel refreshed. Clean and new we break gaze to spit out the mentholated foam which navigates down the drain. Acutely aware of a growing atmospheric hum.

Looking back into the mirror our reflection is the face of an Orca. Innocent and reminiscent of a panda. The humming grows. The mirror begins to go concave. Our Orca face grimacing ear to ear exposing enamel plaque ridden bullet teeth. Perfectly aligned in a telling smile. The scentless sweat escapes our pores. The growing hum. Blossoming between our legs. Rapture and release. Eyes closed, the humming suffocating, with a blink our shorts are creamy and the wash room is silent.

The mirror reveals our face is slightly flushed. Our mouth tastes faintly metabolic. The shower feels soiled and we clean ourselves with a moist towelette. The stained shorts find their way into the wish bin. While we walk to the wardrobe. Choosing today's outfit employ's a moment's concentration. Feeling fresh linen caress our shoulder. Satisfied. Nearly elated by the textile tickle to the back of our knee we make way to the kitchen.

A short stack of cricket flour pancakes topped with seasonal berries and a tall glass of roach milk await our hungry stomach. Salivating in preparation to receive sustenance we take a seat and begin methodically cutting our meal. Penetrating bite sized pieces of our earthy and sweet pancake with our fork. Chewing and swallowing the mushified food. Now and again sipping the nutty roach milk from a glass. Our body alive with joy. Activity and nourishment.

Finished and satiated we stand. Walk toward the door and slip our feet into our shoes. Exiting the Apartment. Entering the world.