Becoming Einstein.

“oh...”

“OH! Because the speed of light is a universal constant!”

Against the tattered walls of his turn of the century (2000) slum, the junky sat. He was flopped against a period of generic, safety regulated, architecture. At least the mould from the leaking ceiling gave character.

His character was hidden beneath 3mm of grit. With a mind that vivid, he’d forget to shower. With a mind that vivid, he couldn’t be subjugated to employment.

He was just another junky tripping on consciousnesses downloaded from Pirate Bay.
Illegal, but his brain used a proxy server.
Illegal, but how could the police, even with their unconstitutional authority, keep up with a man who’s fused Einstein? 
Who’s fused Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? 
Who’s tripped on the self righteous Julian Assange? 
He’d fused Orwell.

Of course, he’d convinced himself, his habit wasn’t too bad.

Not as bad, at least, as some of his friends. He hadn’t tripped on Cobain.

As fun as this biology-binary bestiality is, he thought.

As fun as it is to switch subjectivities from Van Goh to Warhol. From a Hawkins/Dawkins double drop, to a Tutu/Gandhi.

As fun as it is to know quantum mechanics, the best was always himself.

While his mind was constantly demolished and rebuilt,

made mathematical then adolescent.

While it grows constantly with the residue of each simulation.

While he’d changed beyond a memory of his sober self.

He had always watched it happen.

The I.

The part of his mind that sat passive and observed.

The part of his mind that was he. He could never escape.

And so, addiction.