Epileptic Aether / 8 November 1998
I couldn’t get Kim to sever the nerve endings in my throat and tongue so now I’m trying to put together some kind of acidic fluid that can be self-administered orally with a minimum of fuss. Let’s just say it hasn’t been successful yet and Del is no longer with us. This is a good place for a Stick-Up[tm].
I currently have no feeling below the waist, and I’m starting to feel a significant level of numbness in my left hand. It’s spreading upwards. I’m typing this with one hand. The woman at the temp agency didn’t think this would be a problem since I’m still primarily doing ten-key. I warned her that I’d be reaching a fairly high level of inactivity by the end of the month and she smiled and made a note of it, or made a note of something. She has sinister breasts.
Before Kim left she gave me some interesting books to read and I think with their input and the equipment that I borrowed from the institute, I should be able to reach my goal by May 1st. That’s when her airplane arrives. 8:35 PM PST, United 237. Of course I won’t be able to pick her up, but I’m using my last paycheck to cover a rental car (and a one-day maid service for the apartment which desperately needs it). So I’ll be prone, motionless, utterly still when she arrives. By then only my right eye should be accepting external stimuli, everything else will be dead, some temporarily, some forever.
I wonder if she looks anything like her picture or if it was, as usual, digitally enhanced. Luckily it’ll be impossible for me to feel her, except the press of her lips against my eye. That’s all I’ll ask her for when she shows up.
I’ll have to remember to keep the door unlocked.