16 March, 2004
Beginning of a short story...
"Welcome to the festival of the grotesque!" Yu shouted across the phalanx of floorbeds, shortwaves, and canes. The white lights creamed the ceiling and shone down on the invalids with fierce light. Alan was inducted through a canal of steel through which the wardmembers could be seen twitching in muscle spasms, the electric pulses streaming down their loose goose white limbs sent by the central control panel to be the panacea of their pains.
"Welcome to the festival of the grotesque!" Yu shouted across the phalanx of floorbeds, shortwaves, and canes. The white lights creamed the ceiling and shone down on the invalids with fierce light. Alan was inducted through a canal of steel through which the wardmembers could be seen twitching in muscle spasms, the electric pulses streaming down their loose goose white limbs sent by the central control panel to be the panacea of their pains.
This was the Pain Control Unit No. 29842, the mammoth institution that had been borne out of the genius mind of Hao Papinsky to accomodate the unprecedented pain and nonfunctionality that he observed at the beginning of the second millenium a.d. Like all other units around the now overdeveloped continents, this one was well divided into a hundred different categories and subcategories of pain.
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