I was on my knees, wiping stray semen from my lips, when Felix reached down and handed me a packet. It wasn’t the usual crystalline white powder. Wasn’t powder at all. It was a tiny oval – two tiny ovals — clear through the center, like contact lenses.
“What the hell is this?” I asked. I may have been a college dropout that blew strangers for meth, but I had standards. I wasn’t going to sell my body for pennies. For… whatever the hell he handed me.
After I crumpled up the packet and launched it at his head, he explained that they were, in fact, drugs. New drugs. Expensive drugs. Illegal drugs.
It worked like LSD, but instead of popping it into your mouth and letting it dissolve on your tongue, you inserted it into your eyes. It would give you “controlled hallucinations.” Instead of seeing random images that your mind conjured up, you’d see set images. Like you were watching television.
The pair he handed me were copies of Yellow Submarine. All I had to do was pop the contacts in and I’d get a front row seat to cartoon John, Paul, George, and Ringo frolicking around and singing. I’d see all the sights and hear all the sounds.
At least that’s what the bum with his cum in my stomach told me.
Of course, I didn’t believe him. Thought it was a load of crap. So I told him to sit his ass back down and wait while I tested it out. If he was screwing with me, I had a blade. I wouldn’t hurt him, but I would threaten him. Even if he didn’t have any meth on him, he must’ve at least had some money.
I took a quick trip to the bathroom to wash myself off (I would stick a stranger’s genitals in my mouth, but I wouldn’t touch my eyes without clean hands) and stuck the contacts inside. It made the skin around my eyes tingle and go numb. And it made the rest of my body feel Light. Airy. Relaxed. I loved the fucking feeling.
But what I saw was… mediocre. Like when you use a touchscreen fridge or put on virtual reality goggles. I probably should’ve been more impressed by how far technology had taken us, but I was desensitized. New gadgets came out everyday.
It was different than I expected, though. I wasn’t watching the Beatles on a flat surface, like I had a computer or a cinema screen stretched out in front of me.
The movie was layered over the real world. Like the characters were ghosts or holograms. I couldn’t touch them – my hand would go right through – but otherwise they looked real (or as real as cartoons could get). And if I moved, which was a bad idea with two realities layered over each other, they followed me. Looked pretty cool. And felt fucking great.
When I finished the experience, Felix was still sitting across from me, smirking. I think he wanted to brag, because that’s exactly what he did.
He told me that his brother was the one that created the drug. It didn’t surprise me that a scumbag like him had a genius brother. Families usually worked like that. Like all the good genes got sucked into one sperm.
It was like that with me and my older sister, Emma. When I was in single digits, everybody swore that she was the problem child. The devil’s child. She had detention every other week and the neighbors wouldn’t let their kids hang out with her. But then my mother joined the angels in heaven and our roles reversed.