Thursday, April 18, 2013

Imogen


 Coming into the final room, all the characters along the hallway just facets of her own personality, a prelude and now we meet Imogen. 

        Imogen sat
        quiet on her bed
        the books on her mattress
        one hundred times read.
       
        Eyes to her friends
        huddled out on the wire
        cooing softly
        it was her one desire
       
        to join with them
        out past her bars
        where no one could test her
        with Monarchs in jars.
       
        She rose from her bed
        tube fallen aside
        and determined to join
        her pigeons outside.
       
        But will they fly
        off to the skies
        unless I wear
        a clever disguise?
       
        I must approach
        like a whisper in moonlight
        so they'll not startle
        so they'll not fright.
       
        And we'll make a family
        warm shoulder to wing
        they'll coo softly
        and I'll learn to sing.



Imogen appears to have experienced a great loss in her life, but we don't yet know from what.  The view from her bed in the asylum is her TV from where she watches the pigeons outside her barred window.  They are all she knows and over the years she becomes enraptured by them.  She watches them huddled as a family through winter and summer, a society's nuisance which she has seen past to something deeper that she craves.  Her dream is to join with them in their little family, the feeling of being pressed on both sides by a tight warmth and soft cooing.  Perhaps this would let her forget.
 
      
On her bed lies two books which she reads over and over again.  So many times that they have become ingrained in her reality.  A book on whales and pen and ink drawings.  She sets these aside and begins her quest to craft a disguise, a pigeon dress, that will let her fit in with her friends out on the wire.

On the floor by her bed is a symbolic feather which the viewer touches to begin Imogens story.  They bypass gravity and rules allowing them to walk up walls and proceed within the story.  Up to this point we are in Imogens recorded life in programming code.  If our memories could ever be transcribed into code, would humanity's next goal not be to then edit that code?  Removing the parts that cause pain and rewriting warmer outcomes.  You see immortality is nice, but then perhaps it can be improved.  Imogens life is written on a computer whose wheels still turn centuries after society has collapsed, yet she possesses or developed a new awareness within this construct and sets out to change how her life unfolded.  Her love a virus in the machine.

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