A Dr. Manhattan Perspective

By Jose Vilson | May 4, 2009

A Dr. Manhattan Perspective

By Jose Vilson | May 4, 2009
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Dr. Manhattan

Dr. Manhattan

Trying out some voices this week. People asked me the definition of voice, and I’m exploring my boundaries. Experimental today. Education tomorrow. Explosive on Thursday. You know how I do.

It is 1am on a Saturday.

Somewhere in a far-away planet, I’ve left my mind while my physical being lays sprawled on a bed, quilt tucked sloppily underneath it to protect it from the coldest and briskest of winters.

Distraught. Pensive.

It is 145am.

While comedians hone life philosophies to the masses, I’m wondering where the time flew. Time is a deathly relative thing. Blink once and the terrible moments and anxieties still confront me like lights flashing before me, mirroring the exact coordinates at which my molecules lay in this dimension, but always out of context. As if time as a dimension never matters. Blink twice and I find myself alone, in a relative peace, and mentally thinking I should be anxious.

And I’m not.

I feel nothing.

It is now 147am. In a little over two minutes, my mind’s eyes slid through galleries of the people I formerly, currently, and will have any relationship with. In that time, I recalled a good thousand or so people, the time it took to build those relationships. the human parts of me I sacrificed. How humans react to that. The human parts I severed. And in an instant, for an instant, I let that all go.

Time is funny that way.

It is a few weeks later.

People stand in rows and aisles. Watch this life form amaze the world with his fluorescent exterior. Clothed like every one of them but every bit as naked. With all those superpowers I have in my grasp, the imploded bodies, the moving objects, and the manipulation of other life organisms, I’m every bit in touch with reality as the next life being.

It is now 1050 tonight.

Humans think that with anyone possessing such powers, they’d find peace for everyone, that war and strife will end somehow. These thoughts never end.

They never end.

Jose, who’d love to just play with different voices all day …


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