Kat Dancing

The good news: I got something written on Kind of Mind.

The bad news: Not much.

The bad news, part two: I'm pretty sure this story needs a second narrator, and I've no fucking idea who.

I am going to go have a lie down and think about this.

Incidentally, here's the opening of the story. Extremely first draft, for which I apologize, but feel free to comment anyway.

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He was without ears, without eyes, without a sense of time, floating and empty. It was the most restful thing to happen to Isaac in weeks.

What are they doing to me?

The thought was a distant one; he couldn't really bring himself to care. It disturbed him. Isaac was - he would say - a happy man. He had a wife and two children, all beloved. He had just turned fifty, and his doctor thought he might live another century easily, with the new life-extending techology coming in. Just that morning he had been scanning the news headlines and thinking how different they would have been twenty, thirty years ago, in his youth: starvation, poverty, war... how lucky we are. How blessed now, compared to the way the world was going when I was young. We should be thankful.

And yet, he was pathetically grateful for the whim of scientists that removed him, however briefly, from that world. It was, Isaac decided, a perversity of his that should not be encouraged.

He drifted, letting thoughts come and go as they would. It was a moment of peace. It would leave him, as all peace eventually did.