Bored Inner Dialogue of the Bored

(Training Room 1, way past midnight, I sit bored in front of the computer while my co-trainees doze off to the sound of one of our kind being killed on the hot seat by our pretty trainer. This is a bored me talking to a bored me.)

the tie fails.

yeah, fails big time to make a festive air out of the world's general mood tonight.

what do you plan on doing next, then?

strip the tie off, i guess. would make breathing a whole lot easier.

when was the last time you had your forecfield checked?

i can't remember. i'm ashamed to say i haven't been too conscientious in updating it these days.

i thought it's got one of those internal update schemes.

sometimes i let third party updates handle that. especially when i'm feeling
particularly god-fearing.

ah, Silence. punctuated by taps on the keyboard by fingers flexed by thoughts the mouth wishes not to free.

are you into making sense out of the unverifiable, again?

uhuh.

nothing much. that's what you wanna say, isn't it?

what i really want to say is i need to have my troubleshooting skills heated and hammered and polished.

suddenly, this predilection for metallurgy!

well, i like to think i'm made of steel.

megatron is made of steel.

well, i'm made of a different kind of steel.

i dare say how dare the heavens cry tonight, when you're wearing white slacks.

i don't think i can handle commiseration tonight, fratello.

oh, you've never handled commiseration well all your life, caro. how's that for nice-sounding?

very nice-sounding. i wish life is more than just sarcasm thrown and lost.

you know for a fact that indeed it is more than your ego thrown and lost.

i'm talking about the scheme of catching falling things mostly surrendered by those who held out the longest.

ah, there's the catch! what good is a pair of hands when all there is to hold is a rotten heart?

or a rotten cabbage.

would pair nicely with rotten eggs.

so, how do you keep this stream of consciousness captured by mere mere words?
i will it.

why will it when you can just let it take its course. consciousness weighing down a patch of history the way a rock keeps a territory of earth from being swept by flighty zephyrs?

quit being such an ass and talk to me in the simplest way, please.

there is no simple way. the only way to truly listen is to accept what kind of filter you are. and you are a complicated filter, amico mio.

i glance at the clock. 10:25 PM. 35 minutes to 11 PM. 35 minutes to yet another episode of TWC Wave 15 PST: The Rise of That Which Is Yet To Be Known.

Sigh.

bearings, dear one. bearings. and never lose sight of the monsters lurking in the shadows.

i know what you're talking about. i submit.

perimeter fence?

yes.

extra barbed?

that can be arranged.

smoke screen humor?

yes.

suicide pellet?

yes.

only for dire circumstances.

only for dire circumstances.

check radar asap.

foreign eyes, retinal radiation detected, scanning properties.
scan result: unknown

if you care enough to tune in your audio receptors for a moment please?

yes.

you failed the initial test.

how so?

refer to code of self sustenance, under The Ideal of Absolute Hermetics.

i get the point.

i know. i just wish you'd point that to yourself.

anyway, i'm changing some settings in your psycho-social processing unit.
...
...
ahem, shouldn't i be informed a bit more on that--say, some well-deserved specifics?
in due time.

sigh.

configuration initiated.

(silence)

unit prepared for standby mode.

psycho-social receptors black out confirmed