I am a cubist.
The cube is my home base,
my castle, my world. The cube is all. The cube is the center of my universe.
I live inside the cube. I live for the cube. The cube is everything. I
am dedicated to my cube and my cube is dedicated to me.
Four walls of light gray protect
me from the scourge of humanity surrounding me. In the bosom of my cube,
I am warm and I am safe. The pale light reflects softly off the multicolored
patterns that color the walls of the cube. It is a neutral light, not
too bright and not too dim. It casts a sufficient but unremarkable light
upon the space within the cube.
The cube is my nest. The cube
is my room. The cube is my life.
I perform my ritual inspection
of the cube's defenses. The walls are high, high enough to protect me
from direct attack from hostile neighbors. The one weakness in the cube's
defenses is the absence of a door. A simple opening in one wall allows
entry and exit. Vigilance is required to maintain the defense of that
I feel the edges of the opening
with sturdy but nervous fingers; all is well. No breaches appear to have
occurred overnight. That is good news.
Continuing my inspection, I
peer over the battlements at the immediate region. I peek around the corner
of the cube's opening. All is quiet. I fear it is early, though, and the
neighbors must soon begin their curious machinations.
The cube must be defended.
I am strong in the defense of my cube. It must nourished, cared for, protected.
The cube must not be breached. The cube must maintain. The cube's welfare
is paramount. The cube is my raison d'etre.
The cube is all-wise and all-knowing.
The cube feeds me when I hunger, waters me when I thirst, comforts me
when I ail. The cube is my best friend. The cube is my teacher, my cleric,
my god. I worship the cube. I live for the cube.
The morning inches forward.
The neighbors have all but
arrived, their monotonous droning disturbing the peace and quiet of the
cube. The cube is confident, unperturbed by the noise pollution which
assaults it. The cube knows I am here to defend it. The neighbors maintain
a safe distance from the cube. They also know I am here to defend the
Silent alarms shatter the still
of the morning. I swivel the command chair to present the initial defense
of the cube entryway. I watch steely-eyed as a band of barbarian tribeswomen
shuffle noisily. Their squawking is high-pitched and annoying, but I do
not speak their tongue. I wonder suspiciously at their jabbering. Are
they planning an assault on my cube?
They pass on by, directing
glances of greeting at me. I return the glance, not wanting to rile the
barbarians this early. No assault is forthcoming on this morning. I breathe
a sight of relief and swivel back to my command position.