RoboChildren Read online

  “I fucking refuse to believe that shit!”

  I turned and walked out the door. I threw all my belongings into my car, filled the tank, and took off down the main road of my town for the last time. I watched the familiar streets begin to fade into the distance behind me, and the new road of the west lying before me. This was it, this was the frontier I had been searching for endlessly, why didn’t I figure this out before? Why was I so dumb to think there was any chance of success for the RoboChildren in an overly conservative and closed-minded place like Ohio? The west is new and exciting and they will have the proper respect for a drug connoisseur, such as myself. I drove and drove, plagued by memories and questions about what had happened to my life.

  * * *

  And now here I am… and the only important question on my mind after all of these horrible things I've done to my mind and body is the same question I have had all along: Are we, the RoboChildren, the worst kind of addict? Those who know less of the world than a heroin junky, yet more than that of a raging alcoholic – but without the inherent social acceptance? Or are we actually fearless pioneers into a vast and uncharted world? A world driven by Dextromethorphan?

  I suspected both were true. The undefined Substance Limbo. Straddling the fence of reality.

  All hope of achieving anything based on the warped ideals of cough medicine in the already unstable minds of the manic depressive, schizophrenic minds of desensitized adolescents become nothing more than a fantasy, a perverted notion of accomplishment and a disturbing testament to massive neurotoxicity. Although a semi-original concept of using cough syrup as an instrument of “enlightenment,” no life-sustaining information can be gathered through this technique, and is ill advised to the weak-minded.

  Side Effects of RoboChildren assimilation may (and probably will) include: Unrealistic goals and ambitions based in a self-created world (delusions of grandeur), inconsistent thought processes (attributed to manic depressive/attention deficient characteristics), extreme narcissism/over-inflated ego (based on irresponsible and undirected encouragement by parental figures and Algerian fairy tales), empty bank accounts, lonely living conditions, failing kidneys, tainted livers, ineffective reproductive organs (both in sexual performance and reproductive potency), overexerted nervous systems (Hallucinogenic Persistent Perceptive Disorder), and signs of every mental disorder in the book.

  But that’s the point right?

  Live and learn they said. Well… I lived, I learned.

  In fact I lived too much and I learned too much.

  Not about anything real, mind you. No, No, about absolutely nothing necessary or valuable to learn in this sad existence (the REAL world) which will aid in my survival as a human animal – scrounging around for food and defecating on corpses of my fallen comrades. Stifled by my little fantasy world that smothered me with undeserved encouragement, love, and affection. It took on the role of my parents who said I could do great things, without actually telling me the things I would be great at doing, as long as I believed in it. Unfocused ambition. The culture rules that appearance is everything, and YOU just don’t meet standards, my friend. It’s all a part of the small town, small family, small bank account, small penis phenomenon that encourages, without legitimate reason, to strive for the vague ideas of success in this country. Creates without a plan. Pushes without a goal. Fights without a cause. Destroys without reason. This is what makes the RoboChildren what they are. Raised and nurtured on false hopes and dreams only to realize there is no answer to be found from within – only doubts and insecurities. Alienation and damnation from one’s peers. Judgment and Persecution from one’s authorities. Denial and rejection of the American Dream itself. But they said it was for everyone! Where’s my Algerian ending? Where is the inherit goodness of all people? So I ask again – perhaps for the last time, but something tells me it will be a life-long quest..

  Who are the RoboChildren?

  They are not those kids who mindlessly consume Robotussin for kicks – they are those of us who truly believe in it. Those of us who really think there is more to life that can only be discovered through purple-syrup lenses. Who think if they drink enough cough medicine, perhaps they'll make something of themselves, because there is nothing else in the world they care about…

  In the end… There is only me… I am alone…

  And I am a fool.

  *

  James Hunt was born in Fort Collins, Colorado in 1989, but moved to a small town in Ohio in 2004. He received a degree in journalism from The Ohio State University. He currently resides near the mountains, the closest thing to a home an alien like Hunt can ask for.

  Currently writing a second novel, Hunt also began an underground literature and art magazine called Over The CounterCulture.

  “Pointlessness is the point.”