[Wolfsisters]

Username: Wolfsisters
Name: Star
Gender: Girl
Describe their dreamworld: A rainbow cloud forest, where all he kalons are always happy and love eachother forever. <3

[sapphire77]

dropping out

[yen.]

Dropping out, I have no time to work on a form..

[gojo]

mark

[Nero The Corgi King]

Username: Nero The Corgi King
Name: Caleb
Gender: Male
Describe their dreamworld: Caleb's dream world is simply a place where everyone is kind to everyone and there is no fighting or arguing.

[The Worst Username]

Scylla/Female/The Worst Username
I apologize in advance about the rambling and the entirely weird dream world.

When I was in middle school, I read Kurt Vonnegut novels. My favorite was Breakfast of Champions. In it, a failure of a science-fiction author named Kilgore Trout with only three fans in the known universe was said to have written a story: Now It Can Be Told. In it, not a single person but one man had free will; everyone else was an unthinking machine.

I stare out my sunlit window, now, onto the sprawling city filled with screeching trains and honking cars, chatty pedestrians in mobs and pigeons picking at the sidewalk, dismally stinking smoke and grey clouds, shoddy greystones and slouching brownstones, glowing signs on street level and stoplights shining beacons of neon. I look at all this—this world, this hideous, smoking, reeking world—and I wonder: would it not be better? Would it not be better, if everyone was a machine?

Looking down at my paws, crossed over the meticulously dusted windowsill, I can see my fur as mere fabric with fluff glued on. Below the fabric I see metal. Nuts. Bolts. Screws. Well-oiled parts, all melded together and forming a perfectly functional whole. A perfect being.

I have my schedule laid out perfectly in my head, detailing to the last instant every minute from my awakening in the morning to my collapsing into bed at night. Were I a machine, that schedule would be programmed. It would not be forced into a dysfunctional, imperfect brain, but into a system of wires and circuitboards perfectly made for a perfect schedule in a perfect world.

I whisk around in a motion that makes me cringe; the motion is too fast, too panicked, too pushed by emotion, too human. Is the room clean? A small speck of dust could lodge itself in a robot’s brain. My eyes dart back and forth, back and forth. Feverish feelings burst at the seams of my mind. But I am still a being of flesh and blood. Am I not? “Of course you are,” I hiss, swerving toward the window. My home is in disarray. I can’t look at it anymore.

Slamming my paws onto the windowsill, I start to breathe hard. My feet smart with pain as I dig my claws into the floor. I breathe in the smoke. It doesn’t bother me. To surround oneself with dust is human. To surround oneself with smoke is robotic.

I stare down at the disorganized masses. Each pitiful being living its stupid life with no purpose, with no message from an intelligent Creator to guide it, with no role to fill. A dishwasher has a purpose. A power drill has a purpose. A pencil sharpener has a purpose. Organic life is useless; it has no purpose.

Were we all machines, we would have purposes. We would construct our cities on hard, metal ground; we would make it our duty to erase organic life and replace it with the unfeeling. For if you cannot feel, then you cannot be hurt.

Wouldn’t it be lovely? To not hurt?

My mind floods with thoughts—memories—but I keep them at bay with a wall of iron. No, platinum. No, boron carbide. That’s the kind of stuff you make tanks out of: unfeeling machines with purpose. I would like to be pure steel and boron carbide. I would settle for being made from junkyard scraps if it meant escape from the tumultuous life of an organic being.

I can’t remember leaving this window for any longer than five minutes. I stare down as pedestrians waddle by like imbeciles, stumbling on sidewalk grates and laughing in clumps. There should be no stumbling. No clumps. No laughter. But there is.

I try and imagine them, each one of them, as a machine. Cranking gears barely concealed behind false skin, the type one could rip off at will, exposing a beautiful body of steel and boron carbide. They walk in lines, in unison. It is beautiful, the picture in my mind, so I keep watching. My frail limbs feel like oiled metal, picturing them: a perfect race. It is dark outside.

My perfect machines march on.

[Rakkun]

Username:

Rakkun

Name:

Tenomi Trunsun

Gender:

Female.

Describe their dreamworld:

She walks along the calm water's surface. Water can be seen in all directions making it impossible to separate it from the blue sky. Her paw prints are left behind her like prints in the snow except each of these are made of glass. They float around like flowers on the water's surface slowly losing the trail of where she has been. A glass underwater castle is just below. It shimmers from the light of the sky and feels like it draws others to safety inside it. Her glass paw prints are all around. If she steps on one it shatters turning the ocean and the sky upsidedown. When she does that it makes reaching the castle possible. Although walking on water is calming she occasionally locks herself into her castle of glass so she can sit on the throne to watch the sea life. The creatures in her dreams are different than the ones she sees in life. Most of them have the faintest glow of colors that trail behind them creating paintings in the water. Sometimes her friends are there with her, able to watch, but no one ever speaks because it feels wrong.

[mastergirl7]

Username:mastergirl7
Name: moonlight
Gender: male
Describe their dreamworld: a sunset lake a dazzling forest a place where all kalons can be peacefully
Thank you

[canary.]

Marking, this is a beautiful kalon!!

[iskadeki]

here we gooooo