aiting for his slow ass computer to boot up, the child ponders random things. After a second of mindless musing he thinks,"Do you think we should try to tell our story?"


      "Yes."


Sitting up and shifting closer to his desk to type in his password, he continues his thoughts. He always gets excited when it feels like there is something new to do, or it might be the relief of not having any homework to do. "Ok, but if we try to tell it, then where should we start?"


    "At the beginning."


"I wasn't there in the beginning." He responds with a frown, half because of the problem and half because the stupid word processor is taking so long to open.


   "Then we start at the one you were, our birth."


Seeing a blank document on the monitor now, he settles back into a comfortable half-slouch position and responds with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I can't remember that."


   "We can."


Seeing this is a losing battle, he attempts to find an alternative. He can't write about something he can't recall. "How about we start at your beginning?"


   "We don't remember that."


Giving up, he positions his fingers on the keyboard. Anything will do, but to confirm that he won't be writing tall tales, he pauses. "Ok, and you remember my birth completely?"


   "Yes, we remember everything."


He snidely responds. "You don't remember your beginning."


   "We will."


Knowing that it was a sore subject,and that he could not remember details from before joining, he accepts that it is good enough they have a starting point. Now begins the actual business of writing.

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^{Temporary Cover for a seemingly permanent condition title.}

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blinking cursor with no preceding letters can be very daunting. He types the letter "T". "What voice should we write it in?"


   "We can write it as we think it."


The boy is pretty sure that is not the way this writing thing gets done. He agrees because it seems the most logical way to do it. He types 'Twas the night...


   "No."


"Haha, I am just fucking with you."


   "We will tell and our hands will type."


"Stop with the 'we', that makes it difficult."


   "Ok." The boy sits in silence for a moment that seems to fill eternity. "I will tell you the story of your birth and you will type it."


"That is better. See? Now I don't seem so freaking mental."


The voice responds snidely. "Oh, you are still mental. We both are."


A bit frustrated and hoping to get started with the story, the boy responds through gritted teeth as he thinks. "True. Now, start telling."

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