Cold Vision

"Where can a horizon lie when a nation hides it's organic minds in a cellar... Dark and grim. They must be very dim."

"What color do you see at such an hour?" The Ninth Man asked, leaning over the curious onlooker. "Tell me, what color can you see?" They never replied to him, just pushing past. He stood there, very tall, very thin, very dark, very colorless, very odd. He was with sound, only when spoken. The Ninth Man walked lonely along the sidewalk, very much alone. His right arm would jerk about, then his left, and images of the oncomming trafic would flash in his mind. It was very fast, sudden, and left him cold.  Maybe death was cold. He'd never done it. He'd seen them though, they would run wherever they could when they heard the sights and seen the sounds. It would drive them mad, the liquid conciousness dispersing into the night, evaporating, never to be seen again. He'd laugh and cry, though he didn't know why. Then he'd wake up and shake it off.
"Hello, how is this day?" He asked the woman, only to watch her walk by. "What is this day doing for you?" He stood there, very alone, very confused, very not very. Not really. But it was the same as before. "I've seen you before." He said to the man, "I met your self one day, before I met the others, except for the other ones." The man walked by, swiftly, knuckles white, clutching his briefcase. The Ninth Man stood, then sat down. Very cold, very damp, very strange, very silent. He burried his head in his hands, ran his long paleish fingernails through his long strawberry-like hair. Very lost, but nearly blissfully, but very not. Very unaware, very unfeeling. He was like this for an amount of time. He felt something approach, kick him and fall on him. He stayed there, but the object did too, until it didn't any longer. Only semi-so. You see, the object did move, but not away. It spoke.
"Hello, mister. Fine day we're having? Unless you're having another? Then how is yours? I hope it's like mine." The Ninth Man looked up, to find a pair of bright eyes staring at him. Very bright, very curious, very odd. The eyes had a face, the face had a nose and also had a mouth. The mouth had lips and white and slightly skewed teeth. It smiled, a strange but friendly smile. Very young, very strange. Very happy. Though very very cold, and rested its head on The Confused Ninth Man.
"Hello, It is, thank you." He sat still, very still, and stayed there. The wind was slightly blowing with a slight breeze. It's hair was blowing in the wind, cold metalic like hair, yellowish hair, like brass. It brushed against The Ninth Man's nose, causing him to smile with slightfulness, and then his own hair was then in the wind too. It looked at him with warm blue eyes, smiled at him with cold teeth. The Ninth Man smiled back.
"You seem to have a name, though I don't know what it is." Said The Ninth Man, for that was what he said.
"I do seem to have a name, but I have misplaced it." It scratched its head, looking around. They sat next to eachother on the ground, very wondering, very looking, very hopeful.
"I'll find you one. Let's see..." The Ninth Man did not like saying Let's See, but he said it just the same. He looked amongst the trees and the waste bins and the concrete, and only found a name when he looked beneath his fingernails. He didn't like it, so he fed it to a pigeon. Then he looked at it's eyes again.
"I'll name you... Tommy." For that was the first name that came to mind.
"I do like that. Which one will I be?"
"You will be the Ninth Tommy." Said the Ninth Man, so The Ninth Man and Ninth Tommy walked away together, except they were sitting so they pretended so. Soon Ninth Tommy fell asleep, then The Ninth Man. Nothing wrong became of them that night, because people just passed by, swiftly, avoiding the Ninths all together. Why? They haddn't got a clue.