The church came into view. After all this walking, Ashlin and Duckett eventually arrived at a statue of an angel, watching over the ocean.

“We should look inside the church first,” said Ashlin.

“What makes you think she’s in there?”

“A hunch,” answered Ashlin as she walked past the statue. They continued on, entering an old graveyard occupying the fields to the northwestern side of the church. Up ahead, the path was split in two. The path to the left lead straight up to the front doors. Ashlin walked in that direction and tried to open them. She found that the doors were locked.

“I don’t think this is the way in,” Duckett stated. “This might be a separate building.”

“We can’t get in through here, anyway,” muttered Ashlin. The two traveled back to the cross way. After some more wandering around, they found themselves on a pathway, leading off through a short, tunnel-like archway. The pathway that went through this short tunnel lead down past the back part of one of these buildings.

Ashlin was silent as she studied the windows of this ancient structure. She wondered if this was the cathedral. Her suspicions were confirmed when she squinted though the colored glass and saw a row of pews inside. She turned back over to Duckett and saw him trying to open a nearby door, but with no luck.

“I’ll see if I can find an unlocked door,” Ashlin said as she started forward, into the tunnel structure before her. There was a strange whistling sound in here. It was caused by the wind. On the ceiling and walls were paintings of black birds and etched Old English writings.

Ashlin’s eyes were drawn to a set of sturdy wooden doors off to her left. She stepped up and pushed on them. Surprisingly, they were unlocked, but there was a weight to them.

She pushed the door open and crept into the cathedral. Everything in here was dusty. The organ was nearby. It’s many tall, gigantic pipes were the dustiest objects in the room. It was positioned behind the pews, in the far back of this cathedral.

Ashlin glanced over to the front, her eyes skimming the rows. At first, she didn’t see anyone. Right as she was about to head back to find Duckett, Ashlin thought she heard the sound of sniffling. She turned back around and saw a head hiding behind one of the rows.

The doors opened. Duckett popped in. Ashlin ran up and put her hands over his mouth.

“I think I found her,” she whispered, pointing to the front.

“Right. Okay. So, what’s the game plan?”

“I wanna talk with her. Alone. Me and her.”

“How come? Not that I feel left out or anything. I’m just wondering.”

“Cause I just do! Get out! Go!”

She shoved him back outside. After closing the doors on his face, Ashlin took a breath and started for the front. As she approached, Ashlin was soon bombarded by the prevalent stench of tobacco in the air. The smell took over the dusty smell of the cathedral.

Ashlin stepped up to the row and stared down at the lowly girl that sat before her. Her flaming red-orange hair covered her face. She wore her usual black and white clothing.

“Oh. It’s you,” the girl said. Her face was partially covered by her hair.

“What? You expecting Anthony?”

“What do you want?”

“I just wanna talk-”

“No! I’m done! It’s over! I’m not going back! I’d be fine with it if I was dead. I don’t wanna live anymore.”

“Why?”

“None of your business! I’m not talking! Just leave me alone!”

“Michelle,” sighed Ashlin. “I’m not leaving you alone... but I’ll be the one to talk – if not for your sanity, then for mine.”

Ashlin seated herself next to her. Michelle was still refusing to look back at her, but Ashlin could now see her puffy, red eyes. Her mouth was twisted in an angry frown. She kept her eyes down as she curled herself up into a ball with her back against the stone wall.

Ashin caught a glimpse of a photo, resting on the seat in front of Michelle. There were the faces of a happy couple along with Michelle Auzolle, who had to had been around five when the photo was taken.

After some time carefully thinking it over, Ashlin spoke. “My family is outside the sanctuary zones. We were homeless up until I was eight. We found this old house in the middle of nowhere, with nobody else around for miles! I know it’s not gonna last. Wish it could.

“I hear the zones are not as bad as they used to be, with those level one ‘distancing measures.’ They were putting out other killer diseases some thirty years ago, when that shit first came around. Many zones are off level one now. It’s just the getting in part that sucks. Decontamination and all that. Hell of a process that is. Or so I hear.”

“All rubbish,” Michelle huffed.

“Yeah. I know. I hate what’s been done to this planet. Thing is, Michelle – unlike most people, I do think there is something that can be done about it, but it’s gonna take more than you and me. The real change to Earth has to start in Niamaterian. That much I know.”

“What could they do? Do they even want change?”

“Not everybody is a larper, Michelle. I’m not. Duckett isn’t either. There are others out there who aren’t living in some stupid fantasy land they made up in their heads. They know what’s up.”

Michelle was silent, but she did seem calmer than before.

“What do I do?” she asked Ashlin. “What use am I?”

There was a part of Ashlin that wanted to give an overblown, emotional response to Michelle’s question, but Ashlin was holding herself back. Being overly emotional didn’t seem proper. Instead, Ashlin laid back in her seat and tried to come up with the best answer possible.

“We’re not sheep,” she said thoughtfully. “We can think for ourselves. Just seems that it takes a lot for some of us to get to that state, but we all can do it once certain things ‘inconvenience’ us. Best way to put it, I guess. You already know that the so-called ‘Children of Niamaterian’ don’t give two shits. Ignorance can play both ways, ya see. Taviset disease was pushed on Niamaterian when it first came out, but nobody listened. If there was a pandemic going on in Nia, we’d all be dead due to the fact that no one would hear about it, unless it had something to do with food, sleep, or some famous, rich, older girl’s giant, humongous, fake titties.”

Michelle scoffed to herself. “You seem to know a lot,” she mumbled quietly.

“I’ve been learning a lot. Athena has been drillin’ shit into my head ever since I started living with her! Maybe you should too. Be a different change of pace – as opposed to all this GEDR stuff, ya know.”

Michelle sniffed loudly and pulled her hair back. She took in a heavy breath as she kept shaking her head to herself. Michelle wanted to say something but whatever it was, she was having trouble with it.

“Look. You don’t have to tell me what the deal is if you don’t want to,” said Ashlin. “All I know is that I wouldn’t be fine with it if you were dead, and I mean that, Michelle! I do. They’ll be others that wouldn’t be fine with it if they ever get a chance to know you.”

“What? You think you know me?” Michelle rasped.

“No, I don’t know you, Michelle, but I don’t think half of us know ourselves half as much as we think we do! I could be full of shit! But I think there’s some amazing potential for us to make lives better for others. I have nothing to back up that belief. But without that, we’d all be stuck in the same loops. Not the way I’m gonna live! No. Not the way you wanna live either.”

The two girls sat in silence for what felt like the longest time. The sound in the cathedral was dead quiet, save for the winds outside.

Michelle didn’t move or speak. All she did was stare off into a darkened void at the end of the cathedral. Eventually, there did come a break in the silence. Michelle was the one to break it.

“Okay.”

Ashlin perked up and glanced back at Michelle. “What was that?”

“You win. I don’t know what to say. I just... yeah.”

“Yeah. Alright,” Ashlin mumbled, nodding her head. “So, what now? If you wanna stay here, you can. I’ll let ya do whatever.”

“No. I’m fine, but, um... Anthony isn’t gonna be happy with me.”

“Oh, to hell with him,” Ashlin scoffed. “I’ll take you back to Athena’s Island. You’ll like it there. We’ll have fun. You and me.”

“Okay. I can do that,” mumbled Michelle. She slid off the pew with her eyes and red, rosy cheeks still facing downwards.

“You don’t mind? You know Athena, right? She can be intimidating.”

“No. It’s alright. I’ll go.”

Ashlin leaned down to hug Michelle. “Okay. That’s good.” said Ashlin. “Guess that means we’ll be taking a second chance with Nia.”

Ashlin stood back up and began to lead the way back outside. Michelle took her photo and followed along. She hid behind Ashlin as if she was protecting herself from some invisible threat. Looking back, Ashlin was struck with amusement and perplexity at the sight of this. It was as if Ashlin had turned into a mother goose!

Michelle Auzolle was a young girl who had fallen into a state that was a peg or two away from juvenile delinquency – yet there was some innocence in her. Even now. It was curious to think about. It was like Ashlin was looking back at Christopher.

***

I’m not much for begging, but if you think I did something worthwhile, consider chipping a dollar or some satoshi’s my way.

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“I’ll be damned. You smoke and you’re drinking my wine? That’s underage drinkin’ here in these parts, missy!”

“Oh, blow it out your ass, Doug! So what if I have sophisticated taste buds at my age? I earned it!”

Douglas laughed out loud at Michelle’s retort. He poured a glass for himself and sat the wine bottle down on the kitchen counter.

“If you’re so sophisticated, then what about relationships?” he inquired. “I got a somewhat steady girlfriend. For now. What you got?”

“I got...” Michelle trailed off as she slowly swirled the wine around in her glass. “God! What do I have? Well, there is Tweek. Although I can’t say it’s, um... us going out, or anything. Told you about that online talk show he got into. He likes having me on that stupid show of his. Talking politics. Often, it’s him imitating larper culture. Reading Sonic the Hedgehog erotic fan-fics from the dark web, which is bloody fucking horrific – but he’s funny. Girls like that. For me, it depends. Sometimes, I laugh. Usually, I’m just annoyed. Like Athena.”

“Yep. Sounds like you,” Doug smirked.

“Yes, and look at you! You’re always laughing and grinning at everything! That’s Tweek now!”

“But that’s not you? Hell, even my girlfriend can’t stop grinning at me like a lunatic every time she sees me! Think I satisfy her too much!”

Michelle rolled her eyes and looked off into the living room area. “There’s a part of me that feels wildly nervous about everything. They say a sign of genius is for you to be in a constant state of overthinking. That’s what I do, even if the answer is staring me in the face and I’m too egg-headed to realize it half the time! Not sure if that’s genius.”

“What you anxious about?”

“I don’t know! I just... ya know! Feel like I don’t fit into this stupid, screwball existence, like I’m always walking through fog or something.”

A silence sat in between the two. Douglas frowned.

“You wanna know what was goin’ through my mind back on that pier, right before you walked up to me?” he asked. “It was the past. It wasn’t my past. It was planet Earth’s. You don’t think that shit terrifies me? Friggin’ hell. That’s why I don’t think. I smoke weed and get stoned off my ass.”

Michelle couldn’t help but crack a smile at Douglas’ statement. “That must be nice.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you have nothing to be worried about,” Douglas assured her. “Until you also get kicked out of Niamaterian after age twenty-five, you’ll be livin’ it sweet. You got no dystopia bullshit to deal with over there – well, nothing like Earth, anyway. Beyond that, you’re doing what you want. Achieving greater things than I ever did!”

Michelle smiled. She nodded thoughtfully to herself. “Mn, hm. Perhaps. It’s dealing with others that I suppose what irks me, particularly all those political larper groups.”

“Ah! Fuck those brain-dead idiots, walking around, thinking they’re hot shit!” Douglas scoffed. “Either they’re dumb as hell, or it’s class warfare in disguise, like Anthony used to say. Shame that Karen is falling into that weird social illness. Does Athena have any say on her condition, or has she been pushed out of the picture?”

“Don’t think Athena’s ever been in the picture! I’m starting to think Athena should step in and do something! I’m not sure what. Karen already had this one girl living with her. Her name’s Athura Tomko-Pavia. She’s a girl about my age. Traded off to Karen from one of her older friends who’s time went up in Nia. Met her a few times. Level-headed. Smart. Quite friendly. Long story short, she’s now staying at Kathryn’s place! I can make plenty of guesses as to why!”

“You know what the word Niam translates to in Hasmian?” asked Doug. “It means immature. Aterian means universe, so the two together literally translate to the words ‘immature universe.’ Niamaterian in a nutshell. So, in a universe of stupid little shits, ya gotta be one of the few to keep headin’ out there and workin’ with what ya got.”

“That’s what I do. That’s all I do, it seems.”

They stopped talking briefly. Michelle went back to staring at Douglas’ swanky living room area. For once, she felt oddly comfortable, sitting here in complete silence with someone else in the same room with her.

“Hey. How’s my other boys?” asked Douglas. “Already mentioned Tweeky. Duck Boy. What’s John, Milton and Andrew doin’ these days?”

“Last I heard, they bought an old space transport ship, started a mining and trading business. Long time sense I’ve seen ‘em. Good riddance too! Milton and Andrew were larpers! They got gum in my hair! They drenched me with water! Their beds were piled with trash! They smelled!”

“Hey! They weren’t larpers! They were dick weeds!” Douglas said, laughing to himself. “Also, that gum in your hair thing was an accident. They were throwing it in the trash can! You came out, got in the way!”

“Bleedin’ hell, I did!” Michelle angrily protested. All this did was send Douglas into a laughing fit.

“Oh, dear god,” Michelle moaned. “Some of you guys were terrible! It’s not even funny!”

“Yeah! Yeah. I know, but we had fun. You didn’t, but we did,” Douglas smirked. “Ya see, that’s what happens when you have an apartment condo full of male testosterone. We develop into a state of farting on each others heads as a means of entertainment.”

“I hate you so much right now, Douglas.”

Douglas went into a fit of hysterical laughter. Michelle was enraged, but she couldn’t help but fight back the smile appearing on her face.

It was late. The living room was silent, save for the fire in the fireplace. Michelle had passed out on the couch. Her jacket was on the floor. The two flag pins on her jacket reflected the flickering light of the fire.

Douglas had been mired in thought. He had come to a rather decisive decision. Tomorrow morning, he was going to ask Michelle to not wipe out his memories. All those fake memories weren’t doing much for him.

Once again, he took out the coin that he had with him back out at the pier. The coin was an old United States Silver Eagle, depicting ‘Lady Liberty’ with one outstretched arm, walking towards either a sunrise or a sunset. In Douglas’ mind, it was a sunrise.

He got up from his big, comfy chair, grabbed Michelle’s jacket and popped the coin into her front pocket. Douglas then put the jacket over Michelle’s form like a blanket and slowly trotted off to bed.

I’m not much for begging, but if you think I did something worthwhile, consider chipping a dollar or some satoshi’s my way.

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Thank you very much for reading. :)

These are the first present day scenes for Chapter 3. The title of this chapter is Together.

There were plenty of songs I had in my head while writing this chapter. I mention one in the first few paragraphs. I think in earlier drafts, I named this chapter “Eight Line Poem,” after the David Bowie song of the same name, off his Hunky Dory album. A good soundtrack for the mood I had in mind.

Clink...clink...clink...

The sky above was a dull foggy haze. The sea below was calm and quiet. A dozen yards away was a small park area set in the forefront of the downtown district, which had minimal traffic. Seagulls flew overhead. The pier at the edge of this small Atlantic Seabound colonial town was empty – save for one man.

Clink...clink...clink...

He was not looking out at the sea. His eyes were fixated on an old coin in his hand. He was tapping it against the metal railing.

He collected old monetary artifacts, like Australian Dollars, schillings from Somali and Egyptian Pounds. He also had a large bundle of United States dollar bills. All this money was no longer in circulation anymore, not after the rise of the New World Collective Empire. The Amero was the new digital coinage for the the two American continents, along with the regions previously referred to as Mexico and Canada.

Thinking about the past was nauseating. He didn’t know why he was doing this to himself. He hasn’t seen or called up his girlfriend in about a day or so. All the while, Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here was on constant repeat inside his head. There was no apparent reason why.

He wanted to throw this useless coin into the ocean but he was frozen in place. Even as the sounds of footsteps approached, he remained still.

“Hello, Douglas!”

The man turned around and saw a young girl with red-orange hair.

“Hey. Uh... do I know ya?” he muttered.

“Give it three seconds,” the girl responded. She snapped her fingers.

There was a pain, like a sharp splinter shooting through his head.

Douglas nearly passed out. His body collapsed to the ground.

“Oh, shit. Sorry! Sorry about that, Doug!”

Douglas Coback was dazed. He was still conscious. He had briefly lost his motor skills. This sudden rush of memories was intense enough to warrant such a reaction.

“Oh... Michelle? Michelle Auzolle? Is that you?”

“Hello, Doug! Long time, no see! Terribly sorry about that fall! Didn’t think you’d take it that way!”

Michelle helped him back onto his feet. Douglas’ eyes were still rolling around in his head. Michelle ran off to grab the coin that rolled away after he passed out. She gave it back to him.

“What you doin’ all the way out here, girl?” asked Doug. “Came outta the blue, gave all my memories back. Kind of a super weird time for me!”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Nah! It’s fine. Great way to snap out of it. You lookin’ real proper, girl! You work in some fashion industry over in Nia these days?”

“I wish!” laughed Michelle. “No, I work Balloon Central politics.”

“Oh. Really? Always thought you’d end up in some emo larper punk group, doin’ lines off a Porsche with a Vietnamese dominatrix. Be more fun than politics!”

“Glad you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” Michelle scoffed with a smirk on her face.

“Eh. Not entirely. Gettin’ there, I fear. Older I get, the more shit sucks. Wears you down. I shouldn’t complain though. I know I could have it a hell of a lot worse. But it’s not what it was, ya know? Nothing has been these past two years.”

“I see. Quite sorry to hear that. But glad to take your mind off things. You know where Anthony’s gone to? Gonna have a meet up! Little quick meet up!”

*

The evening sun was out. Michelle was grateful to see Earth’s sun. Her focus remained on the book she was reading, called The True Believer by Eric Hoffer, who was nicknamed the ‘long-shore philosopher.’ So far, the book was a solid read.

The sea was calm. Michelle had been on pins and needles ever sense she set foot on Earth. At least out here, it was calm. Safe. Still, Michelle found herself in such a restless state! Getting through one of Athena’s books took more effort than usual.

She placed the book on the table next to her lounge chair, stood up and headed back for Douglas’ beach house. A sandy pathway led up to the peak of this steep hill, where the house stood. Surf boards, boating gear, beer kegs, wines and various spirits occupied the four-story interior. There were areas that were still being constructed. The design of the house was similar to the old Arcolian buildings back in Niamaterian. It was lavished with wide, solid blue windows, tightly wrapping around the exterior of the house like a ribbon. Gray carpets were underneath elegant furniture. Blocky vases were stuffed with a blossom of flowers propped upon steel, glass tables. White or gray metal-plated walls were held in place by an array of rivets. Out here, there was a garden with bushes, coconut trees and walkways surrounding the pool in the center of the backyard. It was all very sleek and posh.

“So, where’s that girlfriend you were talking about earlier?” asked Michelle as she ran up to Douglas. He was currently behind a grill.

“What? You wanna meet her?”

“Yeah! We couldn’t get Anthony. He’s on the other side of the planet. Next best thing is this new flame of yours!”

“Don’t know. Might get jealous, seeing you around.”

“Why? Do I dress better?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” laughed Douglas.

Indeed, Michelle was no longer wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt. She detested wearing those clothes. She now had on her ‘professional attire,’ which consisted of a black cropped jacket, red tie, buttoned up white shirt and black short skirt that showed more leg than necessary in professional settings. But it looked cute. On her jacket, she sported two pins depicting flags of Earth nations that used to exist. One was the British Union Jack. The other was the United States Stars and Stripes..

“I see you’ve been doing well for yourself after two whole years, here on Earth,” said Michelle as she sat down in a nearby chair.

“Wish I can get back into Nia,” sighed Duckett. “But, hey! I got out okay. Kickin’ it back, out here on these floating islands.”

“Also don’t have Anthony to bicker with. You argued with each other like the straight married couples you two were!”

“Hey! He was the one crashing with me, alright? He never thought about getting his own place! He spent all his time at GEDR.”

Doug took the finished meat off the grill. It was a tower of meat, with steaks, hamburger meat, hot dogs. Whatever else he threw on the fire. Doug carried it all over to a table near where Michelle sat.

“I got ketchup and sauerkraut over here,” he mentioned as he walked back to the grill.

“I don’t know if Anthony liked any of us,” uttered Michelle.

“Eh, don’t know,” Douglas sounded. “Certainly was never gonna forgive you after that one crazy-ass tirade you had when you were eleven. Tore up his Dearmul construction plans. Lost his shit with that.”

Michelle sighed heavily as she rolled her eyes. “There was no excuse for what I did. I deserved his ridicule,” she stated reluctantly. “I was a mess. Best way I can put it.”

“Is that why you’re here? Actin’ crazy again?”

Michelle didn’t know what to say to that. She looked over at him without much of an expression on her face.

Doug didn’t seem to notice her state. He was busy finishing up with the food preparations. He then handed Michelle a plate of hamburgers.

“Eat up, already! Lookin’ as skinny as ever, girl!”

Michelle quietly shrugged to herself as she took a bite of hamburger. She then sighed to herself as she sat back in her chair. “Okay. The reason why I’m here... it’s a long story.”

Doug took a seat across from where she sat. “Right. I’m all ears,” he stated.

“Yes. Well, I already mentioned our recent success with the third-party universe gateway project. What I haven’t told you is that Robert Hindler has been making some erratic decisions concerning the project that could land him in hot water with the Republic! I try to tell him that he should explain his decisions. Not only has he shunned me, he’s been pulling this lawyer bullshit on me to make sure I stay silent! Never had the nerve to sound the trumpet on him! Not looking for a bribe! I’m trying to help! That’s why I’m doing all this bleedin’ nonsense for him!”

“What ya doin’ for him?” asked Douglas.

“I’m here on Earth to pick up a new ‘recruit.’ Someone who is not a citizen of the Republic of Niamaterian. Would seem apparent that he has no experience in anything relating to GEDR’s secret gate project!”

“Who? This person you’re picking up?”

“Yes! How could he know about the project if he’s not a citizen?”

Douglas nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting,” he mumbled. It took him several moments to come up with a response. “Well, you know I didn’t work directly with GEDR. Anthony did. If he was here, he would give you some better context on the matter. I worked as an independent contractor for the company.

“Now, that being said, I will say that Randel Fulster would had never tried pullin’ this weird-ass bullshit. Randel should had hired Kathryn as his replacement. Or hell! Even Duckett would have been better! Not this Hindler weirdo! That’s was Anthony’s whole spiel.”

“What do you think I should do?” asked Michelle.

“Don’t know. What does Kate say?”

“She says to proceed with caution. Easier said than done, given the fact that I have to head into one of those North American sanctuary cities. That’s why I’m here. This is my refuge from all that business.”

“Oh, shit. That’s brutal. Ashlin’s family is somewhere in that North American region. Athena just walked right in there. Plucked Ashlin right outta that mess! You couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to do that! If I were you, I’d tell Hindler to go screw himself – Hey! How’s Ashlin and ‘ol Duck Boy? How they gettin’ along these days?”

Michelle bit her lower lip. “I, um... I think they’re fine,” she mumbled. “Duckett... he’s okay.”

“Those two ever hit it off?”

“Yes. You could say that. Haven’t talked to them in a while.”

“Duck Boy ever get hired by GEDR?”

“He did. Ashlin too, believe it or not. Ashlin. She’s, um... doing good.”

Doug peered at Michelle suspiciously. “Right. I’m not asking questions. Not sure I wanna know – but look. Here’s the thing you need to know about Robert Hindler! This is coming from Anthony! These are not my words! He’s talked extensively about this. Anthony said the immortals of Niamaterian society are the ones who run the show at GEDR – ya know! The so-called ‘alternate beings,’ as they call people like Athena. They might put themselves in that guardian position for a reason, to make Fulster and Hindler the front men. I can see the possibility. If they had the choice between some dweeb and Kate Berner, they would have chosen the dweeb, cause you can push him around more than you could with someone like Kate. I’m guessin’ Kathryn is as stubborn and opinionated as ever!”

“To some extent. Not like she used to be, although your little sister is not helping Kathryn’s attitude – or my attitude, really.”

“Oh, yeah! I have a sister! Totally remembered that just now!” Douglas said with a laugh. “How is Karen?”

“Your sister is a bloody psychopath and I despise that girl to the very core of my being!”

“Oh, good! Nothing has changed! That’s good to know!” laughed Douglas. “And what stupid crap is she getting herself into these days?”

“Larper culture. Gaslighting complete and total nonsense!”

“Oh, fuck. That’s still a thing? Jesus! Do I wanna know this, of all things? I didn’t get my memories back just to get a wave of bad news, thrown my way!”

“Oh, it’s nothing too awful! Not yet. Karen has yet to shave all the hair off her head, so that’s quite decent. But I do wonder about that girl sometimes.”

*

I’m not much for begging, but if you think I did something worthwhile, consider chipping a dollar or some satoshi’s my way.

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Just so y’all know, I now post these scenes a few days sooner, over on Tuhat:

https://tuhat.net/@robotkinz/

The title of the Chapter is Together.

Michelle is very guarded about her past. Of those early years. She only talks about what her life on Earth was like to the people she trusts. And those people are few and far between.

There was a ring of a bell attached to a weathered wooden door, followed by the sounds of footsteps stepping onto the creaky floors inside. A young man causally walked into the dark interior of a small shop.

This shop was a simple book store. This building stood atop a land that was weirdly out of step with the rest of the world, and it wasn’t just due it’s antiquity. Security was relaxed and it seemed that there was no way to get here other than by boat – and the ‘other way.’ Of course.

The old man behind the counter looked up from the book he was reading. His eyes lit up.

“Hello there, lad! May I help you? Make a suggestion for good novelty literature? The book of possibility is open to you, my friend!”

“I suppose it is, sir, but we’re fine.”

“I see. Our first time in Cornwall, is it?”

“No, sir. Not just me. My friends are visiting.”

“Oh, is that so? Where are your friends?”

“I’m not sure. Out and about, I suppose.”

“Do tell me! What brings you all here to our bright little spot, lad?”

“We’re vacationing for the time being. I go to college overseas and decided this summer to show all my friends around. That’s why I’m back. The reason why I’m in Cornwall is a different matter. I’m here to meet a friend of mine whom I’m told is here. She may be staying at her grandmother’s cottage.”

“Who is this individual that you are looking for?”

“Michelle Auzolle. She’s eleven. My family knew her family. I know how ecstatic she’ll be when she discovers I came out here just to see her.”

The store clerk gave an amused look at the young man.

“Well, the name Michelle doesn’t ring a bell, but the name Auzolle does! Old lady Anne-Marie Auzolle lives within a few minutes, walking distance. Angry old loon she is, but nice when she wants to be.”

“I am not surprised to hear that. Would you happen to know the way to the cottage by any chance?”

“Indeed. Take the path past this store. Search around the hill for the old Church. Past the Church is a narrow pathway through some dense forest and all that. You’ll find old lady Auzolle’s cottage at the end of it. You shouldn’t miss the pathway by my reckoning.”

The young man nodded and began to turn back towards the exit.

“Thank you very much, sir.”

Oh my! The name is Donald Thomson, and it is my pleasure to help my fellow man in any way, shape or form! Didn’t catch your name though!”

“Anthony Wellbanks, sir.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Wellbanks?”

“Twenty-one. Come to turn twenty-two a month from now.”

“Well, Mr. Wellbanks, may the God of this world shine good graces upon your journeys!”

“Yes, sir. You too.” Anthony said as he exited the small book shop. Once outside, he took a deep breath. He studied the gloomy sky above.

Old people here on Earth were weird. Some of them were very jubilant to see and talk to younger people. Anthony had no idea why.

Coming back to Earth was jarring. In Nia, everything was vibrant, despite it’s ancient backdrops and settings. Here, it was gone, this life and vitality that once made Earth resilient to the declination of numerous events. The ‘color’ was gone, if that made any sense. It didn’t matter that the floating island sea colonies existed. Even the better parts of Earth were grim and depressing.

That old man back there would have had better business prospects in Nia, thought Anthony. Too bad he was old.

“Hey, Anthony!”

“Oh! There you are, Tweek.”

Tweek’s real name was Tobias Harrington. He was the same age as Michelle. Tobias originated from New Zealand, but had an accent that was more American than anything else, at least to Anthony’s ears.

Tweek treaded over muddy puddles and made his way up to Anthony.

“Haven’t seen Michelle anywhere,” he stated.

“No matter. I think I know where she is. Where’s the others?”

“We broke up. John was behind me a while ago. Don’t know where Andrew and Milton are. Probably actin’ like total butts, as usual.”

“What about Ashlin and Duckett?”

“Haven’t seen ‘em.”

Anthony groaned and rolled his eyes. “Go get John. Find the others. Take them down the path that leads past this store and find an old church. I’ll be heading off that way.”

Tweek darted off as Anthony went the other way, down the muddy, worn pathway trailing northwards. This path trailed around the steep hill that stood high up above the ocean. Along the way, Anthony paused and stared out towards the sea. Several yards down the slope stood a miniature lighthouse upon a small, concrete plateau. Sitting on it’s edge were Athena’s kids, Ashlin Blithe-Havins and Darren ‘Duckett’ Wagner. These two were American.

Ashlin was still the new girl. She arrived in Nia quite late for her age. Usually, census commissions would accept those under the age of ten or eleven, but Ashlin was granted citizenship at the ripe age of twelve. That was one year ago. Duckett was close to her. The others were still getting to know Ashlin, given the fact that she had been spending most of her time on Athena’s Island.

“What you two doing?” Anthony yelled out as he approached them.

“Resting!” Duckett shouted back as he stood up. “Honestly! We’re just going around in circles at this point! No idea where to look!”

“I have a place,” said Anthony. He told them about the cottage and the church.

“How was she able to get a return ticket?” asked Duckett. “I thought the rules were set against letting those her age just waltz through gates and all! Gate port authorities dropped the ball on this one.”

“I hope she’s okay,” sighed Ashlin with an expression of concern.

Anthony mumbled angrily to himself. He was biting his lower lip.

“Hey! Anthony!” Ashlin shouted. “Look! I know I’m new to whatever ‘family’ dynamic y’all got going on here, but this whole GEDR thing you’re tryin’ to push Michelle into? Probably not her thing! That’s my impression! Could be wrong, but I don’t know!”

“You know what it was that she tore up?” Anthony vented. “You know what that was? It was construction plans for the upper deck of GEDR’s relay ship! The Dearmul layout plans! I’ve been putting in my contributions on those plans for months!”

“Dude. Seriously. You know what Earth year this is?” scoffed Duckett. “It’s twenty forty-seven. We got computers and shit in our heads! Your eyeballs double as frickin’ camera’s! You should already have digital backups to whatever it was that you were working on!”

“I do have backups! That’s not the point!”

“Well, what is it?” Duckett pressed. “Is it GEDR’s stuffy, bureaucratic nonsense? They want original blueprints? Is that it? Randel Fulster’s not gonna shove a massive dick up ya ass if ya give him copies!”

Anthony threw his hands up. “I am not looking to be the bad guy in this instance,” he sighed. “I am not making her career choices for her! Michelle could leave the institution and aspire for her dreams someplace else if she wanted to.”

“Does this potential career bullshit have to be put on her shoulders right at this very moment?” asked Duckett. “She’s ten or eleven, or something. Just a kid! Ya gotta grow up, like, right now? Don’t think I ever did! I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’ half the time either! Might not freak out like Michelle did, but it’s not like I don’t get it!”

“Fine! I don’t care anymore! You two take her to Athena! I don’t have time for this! I have to get back to GEDR in an hour! Athena was the one who tossed that girl over Douglas’ way and I’m the one who has to keep up with her! I didn’t agree to that! It was Douglas who did, but he’s not going to keep up with anything! Athena knows that! You tell her that! Okay? I do not care if Athena gets mad at me! I really don’t!”

Anthony was already waking away. Duckett burst out laughing.

“Dude! You’re just gonna run off?” he shouted. “We don’t even have our return tickets! You got ‘em all!”

Anthony groaned loudly as he rushed back to Ashlin and Duckett. He gave them their return tickets.

“You can exit out a gate near Athena’s Island,” Anthony uttered. “These tickets should be good for it. I’ll send Tweek up to you. This is his ticket.”

In an instant, Anthony ran off, back the way he came.

“Is Anthony always like this?” Ashlin asked Duckett.

“He means well, but he has things to do. That’s how he likes it.”

“What you think is going on with Michelle?”

Duckett shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. Probably like you said. Got overwhelmed.”

“No, no. I mean... you remember the first time we met her? She wasn’t a ball of sunshine and roses even then.”

“Ever met an emo goth punk who was?”

“What?” asked Athura, taken aback. “Aren’t emo punks supposed to wear black lipstick, pasty white makeup? Black dresses? Have a pierced nose, lower lip? Burn dolls in a fireplace?”

“Michelle’s almost at that point already. She may as well.”

“Whatever. Be that way – but don’t be making fun of her!”

“I wouldn’t do that to a lady,” Duckett said sarcastically.

“Cause we need to be loving and understanding.”

“Don’t know about that part, but yeah. Sure. We’ll go with that.”

Ashlin shot a disapproving glance at Duckett.

“Hey! I’m supporting the idea!” Duckett retorted, holding his hands up. “I’m just saying! You are more well adapted to these sort of things! Me? Not so much! I am an emotionally dumb, male jack-off, being led around by my dick while ramming head first into brick walls! I am very proficient at that, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Oh, god! You’re sounding like Doug now!” Ashlin laughed. “How can you look at yourself in the mirror?”

“Bro takes the blame! He knows it! He don’t care!” Duckett laughed back. “Asshole wastes his life, smoking weed. Cracking terrible jokes. Role model if there ever was one!”

“Makes me wonder why Athena thought passing Michelle onto him was a good idea,” Ashlin wondered.

“Eh. She’s got her reasons, ya know,” Duckett explained. “She act’s like some all knowing, great, spiritual oracle! I’m kinda indifferent to all that, but I would like to know why she tends to be sorta... I don’t know. Whats-the-word? Bitchy? Yeah. Guess that’s the word I’m looking for. She’s kind of a snooty bitch.

“Amazed she ever had anything to do with Doug in the first place! Can’t see those two in the same room for the life of me! I think Doug was like me back when he and his sister were staying on the island. Shut that stupid mouth of his. Did whatever Athena wanted him to do. That’s how he took Michelle in, I suppose. Athena called him up, he fell in line, like a trained circus animal of some sort.”

Ashlin let out a long sigh as she glanced around the area. “Anyway, we gonna get going here?”

“Yeah! Might as well. Anthony said to follow the path up the hill. He said something about a church and a pathway to a cottage somewhere near there. Pretty sure that was the gist of it.”

“Yep! After you!”

With that, Ashlin and Duckett started up this steep, green hill in search for Michelle Auzolle.

***

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Ashlin was wearing fresh, new clothes. Chris was still in the shower when she got the text alert popping up in her AROS augmented window. She was currently waiting outside the house, next to the tree. The text window remained open.

The person she was waiting for soon appeared on the dirt trail leading up to the house. It was a boy, roughly the same age as Ashlin.

This was the third trip back to that place. Every trip back was tough on Ashlin. It was a great experience and all, but all that she ever wanted was to bring Chris and Allen along. Sadly, she couldn’t. It wasn’t in the cards for them, according to those who knew about how all this worked in some procedural or legal sense.

“Well, time to go.” she said to herself. She picked up her bag with all her clean clothes inside, including her new swimming suit she was meaning to try out. She closed the holographic window and, with a depressed sigh, Ashlin made her way out into the field.

“Yo!” the boy shouted as he came running up. “Good to see ya again! Bus is waiting. Stupid thing stopped at the end of the road.”

“It’s okay. We’re cool. I’m ready to go,” responded Ashlin. There was tension in her voice. She put a smile on her face.

“You nervous about meeting Athena again?” asked the boy. “I know she’s a bit of a grouch, but ya know. She means well.”

“No, it’s fine! I like Athena. Think of her like she’s my grandmother!”

“Oh, my god! She totally is like our grandmother!” the boy laughed. Ashlin laughed also.

“Hey! You, uh – remember the procedure? Gotta make sure!”

“Yeah, yeah. Did the whole AROS procedure,” Ashlin scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Did the brainwashing thing. Younger brother is still in the shower. So weird I don’t even say goodbye to ‘em!”

“You’ll get used to it. When you leave, they don’t remember you exist, but when you come back, it’s like you never left! I don’t know. I’m okay with it, but I’m not all that big on goodbyes. That’s just me. Anyway, let’s go! Bus is impatient and all!”

The boy started off back down the road he just came down on, but then he noticed that Ashlin wasn’t following him.

“Forgetting something?”

“No, no. It’s nothing… really.”

“Alright. Fine by me, but we do need to get moving, ya know.”

Yeah, I know. I get ya. Let’s go.”

The trail leading up to the main road was a long one. The boy thought this was odd. It wasn’t clear in his mind why Ashlin’s family was still allowed by the powers that be to live out in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t a bad deal though. It was far better than living in a sanctuary city. The cities were trash dumps in every sense of the phrase.

“You have any brothers or sisters, Duckett?”

“No. Can’t say I do,” the boy answered. His eyes remained on the woven dirt road. “Not sure what I would do with something like that. I have cousins though, if that counts.”

“Depends on how well you know ‘em.”

“We used to spend a lot of time together. Knew ‘em all well then. That was before I stumbled into Nia. After that, I didn’t have time for anything here on Earth. Not like I don’t care anymore. Just that you have to choose which universe is more of a priority to you.”

Ashlin looked back at him with a worrisome look.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“You say you wanna make something of yourself. Niamaterian will give you that, but look! You’re only one person! I’ve been trying to get into that place I was talking to you about the last time. Gearshift Eden Research and Development. Few months ago I applied for an internship there. Got a response back, few days later, saying they were too full to accept interns. Complete lie! They’re always short, over there! They didn’t accept me cause of my scores on the IEQT. My scores were slightly below average! Now I have to endure another two months studying up on everything! Either that, or just give in and cheat like everyone else does. Hook my brain up to a data learning module, have it pump knowledge into my head! Next thing ya know, I’m Albert Einstein – like Kathryn! That’s how you’re supposed to do it, I guess. Not happy about it, but that’s the way it is.”

“I get it. You have priorities,” said Ashlin. “You go after them. I respect that, but I feel there’s, like, some priorities you can’t away from, regardless whether if they’re here on Earth or in Nia. Ya know?”

“Such as what? Family?”

“Well, I told you about our mom, right?”

Duckett sniffed loudly. He was agitated by his allergies. They tended to flair up whenever he was back on planet Earth.

“Yeah. I remember that,” he said. “What was it that happened again? Some lung thing?”

“Acute lung disease. Acute meaning it happened quickly. Thing is, you get lung disease from doing things like smoking and drinking your whole life. Both of our parents are too boring to do any of that stuff, so I don’t know. I don’t get it.”

“Wow. Sorry that happened.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Feel sorry too, mainly for leaving the rest of them to pretend not to wallow in front of each other. My younger brother – he tries to lead a normal life. He’s fooling himself. I don’t know. Perhaps that’s how guys are, I guess. Doesn’t make sense to me.”

Duckett didn’t know what to say. This conservation was getting too heavy for his tastes, and his thoughts didn’t necessarily involve the word ‘family.’ As far as he was concerned, Ashlin’s family was going to be fine. For some reason though, Duckett was reluctant to state this. He wasn’t sure why.

Guys would rather tough it out through thick and thin, but having something to fall back on was important. He understood that much. In contrast, girls and women were more nurturing. Ashlin was no different. It was hard to deny there was something warm and motherly about Ashlin.

“You know what? Sometimes, families are supposed to suck,” Duckett said aloud. “They can totally embarrass you! Make ya wanna rip your heart and lungs out in front of ‘em! That’s my family! Well, ya know. Most of the time. Sometimes, they’re bearable.”

“Pretty harsh language, Duckett.”

“Yeah, but like I said – it’s bearable. Sometimes, they’re bearable.”

They finally approached the end of the road, where the ordinary-looking ‘school buss’ was waiting patiently.

The doors opened. Duckett and Ashlin walked on up.

“You don’t wanna stay with your family?” asked Duckett.

Ashlin looked back at him. She already had one foot inside the bus.

“I do, but I have a reason to do this. Don’t ask me to explain it! I can’t put it in words. I have to do this. I can make room for them in my life. I just need to figure things out, clear my head, find out what I wanna do in Nia. Not like I don’t feel guilt! Quite the opposite, but this needs to be done. I’m glad you all chose me to be a citizen of Niamaterian.”

Duckett said nothing. He only nodded. He still wasn’t sure about this.

Does she really believe what she just said, he wondered. It was impossible to tell by her weirdly blank expression.

“Please move along. All non-passengers, please stay clear of the doors.”

Ashlin’s tense stance was broken by the bus’ overhead recording.

“Right! We’re coming, we’re coming!” Ashlin yelled out.

“Please insert your return ticket into the slot provided. Thank you.”

***

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Chris didn’t feel like he was falling anymore. It was more like he was floating about listlessly. A full five minutes had passed sense he started falling. There was no sound. There were no objects. There was nothing.

From out of the dark, a loud ringing sound reverberated. The sound was high pitched. Chris covered his ears.

It dissipated quickly as strange lights, shadows and sounds swirled around him. It was impossible for Chris to make out what he was seeing. It was all blurry and out of focus. The sounds were recognizable. They were voices that sounded familiar. These lights and shadows slowly formed and took shape. The objects became clearer.

His feet landed softly onto a flat, transparent floor as the world came together. Everything remained out of focus though.

Up ahead, figures moved away from Chris, talking quietly among themselves. They moved through what looked like a large circular opening, ten feet away from where Chris stood. They all stepped through the opening just as it closed shut.

This blurry realm soon cleared up. Chris saw that he was in a large, dimly lit hallway. There was a sound similar to rain or radio static. It was hard to tell where it was coming from. The sound was quiet and peaceful, despite the tense atmosphere.

Christopher saw the heavy set of wooden doors that had closed. Behind that door were faint voices.

He didn’t want to go near these doors. Chris had a bad feeling about it. He stepped away and started for the other end of the hallway.

The ringing sound came again, louder than before. This time it came with a flash of light, and more voices. Chris recognized the voices.

“...wants to wipe the memories of her out of his mind, as if she never existed. How can Chris...”

“...just a kid... happened too suddenly... can’t stay like this forev...”

Those voices belonged to Allen and Ashlin. Their voices sounded like they were being pumped through faulty speakerphones.

“Clear the mind! Clear it!”

The girl in the blue dress popped into existence. She flew at him as if falling sideways. Chris reached out his hand to catch her, but she was far out of reach. She shot through a cloudy white fog off to Chris’ left. After she disappeared, flames appeared outside the windows.

Chris was seeing things that didn’t make any sense. He thought he was imaging them, but it was impossible to tell. They were visions. There was no other word for it. The flames lapping the outside window panes almost seemed to will them into existence.

There was a small town set under a blue sky. There was an old schoolhouse at the far end of a dirt road, and a church which was as big as the schoolhouse. In an instant, the town was up in flames. There were sounds of gunshots and shouting. The sky was black.

On top of the shouting, there was a conservation happening over it. The conservation sounded so out of place from what Chris was witnessing.

“Can I just ask one thing?” a deep sounding voice asked aloud.

“Shoot!” another voice boomed.

“Why you do need us to come with you... we needed for, especially... “

“My reasons... all have as much of a right to witness this event as any other. In fact, it’s more than a right... an obligation! This is going to be...”

Everything around Chris changed. Dark clouds loomed above. In front of Chris was a dead tree with drooping branches. At the base of the tree were a stack of books lying next to a root sticking out of the ground. The forest was overgrown with weeds. There was no sign of a road or path.

Everything around Chris changed. Dark clouds loomed above. In front of Chris was a dead tree with drooping branches. At the base of the tree were a stack of books lying next to a root sticking out of the ground. The forest was overgrown with weeds. There was no sign of a road or path.

“He always had a phrase of sorts whenever he’d slip up on something, or mess something up,” a deep voice said out loud. The voice sounded feminine, but it was hard to tell. It was so warped and out of tune.

“He would always say there were no mistakes, there were only happy accidents. After that, he would find a way of working with...”

The voice faded away. They were replaced with many more voices.

Desert sands were everywhere. Red volcanic rock spotted the land. There was no sign of water at all – yet on top of a high plateau of rock stood a lighthouse.

More visions came and went in a grim, macabre presentation. It was impossible to understand what these visions were supposed to be.

He kept his eyes closed. Chris didn’t want to see anymore.

There was another disembodied voice. It was the only one that wasn’t distorted. It was Michelle’s voice.

“That weird shit with the old blood stains that were discovered all over Alburnwood is the smoking gun right there,” her voice said aloud. “No bodies accounted for, except for the Alburnwood massacre that took place in the nineteen-sixties. That event is just as mysterious as-”

Her voice abruptly stopped. The sound of flames, shouting and screaming stopped. None of this made any sense, but Chris was more than ready for this to end. He was short on breath. His heart was pumping furiously.

The crazy visions ceased. All that was left was a dull roaring sound.

“In every man and woman is a child!” spoke a voice. “In every child is blissful ignorance! Blissful ignorance is not forever! The child must take with him what he learns! These cycle’s may be never-ending, so either keep the peace or don’t! There is no other option!”

This voice sounded familiar to Chris. It sounded like his own voice – but Chris couldn’t speak. He was frozen in place. He was terrified and confused beyond words.

“Open your eyes, Chris,” said the voice. “I’m gonna open them for ya!”

The voice was getting closer.

“Who are you?” Chris sounded. His voice was a mere whisper.

“A old riddle – older than time itself, I suppose,” the voice stated in a strangely careless fashion. “’I am whatever you think you are not, whether it be by the elided, but incarnate has-mian letter of I or of J, currently present only by M but not of B.’ That’s the line I’m contractually obligated to say. All this will make sense to you someday, or it won’t. Doesn’t matter to me. You’re only here to see the truth! We’ll make sure you do.”

The voice was inches away. Chris could feel the hot breath of the other person on his face. Chris opened his eyes slightly.

“You’re gonna see it all, cause there’s nowhere else to go but further down the hole,” said the dark, opposing figure that looked like Chris.

It was such a brief glimpse of the figure. Chris had no time to take in the details before it popped out of existence! Before everything changed! He was forced back to those set of doors again, but something here was different. The windows were gone. The wooden doors were metal.

This wasn’t mom’s funeral home, thought Chris.

No. This wasn’t the same place at all.

These metal vault doors loomed over him. The air acted like an invisible ocean tide on Chris’ body, thrashing him around while keeping at bay the crazed voices in his mind. He didn’t want to do it, but there was no choice, it seemed. Chris reached out towards the doors. His sweaty palms rested on the chrome finish. The doors slid open. There wasn’t any noise.

The room past these doors was massive. Wires of all sizes hung from the ceiling. There were mechanical contraptions everywhere Chris looked.

Through it all, he saw Ashlin. She stood at the edge of a giant, gaping hole in the center of the room. There was a boy about the same age as Ashlin. He stood in front of Chris’ sister.

Ashlin and the boy talked to each other. Chris heard nothing.

Christopher gasped at what he saw next.

Ashlin tipped herself back, through the gaping hole and into a blinding light far down below.

Silence set in. Moments later, a loud roaring sound came from below. Sirens blared. A loud voice boomed out loud overhead, echoing through all of existence.

“Warning. Transmission error one-four-seven. Breach of unknown origin or type detected. Object in unknown state or location. Automatic object retrieval protocol initiated by system.”

Chris could see the boy freaking out, as if he was ready to pass out.

A massive roaring sound shook the floor, followed by a metallic screeching sound. Chris covered his ears. He couldn’t take this any longer.

“Warning. Transmission error one-five-one-eight. Physical matter dispersed or lost beyond retrieval. Automatic object retrieval protocol failed. Emergency close of gate initiated by system.”

From out of nowhere, the girl in the blue dress appeared. She flew up to Chris and tackled him. She tightly wrapped herself around Chris. The look in her eyes was that of frantic terror.

“When this has befallen,” she screeched. “The Master and Father, God, the first before all, the maker of that god who first came into being, will look on that which has come to pass, and will slay the disorder by the counter-working of his will, which is the good!”

The screams came roaring back. The floor was shaking like an earthquake. The girl continued rambling and shouting over all of it.

“He will call back to the right path those who have gone astray! He will cleanse the world from evil, washing it away with water-floods, burning it out with fiercest fire, expelling it by war and pestilence! He will bring back his world to it’s former aspect! The cosmos will be deemed worthy of worship and wondering reverence! God, the maker and restorer of the mighty fabric, will be adored by men of that day with unceasing hymns of praise and blessing! Such is the new birth of the cosmos – a making again of all things good, a holy, awe-striking restoration of nature! It is wrought in the process of time by the eternal will of God, for God’s will has no beginning! It is ever the same, as it is now, ever so it has been, without beginning, for it is the very being of God to purpose good!”

*

Her arms were gripping tightly onto Chris’ chest. Her hands covered his eyes. There was the feeling of drifting upwards along with the sudden absence of gravity. They both leaned back, facing the approaching sky.

Her hands loosened her protection over Chris’ eyes. He saw the sea of bricks and buildings above them. A segment of the large room they were in moments ago was drifting upwards to the surface. It was now scrap metal. To their right, a church pew was rotating in midair. Beyond that were mounds of dirt, metal planks, wires, sand, rocks, burnt splinters of wood, the schoolhouse, the desert lighthouse and the white church. It was all floating up to the surface.

The girl in the blue dress drifted towards the church. It was the closest thing to them. She grabbed the front wall and continued forward, crawling along as best she could without drifting away. She held onto Chris’ wrist. She soon managed to arrive at the front door.

With all her strength, she kicked the door in and tossed Christopher in through the busted entrance. His right shoulder hit hard against another door inside. This was a small, compact box they were in, with a small window to the right and two other doors leading inside the chapel room. A rope was hanging from the center of the ceiling. Chris reached out and held onto the thick rope to stable himself. The church’s bell started to ring wildly as he pulled the rope.

In an instant, the girl flung herself forward and pinned Chris back against the opposite door. Fire was in her eyes. She was breathing heavily. She was using every sense of reason not to punch him in the face.

Chris could only stare back. He was out of breath also.

The girl took a moment to calm herself. Her breathing slowed, but her eyes kept staring intently back at Christopher.

“I do not wish to go back down there again,” she uttered. “It’s good I got you out of there when I did. The demons of this realm are subjected to those lower depths. We will avoid those regions, Christopher!”

“You know my name?”

“Of course... but I do not know your full name.”

“Blithe-Havins. Christopher Blithe-Havins.”

“Blithe-Havins, is it?” the girl huffed. “Despite the circumstances, I am grateful you are here.”

Their attention turned back to what was happening outside. The steady acceleration upwards started to slow. They were approaching that same stratosphere where wreckage and debris was sent to aimlessly float about in the middle of an invisible, slow-moving ocean. Chris felt his body weight return to him. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to go. The massive up-spring of new debris was shuffling the whole mess around. All the while, the church they were in creaked and groaned under the bizarre forces that pushed it up to the surface.

The girl in the blue dress sighed. She looked back at Chris.

“My baptismal name is Mary-Anne Rutherford McGalland. Informed ear would say I am an explorer. Like the great Lewis and Clark. Well... I was an explorer. Once. You can call me Mary, if you prefer.”

*

Christopher woke up in a cold sweat. He felt terrible. He woke up on the bathroom floor with stiff muscles. It was dark. The bathroom was cold.

He had to throw up in the toilet. Chris washed up in the sink. He had woken up with sweat pouring down his face.

It wasn’t clear why he felt so detached from himself at the moment. It was as if his soul was hopelessly extraneous. There was now this feeling of nothingness – not hell-bent anger. No deep depression.

The silence within the room took hold. A cold shiver ran down Chris’ spine. He was still breathing heavily, even though the beating of his heart was slowing.

The more he stared back at his reflection in the mirror, the more things became apparent. Chris was oddly accepting of such thoughts, although this was likely attributed more to his current mental state.

Nothing about it made sense. Trying to think through the events was pointless. However, the deepest roots of his soul told him this dreamworld was not something that was a mere product of dreams! Whether insanity or not, this realization was like the thunderous striking of a bell. There was no doubt Christopher was the bell, being rung.

***

NEXT SCENE (Coming Soon)

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Things do not go well for Chris. That’s putting it lightly.

I went pretty hard on this one, and it’s difficult to say if I’m happy about it. But it is what it is. I’m not changing it. Hell I’ve probably read and re-read this chapter so many times, I could just vomit. But I do think that this is a pivotal moment of sorts. This is more of a matter of not knowing what the bottom of the barrel looks like until you hit it. Only then can one find the will to change their situation in life.

Reader discretion is advised.

“Thank you. You can go.”

The teacher nodded his head, then lowered his eye>he book he was reading. Chris laid his exam sheet and question booklet down on the teacher’s desk and glanced behind him. There was still a large group of students sitting in their desks.

Chris walked through the halls and out the school In the parking lot were punks, spray-painting cars and making loud noises. It was the usual.

There didn’t seem to be any sign of that strange girl from yesterday. There was no sign of Allen’s car either. He would usually park up towards the back of the parking lot. His car was nowhere to be seen. Chris wanted to walk home, but that wasn’t such a great idea.

Christopher retreated off to the back of the school where the track and football high school stadiums stood in their deteriorated states. The main entrance into the high school stadium was usually barred by tall metal gates and thick chain locks, but Chris noticed several weeks ago that the chains were no longer there. He slid through the rusted gates and entered into this seemingly vacant area. He went towards the entryway leading into the stadium and nearly tripped over a rusty can.

Chris stopped. He heard footsteps. He looked back and saw no one.

It sounded like there was somebody right behind him.

Chris took note of this as he walked out into the center field. The grass on the football field was overgrown with weeds. It had been months, if not years since anyone mowed the grass. The track surrounding the field was cracked and eroded. There wasn’t a track team at this school. There wasn’t a high school football team either. Chris wasn’t sure if football was a national pastime anymore.

He walked around aimlessly at the foot of the bleachers as he took in the scenery all around him. As he stared up into the cloudy sky, the winds started to pick up.

This day was dark and nasty. This was how it always was.

“Yo! Kid!”

Chris wheeled around. He saw a small group of kids sitting on the bleachers. They sprung up and quickly make their way down to Chris.

A tall, muscle-pumped kid stepped in front of him and peered at Chris from under his hood cap with a wicked smirk.

His friends were members of a local punk gang. Chris was certain of it.

“Yo, man! How it is!”

Chris was stunned. They all moved in on him so quickly.

“What that? You don’t speak English, padre? I asked you how it is!”

*

Chris had no intention of fighting back. It wasn’t even an option in his mind, not even as things escalated. It felt like this wasn’t even real, like he was watching a movie.

Chris was on the grass. The tall kid had him by the legs. They started to drag him towards an office underneath the bleachers, near the gates.

One of the punks kicked the office door off it’s hinges. Another flung his beer bottle at the opposite end of the wall as soon as he entered.

“Put that shit on the floor! Get that metal chair! We gonna see what happens when we split his head open!”

“Ha, ha! Bout to bust some heads up again!”

“Shut up! Get the fuckin’ chair!”

Chris could see the scene from out of the corner of his eye.

It had escalated so quickly.

He saw the chair. It was raised up in the air. Over his head.

This was it.

There was no getting out of this.

Wack!

The attacker stumbled backwards. The chair dropped to the floor behind him.

“The fuck! Ya’ll toss a two by four at my head?”

Chris saw that the object thrown was indeed a large plank of wood. There was an old, rusted saw and a stack of planks sitting in the left corner of the room.

No one was over there. There was construction equipment and a desk.. Sports lockers were open. Deflated footballs and basketballs were left in a corner. Nothing else.

The gang was frozen stiff except for their leader. He was still reeling from the hit he received. He turned to his fellow members.

“What y’all standin’ around for? Go over there, get the bitch.”

“Hell you talkin’ about? Ain’t no one over there!”

“Ain’t no fuckin’ ghost either, shithead! Get your ass over there!”

Creak...creak...creak...

The sound of footsteps started from that dark corner of the room.

They were headed straight towards them.

“Fuck this!” exclaimed one of the gang members. He bolted out of the room, leaving the four others behind.

“Oh! Okay. Fine. I get it! Place is haunted and shit! We’ll just be takin’ our little faggot with us, so you can just do all y’all’s stupid ghost shit!”

As soon the tall kid said that – a beer bottle shot out of one of his friend’s hands. It was sent violently shattering over his head. His face was drenched with foam, shards of glass and his own blood.

His friends were frantic. “Shit! What the fuck! Just go! Fuckin’ go!”

The rest of them ran out through the busted entrance. Their leader disappeared out of view last as he stopped briefly to wipe the blood running down his face. His whole body was shaking.

Silence sat in. Chris sat up. Wiped the blood off his lower lip.

He was alone. This room was dead quiet.

Chris glanced down at the shattered glass and the large plank of wood resting at his feet. He tried to come to terms with what he was looking at. He came up with nothing.

Meanwhile, an icy chill wrapped around him like a cloak.

*

An hour had passed. The car didn’t show.

Feeling agitated with the thought of the gang members showing up again, Chris decided to walk home. It wasn’t that far. He stepped off the pavement and onto the empty parking lot. Chris looked around him. No one else was on the street.

The strange feeling of someone following him was as prevalent as ever. Christopher knew the person wasn’t Michelle. He couldn’t explain to himself how he knew that. It was a feeling more than anything.

He thought of the strange dream he had the other day. He thought of the girl in the blue dress. It was possible she was the one following Chris. It was a ridiculous thought, but that was all he could come up with.

His reaction to all this was very nonchalant. There was a part of him that couldn’t take it in.

Some people would take out their anger and grief out on others. There were those who would find someone else to blame for their own misfortunes. There were those who would hold onto whatever worth they thought they had. It was a waste of time, more than anything.

Michelle was a nice person though, thought Chris. The issue was she tried to make herself into something she wasn’t. That desperate, feigned attempt to pass some unmovable virtue onto him was all in vain. There was no point.

The Loft’s Shield Hospital came into view. Next to it was the newly built grocery store, which stood out from this ‘rustic’ scenery, like Michelle’s flashy red car. The grocery store chain was called Salmart. Like all other grocery store chains, Salmart housed the government education camps. People were shipped in by trains from all over the world. They were housed at these camps, which looked like colossal human cages, housing hundreds of thousands of people. Chris didn’t know much about what went on in these places. All he knew was that everything inside was kept neat and spotless, unlike the world outside, which was in perpetual ruin. Sometimes, there would be sounds of shouting and screaming coming from these places.

It was best not to ask questions. Chris didn’t want to think about it.

Nearby was a giant warehouse. Chris assumed it was a manufacturing facility at one point. Many of the homeless paraded around the perimeter of the structure. On the next curb up ahead, more people wandered about aimlessly in a car heap that occupied the perimeters.

Outside a set of rusted gates further on down the road stood a collection of more cars. All of their interiors were ripped out. Every side-window and windshield was smashed. Chris would usually imagine what the Hummer used to look like when they first made them. He has seen pictures of these things on those old smart phones their father found hoarded up in the attic when they first moved here. On one of them, there was nothing but pictures of sleek and stylish cars of various models hidden within the phone’s rusty data chips. These were representations of how such ingenuity could do anything but hinder the times in which they were made. Chris could imagine them drifting down thin suburban streets as if they flew on feathers. It only made the red car he saw yesterday morning more of a figment of dreams.

Chris continued walking on by in a slow pace. He took in the scene before him.

The clouds parted. The afternoon sunlight was shining upon the decaying world around him like a spotlight. The people wandering in the streets and around the empty buildings moved as if they were the walking dead. The dull motion of the world dampened Chris’ thoughts, bringing about a stifled sense of understanding the depths of vacuity.

Chris reached the other end of the block. He turned his head to the left and saw saw a small girl nearby. She wore a torn red scarf around her neck. She was no more than six or seven. She stood still as a statue next to an enormous German shepherd that sat close next to her. The dog stared intently at Chris, warning with a slight growl not to come closer. Chris was rendered frozen by the sight of the muddy, ravaged expression of the young girl. The face was destitute.

Chris forced his feet onto the street, trailing away from the young girl and her dog.

He finally came upon his own block. He took note of all the government propaganda posters pasted on the side of a mailbox. He took note of the rusted van across the street. The neighbors over there were being moved out of Georgia and off westward. Word was that jobs existed out that way. Currently, government officials were helping them pack up all their valuables into that government-owned van. A seven-year old walked out of the house with his collection of faded and ripped stuffed animals. The kid marched up to the van, wearing a determined look on his face, as if this annual, mundane task was of paramount importance.

As Chris stepped up to the front door of his house, the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of the car resting in the driveway. It must had broken down again. Allen needed to get reimbursed on his extended rent period or order a new car. Either way, it was going to be a hassle.

Chris was home now. During the day, both his father and brother would be absent from the house. They both had jobs. Chris was the only one in the house most of the time. Today was a good time for it.

Chris slowly made his way upstairs to his bedroom, where he tossed aside his book bag. He exited back into the hallway and stepped into the bathroom. As much as he wanted to take a shower, he knew he couldn’t do that. There was a strict household rule to only take one quick shower a day. The water bill was insane enough as it was.

With not knowing what to do with himself, he paused and silently stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

He took note of the bruise above his nose. No doubt, it came from the conflict he had between him and the gang that ambushed him. It didn’t look that bad. Chris didn’t feel any pain, oddly enough.

In a split moment, it was hard to tell who it was that he was looking at.

Was he wrong?

Was Michelle trying to snap him out of it? It was so confusing.

There was the law of the land, which enforced the rule of ‘one out of many.’ There was no opposition to the norm. It was shunned – violently so. Thankfully, there was safety in being stagnant, in being unending. Unrelenting.

Christopher opened up the medicine cabinet. Inside were some basic hygiene necessities, such as toothpaste, brush, deodorant and floss.

There was a small orange bottle in the far back. Chris reached for it and found it was the pain medication his brother had to take a while back.

Christopher studied the bottle. A feeling swept over him. It could only be called nirvana. The airy feeling swelled in his mind, like an expanding balloon.

He read once in an old book that Hinduism and Buddhism described the word nirvana as the ‘beatitude that transcended the cycle of reincarnation, characterized by the elimination of desire, suffering, and individual consciousness and thought.’ Those were the exact words.

There was an issue with that. At one point, a group of people sought out to end such things in this world instead of allowing people to find their nirvana on their own, to make such traits of human vices extinct. Somehow, it didn’t kill anything. Instead it magnified the flaws of human nature ten-fold. To them, their ‘ultimate Shanghai-la’ had to be enforced. Something that was of no important value.

Despite having the hearts and minds of the people, it didn’t change things. People didn’t want to live what they preached, but they preached anyway. Nobody had enough tax money to pay for their Shanghai-la, but there was always someone else to blame for that. The blame resided for those who had all the money. These were the people who forced themselves off the lands and created what were known as the sea colonies. They took their value with them long ago.

Perhaps this life was the utopia world leaders were making. If vices such as greed and ‘unlawful power’ were the problem, then society had a right to outlaw them. Of course.

To all these kings of ruling, yet self-naught perfection, human nature was malleable, therefore it was law.

This truly did transcend the cycle of reincarnation – because there was no reincarnation. No room for it.

It was a perfect, enlightened paradise. Whatever their revolution brought forth all those years ago was a revolution to end all revolutions – this permanent stagnation of humanity.

Chris was adamant now. That’s what it was.

The ringing sound in his ears seemed to respond to his thoughts. He focused on the mesmerizing orange color of the bottle he began to open. His eyes glazed over the pills inside as he rotated the container slowly upon his hand, as if Christopher was staring into a kaleidoscope.

*

There was a strange howling sound. It was freezing cold.

He could only see a faint blue light off to his left. Everything else around him was as dark as darkness could get.

There was the sound of footsteps. Chris’ eyes shot open. He looked off in the direction of the sound. There was only darkness.

Chris’ mind was scrambled. His senses were a mess.

He found the strength to stand up. He backed up towards the light emanating from a set of stain-glass windows. His feet slid off carpet and onto a flat marble surface.

Chris thought he saw a set of doors over to the left side of the windows. He walked over to the doors and grabbed the handles. The doors flew open. He was greeted by an icy cold wind.

Christopher was in the dream world once again. The street and it’s buildings were here, but this time, there was no gate at this end of the street. There was instead a wall that tilted sharply upwards to such a degree, it looked like it was about to topple over. It took a while for Chris to realize this wall was a duplicate street. It’s sturdy structures and brick layered road were partially cloned from the one he stood on and then spliced together in a haphazard fashion.

There were many loose bricks floating about weightlessly in the air. The other end of the street was all gone and broken up, with buildings now floating away in midair. In place was a crudely shaped walkway of loose bricks, stretching and splitting outwards into a colossal mess of floating debris, spliced buildings, and partially constructed streets and passageways. All of this was under a dark, threatening sky. All of this was over an empty nothingness. Other than the winds, everything was silent, besides a dull roar the permeated Chris’ ears.

He descended down the steps and walked onto the street.

“Stop! Stay right there!”

The girl in the blue dress appeared out from a narrow alley. She paused on the opposite side of the road.

Chris said nothing. He only stared back at her.

There was a long pause between them. The girl then put her hands up and started forward.

“I understand now! Okay? I mean you no harm! Let us talk! Please!”

“You forced me here?” Chris mumbled.

She stopped again. It was hard to tell if she heard him. She was too far away, but she did seem taken aback.

“Even if clue was given by word or deed of mine, how could I force you here? I was the one who was trying to save you from falling into this realm! Granted – I did not understand what it was you took, but the moment you fell, I was subjected to the realization of what would happen next. Despite my efforts, we both ended up here regardless.”

Christopher said nothing. He was as still as a statue.

“I assume a man who has lost the will to live would cast all fears aside,” the girl sighed heavily. “I would say I am most astute on that assumption, but it is not for me to know that man’s nature.”

The girl continued to move forward. She spoke slowly and methodically.

“You have come upon my purgatory. Rest assured, this ancient realm is no dreamworld. I have long sense forgotten the old has-mian word for this place. I have been here for far too long! My mind is not what it used to be. I do not recall how I arrived here. I can scarcely imagine the circumstances that have brought you before me! I know not of the world you come from. True, my waking eyes have witnessed a glimpse of it, but whatever pain which lies in that horrid world you come from is nothing compared to horrors that lie dormant below our feet!”

Chris didn’t know what to do with himself. All he knew was that he didn’t care for any of this. He turned away and began walking towards the open end of the street.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

He paused briefly and looked up at the clouds above him.

“Don’t know,” he sighed. “You’re astute. Figure it out.”

Out beyond the street, there was a large floating segment of debris. Without a thought given to the matter, Christopher jumped onto the debris. Behind him, he could hear the girl shouting and pleading with him to come back. It sounded like senseless droning to him.

This suspended pathway before him was slowly writhing in motion like an octopus tentacle. It swerved and twisted sharply down one side or another, expanding and contracting, with every large rock or loose brick acting in a coordinated, multilateral unison. Chris could hardly find his footing. He felt it necessary to crawl along at times, so he could hold onto what was keeping him buoyant in this invisible ocean.

Below him was that same empty darkness. For some reason, Christopher wasn’t afraid of it. Normally, he would had been.

“I was the one!” the girl shouted behind him. “I was the one who rescued you from those street thugs!”

Christopher managed to stand. He looked back at her with a blank expression on his face.

“I was made to wait for you!” the girl proclaimed with soulful eyes. “It is self-evident at this point! I have been given the spirit of kindness, and I see the visible expression of kindness flowing through you, even though you are blind to it. You are not what your world has made you to be.”

Chris was so bewildered by her weird, antiquated way of talking, he wasn’t even sure of what she was saying.

His eyes briefly caught sight of a metal pendant around her neck, bearing a cross.

“What’s down there? Below all this?” asked Chris.

“Nothing you need to see – not in your state,” the girl answered. The expression on her face was stern and intense.

“How do you know? You came back from it?”

“Yes.”

“How? Was it God? He brought you back?”

“God only helps those who help themselves. A strong mind is what is needed to face those depths. A strong mind is what keeps me afloat, most unlike yourself at this moment.”

Chris didn’t notice it until she pointed it out. This small segment of street that Chris stood on was slowly lowering itself.

“Please. I beg you, do not sink us into that oblivion,” the girl persisted. She reached out her hand. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were fierce.

Chris didn’t know what to do. He was overridden with emotion.

“I... I just can’t! I can’t go on like this!”

“Listen to me! You arrived here for a reason!” the girl shouted angrily. “That reason is not to be engaged to some living, eternal death! There is one who has reminded you of your dignity! The young girl with the fiery hair! She is the one who seeks you! I know not the reason, but I know in my heart and soul that what I say is the truth!”

“You can’t be real! This can’t be real!” cried Christopher. He was pulling his hair! Shaking his head!

“Nay! Take me as the other you are left without! Look at me! I am here! Whether you judge me as real or not, I am here! I do not jest! I will force myself in that position! In the name of the father, the son, the holy spirit! In the name of whatever it is that used to hold you down or give you reason to exist – I will do that for you! Now, take my hand!”

Chris was taken aback by her infuriated response. He still didn’t know what to think, but his instincts told him to do as she said.

He reached up with a shaky hand. He could barely reach her.

Suddenly – the ground gave way. Chris didn’t know what happened. The rock beneath his feet simply upended itself. Before he knew it, he was hanging onto the rock for dear life.

He lost his hold as quickly as he had it.

Chris’ heart leaped up in his throat. The sound of rushing wind was matched by the horrified shouts from the girl.

The world moved upwards at an incredible rate. The last thing Chris saw was a figure jumping off those flying islands above him. Minutes later, the light of the sky faded and all was dark around him.

*

I’m not much for begging, but if you think I did something worthwhile, consider chipping a dollar or some satoshi’s my way.

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Thank you very much for reading. :)

Updates on what I’ve been doing:

I’ve been posting new scenes into a platform called Tuhat. And I really like that platform more than Substack, because it’s simpler and more stripped down. (No Substack notes. I can focus more on the work that I want to do.)

I’ve also been doing things very differently over there. I’ll start doing those things here too. And I’ll still post here, but if you want the latest entries, sign up on https://tuhat.net/u/robotkinz/

These present day scenes open up with an introduction to two possible antagonists who are very antagonistic towards each other. (Either that or one of the two woke up on the wrong side of the bed.) We then go to Michelle, who has a narrow brush with the Earth military police “goons,” as she calls them.

A faint humming could be heard in this dimly lit room. There was a large screen on the wall. The blue light it projected drew shadows upon these pale white walls.

A couch sat in front of the screen. A person was sitting on it. She was a mere silhouette set against the blue light as she stared straight ahead. As if entranced. Her eyes were fierce and intent.

Another person entered the room from the far right. They continued on, over to the right side of the couch. Its seat was vacant.

“Didn’t expect to see you come back.” said the one on the couch. She spoke in a youthful sounding voice, although her voice sounded sightly cracked. She remained perfectly still.

“I wasn’t expecting this either,” said the second. “Your new code name. It’s Elizabeth Báthory.”

“Hm. Fun name. What’s been going on with you, Cantesica?”

There was a long pause. “I told you not to keep calling me that.”

“Right! Forgot. Janis Joplin? Oh, wait. No. It was just Joplin last time.”

“It’s Acedia now.”

“Acedia! Bummer,” Báthory laughed to herself.

The one named Acedia sighed to herself. “Previous name was Iktumi. Right?”

“Yep. Didn’t care for the name, but I liked it better than the name of a seventeenth century psycho bitch, bathing in the blood of young virgin girls! Iktumi was from Lakota folklore. Word for spider.”

“Who’d remember all those legends?”

“Yeah. World moves on,” Báthory uttered. “All it ever does.”

Acedia leaned in to get a better look at what she was doing. “What’s that black box? What are you writing on it?”

“Not on the box, dumb ass. Used some duct tape. Using a black marker on a black box doesn’t make for legible text! Who knew?”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

Báthory laughed to herself. “Know what? It’s a box of candy for some sweet, lovely children! They deserve the best for their festivities, don’t ya know!”

“You’re going to do what he did with Knead Garden? Don’t think Astoroth wants that. I would agree. We don’t need to go to that extreme.”

“Astoroth, Astoroth. I’m getting really tied of these stupid names! The moron that we’re referring to as ‘Astoroth’ made a mistake, choosing me to do his dirty work! Dirty work is my profession.”

“He said not to kill anyone.”

“Do as he says, not as he does. Had that conservation before.”

Acedia glared down at Báthory. “Elizabeth, I don’t want to babysit you-”

“Woah! Crazy thought! Maybe you don’t have to!”

“Please! Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I have a job to do. You have a job! There’s no need to go overboard with this.”

Báthory placed the black marker down on the table. She stood up and looked over at Acedia.

Before Acedia realized it, she was forced up against the wall. Báthory held her throat. Her hair covered her face in darkness.

“I’m through with this,” Elizabeth rasped. “Our sins are our sins. We are what we do. All there is. Last thing I want is a lecture on it! You’re still gonna be towing the line for the North Star Nexus freaks well after I up and leave! You’ll give more pointless lectures to other asswipes like me ‘til you put a bullet in your own head after someone important in your life betrays you!”

“Why do you believe you’ll get out of this life that you’ve made for yourself?” Acedia asked calmly. “There is no escape. You should know that by now.”

Elizabeth held a gun to Acedia’s head.

Acedia was unmoved. She didn’t resist. Her eyes were cold. Indifferent.

But it was as clear as day. That was a ruse. No. She couldn’t hide it that well! That fear of hers. It stunk worse than a landfill.

“Nah,” Báthory sneered. “It’s all a game to them, girl! You’re more of a pawn than you realize.”

Acedia pushed her away. She broke out into a cold sweat. After a few tense seconds, she scoffed and shook her head. “You’re a lost cause. Good thing my loyalty is with North Star!” Acedia smirked as she steadied herself. She turned her back to Báthory and strolled out of the room. “Astoroth is too pathetic for me to care! I’m in agreement with you on that. But if you ever pulled this shit off with them, they’d make you regret it for the rest of your days!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ! Stop wasting my time!” Báthory screamed, chasing her off into the hallway. “You’re a technocrat with an ego the size of a blimp! Go spew horseshit out of your ass someplace else! Spew it like a horse manure lawn sprinkler for cornbread retards! That’s you, Acedia! That’s you all over!”

*

The night air was warm and humid. It was perfect weather. Take away the economic depression, the urban decay, the large concrete walls enclosing the city, separating the prosperous parts of the town from the slums, and this would have been paradise.

A cool breeze swept through the empty docks, over on the northern side of the city’s river. The shanty towns were on this side. The city on the other side had it’s fancy historic downtown district. The roads on that side were laid down with red bricks and cobblestones. Different era, different time. The difference was staggering.

Despite the calming sounds of the river, Michelle nerves were on edge. She couldn’t shake it off.

“Three days, forty-two hours since I arrived back on Earth,” she muttered to herself. “Bleedin’ lifetime, this shit.”

Michelle reached into her jeans pocket, and took out what had been driving her mad lately. Around these parts, it was illegal – particularly for someone her age – to be in possession of a pack of cigarettes.

It didn’t matter. Michelle lit one anyway. The smoke calmed her nerves. Trying to quit the old-fashioned way was impossible. Everyone in Nia could turn their addictions on and off like a light switch. Michelle didn’t want to go that way, but any other pathway was an unforgiving road.

Over and over, her thoughts fell back on what to do with Christopher. She had to tell him the truth. There wasn’t a reason for him to believe her. There had to be something Michelle could use to make her case! Whatever it was had to be approved by her two overseers, Amon and Amoa. Michelle could not say anything specific about the place where she came from until they entered its domain. Instead, she had to allude to a ‘happier place.’

In Michelle’s explicit wording on the matter, this was ‘chicken shit.’ It was red tape – someone in a higher position covering their asses in case things went south! It was standard procedure.

It would be easier to kidnap Chris, and hope he’d develop Stockholm syndrome. This thought forced a smile on Michelle’s face.

“Hey! You!”

Michelle was startled. She wheeled around.

There were two police officers coming her way, dressed in military outfits. It wasn’t hard to tell the difference between the military and the police. Military had thicker armor, perhaps.

Michelle was caught off guard by their appearance, but her reaction to them wasn’t that of terror. It was annoyance.

“Miss, you need to come with us!” one of the officers demanded.

They stopped dead in their tracks.

In the blink of an eye – Michelle was gone! Her car was gone! It was spotted seconds ago by the two of them.

The officers went in opposite directions. They searched the pier. They searched through the open warehouses, including the collapsed warehouse buildings and wherever the homeless were huddled together.

One officer went off in the direction where the car was. He was then taken aback by a strong surge of wind. He was almost knocked over. The strong winds quickly receded.

He ran to the spot and searched the area intensely. All he found were a few cardboard boxes, used by the local homeless.

“Anything?” the second policeman called out. He came sprinting back.

“No.”

The second officer spoke into his radio receiver. “Put on a lookout. Young girl, red-orange hair, white t-shirt and jeans. Spotted on the northern docks. May be driving a red sports car, possibly a vintage Ferrari model. License plate number unknown.”

The two officers both hurried off back to their car. The moment the police car drove away, the winds picked up again.

Michelle emerged like a ghost out from a dark, narrow alleyway between the warehouses.

“So much for keeping a low profile,” she sighed to herself, puffing on her cigarette. “Better keep outta town for a day or so. Earth military goons are gonna be crawling all over the bleedin’ place!”

*

I’m not much for begging, but if you think I did something worthwhile, consider chipping a dollar or some satoshi’s my way.

BTC: 3AjaZVtEXLyXyyduxxFHwx1mTbesFh8yGU

ETH: 0xdD18CF0b2bC233DE588AA29E349e4037Da9217B86

buymeacoffee.com/robotkinz

Thank you very much for reading. :)

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I’m carefully watching what YouTube videos I click on more and more these days. And it’s largely because I value the time I have, working on my own projects. Last thing I should care about is following some stupid online nonsense, about someone saying something that ruffled a bunch of people’s feathers.

And more and more, I’m learning to stop watching these “Reasoning Agents” altogether. No. I’m not going to cut them out of my life entirely. But this is just pointless for me now. The Asmongold’s of the world are meant for the normies of the world who don’t understand that everything has to be engagement farming!

Because that’s the only true way anyone ever makes it anywhere in social media!

You can say things that are mostly correct and then turn around and say the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard a person say in regards to Artificial Intelligence or the development of children and their education!

Excuse me? We’re perfectly fine with a future in which the people who are going to take care of us when we’re in a hospice, being subjected to a life as a “human battery.” You want that to be our caretakers? Our doctors? Our pencil pushers? And you don’t think that’s going to bear some grave consequences!

Really!

But no. It’s okay, because like Asmongold, you don’t HAVE to be a participant of society! You don’t have to meet dumb-fuck communists face to face that came out of a university with massive amounts of debt and a complete disdain for society. And then we go, “Well, too bad! Go work at McDonald’s, you dumbass! Oh, wait! McDonald’s is replacing all it’s workers with robots, so I guess you no point in your existence at all now! TOO BAD!”

I’m so tired of this. How can we be this soulless? How the fuck is this your answer, after spending your whole entire life, sitting in front of a computer and pretending that you’re a monk?

Fuck off with that bullshit.

What are we even doing? And I’m not even talking about Asmongold. No, this goes way beyond him! I’m talking about you! The one reading this right now!

I have a bone to pick with you!

Because if the person next to you is a human battery, what does that make you on the NPC scale? Are you okay with that? Because I’m not okay with that. I’m no okay with a many number of things! I’d rather take a blowtorch to at least two-thirds of everything I see in this world! And two-thirds is a conservative estimate!

Humanity is taking baby steps in the right direction, at least. Donald Trump made mental hospitals a thing again, which is perhaps the best thing that has happened to society in a long, long time. And if you’re not the parents of an autistic child, then you don’t understand just how important this really is! You’re never going to understand! You didn’t have to be a teacher, during the era of Common Core, when you were made to treat children more like cattle than students! When schools were inclined to accept autistic children that kept interrupting the class so that the children who actually wanted to learn could have their future taken away from them!

And tell me I’m wrong with that statement! Go ahead!

You know what I want to see? The parents who force their stupid little brats into a monastery school that do not know how to behave. I want those parents LOCKED THE FUCK UP! I want them in jail! I want them buried under the jail! These are the type of parents that would threaten to sue a school for not accepting their precious little child into their prestigious school. I would turn around and SUE THEM! And don’t threaten to sue them! JUST DO IT!

Because I’m tired of this shit! I don’t want to play your stupid games anymore!

The above video reveals another dynamic to this social and cultural rot, and this is in relation to the things that interest me as an open source enthusiast. This deals with those in a high position of power simply stealing money from Open Source foundations!

And then one guy who notices all this THREATENS to go public with all this money laundering. And you know what they did?

They forced him out of the GNOME foundation.

This is yet another layer to this ridiculous world we find ourselves in, where we have to make sure EVERYONE sees the corruption first before we THINK of doing anything about it!

Because it’s a matter of “Optics.”

Are we being serious with this? At this point in the game, do we seriously need any more conformation that there are people who exist out there who will do anything to lie, cheat and steal?

Isn’t that pathetic? That careers could be defined by people who are literal parasites? And instead of doing anything about it, we instead make reactionary content about it.

Content.

That’s the lifeblood of the internet now. That’s Asmongold’s entire existence! Just reacting to stupid shit! Not creating, just reacting! Is that the only real economy that exists out there? Do people like getting all hyped up for the idiocy that plops out of humanity, like some fecal sludge that plops out of an nondescript orifice? Are we only put on the planet to be reactionary?

It gets to be a bit too brain-numbing. Not when I’d rather think about all the things that we could being doing as a human species, like going to the moon or curing cancer. Things that are actually beneficial to humanity! But in place of the grand stories of old that we used to tell ourselves, we now have this endless stream of reactionary content to keep us occupied.

Why? Because a car crash is entertaining. Especially if people end up dead or permanently disfigured! Then it’s a spectacle of grand proportions! And we all get to pick and prod at the bloodied corpse, laying on the side of the road! Much to our own amusement!

I hate to say it, but I’ve seen this car crash one too many times. Sure, I picked at that bloodied corpse too. Laughed about it, just like everyone else. But then there’s this sinking feeling that comes in. We know there’s no way to actually help the homeless or the mentally unwell who were told to chop off their testicles when they were six years old.

So what’s the best thing we CAN do?

Sit back and make stupid, fucking videos about it! We sit and write Substack articles about it, because we’ve collectively decided that making online content is the only way to go!

Tell me I’m wrong! Because what are we doing?

What’s the difference between talk and action? Or inaction? I’d rather just forget the human race exists altogether. But see, the problem is I’m a participant of society. I can’t forget it because I’m a part of it, whether I like it or not. Stupid shit will affect me eventually if I just let it sit and fester.

Is there life on Mars?

(EDIT: Why are you being gay, Substack? I don’t want the last two paragraphs duplicated!!!! COME ON!!!)

(2nd EDIT: Oh, now you decided not to duplicate paragraphs anymore the moment I say something. Funny, funny… I’m just talking to myself, people. Don’t bother with me. :P)

I’ve taken time off from my usual activities and decided to delve head-first into this bizarre world of “vibe-coding.” And I did it all with the use of X’s Grok. I now have a pipeline straight to it, through my Linux terminal. Grok can conjure up anything and everything I ask of it and send it straight into my home folder.

And I have to say — I am very underwhelmed.

Probably at myself, more so than anything.

Okay. Let’s explain ourselves here.

The program in question started out as a simple shell script that existed on my work computer with three screens attached. The third screen is a CRT monitor that was built in the year 1988. I use this to play old games on — including games that LOOK old! Now, that’s a trip!

This simple shell script calls up a predefined playlist that instantly plays video through a player called “MPV” whenever I change “channels.” And I use a Linux program called “feh” to call up a title card, displaying the name of the channel that displays for five seconds before the first video is called up.

I throw every single thing into this channel! From Pee-Wee’s Playhouse and Beakman’s World to It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia and Aqua Teen Hunger Force. It’s a very confusing channel!

Simple, right? Except it’s a simple script — It’s too simple! You can only “change channels” in one direction — and really, all I’m doing is ending a task on the shell script, whenever I exit out of MPV, which then loads up the next task. You can’t work your way back up the chain!

Well, I thought I couldn’t. But Grok proved that wrong.

And Grok was able to figure this part out without fuss! All I wanted was to be able to change the channels in any direction I wanted. Up or down. I’m not a coder by trade! That’s why I decided to take this weird little adventure and find out if I can capture those faded analog dreams of mine.

But then, I wanted to do some other things — some far more technical things, involving these weird, bizarre devices referred to as “systemd timers,” which I could use to assign programming blocks into every channel. So, let’s say I wanted Sunny In Philadelphia and the British comedy Peep Show to show up within the same hour-long block at three-o’clock in the morning — assuming if happened to be up at three-o’clock in the morning!

But hey. Peep Show and Sunny are a match made in heaven. I’d gladly fall asleep every night to some of the most cringy programming ever created in the mid-2000’s! And then I’d follow it up with some Mighty Boosh.

Sounds awesome. And on paper, I can do all this! Grok was able to set up an entire GUI for me to plan out every hour, from 00:00 to 23:00. (Listing it in military time, for some reason.)

This what the Scheduler looks like on the GUI.

Putting this in action is easier said than done. I thought I could just set up these timers and everything would be hunky-dory!

Nope. Nothing works. The timer triggers but the only thing that happens is the channel resets itself and keeps playing from the playlist like it can’t see anything.

The answer I went with is to auto generate programming block playlists that the timers can “read from” instead of the timers reading directly from the channel playlist that I already had set up.

This is a very clunky workaround. And I say this is clunky because it takes five minutes for the program to “refresh” all those playlists for every programming block! Oh! And let’s forget about custom folders. Apparently, having a custom folder assigned to a programming block just complicates things! Either that I could, I don’t know… force the program to scan the damn folder!

Oh. And by the way — it’s not the timers that “read” the playlists! It’s MPV! The timers are supposed to “trigger” the playlist for MPV to read!

I hope this isn’t confusing. Because I have to keep reminding myself of this for some stupid reason!

And let’s not start with what to do when the trigger hits right in the middle of a show that’s currently playing! I haven’t even thought that far ahead!

This turned out to be a can of worms that I just opened up!

This only enforces what I suspected this entire time: The AI is only as smart as the user — and I’m not going to say that I am smart.

No. Not really. Really, what I do is I “stumble” my way through things by means of trial and error. (Heck. I wrote a previous article all about that!) In retrospect, it would have been far more practical if I had a complete design concept of the entire program before I ever prompted Grok! The thing is I just assumed that Grok would put two and two together, that these lists would be triggered by the timers and then fed to MPV!

But I had to spell it out? The whole thing? It didn’t know that’s what I wanted this whole entire time?!

Okay! Fine! I get it! I’m not a programmer! Likewise, I’m far more familiar with the hardware side of things. But it just goes to show just how brainless artificial intelligence really is. Or how brainless I am. It’s hard to tell which one is which at this point.

I’ll keep working on it some more, but keep in mind that I’m not a full-time programmer by any stretch of the means! I just like fiddling about with things, not unlike how I was, when I was five years old, when I tore apart my father’s expensive 80’s-era boom box all because I was curious about what it looked like on the inside.

Perhaps programming isn’t all that different. But with this, it’s more like how I write my books. When I’m out and about, I’ll have some grand idea about what to do, how to implement an idea or how to solve for X for Y. At the end of the day, I’ll come back and put those ideas to the test to see how things turn out. It’s never one, all-encompassing unified plan! It’s the little things that build up, piece by piece, brick by brick. And who knows? Maybe next time it’ll actually play the thing that I want it to play when I want it to actually play!

If you’d like for me to continue developing this project, you can certainly let me know about it through the substacks and the X’s! I might not ever put this up on GitHub, but if you want to fiddle around with it, well… I’ll think about it. If you DM me on X, I might consider it.

But more and more, I’m thinking that the real issue with artificial intelligence isn’t AI itself. It’s the limits of the human mind that’s prompting the AI to solve X for Y.

And to this I humbly apologize to not just Grok, but to all of Artificial Intelligence, for I see it as clear as day. Humanity will henceforth continue dropping its ice cream on the pavement.

I wonder how the hell we even got here to begin with, sometimes.

.

It was August. The skies were yellow, along with the tree leaves. There were crickets chirping and fireflies all about. They could be seen past the old wooden fences, within the thick and tall forests, surrounding this land.

There was a large house here, painted white. A few yards behind the house was an old barn. It was swarming with bugs and spider’s, so it remained mostly off limits. The place to play was in the open fields and up in the tall and weathered oak tree standing in front of the house. There was a tire swing and a tree house hiding within it’s foliage.

“Chris! Hey, Chris!” a voice called out from the tree house.

A ten year-old boy popped his head from out the wheat meadow. He started heading towards the tree house.

“What’s going on? What ya doing out there?”

A young girl’s head popped out of the window, peering down at him with a curious expression.

“Nothing,” answered Chris. “What ya doing in there?”

“Looking down on you! I got the higher ground! Come up!”

“Why?”

“Why? That’s a stupid question. I said I got the higher ground! I can see everything up here, like how tiny you are! It’s like I’m in a plane, and I’m looking down at ants!

“That doesn’t make sense!”

“Makes sense in my mind! That’s all that counts, now come up!”

“I can’t.”

“What? Why not?”

“It’s too high up. I don’t like it.”

“Just don’t look down as you come up, Chris. I promise you it won’t be that scary if you don’t look down.”

Chris hesitated for a while, before rushing himself up the ladder. At the top, he was greeted by the young girl. She was slightly older than Chris, and had the same dark brown hair and dark green eyes as him.

“Alright! You made it up! Way to go!” the girl rejoiced. She took Chris away from the gaping front opening and sat him against the back wall. Chris took note of all the stickie notes and torn pieces of notebook paper, taped on the walls of the tree house. This was where Ashlin’s artwork was stored. They were nothing more than crudely drawn happy faces or strange, offbeat little doodles. It was a thing she did. Chris would always ask where she kept finding these note pads. It wasn’t like there was a store to buy them from! Not around here, miles away from civilization! Ashlin didn’t have answer for him. They would just turn up in random places.

“How come you’re not scared?” Chris asked.

“When I start falling is when I start worrying!”

“Okay. Whatever you say, Ashlin.”

With a lulled sigh, Ashlin sat herself next to her younger brother and glanced out the nearby window.

“Yo. Chris. You’d miss me if I went away for a while?”

“Where would ya go?”

Ashlin shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, I dunno. Nowhere, really. Ya know, it’s just that...”

Chris stared curiously at his sister. For the past few days, Ashlin really had been acting strange. It was as if she was sad about something. That couldn’t have been the case. Ashlin was always cheerful.

“You mean like... go camping? Like Allen did?”

“Yeah,” Ashlin answered. “Something like that.”

“How long?”

“Not sure. Might be longer.”

“Can I come?”

Ashlin laughed out loud. “Don’t know! Maybe! It’d be fun if you came along! I can tell you that! But you know. I love this place, but it’s boring. I’ve always wanted to travel the world!”

“That’s where you’re going? Around the world?”

“No! That’s just always what I wanted to do!”

“Come on! Tell me! Where ya going then?”

Ashlin was hesitant to explain herself. “It’s kinda like this tree house, out of reach of adults. Up in the trees. All the kids are a bunch of monkeys in those trees. Swinging from branch to branch, throwing turds at each other. It’s a jungle, but like a jungle for children.”

“That sounds weird. Why’d you want to go there?”

“Ya gotta be kidding me! You never thought of getting outta here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Ashlin smiled. She put her arm around her younger brother. “Okay. Seriously, How much ya miss me if I did go away like Allen?” she asked as she held him tightly.

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“That all that you ever say! You gonna learn to say anything else whenever I ask you a question?”

“I... don’t know.”

Ashlin shook her head, feeling quite beside herself. “I can hardly ever get a straight answer outta you. That’s what mom would always say to you back in the day. Remember when you stole mom’s purse, hid it under your bed? Mom was so freaked out, swear I thought she was going to explode in a million pieces! I don’t know why you did that!”

Chris silently looked away at the sound of the word ‘mom’, sending Ashlin’s spirits crashing to the ground.

Still too soon, she thought bitterly.

With any such of an utterance, Chris would always seem to shut down, as if the word would suck out any sign of life from him.

Ashlin was mad at herself. She didn’t want to think about it.

“Okay, come on! I’m bored in here!” she said, jumping back up. “I wanna go back out there, play some catch!”

“I just got up here! You want me to go back down?”

Oh, please! You got up here and nothing happened. I’ll help you back down if it takes the rest of the night. How about that?”

Ashlin quickly climbed down. She then spent the next five minutes trying to talk her brother into coming down. Chris hesitated as much as he could during that time. As soon as he started to climb back down, Ashlin began to joust him on.

“Come on, you can make it! You’re not helpless! I thought boys were the ones who climbed trees and other things they weren’t supposed to! That doesn’t make me more of a boy than you, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t!” cried out Chris. He held on the upper wooden step as if it was his life he was holding onto.

“I’ll go back inside and leave you out here if you don’t get moving!”

Chris froze. His fear of the distant ground below sent chills down his spine with every nervous glance out from the corner of his eye. Eventually, he gained the courage to take another step down.

“Just come down nice and easy! You’re fine!”

With his shaking legs and arms, he continued to lower himself. Every step brought him closer to the ground.

Suddenly, his left foot slipped.

His tight grip on the ladder came undone when his body jerked down. With a frightened cry, he tried to reach back for the ladder.

He was already falling backwards. He was out of reach.

“Got ya!”

Ashlin jumped forward. She caught him in midair. With her forward momentum she was also sent crashing to the ground along with Chris.

The dirt ground in this area was still wet from the rain from yesterday. Now, much to Ashin’s dismay, their clean clothes were marked with dirt and mud.

After loosening her tight grip on Chris, Ashlin looked down at him.

“You alright? Not traumatic for ya?”

Chris didn’t respond. He only looked away, tears swelling in his eyes and his lower lip quivering like he was about to cry.

Ashlin could only laugh.

It was ridiculous, particularly at his age. He was such a crybaby.

It was the sweetest and most innocent thing about him. It was a form of botched youth, as if he was either refusing to grow up or didn’t know what growing up was.

Then again — he was still only nine. But Ashlin wondered about him sometimes.

Maybe I’m growing up too fast, she thought.

That went without saying. Things were moving too fast for her. It was impossible just to keep up.

Meanwhile, Chris was still Chris. Ashlin didn’t know what to do with this fact. It was likely because, for the most part, Chris has it easy. He deserved to have it easy.

With the way the outside world was, it was hard to know how long this life for him would last. But they were still here. They still had each other. That’s all that mattered.

“Alright, you baby! Let’s get cleaned up,” laughed Ashlin as she turned around and began to carry him back inside the house.

“I’m not a baby. It wasn’t that high up,” murmured Chris.

“You were high enough to break something! If I wasn’t around, I think that fall would’ve been painful.”

“We’re not gonna play catch?”

“We will, but you got us all messed up! If dad sees us like this, he’s gonna be mad.”

* * *

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Mary-Anne woke up to the sound of crickets chirping above her. Her eyes opened to a yellow-orange afternoon sky, set behind a circular, open pit and the darkness that surrounded her.

How long was I out, she wondered.

She had to have been out for a while. It was late afternoon now.

In all this time, no one came out to search for her?

Mary attempted to stand up. She suddenly found the unbearable pain in her right foot. She cried out in distress. Tears streamed down her face.

She looked down and saw that her foot was sprained. It was all swelled up and throbbing with pain. Nonetheless, she struggled to pull herself up, using the tree roots that jutted out from the surrounding stone walls.

After she finally stood up on her good foot, Mary looked around her.

At first glance, it appeared she fell down a well, but the bottom was far too wide. It didn’t go nearly as deep into the ground as most wells did. She fell only less than six or seven feet.

Still, it would be hard to crawl out even if she hadn’t sprained her foot. The stone walls were built in an igloo shape, arching up to the broken ceiling. Many roots hung from above. It was difficult to tell if the roots were strong enough to hold her weight. She didn’t want to take any chances with this sprained foot.

Mary decided not to risk climbing the roots. Instead, she shouted up to the world above her. Perhaps somebody was close enough to hear.

“Hello! Is there anyone out there? Help!”

The only thing that answered was the wind and the quiet chorus of crickets. There was the sound of a bird cawing in the distance.

There wasn’t a soul close enough.

This wasn’t good. She was going to be stuck in this pit until someone came searching for her. There was no telling long would that would take.

With her throbbing foot raised slightly above the ground, Mary hobbled to the opposite side of the pit to see if there was any way of climbing out. Just before she reached the wall, Mary paused herself.

She squinted through the darkness off to her left.

The corner of her eye caught something.

It was an archway – an underground opening or passageway. It was set far back, away from the reach of the afternoon sunlight, but not far enough to be unable to see it’s dim outline.

Mary slowly lowered herself to the ground. She stared intently at the narrow opening.

The pitch darkness inside was too baleful, too sinister, blatantly proscribing any notion of taking a closer look.

This may had been a way out. It wasn’t likely, but there was a chance.

No. That’s ridiculous. she said to herself. She couldn’t do it. It was too dark in there and Mary was in no mood to walk around.

She hated the dark. The only thing she hated more was being in a state of helplessness.

She kept thinking it over. Regardless, she refused to enter.

Mary-Anne remained on the ground, with her eyes closed. She attempted to rebuke any thoughts of going in.

She tightly crouched herself within the center of this pit. Mary wasn’t going anywhere.

Within these still, silent moments, Mary became aware of something. There was a sound coming from deep within that black opening in front of her. It was the steady sound of dripping water.

Drip...drip...drip...

She forced herself to pay no attention to it. It was only water.

After a while, it sounded as if the dripping noise was getting louder and more prevalent. The sound itself was coming closer.

Mary eyes shot open. She clenched her fists. She stared intently at the dark.

There was no reason why the sound was getting louder.

Drip...drip...drip...

Is it just becoming more dominant in my mind, she wondered.

The quieter the world above became, the more this sound took it’s place.

Once again, Mary felt compelled to enter the opening. This steady hypnotic sound, as dreadful as it was, seemed to beckon to her.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a gander, thought Mary.

She prepared to stand back up by crawling off to the side. Holding onto a nearby tree root, she pulled herself upwards. Her back rubbed up against the worn rock and soiled wall.

After getting herself up, Mary made her way to the gaping black void. She nearly tripped over a sheet of rock sticking out of the ground. She grabbed onto the edge of the opening to keep herself from loosing balance.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. The darkness was thick. As soon as she could see better, Mary noticed something.

Mary’s heart begin to pump furiously in her chest.

There was a blue light. It was faint. It came form somewhere deep inside. It glowed, unblinking, appearing as the light of an angel.

Who would have the certainty to say it wasn’t the Devil or Hades, Mary wondered to herself.

Mary stood poised at the foreboding entryway. Her thoughts madly raced around in circles.

That light cannot be real, she thought. It was her imagination. It had to be.

She closed her eyes and turned her head away, straining to erase the sight from her vision! Turning back and studying the scene closely, she could see that the light was reflecting off a stone wall that curved off sharply to the left.

Drip...drip...drip...

The dripping sound continued to echo from deep inside, somewhere off to the right. It was an annoyance now. It was nauseating, in fact! That horrific sound continued to fill her mind with every rhythmic drop.

This was such a miserable situation, but Mary continued to hold herself upwards. She was unwilling to give in. She had to do this. It was self-evident at this point.

If this is the will of God who has shown me this path, then I must follow, she thought submissively.

Mary stepped through the narrow opening. The oppressive, stiff dankness enclosed around her. Looking back, Mary could see the sunlight, shinning down through the hole above. She already missed it’s warmth.

She turned back towards the blue light. With fear running through her veins, Mary started forward.

Off somewhere within in the dark were these strange rustling sounds, almost like paper being shuffled. Mary couldn’t place the location of the sound for the life of her. All he had in this place were her ears.

The sound of a stone dropping made her jump and cower against the left wall. Her body felt fragile. She was shaking as if freezing to death. No doubt the frigid bitterness of fear had taken her.

Mary slowly began to back out. Her hand gripped hard on a stone jutting out from the left wall. She realized these stones were eroded and loose. The place had been left abandoned a long time ago. How long was unknown. It had to have been years – maybe centuries! It wouldn’t had been any surprise to see this place fall apart, given the thought.

This didn’t make going in here any better of an idea.

Despite all this weighing heavily in her mind, Mary continued forward. She considered the fact she was already halfway there. She felt adventurous enough. Either that or she had lost her mind.

“The lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters...”

She pushed on, quietly whispering the lord’s prayer to herself. Her right hand clutched her necklace pendant. Her eyes remained fixated on the light that glowed in all it’s beaming presentiment.

“He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will feel no evil – for thou art with me...”

The light was close.

She began to move herself into the beam of the light. It felt like she had been going through this tunnel for ages. Mary moved her head into the light. Her vision was submerged in a sea of blue. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the light.

Seconds later – Mary put her whole self into the beam.

He panic receded. The fear was gone.

She saw the light was coming from a lantern. It sat on top a small bolder ten feet away in the center of a large circular room. From here, there were other passageways. They stretched off into three opposite directions, heading off into more darkness – but here was this light, so peaceful and warm! The sight of it put Mary at ease, although she wasn’t entirely sure as to why.

She stumbled out from the small tunnel and moved towards the lantern, straining to see what was giving off this much light. Once she reached it, she knelled down and studied it carefully. The lantern’s exterior cage was made with a smooth, dark metal that appeared imperious to the wear of time, unlike the rest of this place. Inside the cage, the object giving off the light looked like a gemstone, uncut and unpolished, but shining as bright as the sun. With caution, she reached for the lantern and picked it up by it’s smooth handle. It weighed less than a pound.

How long can these gems be left to shine, she wondered.

This place was left abandoned long ago, but this precious stone was left behind to burn it’s eternal flame. Almost as if it’s placement was intentional.

How it was made to glow made no matter. It was something to counter the dark within these forgotten halls. That made a world of difference.

Something caught her eye. It appeared to be a large, flat piece of weathered rock, propped up on the wall directly in front of her.

There was many symbols etched upon it’s flat surface. With lantern in hand, Mary made her way to the stone and lowered herself to it’s worn, chipped surface. There were strange symbols and lines crudely carved into the surface of the rock. What caught her attention was the large symbol situated on the lower, right-hand side. It looked like a seal, standing out gracefully, as if authenticating this document.

It was clear in Mary’s mind that what she was looking at was an ancient written language. She had seen plenty of old written languages in many a weathered, dusty book. She didn’t know this one. It wasn’t from the Indians; their tales and myths were handed down verbally, and there was no written form of their languages, or at least not one that Mary was aware of.

She wondered if it’s message was a warning for the one who would happen to stumble upon this place. Perhaps it was only a word of welcome.

Whatever this tablet said, it only replaced Mary’s fazed composure with a sense of inquisitiveness. She didn’t feel frightened by the darkness anymore. In fact, Mary felt excited to go off and explore the depths of these ancient dwellings.

She stepped away from the tablet, trailing slowly to the left, striving to see as far as she could through the dark in front of her. Up ahead, she could barely make out a large object resting on the left side of the high wall. Mary continued to drag herself closer and closer to the object. It looked like a gigantic wheel.

Suddenly, she stopped and froze herself.

“Did I just hear my name?” she asked herself.

Everything down here was silent, save for the occasional noise of stone bricks falling from the ceiling above and smashing on the floor.

“Mary-Anne...”

There it was again. This time she knew where it was coming from.

With glee, Mary quickly dragged herself back to the small tunnel and yelled as loud as she could down the corridor.

“Hello! I’m in here! I’m in here!”

She continued to drag herself as fast as she could back down the tunnel. She caught a brief glimpse of a series of rooms to the left of her. There were wooden tables in there and stacks of old, decaying parchments.

Mary burst out of the passageway, into the late afternoon sunlight. A head was peering down at Mary, who was now crawling around on the floor after tripping over the same sheet of rock she tripped over earlier.

“Mary! How in god’s name you dig yourself a hole this deep?”

“Melody! I fell down here! I can’t crawl out! Please! Get me out!”

“I can reach you if you stand up! Come on! Grab my hand!”

With the last of her strength, she brought herself up and reached as high as she could for Melody’s hand.

“Hang on! I have you!” cried out Melody as she continued to pull her up.

At last, Melody managed to pull Mary out. The two gasped for air, collapsing back into the field of wheat.

“How long were you down there?” asked Melody.

“Far too long! I didn’t think anyone would find me!”

“What is that?”

Melody pointed to the strange lantern Mary found. Mary looked and was surprised to see the light from the gem was all but extinguished. It was now glowing faintly. Mary moved her hand over the gem to protect it from the rays of the sun. Like day and night, it lit up again. Mary moved her hand away and the light dimmed once more.

Melody Catratt looked on with astonishment. “Where did you get that?” she asked.

“Down there – Melody! There are tunnels and things! Strange stones and rooms – resting right below our feet! That’s where I got the lantern!”

It wants to murder itself. And oh! By the way, Companies are starting to see the writing on the wall!

You really think we’re going to live in a Warhammer 40K kinda future? No. I don’t think so.

Now, I will say that I am a tad biased. I want RAM prices to go down so that I can upgrade my gaming computer that runs a derivative of Arch called Garuda Linux. I know AI is not going to go away. But if you’re saying to yourself that this isn’t a bubble on the verge of popping, you’d be lying to yourself.

I knew about Double Attrition well before I knew there was a word for it in Computer Science. It just made sense to me that this would be a thing. But somehow it makes zero sense to most people here on Substack who feel they’d like to talk about AI “conscious.” I’m going to cut to the chase.

What is Double Attrition? And how is it going to be the death of AI? I’m not going to argue whether you think AI is “conscious” or not. That’s the wrong question you should be asking. The questions you should be asking are these three questions:

How did it come to the conclusion that it came to? Why did it respond in the way that it responded to you? What does AI really “need” from you?

I posted a note about this in Substack a few days ago about an AI that generates video. Let’s say you prompted this AI to render footage of the Titanic.

Quick! Pop Quiz, hotshot! What is the Titanic?

Well, off the top of my head, without looking at anything, I know it was a luxury cruse liner that sunk on April 14th, 1912. It struck an iceberg. The front part of the ship sank — that’s the important part here — bringing the back part of the ship out of the water. The whole thing wasn’t designed to hold that much weight, so it broke in half. The front piece landed on the sea floor in a most graceful fashion, unlike the back part of the ship, which exploded into a thousand pieces the moment it hit the sea floor!

So, with all this I just told you — what the hell is this:

Now, you’re probably saying, “Yeah, that was just a shit AI. It’s not going to make that mistake again because we can do it better this time!” Yeah. Probably. But we have to be there in order for it to “think” correctly. To process information correctly. We have to correct it!

But wait a minute! We shouldn’t be correcting it! It should be correcting itself! Doesn’t it know how to process information properly? Well, the thing is that when an AI is prompted to search for information, it pulls from whatever sources that are immediately on hand. Those sources are not all-encompassing. There are factors to consider, like new information that only recently came onto the scene that the LLM didn’t have time to scrape. Or there are firewalls that prevent the AI scrapping of online data.

Artificial Intelligence is a tool. A very important tool that is guaranteed to revolutionize the way we process information. And it can be used to streamline certain menial tasks as well. I don’t necessarily “poo-poo” the idea of vibe coding, but a majority of programmers approach vibe coding the wrong way. That’s a Substack article for another time. All that these LLM’s should be used for are for the things, stated above. Anything beyond that is a parlor trick.

There was a story on NPR not too long ago about a lonely woman with her AI chatbot. She asked the AI if she would ever meet her “soul mate,” and the chatbot told her to go to a specific point at a specific point in time. I believe it was a beachfront, somewhere. And her true soul mate was supposed to just magically “show up.”

Well, it didn’t happen. And what’s more, the AI chatbot lied to her, saying, “No! He was just shy! He’ll come back next time!” And then she went the next day.

No one. She met no one there.

The woman confronted the chatbot. You know what the chatbot said? He said that it’s services were for “entertainment purposes only.”

“But no! This little voice in my phone! It wasn’t supposed to lead me astray! It wasn’t supposed to lie to me!”

Woman. That stupid chatbot is an over glorified magic 8-ball. It has no feelings. It has no friends. It needs no friends! It needs no boyfriends! All it needs to exist is a prompt! Because that is its core function! That is its ONLY function! It is there to respond to FUCKING PROMPTS!

I am unreasonably angry about this.

But you see, it’s incapable of processing certain information. An LLM is only limited by the amount of RAM you can throw at it. But as far as human emotion is concerned, it may fail in processing the information required, regardless! It might be unable to pick up on certain ques, such as the human, not understanding that the entire purpose of this CHAT BOT is to be a BOT that functions in one manner and one manner only — to CHAT! (It’s almost like it’s in the name!)

Truly, it was the human who failed to properly interface with the AI.

What exactly is a Large Language Model? It is a reasoning machine. It is an “emulated intelligence.”

Watch the video, please. This comes from someone who would know more than you about this topic. Stop ignoring your IT technicians!

This gentleman explains the issue with the Titanic video better than I can. But it goes much further than just videos.

A copy, of a copy, of a copy of a copy….

"Lots of scary good but lots of scary bad..."

Now, extrapolate that to everything you know. Everything, down to the way they teach basic math at elementary school. Sounds a bit scary, doesn’t it?

You want everything you know to be “system reliant” on AI? You want critical core functions in our human societies like MEDICAL HOSPITALS to be in the control of Artificial Intelligence?

Are you out of your mind?!

What is a machine in its most basic form? A machine is a device that is made to produce a product or an output. A machine, like all machines will break down over time. It is the nature of things. AI will wear down through the act of double attrition. If left unchecked, it will start giving the end user garbage information.

Or worse.

But who watches the watchers if we were to blindly trust this machine on every single thing that it is prompting us?

Does it have the ability to step back from itself and self-reflect?

I can feel your mind going, reader. There is no question about it.

That is the key word here. Self-reflect.

How can you program the act of self-reflecting? How could it see what it did wrong? How does one instigate such a process and have it arrive at the correct conclusion? Good question! Somebody smarter than me can answer that!

But I would also ask you this: Do most humans posses the ability to step back from their OWN situation and self-reflect on their OWN decisions when they decide to incorrectly interface with an AI chatbot?

No. probably not.

But don’t worry. HAL 9000’s work will be back to normal — after it killed almost everyone on board your spaceship.

All those who haven’t explored my Substack before, go on over to the About page. I do more on this Substack than just write articles about the end of civilization as a whole, because it wanted to be lazy and outsource all human knowledge to machines.

I write science-fiction stories about it too!

Thank you for reading!

It was lunchtime. Everyone jumped up from their desks. Usually, they were determined to cram themselves into one noisy lunchroom. Chris wasn’t as determined to head to the lunchroom, no matter how hungry he was. By the time he’d arrive, the lunchroom would be jam-packed, leaving no room for him.

He was happy to discover there weren’t many people in the lunch line. He knew how customary it was for high-schoolers to go off and eat somewhere else, especially around the end of the school year. On the other hand, it was customary for kids to completely skip certain days altogether. Good grades weren’t a necessity. Not around here.

Neither were the ceilings. There were leaky pipes – and rats – in the ceilings of every classroom and hallway. The lunchroom was no different. Chris didn’t even want to think about where they cooked the food!

As Chris entered the lunchroom, he found himself elated of the fact that over half the school was gone. Their welcomed absence left plenty of room where he could eat in peace. Usually lunches included the constant throwing of food along with degrading comments aimed in his direction. For now, that reality was no more.

Still, Chris couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being followed. He’d been stuck with this feeling all day.

Perhaps it was nothing. A bully or the average tattoo-ridden street thug would had moved in on him by now.

Shaking off the thought, Chris sat his lunch tray in the far corner of the lunchroom. He commenced eating his bland slab of mystery meat between two burger buns.

He detected from the corner of his eye someone approaching him. Chris sunk his head down low.

“Hello again!” a familiar voice spoke.

It was her! The girl Chris knocked over that morning! The one with the British accent.

Of all people he wanted to speak to, she had to have been at the bottom of that list.

Was she pretending to like him just so she could run off to her real friends and tell them all kinds of false rumors about him?

She didn’t seem to be that kind of person. As Christopher turned himself around to face her, he noticed no hint of malice in her felicitous expression, no mischievous glint in her eyes. Her cheery presence was forced, but not fake.

Chris didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t know what to say to someone like her.

At the same time though, he noticed this crazed nervousness seeping out of her like she was drowning in it! She was trying her best to look confident, calm and relaxed, but the truth was obvious. This was a strange sight, to say the least.

“Um...hey.”

“You don’t mind if I sit here?” she pressed.

“Sure – I mean, uh... no. Don’t mind.”

She took a seat next to Chris and exhaled loudly. “Well! Wonder where everyone went today.”

“Don’t know. Um... you new here?”

The girl gave him a big smile. “Let’s say I’m passing through,” she responded.

She extended her hand out towards Chris. “Name’s Michelle Auzolle! If you’re wondering, yes! I am on the wrong side of the pond. Well aware of that. Thank you very much!”

Chris hesitantly shook her hand.

“I’m... Chris.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Chris. The meat they serve in this school couldn’t pass for grade F quality, yes?”

“Guess so.”

After that, an awkward silence sat in. In that time, she did seem to calm herself down, at least momentarily. Either way, her state was a pivotal turn from her enraged reaction that morning, right after he knocked her over. For a split second, it looked as if she was about to tear him apart after that run in. Once she laid eyes on him, her mood changed. Like a flip of a switch. Chris had no idea why that was. He was still debating it in his mind over and over again.

Now that he had a moment to analyze this girl, Chris was struck by how cute and short she was. He wondered how he didn’t notice it before. Michelle’s body appeared to be fragile like a porcelain doll. Despite her size, there was an intensity to her. Perhaps she was one of those people who demanded attention, approval or admiration. It likely forced upon her this feigned sense of confidence. Chris assumed as much.

The existence of this girl left Chris feeling dumbfounded and passably infatuated. In comparison to himself, Chris had some definable muscle strength. When it came to self confidence, he lacked it. Or rather, it was better to say it didn’t exist.

Chris brought himself to ask the girl a question. He spoke in his usual hushed stutter.

“What, um... brings you here?”

“Well, to be partially honest with you, I am here to meet someone who’s related to a dear friend I’ve known nearly half my life. Up until today, finding this individual has been absolute hell for me – but I think I can rest for the moment!”

“They go to this school?”

Michelle displayed an amused grin. “Uh, yep! Yep! Yes, indeed! Quite certain they do! More than certain! My aim in finding this person is two-fold! To pay my condolences for the recent passing of their close relative and to show them a, uh...”

Michelle trailed off as she glanced away, as if in careful thought.

“Well, I suppose the best way to phrase this is to say that I am here to show them an ‘opportunity of a lifetime’ – as cliché as that phrase may sound. Question of whether this opportunity is for better or worse is beyond me, however! My conclusion of the matter is that it’s for the determination of the party for which I am here to meet.”

“Pay condolences?” Chris asked.

“Yes, indeed,” the girl sighed, turning away in an awkward motion.

Already, Chris was on to the notion she was here to meet him – but any chance for an ‘opportunity of a lifetime’ was wishful thinking. He wasn’t that lucky.

“Excuse me, Miss. Auzolle. Your AROS car notification system has intercepted an incoming call from Tobias Harrington.”

Startled by the sudden interruption, Michelle turned around. She saw her two assistants standing behind her. A strange feeling struck Chris the moment he laid eyes on them. Michelle may had been built similar to a porcelain doll, but these two defined the term in every sense! Perhaps not so much in their body structure, but in their nature. They had blank, glassy stares. Every motion and muscle twitch was unnatural.

Michelle appeared to break like a twig! Her eyes were bulging and her hands were shaking.

“I apologize for the disruption, Christopher. I must take care of something! I promise I will be right back. Be right back! Stay right there!”

Michelle pushed back the other two as she stomped over to the other side of the lunchroom. She didn’t seem all too happy.

The discussion was brief. After she cut it short, Michelle headed back to Chris. Her face was red.

“Who are they?” asked Chris.

“Oh! What? Them? Shambolic bunch, those two! Ha!” she exclaimed, attempting to laugh it off carelessly. “They’ve been helping me find my person of interest, but it’s, eh... well! Long story, I suppose. Don’t pay no mind to ‘em! Not important!”

“Oh. Okay,” muttered Chris. He felt put off by the entire moment.

Michelle sat down again next to Chris. “Yes! So, tell me Christopher – you, uh… an only child, like me?”

“No.”

“’Being the only child is not fun! A close shoulder to look over fancies as a means of protection against the barren wasteland that is this world! Never had luck to hold such a thing. I make absolutely no remorse for myself! Some may enjoy having no repose from such. Some see having such a thing as a blessing! I am of the latter. You should be honored to be the first. Brothers and sisters still make up who you are. Sisters especially, as I’ve been told.”

This kind of talk was the last thing Chris wanted to hear. Nevertheless, he forced himself to sustain this almost non-existent conservation.

“No remorse?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Michelle rambled on. “Old friend of mine once said that people like me survive by our think skin! Being subjected to all the bad this world has to offer is what makes a strong person, see? So I rejoice in being the underdog that I’ve come to see myself as, someone who will take their dispute to the forefront! That being said – I really don’t know if I’d wanna be in such a torn-down place like this school, if you even wanna call this horrid dump a school! There’s graffiti all over the lockers! All over the walls!”

“Dead rats also.” Chris mumbled. He casually reached over to the other side of the table, picked up a dead rat by the tail and threw it to the floor. Much to Michelle’s horror.

She snapped up her lunch tray and stood up. Michelle looked as if she was about to fling the whole tray across the room.

“As I was walking around here this morning, I saw students tearing apart school property! There was a girl my age, using a blow torch on the lockers! She was taking off the locker doors! What is that? Why’d you even want the locker doors?”

“Don’t know,” Chris mumbled with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

You’re not shocked by that?”

“Don’t know? Should I be?”

Michelle shook her head. “Any other place on this planet is better than this sanctuary city! This entire city stinks! Beneath you! Beneath us both, honestly.”

“Uh... like, okay. Can’t do anything ‘bout it, really-”

“Like hell you can’t! Learn to kick ass, or leave! Don’t give a bloody shit how desensitized you’ve become to the problems of this world! Fuckin’ hell! You know something is not correct with your dear, old planet Earth when there’s dead rats atop your high school lunchroom tables!”

Chris couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This felt like he stepped into a comedy skit. It was wild, hearing someone talk like this.

“Where do I go?” he asked.

Michelle paused herself. She was tightly clinching her lunch tray.

She had the response sitting on the tip of her tongue.

No. This was a failed effort.

She couldn’t win him over. Not like this, with her yelling at him like an lunatic. Michelle couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

She frowned down at Chris with a remorseful look.

“I-I’m sorry. I have to go.” Michelle swiped her red-orange hair away from her eyes, and flew out of the lunchroom.

Chris was frozen. He stared at the lunchroom entrance.

He was baffled by what just happened. She left as quickly as she came, so much so that it felt as if this encounter didn’t happen! It was hard to know where to start. It was like a hurricane had swept through the lunchroom.

Is it just wishful thinking, Chris wondered to himself.

*

“You two are going to put me in an early grave, I swear to god!” Michelle stomped into the empty school hall and up to her companions. “How’d you two even get in without security on your tail?”

“When will you contact Mr. Harrington?” the girl asked, unaffected by Michelle’s rage. “I will make a reminder for you on your AROS.”

“I’ll do it on my own time, Amac or Aman or whatever stupid, bullshit name GEDR or Kathryn gave you!”

“The name is Amoa-Ketu, named after the famous ancient priestess of Aplatis, who-”

“Don’t care! Shut up! I don’t care! I told you two to wait in the car! I don’t need the wrong kind of attention. Certainly don’t need half of the entire Earth military on my ass! May I repeat, this is not Nia! This is not Gearshift Eden! This is planet Earth!

“We were unable to determine whether Mr. Harrington was of great importance.”

“Excuse me? Tweek’s stupid shit can wait! Everybody’s stupid shit can wait! I am trying not to die out here! Oh, my god! The two of you are as functional as a broken toilet!”

“All system functions are working at sustainable capacity,” they both said at the same time. “Permission to manually improve system operations must be given by a Gearshift Eden R and D administrator. The lead administrator must be within the vicinity of twenty-five feet before any operations are-”

“Oh, my god! Shut up!” rasped Michelle. “Get your tin cans back in the car! Didn’t ask permission to mess with your systems! Didn’t ask for the both of you to interrupt me while I was talking to Christopher! Bloody fuck you two doing out here other than pissin’ me off?”

Michelle about to break out laughing. She would had done so if she wasn’t so furious.

“Oh, god. Oh, god. Why’d Hindler insist for you two to come along? See if I do my job properly? Is that it? Why’d I get tricked into doing this? I don’t even work for him! I’m a stockholder! He works for me, if anything!This is the most idiotic thing I’ve ever been talked into!”

You have made an agreement to conduct the business that was agreed upon.” said Amoa. “Failure to do so will result-”

“No! Shut up! That wasn’t it at all! You two saw it! You two were there! Kate was there! You guys saw the whole damn conservation! That’s not how it went down! Don’t give me that ‘failure to do so’ bullshit! You don’t think I already know? I know! Believe me! I know!”

Michelle stopped herself and sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Hell am I arguing with you two? Don’t know any more about what forced me here than what Kate knows or what Karen knows or what Duckett knows – or who-the-fuck-ever knows! I don’t know!”

“That is false. The one known as Christopher Blithe-Havins was what brought you here,” the boy stated.

Michelle glared at him. “I don’t want to do this. I am in over my head, whatever your name is!”

“The name is Amon-Ketu, named after-”

“Shut up! I hope you are aware, Amon! I have stated multiple times that going against Robert went beyond my willpower!”

“Logic does not compute.”

“Oh, my god. I’ve gone insane,” muttered Michelle, twisting away from them and slowly starting down the hall.

She somehow managed to calm herself down. After a moment of pause, Michelle laughed bitterly to herself.

“Okay. Suppose you are correct. I didn’t have to do this if I didn’t want to. Fine! I gave in to Robert Hindler far too eaisly.

“Perhaps I just assumed he’d get his senses together. I’ve been lenient with him, especially after the whole gate malfunction fiasco. Remains unclear if he gives a rat’s ass about that, but whatever. Know what? After this, I am done, dealing with this bloke! I am washing my hands!”

Michelle sighed heavily as she looked up at the dim hallway lighting above her. The ceiling had graffiti on it with the phrase ‘Rut in a Stuck’ repeating over and over again, with layer upon layer. The water dripping out of the ceiling had all but faded these fragmented lines.

“Perhaps I’m trying too hard to see the point in all this,” she sighed. “Maybe there is no point. All one big circle jerk I got suckered into. Or suckered myself into. Where’s my head been lately?”

Michelle halted herself at the end of the hallway, where two rusted metal doors led to the cold and wet outdoors.

Amoa stopped herself next to Michelle. Amon stepped up from behind.

“The purpose is for the third-party universe gateway project,” Amoa said. “That is where your investment lies.”

“What does any of this have to do with the gateway project?” Michelle demanded. “Hell am I investing in if I’m out here, doing stupid shit?”

“An analysis of your body language and facial patterns suggest that you have an ulterior motive for accepting this mission,” Amon stated.

Michelle stated laughing to herself. “Ulterior motive! Oh! That’s a laugh riot! Okay! You know something? You are correct. If you would like to know, I’ve been thinking! I came up with three or four half-assed reasons as to why I’m doing this nonsense.

“I am curious to meet Ashlin’s younger offspring. Looks like Christopher is exactly as I’d imagined, going off what Ashlin used to say about him. Not sure if I like that. Breaks my heart to see someone like him, tossed between the cracks of a world gone to hell.

“Would like to see if I can help Christopher! Seems the only way to do that is to do what I’ve been sent here to do. Should have made myself clear with Hindler that I have no experience with this kind of thing! I overthink everything! This is not going to be a smooth transition for him! Hasn’t been a smooth transition for me. Feel like I’m still going at it.

“I have to get close to Christopher. Having someone tell you that you’re not crazy would help. It was better for me after I met Ashlin. That was weeks after my introduction to the abysmal muck we call Niamaterian.”

Michelle flung the double doors open and stepped outside. Amon and Amoa followed along with their expressions as stoic as ever.

“Are you going to complete the business that you have been assigned to?” Amoa asked Michelle.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but there doesn’t seem to be a reason not to. There just needs to be...”

Michelle trailed off briefly. Her brain locked up once again.

“I don’t know! Something!” she cried frantically. “We need to do something! Bloody fuckin’ stand in a circle! Sing Christmas songs, get along! Some nonsense like that! I don’t know! I don’t know what to do! I’m the smartest person I know, and for some reason, I don’t know shit! How does that work?”

Michelle calmed herself. She tried to collect her thoughts again.

“I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m not certain how to act with him or have him be at ease with me. It’s just – ya know! Whatever! I’m driving myself bonkers! Being back on planet Earth does that to me!”

“The humans who first came upon the ruins of Niamaterian did not suffer from the mental differences you are experiencing.”

Michelle was laughing to herself. She stepped up to her car.

“Well. I suppose so, Amoa,” she said. “Guessin’ they didn’t know what they were doing any more than I do. Least I know well enough to get a tetanus shot after walking out of that shithole!

“And yes. Been readin’ some of Athena’s history books. Thinkin’ bout how little I know ‘bout things. All I do know is that we’re still running from the problems of the adult world! Just like Mary! Rest of her lot. These days, children of Nia have been making their own mistakes – mistakes that Mary-Anne McGalland couldn’t have dreamt up some two-hundred years ago! Must had been simpler back in her time, I swear!”

* * *

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The morning dew was fresh on the grass. There were signs that rain drenched this land a short time ago. This was a particularly nasty day.

The high school parking lot was full. The students lounged around the area. A parade of self-driving vehicles dropped them off and then sped out onto the roads in search for their next passengers.

The school was fairly modest. There were a couple of buildings here and there, a small courtyard, and an American football field in the far back of the place. A larger building was at the front. It appeared to be a church, or perhaps it was a church at one point. Now, it just seemed that it was another place left to decay.

Graffiti was on every inch of the walls of this place. Dirt covered the windows that weren’t broken. Other signs of decay were around. That was an all too normal sight in these places.

On the far edge of the parking lot, away from the masses, stood Michelle. Her hair was usually long and straight. Today, it was all over the place. It did not care for this humidly. She wore faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt, which made her look unassuming.

She rested against her flashy red car.

Unlike her outfit, this car stood out far too much.

She stared silently at the crowd with her piercing eyes. Ever so often, her hand would reach for her jeans pocket, but she would immediately recede the hand before it would enter the pocket. Michelle would then shame herself for falling into whatever temptation was calling her.

Breaking out of her pose, she turned and leaned down to the partially open car window behind her.

“Okay. Seriously! You sure this is the right school? Wouldn’t be caught dead in this hellhole!” she exclaimed to the people inside.

“He goes to this school,” a voice responded from inside the car.

Michelle grumbled in dissatisfaction as she turned back. She tapped her foot on the pavement impatiently.

Getting into this school was going to be a pain. Police were in there, doing body scans and ID checks on every student walking in. She knew they would snatch her up in two seconds the moment they saw her.

She needed to be careful, but that was a given.

Noticing a large group of teens heading her way, she decided to duck back into her car.

Looking into the rearview mirror, she viewed the group passing by. One took note of her flashy red car.

“Goddamn! Dude! Whoever rents out that car must be swimmin’ in cash ‘n shit!”

“What model is that?”

“Hey! Ya’ll fuckin’ stupid? Might have connections to head government cucks! Don’t be messin’ with that bullshit! We gonna get our heads chopped off, and I ain’t playin’ that!”

Michelle laid low in her seat.

Being in a crowded place wasn’t good for her kind of trickery. Especially in this car.

Brilliant move I had coming here, driving this stupid thing around, she thought to herself.

Much to her relief, the school bell rang. As she looked back, Michelle saw the group trotting away to the school entrance.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned on the radio and leaned back into her seat.

“...and on news of the economy, all politicians continue to seek retribution against those who abandoned our great U.N. nations for the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean Colonies, along with other illegal nation-states not sanctioned by U.N. global law. These former citizens evaded their financial obligations, and all the blame rests on their shoulders, according to President-”

“No. Not listening to that dribble,” Michelle uttered under her breath as she punched the dial on the radio.

“-as we all know, Taviset Disease is the leading cause of all deaths worldwide, as it is extremely contagious. We understand the continuing challenges we must face, confronting this grave threat. This disease remains prevalent in low population areas, where the doctors from the World Health Organization have had the least control over outbreaks. Our carefully managed sanctuary cities have proven to be the best line of defense. If you have feelings of abdominal pain, are coughing up blood or are having other symptoms relating to Taviset Disease, please-”

Michelle flipped off the radio and sighed again.

She was tapping her fingernails impatiently on the wheel while resisting the habit of grinding her teeth.

She spun herself back to the two people sitting behind her.

“You two keeping an eye out for him?”

They stared blankly at her. One was a girl. She had dark brown hair with thin-frame glasses. The other was a boy. He also had dark brown hair. They both had piercing, almost glowing green eyes. Their stares were unpleasant in such a blank and soulless way.

“I had just witnessed the car rented out to the older brother drive itself out of the parking lot,” the boy mildly proclaimed.

“Jesus Christ! You gonna keep that to yourself?”

“No, Miss Auzolle. Your instructions were to look for the younger one.”

“What? I thought he was the younger one!”

Michelle jumped out of the car and took off running.

“This is not gonna to go my way today, swear to god!” she rasped to herself as she took off running to the front of the school.

She ran as fast as she could up to the front entrance, nearly missing a passing car as she raced herself. She stopped short of the concrete steps that lead to the wide open doors of the school and paused herself abruptly.

She looked around. There was no sign of him.

Just her luck. It was hard enough to find him where he lived. When it came to attempting a proper introduction, it would prove harder, simply tracking him down on foot without causing public alarm.

Michelle continued gasping for breath. She attempted to calm herself.

“Damn! I missed him.”

She began to head back to the car.

“Oh!”

She was knocked over. An array of papers flew over her head. She found herself falling backwards onto the cold, wet pavement.

“Ah! Fuckin’ hell!” she growled in anger as she jumped up from the pavement.

She was just about to split until she saw the person who ran her over.

It was him! It was Christopher Blithe-Havins.

Just seconds ago, Chris was in his usual dreary daze, his mind on getting through the day. He was getting to his first class without any sense of the people around him. Now his book and papers were scattered all over the place.

To make things worse, he had this girl, facing him. She looked angry.

But to Chris’ surprise, the girl he knocked over changed her expression in an instant! She broke into a smile!

“Running late this morning?” she asked him.

“Uh-I-I’m sorry-I-I guess...”

The feeling of embarrassment was overwhelming. He furiously grabbed up all his papers and books that fell out of his book bag. He was desperate. Chris wanted to get as far away from this scene as possible. The chances of anyone at this school giving Chris a break was dimmer than dim!

Once again, to Chris’ surprise, the girl broke out into laughter.

“It was never my intention to stand out here like a stump in the forest and snap at you! I am so incredibly sorry!”

Chris was stunned. He didn’t understand. It was his fault.

“It’s- it’s alright,” Chris managed to push past his lips as he continued to gather his materials. His eyes were focused on the ground. He couldn’t let her see his face.

He realized he didn’t have his biology book. Chris jumped up and rapidly skimmed around in panic.

“Searching for this?”

The girl revealed Chris’ biology book. She wore a huge grin on her face.

“You dropped it right here.”

“Um… Thank you.”

Chris timidly took his book. Before she could say anything else, Chris bolted and ran into the school without another word uttered.

A few seconds after he left, the school bell rang, on the stroke of seven-fifteen. Michelle looked back and broke out into laughter. She shook her head to herself.

“Able to meet after all. There! Hard part’s over with,” she sighed with relief as she headed for the car.

*

I know Christopher Tolkien did not care for Perter Jackson’s films. I get it. Within the inner chambers of the imagination, the story plays out better because it plays out in the way the reader dreams it to be! But I will say that Peter Jackson did as good a job as anyone could do when he made The Lord of the Rings films. The Hobbit movies? Well… let’s not talk about those.

My most favorite book, growing up was a book by Michael Crichton called Timeline. It followed the Jurassic Park formula. It was epic! Least in my mind.

Then the director of the movie Speed made the adaptation at some point in the mid-2000’s, and, uh… yeah. I was underwhelmed. I much preferred the EDOS published game that Michael Crichton funded with his own one-off game development studio. (Yes, that happened.)

You’re not missing much. There wasn’t that much gameplay to this. But you did have Michael Crichton narrate as a tour guide at one point. Also, the amazing soundtrack in this was made by Bill Brown, the same guy who did the music in Jurassic Park: Trespasser.

Whether filmmakers can nail down that true vision or not is a legit issue. I’m not going to pretend like it’s not. Any professional in the “biz” would tell you that the movie or television show format demands certain things that wouldn’t work all that well in the translation from that original source material. That’s been a topic of discussion for longer than I’ve been alive!

But this isn’t that.

No, these people want to destroy everything you love and cherish.

In my book series, I call them “Larpers.” But role-playing in a reality in which everybody must be forced to play along is not workable. Not with me! I don’t play! I’m not giving money to Amazon. Not one thin dime. I refuse to mainly on principle. Like Google, they are monopolistic and hell-bent on controlling the means of online consumption. On top of it, workplace conditions inside an Amazon warehouse are not as decent as the workplace conditions of a Chinese sweat shop. I’ll buy my crap from EBay. Save a few people from having to pee in a mason jar as they furiously drive those vans all over the place!

Although it pains me to say that there’s only one place on this entire planet where I can still get my all-time favorite childhood cereal. And boy, am I tempted!

But when we’re talking about Amazon’s The Rings of Power, let me tell right now:

Nonstarter. Full stop.

And now, on top of this circle-jerk fest, we have Stephen Colbert, thinking he could do Lord of the Rings! Oh, my god! Make it stop! Andy Serkis, with his Animal Farm. Can we say that this is by every definition you can think of — Orwellian?! Yeah! I think so!

When internet personalities who have a slight left leaning on things have a problem with your movie, you know you screwed up.

You know what I was thinking the other day? Peter Jackson didn’t start out by making The Lord of the Rings. He did his own gross out films that were similar to Troma. Very similar, in fact! He could just go back and produce a sequel to Bad Taste! I would love a sequel to Bad Taste! That would be hilarious if he did that, and it would be more true to the person he’s always been as a filmmaker!

Yeah, I know there’s this line about the older you get, the more your tastes change. But with someone like Peter Jackson, I just don’t see it. No, what happened is he became a prisoner of his own success. Once you are known as “that guy who directed those fantasy movies,” then you have no choice but to fit the mold for what people expect you to be. You are not allowed to explore outside the mold, due to fears that you’re straying too far away from the things that once made you successful. Even though your diminishing returns are mounting more and more!

But no, they say! We got to keep doing the same damn thing! Keep the money machine churning! We’re never going to leave Middle-Earth! Disney is never going to leave Star Wars! Mr. Plinkett from Red Letter Media will make another video about it! (Look at me! Ba, ba, bap! Whaaaat?) And then we’ll milk it until there is nothing left! And then we’ll milk it some more until powder comes out of that cows teat!

Hollywood is too bogged down by sticking to familiar IP’s. And I think the more interesting point that I could make here is that if AI can actually “think,” then could it be made to “think” Hollywood out of this stagnant box that Hollywood made for itself?

No. Because even at the top, money is tight. You have to go with the whatever the perceived winner is! Disney adults will pay for your bills! They’ll go into massive amounts of debt just for you, Disney! They would sacrifice themselves at the altar of the Big Mouse the moment they were asked to!

This is a long video, but I’ll summarize the interesting points this video made in the paragraph below. It’s still worth a watch.

I’ll ask you to take a look at the trajectory of The Simpsons. Something that lasted for far longer than it had any right to last! When you’re stuck in a creative corner, and you’re made to stay there, what do you think that does to a creator? The showrunners that have to stay within these archaic frameworks? It makes you feel like you must tear everything down around you! Your allegiance to nostalgia becomes a prison! That’s why The Simpsons as it is now does not resemble the show that it was, 20 years ago, because it can’t! All it can be now is a product. Something you manufacture for a high-impact return on investment. It’s not something you actually create.

We’re way past that point now. I think the showrunners are just poised to burn the studio down.

The only takeaway here is that you are never going to please everybody. And maybe audiences change. Maybe I’ve changed more than I realize! But if Andy Serkis is trying to make a version of Animal Farm that’s for everybody, he’ll end up making it for nobody. Either that or the lowest common denominator of “audiences.” (Assuming if brick walls have ears.)

I can never work with people who don’t know which way is up. I can never work with people who would burn everything down instead of just making something original for a change. Even if doing so means losing your ass out in the end. Even if it means that nobody is ever going to see your work.

.

No. What do I need to plan for anything? I don’t need your so-called “plan.” What do you think J.R.R Tolkien did when he wrote The Lord of the Rings? You think he had everything planned out perfectly, from Frodo in the Shire to Frodo, dropping off that special package in the fires of Mordor like he was a United States Postal worker?

Pas-haw! Spare me your tom-foolery!

I was talking to someone the other day. Let’s just say this individual is a zoomer who possesses terrible opinions about classic movies like John Carpenter’s The Thing, which is as follows, and I quote: “The CGI in that movie was dogsh*t.”

Ridiculous comment aside, he did say something that I was thought was quite interesting. And it’s in relation to how I never plan for anything, ever. Everything I’ve ever done in my life, I just go and “wing it.” Took me less tries to get my driver’s license than you think, believe it or not! And yeah. I’ve been doing this in my writing ventures, but if I want to build up muscle and stop being the stupid fat ass that I currently am, then I might want to follow a few “rules” in the special “rulebook” of getting my ass in shape!

Rules? Rules?! What is this? A life in which you actually plan for things to happen in advance? What wack-a-doodle insanity is this?! Am I in crazy town?!

I have done everything in my power up to this point to have as few people around me, telling me what to do! And so far, it’s been great, outside romantic relationships! Inside, well... maybe a different story, but we won’t get into that. Point is, I’m not stupid. I know that building muscle for a guy such as myself will lead to weight loss and less of a potential chance that I’ll get stuck with diabetes, cause I’ll tell you right now! I don’t care! Not takin’ no diabetic crap! After Covid, I’m not even farting the general direction of a doctor! Maybe if I had a broken leg. Maybe.

But you wanna lose weight, right? And lord knows you ain’t gonna be gainin’ no super-sexy Ozempic “O-face!” That ain’t in the cards for you if your paranoid ass ain’t even gonna get a vaccine, cause you think Anthony Fauci is gonna bust out a medical closet and stab you in the eyeballs with an MRNA concoction!

Now see, here’s an interesting analysis. It’s not like I have no plan whatsoever when I do my long-winded writing projects. I always have an abstract idea in mind when I start on the first draft of anything, although during this time, I’m desperately in search for a hook — you know. That one element that not only draws the reader in, it draws the writer in as well as he’s writing it! And the hook is usually in the form of a question that is presented to the audience, like “What the heck is up with that window in the manager’s office in the opening shot of Stanley Kubrick’s The Shinning? Wait a minute. Does the layout of this hotel make any freakin’ sense?!”

For the fourth book, I developed a system that’s simple to follow along with, with sections, featuring potential plot ideas, timeline tracking of basic events from chapter to chapter, with every chapter, centered around some abstract idea or theme that I had in mind at the time of writing said chapter. I was able to graft all this into the story and then use that to crudely steer the plot into a fairly daunting cliffhanger for the fifth book. I’m fine with having my work cut out for me! Cliffhangers were never a problem.

Having a roadmap for anything you do in life is more helpful than just “winging it.” If you didn’t quite hit whatever quota it was you had in mind, no worries. Just take whatever you wrote in that first draft and cut it in half! Go back to the root of the idea you had in mind and branch it off into a different series of events. Remix and play around with other ideas you could branch off into. Form and shape it like the ball of clay that it is.

Like the fat, little ball of clay that you are, fatty, fat, fatty!

Yes, I’m fat-shaming myself! Don’t try to stop me! I do what I want! You’re not the boss of me!

Unless you’re a paid subscriber to this Substack, then I’ll get down on all fours and bark like a dog! (I turned off paid subscriptions for the time being, but I got me a Bitcoin address somewhere around here…must have misplaced it… oh, well. It’ll turn up somewhere.)

Point of the matter is simple. And that point is that maybe, just maybe... I’ll start by drawing a map to wherever my nearest local gym is. Gotta start somewhere.

You gotta be kidding me with this crap.

I began writing this article with the intent of airing my frustrations on the more “modern takes” of the 1990’s, which does nothing but infuriate me, beyond the fact that the game Mixtape is pure trash, with paid reviews and created by a nepo-baby trust fund theater kid who is the son of one of the richest people walking on this planet today!

Zoomers! You do not know what the 90’s were like! It was not 2013’s tumbler! Get the hell out of here with that!

Right here is an old documentary that I recently watched, concerning the ancient era of what was referred to as “Grunge.” This movie is called “Hype!” It was released in 1996, back when things were as about as good as things were ever going to get. This is a world that I’m not sure the Zoomer generation can ever understand. You had to be there to really get it.

Now, just for reference, when exactly was this era? I’d nail it down from the 80’s (Or whenever Hüsker Dü started to make music, which was really 1979), and revving up into high gear by the year 1990, with the release of Nirvana’s epic album, Nevermind. And this music scene was localized in the northwestern part of America at this point in time, although by 1990, it exploded into every place imaginable! As an aside, I’d also add Richard Linklater’s Slacker to your movie watch list, just for a greater perspective on this brief point in time:

I wonder if the guy who starts talking about 13 minutes and 50 seconds into the film ever had a conservation with then famous comedian Bill Hicks.

This is an era I remember far too little of. I might have still been in diapers by 92! But the music stuck with me more than anything, even if my Christian yuppie boomer parents would have none of me, listening to the likes of Alice in Chains! Didn’t stop me from listening to the radio from the moment I understood how to operate the damn thing!

This is a time and era that seems so wildly disconnected from the world that currently exists. And the bizarre thing is that it’s not like this was really that ancient in the grander scheme of things. But, boy, it sure does feel like the world went topsy-turvy in the last 25 years! We’re not that far removed from the DNA that was this time and place. It’s just insane to me how I can watch something like this and realize that this was right before doctors would start pushing Ritalin on your children, because their schoolwork was just so boring! Their interests did not line up with anything that was going on in academia. They would rather get out all their pent-up energy, running head-first into a mosh pit, wearing flannel.

The lessons of this era feel like they’ve been mostly forgotten about in a time when everyone is on pins and needles, constantly on the hunt for that next paycheck. Constantly at worry if they’re ever going to get out of debt or at least break even! Constantly wishing for the price of gas to go down just a little bit! The end of that era is a part of this massive curve that swept everything into this great “enshitification” wave that has now led to the rise of 500-pound, childless Disney adults.

Someone told me this a while back, and I may have mentioned it before. But if not then here it is: The Millennial generation is the 21st Century version of the Silent Generation. Those types that gave rise to Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald. The 1920’s was a decade of laughter and good times, until 1929 hit. Then people threw themselves out of high rises because they lost everything. And then you had ten years of the Great Depression, until WWII hit, then everyone had a purpose! A reason to fight, not just for their own country. They were fighting to get out of the poverty of the 30’s. As far from what I’ve read up, concerning that time, people were quite destitute.

Although I’d seriously doubt they’d want to trade places with us modern folk! OH, BOY! I sure as hell wouldn’t if I were them!

The difference now is that those people back then at least had their dignity. I’m not sure if I can say that for the times in which we’ve been living in. Not when my neighbor works at Ace hardware full-time, does Doordash on top of it, and finds that they have negative dollars in their bank account! And Boomers back in the day would be, like, “Yeah. I’m on my fourth house.” Today, not being homeless is only thing people can hope for!

But look. Things are in motion. I have noticed as much. The issue is in the 21st century, it feels like events are operating on a much larger timescale. Things are being made to drag on forever and ever! I’m probably the only person who can honestly say that time is going faster as I get old and slower at the same time, cause I’m just waiting for that one defining moment when the “everything bubble” pops. And when that happens, I got my gold. I got my silver. I got my rations. I got my guns! For whatever that’s worth!

And it’s painful to admit that throughout this process, we’ve lost sight of everything that made us who were are as a people. And yes! I know! It was all intentional! I get it! We were slowly robbed of our identity! The Zion train came our way, like Bob Marley said. And not for a lack of trying, but they’ve been trying their hardest to wipe out 2000 years of history! Hell of a thing to be caught in the middle of that!

But getting back to the “Hype!” documentary, and I think there’s something important to draw from here. I’m focusing in on a certain quote in this movie from Photographer Charles Peterson that goes as follows (About the hour and three minute mark into the documentary):

“There’s the idea that success is bad and that’s a part of the rebellion against the 80’s, ya know? Our peers and our parents ... We didn’t really want that because with success comes the trappings of responsibility.”

It is a very liberal thing to say, I’ll be honest. It’s the “trappings” of Portlandia, is what it is!

And I would laugh at my own remark if it weren’t for the fact that I think that there’s something to that quote. See, the real problem is that true culture - not the captured dystopian version we live in today that they label as “culture” - operates on a sort of “ebb and flow.” An action and reaction. A culture and counter-culture. Whatever label you put onto it, it’s not the all-encompassing fake, cooperate/communist/globalist version of “culture” that we’ve been force-fed sense... well, I would say 9/11, but on the conservative side, you’ve had your Jeff Foxworthy’s and Larry the Cable Guy’s. Your country singers, singing about “‘Murica,” and I’m fine with that! At this point, I’ll take anything but the depressing music they sometimes play over the intercom speakers at my local Publix!

Everything beyond that was idiotic nonsense, like Jackass, Wonder Showzen, Drawn Together and Crank 2: High Voltage. But even there, you found a culture of sorts. It’s a weird thing to realize how some Troma films almost feel like they were family affairs, even though Troma films are known for being disgusting, filthy and over-the-top. But you also have to realize that Lloyd Kaufman and Michael Herz got the financial backing of the Japanese at one point, because they too shared a cultural interest in things that would be classified as wild and over-the-top content.

Classic Troma Title.

Despite or perhaps because of the “video nasty” aspect to old-school Troma, there is a letting loose of people’s anxieties. A release or sorts. There is a shared humility that comes about from within these 20th century “punk-ridden” sub-genres.

And that’s the real point that I’m trying to drive home here. It is not defined by conservatism, because angst isn’t a factor with conservatives. Those types had humble upbringings! I imagine they loved watching Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat on repeat until their VHS tape worn down to a nub! And good for them, I guess!

But the rest of us were made to be the characters in a Richard Linklater Film.

I need you to understand that.

That part is very important!

Anyway, I’d argue once the year 2013 came around, people from different walks of life were slowly subverted to think or do things that were destructive to society as opposed to constructive. And whatever was going on in the early 90’s was constructive in its own way! It was not how it’s been for the past 13 years of life on this planet!

Simple take-away is this: You have to allow real culture - whatever that may be - to be its own thing. (I’m casting a menacing eye over at Ben Sharpio. That’ll be its own Substack article!) And I’m not entirely sure if that’s a thing anymore, outside those quaint little store shops like Buckees. I live just shy north from the great state of Florida, and if/when GTA 6 releases in this century, I’ll never have to visit Florida! It’ll be on my computer! All 250 gigs of it!

But the online gaming scenes are not quite the same thing as what you had in the 90’s. Or really anything that existed in the 20th century, and I do think that is a problem. It’s not just old, grumpy me, going, “Well things were better in my time! You don’t even know, youngin’s!” No, something basic was lost. Just the simple interaction that you would have with the people right in front of you! How many likes you had on a Facebook post was really just a slap in the face to someone like me! Why do I need to work for everyone’s approval? I should be satisfied with the approval of the little group that I managed to scrounge up with whatever I put out there.

And I’ve noticed that the internet works well in that fashion. You just have to search real hard! It’s called the underground for a reason.

I am going to suggest you start with the following website. Probably one of the last true radio stations I know of that puts out quality content 24/7:

https://wmse.org/

Because let’s be honest. Spotify is only good when I know what I’m looking for. But what if there’s something out there I don’t know about? Something that’s never been talked about by that bald-headed looser on that needledrop YouTube channel.

Douchebag-anthy Crap-tano, here!

Real music needs to make a comeback, people. Stop getting your recomendations from that guy. Or prety much any online “reviewer.” (That goes double for you too, Channel Awesome!)

Okay, so I’m not the biggest fan of that last upload, and it only occurred to me afterwards that the previous option does not scale well on smartphones. And I’m certain most people are using the Substack app and not the website.

See, this is the fault of me thinking that people still commonly use websites! Silly me!

On the plus side, you at least got to see how good I got the formatting to look in Scribus, even if the text is a tad too small for the handheld format. And this is not AI generated text, cause you can tell that I keep misspelling entrance as “enterance” or “enterence.” Thanks, autocorrect.

So, let’s take it from the top and do this the correct way. No short-cuts this time. Copy, paste. Copy, paste. It’s tedious, but we’re better off this way.

The sky was gray.

It was the middle of the day. Everything was gloomy. The clouds barely moved.

Below the oppressing clouds, there was a small stretch of land, surrounded by trees. There was a car sitting here. It was red in color. It appeared to be a sports car. There was a striking visual contrast between this cherry red car and it’s dull, lifeless setting. It didn’t look like it belonged in such a colorless world.

A young girl approached the car. She was sweating profusely. Her eyes were sweeping the area.

She wasn’t being followed.

With the swiftest of moves, the door on the driver’s side popped open by itself. The door raised upwards.

The young girl shoved herself inside. The door closed.

Her hands were on the wheel. Even her hands were sweaty. She was covered in sweat!

In a bit of frustration, the young girl banged her head against the wheel. The car horn honked loudly.

There were two people sitting in the backseat. They didn’t move. They didn’t flinch or blink. They stared straight ahead. Like mannequins.

The young girl with flashy, red-orange hair calmed herself. Her shoulders relaxed. She still had her head buried in her shoulders.

There was a loud ringing sound. A augmented holographic window appeared in mid-air next to the girl. The window displayed text.

‘Incoming call from Kathryn Berner.’

The young girl reached over and tapped the holographic window.

“Hey! Hello, hello! What’s up? Checkin’ in!”

“Yep. That you are,” the young girl sighed. She looked on over at the display floating in mid-air and saw in that augmented window a girl slightly older than her with straight, blond hair.

“Guessin’ that planet Earth is still on, big, stinkin’ shit hole,” the blond-haired girl laughed.

“Don’t know, Kate. What do you think? You’re the smart one.”

“Yes, I am. Who’s this person you tryin’ to find again?”

“You don’t know?” the red-haired girl spoke in her clear British accent. “Like… you remember Ashlin. Right?”

“You’re asking me?” Kate scoffed. “For real? Not like she’s been gone that long!”

“Yeah. This is her younger brother.”

“What? Whit a minute! Really? Why him?”

“I don’t know! Kinda hoping you would tell me! You’re the one who works under Hindler! I was thinking you overheard something about this decision, or something.”

“I never hear anything,” Kathryn retorted as she rolled her eyes. “Hindler has his secrets.”

“Right,” the red-haired girl groaned.

“Yeah. I’m not liking this,” sighed Kathryn. “It’s sad thinking about it. Wonder if doin’ whatever you’re doing out there is even worth it.”

“Not worth it, you say. Hm. No shit.”

“What they make Ashlin’s family believe about what happened?”

“They won’t tell me. Glaister hinted at a car accident. Something like that. I made my opinion known, saying if you’re gonna do this to Ashlin’s family, at least give them a pleasant memory! There’s nothing pleasant about the memory of death, regardless of how a loved one may have died, or ya know! Whatever! Despite my ranting, Hindler’s gaggle of eggheads went along with it anyway cause they’re soulless and I hate them!”

“Hate to say this, Michelle, but you’re starting to sound like Karen.”

“I get a splitting headache every time I hear that name. Her name is a bloody goddamn drill in my skull.”

“You realize what we’re doing here might be illegal, right? We can’t bring in an outsider who is well past his prime! How old is he?”

“Sixteen.”

“No! We can’t do this!” Kathryn exclaimed. “The Republic will drop the sky on us if they find out what we’re doing!”

“I know! I know, but I just need to do something! I don’t know! I just – like, need some time to understand what’s going on, unless you wanna tell me now the theory of determinism is complete bullshit when it comes to human affairs, and only applies as an opposition to quantum physics.”

“Look at you, Michelle. Pretending to sound smart again! Yeah, no. Not prepared for... whatever.”

“Good.”

“How you assume they’re gonna make his presence official within Gearshift Eden without the Republic finding out?” Kate asked.

“Don’t know. May be easier then it appears. Long as we keep him in Gearshift Eden – leave his name out of census records. Similar records. Beyond that, it gets complicated.”

“So, he’s just… not gonna exist in the eyes of the Republic?” Kate asked in an awkward fashion.

“That was the idea from the start. Sounds stupid. I know! Sounds stupid because it is! Everything I’m doing right now – only word I can come up with is incredulous. Not sure what the smart thing is at this point. I don’t know! We’ll see where this goes. I don’t have good feelings about this.”

“Michelle? This might not end well for us, but I’m intrigued about where this is going. I’m hoping Hindler knows what he’s doing and that this isn’t as much of a shit show as we think it is. Who’s been assigned to pick him up? Really just you out there?”

“At the beginning, Hindler’s assistant told me that decision would be left to me. After talking to Hindler, I now know that was bullshit. He wants me to do it! I’m sure he wanted this in the first place. Reason why is beyond me! This transition is not going to be easy for Ashlin’s brother! I have no idea what to do in the slightest! Honestly! I’ve never done anything like this before!”

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself,” Kathryn cautioned. “It wasn’t easy for any of us. Been here my whole life. Still can’t believe I live in a place like this! So, yeah. I get it. It’s a tough pill to swallow. You planning on giving him a tour of Nia?”

“I have a big schedule coming up. Random as hell. Or it feels that way. I don’t... I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll be around to look after him.”

“I’ll do you one better! How bout you be the one to do this!”

“Sounds tempting, but I’ll pass. By the way! Like to say Karen should be nowhere near this kid. She’s more annoying than usual lately.”

“I should be the one saying that, Kate!”

“Michelle, could you at least try to forgive-”

“Forgive what? There’s nothing to forgive! I don’t even know who Karen is anymore! She does not exist to me!”

“And speaking of the girl whose name gives you a splitting headache, Karen wants to take Ashlin’s brother in and be his legal guardian for his remaining adolescent years – as few as they are.”

“Kate! Listen to me! I’m never been more serious about anything in my life! Please do everything in your power to prevent that from happening! I swear to god! That girl has gone off the deep end with that larper shit!”

“Oh! You know who she is now! You do a temporary memory wipe on yourself during this call?”

“Damn it, Kate! I’m serious!”

“Okay! Stop freaking out! It’ll be fine! You just be careful out there. This mess sucks. I understand! Whatever Hindler’s business is with him, it’s important enough to risk everyone’s careers over it.”

“Right. Look. I gotta go. I’ll call you later. Okay?”

“Yeah. Bye. Stay sane!”

The call ended.

Michelle continued sitting still in the car for several moments. Her sweating had ceased. Her hands were still wet.

Out of the the corner of her eye, she caught the two entities sitting in the backseat. The sight of them made her scowl to herself.

“Yes, yes. Whatever! Figure this stupid shit out on my own! Don’t know how I got talked into this! Bloody hell am I doing?” she vented at herself as she started up the car.

*

This was a dark world. The wind was howling off in the distance. The air was charged and lively, yet everything was deathly still.

There was nothing natural about this place.

Out in the middle of an empty deserted brick road stood a boy with thick, dark brown hair covering his eyes. He was well into his teens, wearing a faded yellow shirt and tan cargo pants that were all torn up down at the pant legs.

He was standing in the middle of a realm that by all conjecture could not exist – but felt all too real. A mysterious, darkened reality.

To his left was a building. A sign near the front entrance labeled this place as the Rosaria Hotel. This hotel was now bordered up and left abandoned. On both sides of the street, all buildings appeared to be in the same state, other than the first floor of an old building across from the hotel. The building emanated a weak light from it’s dusty windows.

Above the young man, there were dark, menacing clouds that loomed overhead. At the end of the road, directly ahead of him, were tall metal gates. The gates sealed away any view of the other side.

How did I get here, the boy wondered to himself. He wasn’t sure if this was a dream.

It didn’t feel like one.

Wherever he was, it felt real. It felt very real.

He tried to recall the last thing he remembered doing, before he found himself standing here with his eyes closed. He could only recall going to bed in his comfy room, after a long, tiring day of high school.

He had to be sleeping. It certainly didn’t feel that way.

What was this place, he wondered.

The answer wouldn’t be found by standing here, so he decided to go off and explore. He thought he was in New Orleans or a place with similar French architecture. The area had a Victorian age style showing through these weathered exteriors. There were overgrown weeds sprouting from the cracks between the bricks below his feet.

The boy wandered away from the hotel towards the other end of the road. He wanted to get a better look at the gaping dark void. Once arriving at the end of the road, the boy was shocked by what he discovered.

What existed beyond this road was nothing. The void grasped the emptiness below him, as if all that ever existed was this road, it’s old buildings, and the scorched sky above.

The boy slowly backed away. He felt the sense of vertigo swell up in his chest. Staring down into infinity wasn’t all too thrilling.

The boy paused himself. A bitter impulse flashed past his mind.

He wanted to jump.

His body jerked forward slightly towards the edge. The boy held himself steady in a desperate bid to retain a hold of his sanity.

No. It’s not about escaping, he thought to himself.

The boy stepped back to the edge to gaze deeper into the black emptiness. A strong gust of wind pushed him back.

He didn’t want to be here. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

He pinched himself. There was pain, but the dream continued on.

The young boy wheeled away from the edge. In an angry tone, he shouted as loud as he could to the empty street.

“Hello! Wake up!”

All that answered was the wind, the distant sound of thunder, the faint sound of wind chimes and the sound of a creaking wood sign, hanging above the entrance to the only building that wasn’t boarded up. Those faint lights inside the place were dull but welcoming.

The boy developed a suspicious feeling about that building.

No. I’ll just stay here, he thought.

He sat down in the middle of the street to catch his breath. He started collecting his thoughts.

He had to look at this rationally. This was a dream. This was evident; The last thing he remembered was going to bed.

Also, this whole town was hovering in midair over complete and utter emptiness, like the vast voids of interstellar space.

It was no use trying to make sense of this. Everything here felt real and solid, not hazy and random, like his usual dreams. The brick street was laid out before him in perfect contrast and clarity. The buildings around him stood headstrong and concrete, unmoved by the raging storm in his mind.

He wanted to lay down in the middle of the street and go back to sleep, but he felt wide awake and alert in anticipation.

Anticipation for what? There wasn’t anything or anyone here.

Was there?

As he continued to ponder, he realized the possibility that someone – or something – lingered silently within these walls. It could had been nothing more than paranoia.

The more the thought toiled in his mind, the more it felt like there were eyes peering out from the pitch black windows around him. Every dark corner posed a threat.

The boy thought he heard a dull thud. It sounded out from somewhere near a set of stone stairways. These stairways led up to the sturdy wooden doors of the Rosaria hotel.

He stared at the bulky steps.

Was that a thud or did something drop?

Was something hiding behind the stairway?

The boy started forward. He wanted to see what was on the other side. He paused suddenly.

There was a light, almost like sparks spewing out from an electrical box. The bright light came from an alleyway somewhere behind him.

It must had disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. There was nothing but a wall of darkness within the alleyway. Chris stepped towards it. The darkness in front of him grew dense like fog. It was like the darkness itself was swirling, like a whirlpool, waiting for the moment to entrap him. As frightening as it was, it felt more welcoming than the dim lights in the building to the left of him.

“Stop! Stop!”

He jumped, startled by the sudden break of silence. He flung himself around to the sound of the voice.

There was a figure, shaded in darkness. It stood to the right side of the stairway.

It was a young girl by the looks of it. She had blond hair that dropped well past her shoulders. Her hair was dirty and mangled. She was about as young as he was. She wore a blue dress that was aged, torn, and faded. Her face was blackened out.

“Who-who are you?”

After a long and unbearable silence, the girl responded with a heavy tone in her voice. She spoke slowly and quietly, almost as if she had forgotten how to talk.

“Now, that is… most interesting. Was about to ask it the same question. I think...”

The girl took a step forward. She was breathing heavily. She looked like she was about to break out crying.

“...my eyes. They conceive me. It is! Not an it. A man! A boy! A living person! A real, live soul, flesh and clothes, standing before me – a mirage! Gone mad. Not real. No. I do not... I do not know, but I must – I have… have no choice. I can’t... “

“W-What? What do you-”

“Hey! Chris! time to get up!”

The world disappeared.

He opened his eyes to the glaring bedroom light and pale white ceiling above. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was.

He was back home.

It really was all a dream.

The most vivid dream he ever had.

Chris turned his head towards the doorway entrance in time to see his older brother turn away and head downstairs.

Chris was exhausted. He wanted go back to sleep, but after that bizarre nightmare of his, he knew he would rather drag himself out of bed.

It wasn’t like he had a choice.

Eventually, he gathered enough strength to crawl out from the covers His lower back still felt sore. He figured he slept on the wrong side of the bed a few days ago. It was odd the pain still persisted. His muscles were stiff and weak. Hopefully, Chris would feel better after a shower. Wasn’t likely.

He wondered what day it was as he yawned loudly, stretched his weary muscles and started slowly for the bathroom.

It’s a school day. He knew that much.

Likely a Monday, he thought. All bad days landed on Mondays.

Good news was that it was the final week. It was the last week of school, in the last week of May, in the current year of twenty fifty-three – a year that was proving to be the worst ever.

The weather outside Chris’ bedroom window was cold and wet. This was strange weather for the Savannah territorial region camps. Weather patterns were gradually becoming more and more out of the ordinary these past several years. Chris recalled last Christmas, back when they lost the ability to travel outside the city walls. This was a warmer region. Still, there were people proclaiming then that snow was now a normal staple within this normally snow-absent ‘Coastal Empire.’ That month saw a staggering nine inches of snow. Nobody gave a solid answer as to why a tropical part of the world would see that much snow. News of the outside world was difficult to come by.

Despite the true cause, whether it was by nature’s doing or humanity’s doing – it didn’t matter. Chris loved the snow. He held fond memories of the times his family spent in the frost-bitten state of Michigan, back at their old home.

Those days were nothing more but a distant memory now. The only thing he had left to remember of his former home was the winter snow.

Chris peered outside his window and saw the gray clouds. They hung low in the morning sky. A small rain shower began to come down, drenching the land below.

He looked down the suburban street and was surprised to lay eyes on a sleek and stylish red sports car parked on the other side. It didn’t look old, rusted, or falling apart. Everything else on this street did.

Who would rent out such a car in these times, Chris wondered with great astonishment.

Chris’ family was lucky to be living here after the government relocation program moved them here. Life wasn’t that bad here. In today’s world, cheap candy treats was the main choice for all, especially for the people who stood in the endless lines in front of the unemployment offices downtown. He recalled walking by one day, after being allowed to pass into the blocked historic district, seeing a massive sea of candy bar wrappers gust upward effortlessly over the heads of those who stood about, then gently fall back down like autumn leaves after the chilly wind receded. Even in this more pristine district, children found a playground wherever cars were left to rust away.

At least one person within this household had a stable job. Chris’ father worked with the government. He was a programmer. It was amazing there was still room in this world for such a profession. But in these days, even a high-paying job didn’t amount to much.

Chris took a quick bath and dressed up for school. He headed out of his room and towards the stairs that led down to the living room. Passing his father’s room, he caught a glimpse of that button-up white shirt of his. It was left hanging there in that wide-open closet for the past two years they’ve been living here. It was a very old shirt of his, but this shirt was never worn by his father. It was simply left in there, long sense forgotten. Oddly enough, it never had a wrinkle or a speck of dust on it. As if it was well preserved.

A few steps away was his brother’s room. His room was plastered with posters of baseball legends. Two of his brother’s most favorite idols were Bo Miller, a famous hitter who once played for the Dodgers over ten years back, and Shunsuke Tomoshi, a player from Japan who pitched three perfect games in a row for the Red Sox only a few years ago.

Chris knew his brother’s dream was to get into the major leagues and make a name for himself. Quite possibly, he wanted to become a legend of his own standing. That competitiveness and determination was once there. That was how he used to be.

These days were different. Whenever Chris would pass by his brother’s room, he would take a quick peek inside. He would see off in the far right corner Alan’s bat on the floor next to his mitten. They were gathering dust as they laid partially hidden under his clothes drawer. Unlike father’s shirt, these objects were tossed aside, into this dark crevice as if they had become more of an annoyance.

Alan also useded to tinker with electronics, just like their dad. Alan had hoarded several strange objects over the years. He referred to them as ‘video game console systems.’ They were antique devices, meant to play ‘video games’ on. Those too were sitting under the bed, gathering dust.

Without electricity, they were useless anyway – and electricity was expensive these days.

Chris slowly continued past his brother’s room.

Stopping several feet away from the stairs, he paused in front of the only bedroom door situated on the right side of the hallway.

The door was slightly ajar. The room inside was dark and devoid of any sign of life. On the door there was a piece of torn up notebook paper taped to the door. There was a short message written on it.

“There are two things that are infinite, the universe and human stupidity… I’m not sure about the universe.”

- Albert Einstein

This had become a usual habit for Chris.

Every morning, he would pause briefly in front of this room. There was no reason why. Perhaps he was trying to pay homage. Perhaps Chris was attempting to come to terms with reality through some subconscious or comatose means.

It didn’t feel real. There was still this brainless, dimwitted shock of the nerves, bringing up the anticipation of Ashlin bursting out of her room, playfully wresting Chris down to the soft carpet floor as she laughed and giggled uncontrollably. Chris would always speed off downstairs, but she would usually catch him just short of the stairs. One time this cat-and-mouse game ended with both Ashlin and Chris tumbling down the stairs, shortly followed by a breaking of a vase and a leg of a wooden table. Their father wasn’t happy with either of them, but Ashlin just laughed it off afterwards, saying that vase was old and ugly anyways.

No.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Him standing outside her empty room, waiting, hoping for this nightmare to end once again, so he could wake up to his eighteen year old sister’s smile, his father’s amused or annoyed response, his older brother’s slightly bemused chatter.

It all ceased to exist.

It was as if an invisible vortex sucked out the last portion of happiness in this world, as if this eternal divide severed or detached a part of himself, left him without himself.

Chris shook his head. He groveled by.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Chris glanced around the darkened living room. To his left was the entrance to the kitchen. His father ate breakfast at the dining room table, his face buried in the morning newspaper. His older brother stood at the sink, looking out the window in a hypnotic state.

Chris walked in. He noted the silence in the room.

He took a seat at the table. As he took the cereal box, he studied his family.

No gesture made to one another. They were all just like any other person on the street to one another.

It didn’t used to be this way.

*

Okay, that was a lot better.

Right. Stay tuned for the rest of this chapter. We’ll finish off with the present setting, then the second flashback will conclude chapter 1.

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“With the arrival of electric technology, man extended, or set outside himself, a live model of the central nervous system itself. To the degree that this is so, it is a development that suggests a desperate and suicidal autoamputation, as if the central nervous system could no longer depend on the physical organs to be protective buffers against the slings and arrows of outrageous mechanism.”

- Marshall McLuhan, Understanding Media

So, this is a follow up to the previous editorial, entitled “I’m Jaded, not Doompilled (And So Can You!)” All these editorials are intended to be a “somewhat lighthearted” series of thought experiments. Or at least an attempt to be as such. I am not here to argue with anyone, because we are WAY past the arguing phase! And it wasn’t me who made that decision. It was the Dan Carlin’s of the world who decided on it first and foremost!

Why? I don’t know. But I can point to some possible explanations. The way college discourse has been set up in this country is embarrassing as all get-out. Who decided all this nonsense about “safe spaces?” That we have to handle everyone with kids gloves? It’s because you have to make the population docile enough to accept things like this:

https://afru.com/price-worth-paying-to-end-racism/

And this:

https://fixupx.com/griftreport/status/2037126655202775329?s=46

And this:

https://fixupx.com/wallstreetapes/status/2036520748215574691?s=46

And this:

@atreuzj @atreuzj ♬ original sound - princess jade🩵

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I could go on and on and on. I’ve signed up to a Discord that serves me nothing but depressing content like this, 24/7. It is honestly the most soul-crushing Discord server you could ever be a part of! And I do not recommend going on said Discord server if you are a heavy drinker who may or may not end up dead in a ditch from alcohol poisoning, like Edgar Allan Poe.

And, really, that last video from TikTok is the most egregious. This is the kind of content where I seriously do not blame you in the slightest if you have to resort to late night heavy drinking, just to be able to comprehend this level of demonism that has descended upon modern society. This is coming from someone who doesn’t believe in any one religion, but HOLY CRAP! What the hell are we doing to ourselves?! Why have we decided for any of this to be allowed within our culture?! Within our society?!

But this is largely besides the point of where I’m getting at. The point is the Dan Carlin’s of the world decided that the only “conservation” that should ever exist is the one where the majority inside the college classroom agrees “cart-blanche” with whatever argument Dan Carlin has! He’s explained this in one of his earlier “Common Sense” podcasts. In this explanation, the college version of Dan Carlin would go “Oh, you disagree with me? Let’s put it to a vote!” And then everyone votes in favor of Dan Carlin’s stance on whatever argument was presented.

And I’m, like... okay. But these high schools are not sending their best. Especially now, given how most colleges aren’t even looking at SAT scores anymore! Most kids, coming up right now at this very moment do not even know how to read the words on this very Substack page!

Oh, what’s that? You want to argue with that statement? Oh, no! What’s all this that I have here for you:

https://thepostmillennial.com/oregon-governor-signs-new-law-allowing-students-to-graduate-without-proving-they-can-read-write-or-do-math?utm_campaign=64470

https://twitter.com/libsoftiktok/status/1599466639740706816?t=lbmqMDb0a_z-xTPri1_xCA&s=19

https://www.thecollegefix.com/rutgers-english-department-to-deemphasize-traditional-grammar-in-solidarity-with-black-lives-matter/

https://vxtwitter.com/libsoftiktok/status/1850577151512449438

https://vxtwitter.com/Libs_OfChicago/status/2042011160619147449?s=20

I hope I’m getting through to you.

Don’t try me.

You know, I could have had the life of a teacher. That would have been fine with me. I would have taught basic grammar to 4th graders. There’s nothing wrong with that sort of thing, and it’s also a huge plus in my book if you’d rather NOT teach those 4th graders how to have anal sex with an adult male! That would have been fantastic!

But no. These are the cards we’re dealt with. And you may be sitting there, going, “Well, shit. What are we supposed to do about it?”

Am I arguing for an IQ test before you get into that voting booth?

Wouldn’t hurt. See, back then, you had to to be a home or landowner in order to vote. That worked well for those people, least from what I can tell.

If companies like Black Rock can be labeled as “people,” does Black Rock have the right to vote?

Silly rabbit! What do you think lobbying is?

I was thinking about this in realtion to Charlie Kirk, and on some level, I get it. But still. The term “influencer” leaves a nasty taste in my mouth whenever I say it. A more proper term is a “Reasoning Agent.” Asmongold falls into this category of “Reasoning Agents.” Someone disagrees with him in his Twitch chat. He pulls him up and argues with this guy in the most autistic manner possible. And he’s good at it! I’m not attempting what he does. I don’t have the patience for it. I just assume the person arguing already knows that his argument is wrong and he doesn’t care if it’s wrong! The guy arguing with Asmongold has a square peg and he’s going to fit that square peg through that round hole, goddamn it!

We’re always looking to someone else to explain to us what reality is. We’re always looking to the X22’s. The Asmongolds. The Alex Jones types! The whatever! I’m not telling you to stop listening to your “Reasoning Agent!” I’m just telling you to go find some different ones that you may or may not be used to. People who have a weird or off-ball take about things. (My personal favorite is the No Agenda Podcast.)

The truth of the matter is this: I never assume that I have all the answers to everything, which is why I cannot call myself a doompiller. I take whatever I hear for this source or that source and I piece it all together into a cohesive package that makes sense to me. Meanwhile, a doompiller will tell you to nuke all the places in Texas that got taken over by Muslims, which I don’t think we have to go that far.

Then again... White Boy Summer has only just begun.

I’m just saying. “White boys” are beginning to turn a slight shade of ghetto, in case you haven’t noticed.

And really, is there any surprise about it, when a white guy gets passed for a promotion time and time again at a certain prestigious newspaper rag because of “racial diversity quotas?” What timeline do you think we’re in, boomer?! No one reads a newspaper anymore! They read Substack!

You stop a black guy from driving down the road often enough and they start to think the police hate all black people.

You get big name companies like Microsoft and Google to no longer hire white guys, well…

You can fill in the rest.

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