Sunday, May 15, 2016

(Unfinished) Selected Works from my Novel in Progress


Act II: Negative Space.

Meanwhile inside the rebel’s base;
The rebels, locked in the grip of catatonia, fell silent. Their bodies creaked and groaned amidst the forces of nature which gradually wore away at their stronghold. Time crawled onward, rain and rust (as simple as they are) became the chemical catalysts of progress.
“The body may lie… still,” said Alexander the Great... but the mind remains.”
His (oh so simple) words resonated, echoing through the neural mass of his paralyzed brethren. Cutting through the fog of identity, (a particular theory, outlined in William S. Burroughs’ Exterminator posits that language is a virus from outer space, designed to inhibit the most primal forms of communication among sentient beings…a blessing and a curse). Locked in their mental space, the rebels found (what many could misconstrue as), salvation. The outer workings ceased and the inner flourished. Thoughts directed from one head to another as the rebels minds melded into one. Different tasks were assigned code-breakers, analysts a wide manner of transgressive artists (many say that, enlightenment can only be achieved through some manner of extremity or another), the means pounding away at the ends in some furious effort to displace Adam’s algorithm.
Eventually, physical attributes began to take shape. Simple grid patterns gave way to an ever expanding matrix of infinitely complex models and ideas. The disembodied minds of the rebels shaped a wide array of thoughts some; minimalist, streamlined and simple others, hopelessly complicated and fanciful. Some taking on a gory Clive Barker esque texture…as the processing power of their collective minds grew, some broke away from the takes at hand while other joined forces and waged wars, creating bizarre death cult worshiping some techno-fetishist manifestation of Kali. Bits and pieces of newly manifest thoughts began clinging on to the binary sequence set forth by Adam (poor Adam, even when he’s moved out of far-off-narrator’s spotlight, he just can’t escape the weight of the whole God archetype/complex/thing). As more and more fragments and thought loops stuck to it, the algorithm following its programming twisted and adapted to protect itself from the rebel’s mental assaults.
Over time, the two forms (that’s what they had both been deconstructed to, not physical things but metaphysical forms… ah, Plato), continued their arms race, which eventually reached a crescendo. These days neither the rebel’s hive mind nor the algorithm, know what it so that they are processing. The two forms (or is it forces?) spend their time running an infinite sequence of repeating scenarios for the universe from birth til cold death, each model different, something slightly out of place. A little less hydrogen here a little more helium there but, after countless runs the ultimate fate of things is all the same, a fate of in-determination. A fate lost to the esoteric vomit of Negative Space.

Act III: Space scene.
 For far too long (by all appearances anyway, if the point hasn’t been made sufficiently by now, it is that above all else; time is a fickle, bordering on sadistic creature who’s ends know no ends. They collapse in on themselves, forming boundaries within boundaries, rooms within rooms a vast matrix of maybes. The haves, have notes and haven’t yet are all one in the same… this uncertainty that all is certain is enough to drive most to their braking points. Desperate whiskey soaked tears. All is one. All is nothing) Adam drifted through the nexus of space. He saw the far-away stars and nebulas, silently watching them from birth to death. Breaking together and coming apart. A Hegelian God working its tiny miracles…
“What does it all mean Gloria?” Adam asked.

“I remember you, you know. I remember you fondly. Were you insane? Sure, but at least you knew what you wanted. Crack, booze and Jesus… you weren’t like me. You lived your life unrestrained and I…I was always restrained. I was restrained back then, and became more and more restrained as I built my little utopia. All that knowledge, all that power, all the good intentions I had…they were all just links on my chain.”


Act III: Monologue: The Nihilist
The old man sat down. Resting his cartilage-impoverished body on the remains of a rotted out tank, some old relic of war, (its blood soaked brow… my, what big jaws you have. Those great fore soaked beasts, which in one way or another, touch everything even paradise)… given a long enough timeline everything reaches its destination… Grey stardust, the ghost of cellular-tissues past, present and future, hung in the blank space-between-(dying) matter, gripping to the remnants of whatever electromagnetic presence was left hanging.
“What qualifies us as valuable? Is it the simple fact… fact, there’s something to laugh at, facts… that we can ponder such things? Do our lizard brains, our spinning, tingling sacks of meat that curse us with breath and thought make us valuable? No, myriads of broken toys can still dance. A clock aged by rust can still strike noon, but these simple observances doesn’t make them any less expendable, any less death-proof. Look around us Adam. Our universe, our faceless mother is falling into ruin. You and I may be the only people, the only things left in this great void. The promises of the Old God’s those faint, hopeful promises of a future are dying, just like this spent-shell we find ourselves in. Spiraling out of control into a black mass of cold death… we are nothing, Adam. Nothing… and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The nihilist,(not Bob or Jim or Christopher just the nihilist; This sad, jaded sacrifice to idealism, had never uttered a word to Adam regarding his name. Adam thought about this briefly but then thought that it may be for the best, not knowing and all. A name like any other symbol only hold meaning through action), picked up a jagged piece of shrapnel and in an all too swift motion brought it to his neck. Blood, (a deeper, sicker shade of red than anything some overtly self-indulgent, out-of-touch narrator could describe), flew from the twisted wound where his throat used to be, splattering the dust coated world Adam found himself on, in a thin red mist. The corrosive atmosphere, barely clinging to the small planetoid’s girth, evaporated what little remained of the old man’s corpse in a matter of seconds, (like a speedup film sequence of army ants devouring some bloated animal remains, rotting in the jungle’s humid stench), too quickly for Adam to mourn him. Too quickly for him to mourn the tragedy of the small inevitable things, Existence, entropy truth  remain, unanswered yes, but somehow lingering on.


Final Scene; Vignette/Ideas.


“Hello Adam.”
Her voice was immersed in the light wind and filtered through the veins of sensory stimuli (Evola, best known for the influence his political writings on traditionalism had on neo-fascist movement, addressed the distinction between the metaphysics of  material and thought/perception in his lesser known work The Doctrine of Awakening a collection of essay on Eastern/Buddhist mysticism. Sensory stimuli as referenced above are relevant to this being that the material structures and sensations we experience allow our minds to process create and give rise to abstract/idealist constructs which in their own right transcend the physical processes which create them. This is explored in detail as Evola compares and contrasts the Sautantrika school andYogachara school of Buddhist thought... but in any case reading up on Evola is the best thing to do if you want to explore these concepts in more depth and much more eloquence). Pieces of whatever substrate of the world Eve had created leaped into view. Things of color and vitality entwined in the sounds that angels on drugs would make.
“I spent millennia waiting for this moment. So long in fact, that things like lengths of time became inconsequential. I became lost for a moment. Lost in the empty hallways of whatever this place is, or was. It was here that I came to understand what it must have been like to be you, when you and I lived back on earth and had lives outside of our heads, and then. I tried to shape this world in my hazy, idealized image of those times and little by little, it all came back to me.”
A loud crash interrupted Eve as she spoke. Adam, lost in her orchestral tones, didn’t notice it right away. Her words drowned out the dissonance and in that moment he remembered what it was like years ago in the field of wildflowers. A spring day devoid of mutant robots and synthetic memories (this claim is of course arguable as the synthetic/organic dichotomy can now thanks to our overactive imaginations, be deconstructed but anyway…) Adam thought about all of these things, his very own happy place as some over enthusiastic therapists have been known to call it, and smiled ignoring the crashing noise(s) in the backgrounds.
“Eve, I can’t even begin to say how sorry I am. How I thought I could mold you into something you never wanted to be. You were the only thing that gave me hope for such a long time, but I let that hope consume me. I always have a way of fucking up concepts like hope… I hope you can forgive me.”

“There’s no need for such things. If you hadn’t have been so obsessed with your idealism, we wouldn’t be here right now experiencing… all of this. Good or bad, you are the reason for everything leading up to this… Acts of God can’t be resented or forgiven there's no need to resent or forgive anything if you can derive a purpose from it.”

“I’m no God. I never really was, I can barely remember my life but now it’s getting even more complex. Things are changing. I know that whatever happened to me to make me the way I was… no, the way I am, is fading away just like the universe. The stars and planets I watched form over millions of years are dissolving into the cosmic backwaters. We’re nearing an end and before that happens, I need to know about the beginning. Who are you really?” Adam asked

“I am everything you hoped for when you were alone in the woods. After your world fell and you making a new one. You put your thoughts onto your coding and created something bigger than yourself. You gave birth to ideas that you couldn’t reconcile and one of those idealistic monologues was me.”

Adam came to the sudden realization that there was a cigarette behind his ear and a lighter in his pocket, two things which headlong since passed away for him. He lit it and took a drag as Eve spoke, cherishing a sensation long forgotten. It would make quite the head line; Man picks up smoking after having quit over two hundred million years ago.” Nicotine really is the most addictive drug out there.

“In the beginning God said, “Let there be light.” It took me a while to find myself. I had to learn what light was what I was and then after all of that the whole self-discovery thing. I had to find an outlet into whatever world had given me a soul… for lack of a better term, but it happened though it was far from uncomplicated. The technology you had access to at the time could only do so much. I emerged but it was only the tip of the iceberg. Much of who I was stayed under the surface.”

“So… you were always there. It’s no wonder. There was always something familiar about you, familiar but cryptic. I overlooked it. Mainly because I didn’t want to see it, knowing that it was something I couldn’t explain a literal part of me that was hidden under the surface. Just like you... Some God I was some fragile, narcissistic shell.”

“Gods may not bleed but that doesn’t make them perfect. Zeus’ line was ripe with incest. You were just trying to figure it all out, especially yourself. Just like everyone else.”

“What is this place?” Adam asked.

“I don’t really know, a lost place that I found bit by bit, something that came from nothing. I had a lot of time on my hands over the years. I thought I’d try my hand at creation but a lot of that happens on accident.”

“I can relate to that.”

Shifting fields of extra dimensional grass shifted into vague tesseracts changing angles as the wind blew. The clouds (if one could call them that) were overcast with a faint glow behind them. It reminded Adam of his trips to the ocean as a boy. Those days were now vividly accessible. Adam waded through his liquefied memories grabbing at the pieces of a miles-wide archaeological dig site, reaching for the artifacts that floated through time. Partially dissolved but in…whatever place this was, made anew.

A large tree hung over Eve as she appeared in a simple white dress, simple but elegant. Her mystical features accentuated by the warm breeze in this bazaar of digital space.

“I can remember everything. Not just scenes from my own life. Not just the small petty details. Like how my keys would be either slightly to the left or slightly to the right whenever I flopped tem on the table, but everything!”

“We’re free now Adam. It’s just us. The mind is infinitely more than the cells it commands. Once you strip the medium away the message is freed. We’re stripped of everything right now. We have nothing. We are nothing… wasn’t it Palahniuk that said “Once you lose everything. You’re free to be anything” (??????????????????????????)

“Yeah, I think so.”

The smaller branches of the giant tree swayed from side to side. Some appeared as fractals a seemingly endless amount of multi colored counterparts stemming from the original branch traveling outward in ad infinitum. Eve’s eyes, gazing gently at the horizon broke his fixation on the tree branches.

“I wonder how long we have?” he asked

“Things weren’t looking good out there.”

“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I’ve walked in that world... or walked anywhere really. What’s left of my body is being fed by a series of tubes and wires in a vat many, may feet below the ground… It’s strange, thinking about it and all but it isn’t the life I’m living in here. I don’t know how much time we have before we catch the cold death, probably all the time in the world.

The two disembodied minds sat down in the grassy filed being generated before them.

“I still can’t wrap my head around this. I mean, I’ve seen simulations when I was on XR-32 but nothing like this. This entire world, it’s like a living breathing thing. It’s amazing what our minds can do without us. We’re not willing this stuff into existence or anything it’s just… happening.”

“Maybe, the computer does what it does, as does the mind. This is a safe space for things to just happen.

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Do you remember when we made love in the garden outside of your laboratory?”

“Of course, you were the most beautiful girl in the world that day. You still are. I can only imagine what the rest of whatever is alive out there looks like… I’ve seen some of it. We may be the only good lucking people left.”

Eve laughed, touching Adam’s hand (if one could call it that) with hers.

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