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Category: 1-NEEDS-EDITING
inter-net
Electronic love affair
[[Purple lady]]
Cold War 2.0
The Cold War never ended
Hell, neither did World War two really
It just morphed
From trenches to tanks,
Under the seas to the highest skies
And finally, on hearts and minds
Hearts and minds
Was the official Western media portrayal
Of the Cold war
Sure, some walls fell
That just went to plan
The world remains dividedmagic typewriter
never runs out of ribbon
or paper
and sort the sheets as you go
not by title and folder
god, what a limiting experience that was
seeing my own life through my tech experiences
because they are real experiences
and they are uniquely mine
so what if most of my life is lived through a digital lens
but the analog and digital
aren’t so different
nor better than the other
they are coexistent with us
alive
with us
within usNic is the Avatar
Nic is the Avatar
Freed from the confines of mortal life, Nic lives in a dream world of his own making.
Will it be heaven or hell?
Digging through his past
Subconscious spelunking
From which he wakes
Occasionally
Just long enough
To give Xander hope
And cryptic messages
Riddles
Poems
Mostly nonsense
Impossible to interpret
But still, Xander must hope
His friend can wake
From his comatose fugue
In a world just like this one
Just left of what we call reality
An alternate dimension
He’s a free agent
Free to wander
The world
And beyond
Bringing back news
From abroad
Some good
Mostly ambiguous
A few deeply troubling
And so Gargoyle is born
Re-born
Like a ghostly Phoenix
From the past
A shitty little office
In a dive-y part of town
Old school
Musky smell
And a basement full
Of files
Horrors
Committed to paper
Enough to make anyone
Crazy
But Xander knows crazy
They’re on a first-name basis
#worldbuilding #electriccity #nic #xander #coma
Perfect Peace [part 5]
Photo by Anna Goncharova on Unsplash They arrived a little over an hour later, and the event took place in a large, beautiful park in a natural valley with mountains in the distance. The park had a roadway that wound throughout, so in the course of finding a place to park, they had a chance to spy on the festivities and get a layout of what was where.
To the kids’ relief, It looked more like a festival than a seminar, with a loosely related series of Eastern faith groups all represented.
‘Interfaith Gathering for Enlightenment’ was the actual name of the event. Paul could see stalls set up selling books.
Anne fixed in upon a group of people, mostly ladies, lined up on the lawn doing yoga led by a very serious-looking Yogi with a long beard and no shirt on.
Maggie saw some monks levitating, while some walked over hot coals, and others were laying down on a bed of nails.
Danny couldn’t take his eyes off a group demonstrating martial arts.
Collectively, they were glad that they came.
There were sounds of strange, exotic, yet pleasant music from different park areas. There were wafting through the air aromas of incense and spicy foods. The first impression of the event was, for all of them, surreal and overwhelming.
They were drawn to a crowd encircling a group of monks in robes. One spoke with a preternaturally loud voice that seemed to call out to everyone in attendance. As the crowd grew in a circle around them, three monks began to dig up what appeared to be recently disturbed ground.
“To demonstrate the depth of meditation, and the transcendence achieved over what many believe to be normal bodily functions, one of our brothers has been sealed underground,” the Monk with the voice said. “We will open up his tomb in front of you so that you may witness that there are no tricks.”
The monks dug down about four feet.
They stopped when a white cloth became visible under the soil. They set aside their shovels and lifted an enshrouded human body from the hole.
The crowd of onlookers was shocked to see this wrapped body come out and were even more surprised to watch the monks unwrap this man.
“Behold our brother, risen from the earth after two weeks without food, water, or even air to breathe.”
The monks attended to the recently buried man.
After unwrapping him, they unplugged his nostrils and ears with what appeared to be wax and gently massaged his extremities and torso.
Miraculously, the man began to stir. The crowd reacted with shock and wonder.
This was the nearest thing to a miracle they had ever seen. Paul was in disbelief and tried to move closer to get a better look.
“The human spirit is so much more than merely what is experienced by the body in the physical world. As you can see, our brother has entered a state of trance so deep that even his heart has slowed to the point where oxygen is unnecessary, much less food or drink. This is the power of the mind and spirit. To live is to overcome physical necessity’s demands — not to simply satisfy these desires.”
The buried monk was now sitting upright, eyes open, and very much alive.
Perfect Peace [part 6]
Photo by Amauri Mejía on Unsplash Paul loved books and prided himself in his growing collection of them, mostly for the air of sophistication they lent him when inviting people into his home.
He did love to read about various topics ranging from do-it-yourself and investments to more esoteric stuff like paranormal research but often noted that he would probably never get the time to read them all.
He had always dreamed of writing books for himself and so viewed the book as a crowning human achievement, but his collection was like his life: having sufficient resources to gather but not enough time to actually enjoy.
Anne took in a yoga class under the golden sun and a clear blue sky on the grass in the middle of the park.
It was an idyllic scene to behold, and Paul felt pretty lucky watching her from a distance while he and the kids ate lunch at a picnic table.
A bookseller nearby had tables full of books, which caught Paul’s eye.
While the kids ate, he wandered over and began to browse the wares. With the day’s experiences running through his mind, he was on a mission to find answers, and what better place than in a book?
What was great about books, in Paul’s opinion, was that they were noncommittal. He could buy some books and read them when he felt like it. Not like joining a club or group, where people would expect him to participate and attend more gatherings like these, where he really had to think about who he was and where he was going.
He found books that caught his curiosity about meditation, mysticism, and transcendental yogic practices. After what he had witnessed earlier, his sense of wonder had been rekindled.
Within a few minutes of shopping, he held an armful of new and used books that he just had to have. The bookseller offered him a cardboard box to help carry the new acquisitions. He thanked them and joined the kids at the picnic table.
Once the three were finished, they heard an announcement that a performance was about to begin at the bandstand, so they proceeded toward it.
They sat on the bench as a Sufi Qawwali group began a transfixing performance of tabla drums, sitars, and what looked like a horizontal accordion. The music was accompanied by vocals that they didn’t understand but hypnotized them regardless.
The Qawwali music was so fitting with the otherworldly nature of the day and impressed Paul so deeply that he walked away at the end of the set feeling like he was walking on air. In the process, he forgot the box of books under his seat.
Anne joined them, and they all looked and felt happy with themselves and being together. Paul was really glad she had dragged him here today.
“I had a great yoga class! I learned some new poses, and oh my God, I feel so good after…” Anne said.
“That’s great, honey. The kids and I had lunch and saw an amazing band; you probably heard them from where you were. They were fantastic! And I got some new books… Shit! I forgot the books at the bandstand.”
“Well, let’s see if they’re still there,” Anne suggested.
“Good idea,” Paul replied.
They went to the seating area, where a trio played classical Chinese instruments. The box of books was gone.
Paul was pissed off now, his elated bubble burst out of frustration at his own carelessness. He approached one of the robed monks and asked if there was a lost and found area at this event.
The monk replied, “Yes, of course! Come with me, and I will show you the way.”
And so they did.
Photo by Mitchell Ng Liang an on Unsplash They moved away from the throng of people into a nearby temple set into the mountain, were shown down a corridor, and sat in an office.
The monk told Paul that he had to go and collect his box of books. Despite taking pride in his sense of direction, he began to notice that this structure seemed to defy normal spatial rules as he tried to navigate the hallways.
It was unlike any building he had ever been in before. The more times he turned a corner, it seemed the less orientation he was able to grasp.
There weren’t any discernible landmarks, as the corridors became increasingly similarly bland and featureless.
Was this some kind of joke? Paul wondered.
He increased his pace as if hurrying would help him find his way back.
But every hallway seemed to lead nowhere in particular. All the doors were locked, and the décor seemed more like an office than an Eastern temple.
Each corridor seemed the same as the last, and every turn seemed an exact duplicate of the one before. Just as Paul was beginning to despair, he found a stairway leading down.
The stairway also seemed to go an unnaturally long way, and at the bottom, Paul found himself in the mountain’s bowels. The walls were a damp, rough-hewn rock that gave the impression of ancient origins.
“Where am I?” Paul said to himself.
He felt as if he’d been thrust into a nightmare.
Perfect Peace [part 7]
He sensed movement ahead in the shadows as he proceeded into the dank, cavernous tunnels.
“Holy shit!” He said, with an air of detachment.
A creature appeared before him, terrible and enormous, bearing more resemblance to something from the depths of an ocean than the innards of a mountain.
Without thinking, Paul had an empowering vision that he could simply overcome this being of darkness with focused light from within himself.
He unleashed a ball of white fury toward the beast by holding his hands out and channelling his inner calm and confidence toward the creature, which simply evaporated upon impact.
This discovery of power gave Paul a boost in spirit, and he realized that this was a test he could pass. He proceeded forward.
After a few minutes of venturing deeper into the mountain, Paul found himself in an enormous dark cathedral full of grotesque imagery carved into the stone. A hairy beast stood on two legs, even more terrifying and disgusting in appearance and odour than the last.
“I am your worst fear, your doubt and self-loathing. I am the emptiness in your soul, the nagging futility of your existence!” Grumbled the monster in a voice that echoed in Paul’s bones and caused his scrotum to shrivel into his abdomen.
Not so much from imminent danger to his person but from the jolting reality of where he was – and that he had left his family behind in the clutches of mystery.
Until this moment, he had been so absorbed by the overwhelmingly lost feeling of his predicament that it hadn’t occurred to him that he had no idea where his wife and children were or even where he had been taken. The enormity of the feeling of failure twisted his stomach, and he blasted back into his current situation with renewed rage, terror, and purpose.
“You aren’t real, and you won’t stop me! You’re just a nightmare, and I will destroy you!” Paul shouted in a voice that he barely recognized in himself. He closed his eyes and focused all of his fear and passion, and launched an orb of glowing red fury at the creature, who fell where it stood with a groan more of relief than agony.
Paul approached the fallen beast reluctantly. As he neared the body, he noticed that its face vaguely resembled his own – in a huge and disfigured way. W
hen he was satisfied that the creature was down for the time being, he crept around its bulk and found a large wooden door that opened at his command. Through the door, Paul found himself in a long, much narrower, and twisting corridor than before, with a slightly upward cant.
As he pushed forward, he drove himself to hurry, racing hopefully back to find his family. His sweat drenched him, and it stunk of an acidic toxic fear that made him nauseous. The knot in his stomach grew from the guilt he felt for leaving his children and wife and for having brought them here in the first place.
He had to get back to them, but in the back of his mind, he wondered what good he could do. He shook off this nagging doubt and pressed on.
He turned a corner and encountered another bizarre being from the depths, this time much smaller and seemingly duller than the previous ones he’d seen. He simply focused on his love for his family and vaporized this one easily without a second thought.
“I’m getting pretty good at this,” he thought sarcastically.
It dawned on him that he had no intention of having to stay to use these new-found skills.
Perfect Peace [part 8]
Photo by Brandon Holmes on Unsplash A short while later, Paul turned another corner and saw a door that resembled the office doors he had seen earlier at the end of the stone corridor. “Thank GOD!” He said as he reached the door and found he could manipulate it.
The door swung open and slammed closed behind him, disappearing and becoming just another nondescript wall matching all the others. This time, though, he found himself not in an endless hallway but in a small office.
A man was sitting behind a desk, wearing a black suit, a black tie, and the whitest white shirt that Paul had ever seen. The man’s face was blank, featureless, and slightly gray.
“Where am I?” Paul asked. “What is this place? And who are you?”
“You are on Earth, high on a mountaintop. You are here to find something that you have lost.”
Paul remembered the box of books, which now seemed irrelevant and from a distant past.
“Yes, I came in looking for some books I bought, but then I got turned around, and I’ve been lost for… a couple of hours, I guess. It seems like forever, though.”
“Yes, your books are here.” The agent gestured beside his desk, where the box sat, although Paul hadn’t noticed when he entered. A few of the books were scattered on the floor.
“Oh, okay. These were books that I bought at the fair earlier, they belong to me. I didn’t take them without permission,” Paul explained as if to justify himself and, in so doing, felt foolish for trying after what he had endured.
The man sat motionless, unblinking as if judging Paul’s sincerity.
He seemed to accept this explanation. Paul reached over to pack up the books that had fallen out, and the man stood up and left the office. As he did, he and the office vanished.
Paul stood in a different office, with a different agent behind the desk, interviewing another person. Paul looked down, and the books on the floor had also disappeared, along with the ones he had added to the box. Utterly disoriented, Paul turned and hastily left the office to find the first agent.
Of course, no one was in the corridor, and the door he had come through was now sealed.
An incapacitating feeling of dread swept over Paul, and he thought, “This must be what hell feels like.”
The thought that Anne and the kids were still in this endless vague labyrinth somewhere brought him to tears. He prayed out loud. “Please! Please tell me she left without me and just went home!”
His prayer was answered, in a way, a short time later.
As he meandered through the shifting corridors with endless locked doors, he occasionally found an open door leading to a false hope.
The door would be open for him to enter, only to find them completely bare, with inexplicable echoes given their size.
Paul thought despairingly tongue-in-cheek, “If this is my hell, my eternal prison, then thank God for small graces that I have something to read at least!”
He quickly dismissed the ridiculous notion.
Photo by K8 on Unsplash He found an office furnished tastefully with an L-shaped desk and a soft bright light from the window.
It occurred to him that it was the first “natural” light he had seen in what seemed like a lifetime. The office reminded him of his accountant.
A French press, full of coffee and still steaming, sat on the desk. A computer monitor with a blank background and a solitary icon read “DO NOT DELETE.” Paul sat down and clicked the icon.
A video began to play on the screen.
The video felt like a corporate promotion, professionally done, showing clips of people commuting – travelling, working – just living through day-to-day tasks.
The voiceover said, “People ask to be shown what it would be like to live without the hustle and bustle of life. They ask to be shown what it would be like to live in perfect peace. You have asked for peace and to be delivered from your struggles.”
These words hit Paul hard. He knew why he was here.
He had gotten his wishes. He wished to escape the rat race of life and thought of the festival in the valley with the majestic mountains as a backdrop.
He realized he had been given exactly what he thought he wanted — a life of quietude with no distractions .
Now his wish had been granted, and there was no escape from the prison he had created for himself.