ArticlesDatacide 9

The End.

This arid wasteland stinks of shit and death. Out here it all smells like that, they are too close to the city. The unmanned sewers overflow regularly. There is a tide of shit that washes the bodies that line the streets out here to the edge. Yet, the three are trapped, any further out and they would be out of reach of supplies. Any closer in and their blood would be too heavily in demand from the human carnivores; those who no longer keep a distinction between meats. The house where the three of them live is falling apart, it is a sign of the times.
These damn wooden boards, always is in my fuckin way. Now I can fuckin see. There ain’t never much to see out there. There’s a damn good reason to see though. Its good to know how long, how long before she’ll be here. Better just sit me and wait. Its hot, too hot… its too hot to wait, its damn hot. its been fuckin hot for as long as I can fuckin remember… Goddamn I’m thirsty, have to drink, have to drink something. better wake that freaky little shit logicface up. “Oh brain box ,oi oi, wakey wakey rise and shine.”
Bang, bang on the wall, it’s always the same. He desires liquid. Bang, bang, but this cycle will be broken. Bang, bang I open my eyes. The end is here. Everyday our supplies grow ever smaller. We are the last. The vast majority of our race perished in the food wars that followed the oil crisis in 2040. Every night I think I find some sort of solution, a filter that would enable us to battle what is a radioactive sun. Something that would enable us to go out into the fields and grow real vegetables. Every morning I wake realising my stupidity. I try and work. I can’t concentrate. At least until the silver lady arrives.
In times gone by I would be called a witch. But now there aren’t so many people to do the calling. As a woman I should be responsible for regenerating the human race. Fuck them. I‘m going to be laughing when the time comes. Reality, it bores me. Here I am, alone. My friends, they are only whispers from the spirit world. They are no more real than a half remembered dream. I hate my human form, but it’s not my time. Soon, soon it will be, but now, now, I must detach myself. When is my silver sister going to ride back into my life?
You never see her until she’s smack, bang, wallop, knockin on your door. And then I jump. Jump for fuckin joy because its no more fuckin hot, and its no more bored. And I is in love with the Silver Princess and her green joy.
I hear the knock at the door and hurry downstairs to attend to the supplies that she will need if we are to get what we want. I am sure that the paranoid individual that lives next door to me is already dribbling over her. Now the footsteps, he will be escorting the silver lady into our resident witch’s room. I hurry upstairs and hand over the goods. She is gone in a flash.

The bubbling green
The powerful dream
Toxic psychedelic drool.
Liquid connection tool.

No time to lose,
We must all abuse.

Each to each,
It will come to you,
what to each is his due.

So swallow up my little joys,
For I must summon Satan’s boys.

And then I was finally happy cos I got me some of that liquid, and there was colour and light. It is beautiful and for one moment I is happy.
That’s it. I have actually got it, I must rush to the lab, last night I was muddled. This is clarity. Now I know, its related to tweaking the chemical makeup of the sun reflectors, where is my pen…

Come thither my brothers
Come here my sisters.
I beseech you my lovers
Burst my reality blisters

And then they come up from the nether world. Now we are so close, they don’t have so far to come. I am pleased, for all will come to pass through the chaos and the forgotten beat. An intoxicating demon song and how I love to sing along.
When the happiness is all gone… I want more. There is no more. I want more. And as I is not happy, I don’t like the people so much any more. Can’t trust them. Yes, yes must be safe, must make me safe, no trust, NO, no, no people…
I was always wrong thinking to harness the power of the sun in a way where we could gain power from it, all we need is food…
Dance and sing my lovelies. Though you might be long dead, though you might be the darkness, we are the same. We want decadence, we want rhythm, we want funk.
The end has come, too much, much too much too much, much much . must be safe…
The equations add up. Excellent. I knew I could find a way, I knew it wasn’t all lost, I knew us scientists would come and save the day again…
Now I can sleep, for what do I care if the world ends tomorrow, those demon bull creatures certainly fuck a damn sight better than all the men I have met.
Much much two too, I must be alone, don’t feel safe. must feel safe. bang those nails in. Quicker, faster much more rapid if I want to be safe. Secure. alone. fuck. shit. fuck. Maybe if I had taken less it would be good or maybe more? I haven’t had enough, too much of enough is never enough…
I have it; if we can just get 22 people working together for one year then there would be enough food…
As the paranoid freak nailed himself in the man he called logicface was convinced he could save the world. The problem is no one can work together. Not any more. There is no trust. They just want personal escape. Me, on my mountain bike, zooming through the dead city, I just try and bring them what they want: Not to be here. The Green, medicine for a world in its terminal stages. Me, I am glad to be the nurse who brings relief. Everyone has to search for their own source of hope. Sometimes logicface brings it to me; as I cycle through the decaying metropolis, I hear him screaming out, just before he finally passes out:
“ Eureka, I have found it. It doesn’t have to end, it never has to end.”

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