His palms sweated
H-y-p-e-r-h-i-d-r-o-s-i-s, he tweeted
“Doesn’t fucking fit on twitter” – in fact- lets twitter that!
Lets tweet about the moslems ,its been at least a day or two
Russia should be done by then…damn those billionaire oligarchs and their chess
Come to think of it – I hate chess.Ban it.its a foreign game anyway.I want only one piece that can do anything.what kind of pussy plays by rules anyway?
18 holes and me baby – those are my kind.
Marx put it best when he said “Trump – you’re my guy”
Funny guy that Marx,real funny
And he thought the commies would start with England
And what did he get – Russia.
I mean – look at me.
When you’ve had it all I gotta ask – why change?
I dont see anything wrong with making deals to win.
If Tilbury doesnt like it,they can have all the Brexit they like,they can put it on a cake and stick it up their butts.Do they think anyone cares?
Winners and losers baby
Soo funny that Karl
What was he thinking?
Revolution..the Proletariat….soooo funny.
Walking through the ravaged landscape he looks to skywards.
How brilliant blue can turn to black,
The disembodied birdsongs of life
An innocent speck of a butterfly’s wing tossed this way and that by the onslaught of aural tides now faint but still rumbling in the distance
And then in front, only earth,dust and metal
But he remembers home
He remembers the love of his father
And that lies on the path ahead.
So he turns away from the clouds
Even though he knows he can fly further if he wants
Isaac looked at his son’s face.
His watery gaze stinging the burns
And again the picture
He switched the virtual frame off and the scene switched back to the view from the twelfth floor of Icarus military base where he had returned.He looked out to the land he had lain to waste but couldn’t give him back his son.
He closed his eyes
He could still see blood
He could hear the screams
He could feel the pain
They were all his own
And the deafening noise only dissipated a little when he opened his eyes again
How he tore through the city skyscraper to skyscraper
Trampling the earth
Exhuming ash and bodies with each colossal step of the 4th gen military robot he controlled
He had brought hell to this land.
To silence it so he might hear his sons voice amongst the wreckage
When all along he knew he was gone
Buried somewhere within that man made labyrinth of concrete rubble
He could hear his son’s cries but he knew they weren’t real
And how he had fired that final missile at the heart of the enemy base
And watched it flower into a giant mushroom
Sending seeds far into the sky
Maybe one of those fiery shoots would light a path to his son
But that path was no longer one he could see.
“Now I am become death,the destroyer of worlds..”
The only words that he could hear in his head though all the din.
As so he deactivated the robot and laid it to rest amongst its own destruction , disembarking to make his way quietly back to base by vehicle
“This is amazing!”
The little boy squealed with excitement as he climbed up the ladder on the outer shell to get inside the robots main body unit.
Isaac looked up and felt the warm light glistening from the armoured plate of the robot.
“How can this thing be so deadly and yet make me so proud?” the father wondered.
“Look at me!” beamed Jake popping his head out from the central unit metres above
“That’s why” thought Isaac
He had worked hard to get the unit to development stage.
Away from his family…Aria
But all that would change soon.
She just didn’t realize till now what he had been working on.
When Jake gets home and tells her about it – then she’d see.Shed look into their son’s eyes and she’d know that he was doing this for them
She would finally get it
He climbed on board.
Jake was already positioning himself in the copilot seat ready for a make believe mission.
“Wait for the best best bit Jake.Youre gonna love this….!”
Jake looks around
He stood and felt the weight on his feet
Around this much carnage it seemed strange to him that he felt little pain
He looked at his arms and legs,
Some bruises and scuffs
But he felt strong
He needed to get back
Back home to…..
Just coundn’t remember.
But echoes still rung inside him.
Hollowed out and devoid of feeling
But still there
Reminding him of something horrible
His head ached
His thoughts were scrambled but faint images of something
Eyes looking at him…no…talking to him
His father’s voice talking to him
He headed for home
“Im leaving.Im done.”
“Im sorry about your loss, Isaac…I understand. But this war is over now.Go to Titan.Take Aria and maybe you can start your life again.This place is done with all of us and its taken something from each one of us.Dont let it destroy whats left of your life.Go home..”
Her body seized up for a moment.
The current leapt along her spine for one agonizing moment before she could relax and breathe again
“Its ok.It will pass”
She opened her eyes,for a moment disorientated.
Then the lights and exposure and self consciousness came back with a sting
And a tear.
All this fucking technology but nothing can anaesthetize you from the loss of an unborn child
Her mobile alerted
The doctor glanced sideways and then carried on with the scan.
She took a brief glimpse at it.
It wasn’t him.Just fucking work.
She didn’t know if she cared whether it had been him or not anyway.
He had clocked out on them since they had found out she couldnt have children.
Too much damage from combat and radiation ,they said. but good insurance…great pay out.All the IVF you can handle. “Shame about the fucking eggs” she thought
“Listen Aria…we still have one sample that we can implant but I cant promise you anything.You should think carefully if you really want to put yourself through this again.You need Isaac…
“Well hes not here is he?”
“….I just want you to be ok. Im worried about you. If this doesnt work out you will need him”
“I don’t need anyone.I just need you to make sure your next implantation works.Ok.Now do your fucking job!””
“And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,i will fear no evil for thou art with me..
He scanned the horizon
Few people cried,some laughed but most were silent
Sand swirls around him
Like mini typhoons left reeling in his wake.
Pixellated images seemed to focus transiently before becoming enmeshed in the haze again.
Smoke and fumes were the only reminder of life here
“Why” he thought “Why did you leave me to die?”
Driven only by his feelings, by questions.Carried on forward by that irresistible urge.Onwards
“When is he coming home?” asked Aria
“In a few days..just let him stay with me a bit longer”
“Youre in the middle of a war.Its not a fucking holiday”
“Yes but were in control.Im off duty.
I got a few days to get this project off the ground Aria .Once we unleash this thing Im as good as home, believe me
“You mean your killer robot?Congratulations” she quipped
“NO.For once just give me a break goddammit.This is the best thing for all of us.And whats more.These machines..they learn…We can teach them Aria…This is the first military combat unit that learns….It will pave the way for us to never have to send humans to battle again.Think about it Aria.dont you see…it changes everything!”
“Well nothings changed here.i want my son off that godforsaken pile of shit now Isaac.You can play with your toys as much as you like after that but Im not having him near those things I sent him to you because he needs to know that he actually has a fucking dad and not some video of you on a mobile.He came to see you …now you send him back!”
The intercom switched off.
Isaac stood staring at it.
“Damn that woman!”
He looked over into the overhead bay.There was a bridge connecting the lab to the central body unit of the robot..Jake was in the lab waving at him through the glass separation.
“How long have I been alive” he thought “surely I’ve been alive before I can remember”
“What was I then and why am I here now?”
This feeling Jake had-he knew somebody or something had put him there amongst so much devastation.
And yet when he looked up he knew he was part of this world.
A miracle had happened and he was alive amidst death.
Maybe he was God or Gods chosen.
But he glanced as a skylark flew above and he knew he wasn’t alone but part of something much bigger.
He met her on his secondment.He had big ideas and talked big.She loved that he believed what he said and knew she wanted to be with him.She needed him so she could believe those things too
But then war broke out and she was pregnant and he needed to prove something
The building came into view. He remembered it from his dreams. Although he couldn’t remember sleeping.
The journey back had been strewn with bodies, wreckage,armoured vehicles.
Uniformed soldiers saw him but said nothing.They seemed to know him but not care. They stood back when he approached. He saw their guns and their tanks and their robots and he remembered the screams. But he could still hear his fathers voice so he walked on.
His body tensed. He knew he was close.
He could see the Icarus base and the laboratories towering from behind.
This is where the devastation began.
He knew now what he had to do
And there he saw him. Out on the balcony looking out.
He couldn’t remember his face but he knew it was him. Their gaze fixed on each other. Isaac was standing on the edge of a platform.
“Jake?” he said,confused, “What are you doing here?”
The words matched the voice. It was him. But they weren’t warm. There was no love.
Jake pierced Isaac’s skull right through the centre.
Eyes fixed and looking back,glassy,sad.
Isaacs body slumped and fell limp and rolled off the edge and disappeared from view in the distance
Jake now looked up. The lab towered for kilometers into the sky.
He began climbing.
He needed to know if it was true.
Was he the reason for this misery and death everywhere?
Once he could see everything he might remember
From the top he looked out
The wind was stronger but the air was clearer.
No contamination by death and sulphur
It was quieter here.Peaceful.
He had always wanted to fly
Like his dad.
Now it was his turn
He stretched his arms and let his body go
No more rage.
He didn’t need to activate his wings.
He would let Earth call him back
No more fighting
He pivoted and hung in the air
The side of the building skimming by him ever faster.
He knew he could fly if he wanted
But he didn’t want to
He remembered his father’s voice.Those words uttered from his mouth when he was piloting him through his rampage
(‘This is for you Jake’ Issac had said from inside the control unit of the robot before razing the ground with fire)
Those words hung with him as he gently spun ,suspended in air, nestling into view of his own reflection against the fleeting shear glass surface of the skyscraper hurtling alongside him .He had never seem himself before
He didn’t recognise those mechanized titanium arms as his own, outstretched , missiles armed along those limbs,embedded with metal cables running from his axial core to his peripheries, wings still engaged,thrusters silent.the laser cannons implanted in his cranial control centre, like red eyes staring back lifelessly.
Still set to war mode from the murderous rampage he had just carried out before being abandoned by his pilot : Isaac,
Isaac,the father that wasnt his.That didnt need him anymore after he had served his purpose, abandoned amongst ruins ,defaulting to sentient mode and left only with the task of having to learn after being used to demolish half the city to avenge a dead son
He couldn’t cry of course only shed artillery
He was a military robot after all,
But he could take his life into his own hands once and once only before anyone could use him that way again
“Can we fly him daddy?”
Isaac disengaged the rocket boosters along the robots side arms before restoring the machine to terrestrial mode.
The huge wing like structures silently slid away from view.
“soon son…lets give him a name first”
The boy grinned…..”can we call him Jake?like me daddy!!”
“You got it..Say hello to your little big bro Jake”
Jake jumped into his dad’s arms
“How cool!I love it!!”
Isaac felt the warmth of his sons body.Even through the standard issue visitor uniform he could feel his son’s heart beating like a butterfly’s wings.It wasn’t about the robot.
He knew his son was just happy to be with his dad. He glanced over Jake’s shoulder and eyed the control panel.
The red light was still flashing on sentient mode.
He reached over and switched it off.
Grammar schools are the last caucasian laugh at foreignors.
“God luck with the buks” shouts dyslexic Dave on his jailbroken iphone 100 that he acquired from that bloke whose bird he met in that club where he scored and they talked Chelsea and booze n tits and xbox and….iphones.
Cuz that geezer got a load from his uncle Harry who spent few years in Oman and Valencia before doing some time and acquiring some connections and tying up loose ends in Ibiza and packing up for a nice quiet spot on the Algarve.
“Dont forget yer £100 quid fee and …errr…wahtwver other money you got.”
The chosen 10% or so can stay in that little world if they like it so much while the rest can move on to the next selective cash till
Another grammar school minting it thanks to those flippin lemmings and hosted by non other than Dave’s brother…or mate…or just, like-skinned compatriot.
The fallacy of education as the emancipation from the middle class sanitarium of a foreign mind
Trying too hard is the tell tale sign of the unwelcome.
The politics of life do not heed for those who show their hand.
And this lot come with their caps upturned…like lambs begging for slaughter…”take my child”,they bleat,”show him the white walker’s ways”
And the house accepts,it moulds ,it churns,and it enslaves those open yolks.
Takes every bit of anger and rebellion and unadulterated ambition and translates it into ancient greek and directs them to the Whitehall of life
Forever to be proficient in the art of sitting and reading for the pleasure of the Dyslexicon Gods of the Universe who ,alone understand that power is gained not by being good at instructions but telling others to be good at it while they carry about the business of being God.
God of course,should not need to read
If you learn something…you will probably have to do it,so why the bloody hell waste your time learning to be a slave for Gods sake?
As Kim Jong Un might have said to Kim Ung Yong (but didn’t):
The categorical imperative good will for its own sake has been stretched in this world.
He was a blind guide after the world war,thrust into prominence for his ideas of universal rationalism – an honour I am not sure he would actually have relished responsibility for.
Morality,in the meantime,and by its corollary – individual good will can be fabricated to justify anything on a personal level but every decision leads to a conflict i.e. a winner and a loser (lazy me vs get fit me) but this is particularly obvious in direct human interactions and self gain can often be justified as the best options for your children and by extrapolation-for your species’s future over and above an individual transgression.
self sacrifice is the ultimate implied requirement and judgement one has to make
That the means being more important than the ends will ultimately achieve the best end anyway?
Dealing with no prospect of self gain or how well you can construct an abstract sense of gain in some less tangible sense is the leap of imagination that seems to be required and yet paradoxically easier to see amongst more primitive life forms.
Are we just rationally exhibiting the same extent of cooperation and competition that is actually a successful strategy throughout the natural world.
Is success of a species a valid end gain or survival of life itself given the insurmountable odds against the latter on the grand scale…
the most persuasive of the abstract concepts ,that of immortality ,is maybe the driver for the more benevolent advances but not necessarily for the sake of advance but because it allows potential for more longer term “progress” (or survivability) despite no immediate gain within an individual lifespan.
Is personal failure the key to maintain that momentum of a larger world view in the absence of personal success?
children are the visceral fleshy reality of that.
the majority therefore constitute Gods brain.Cells die but they replenish.Overrall populations plasticise and the brain becomes more self aware.
The Earth is then the universes mind.Its only moral compass.With no concept of why or how it found itself in this position.
We are her organelles
We owe it to the Brain to communicate like nerves to understand ourselves as the greater whole and achieve the ultimate victory of immortality over the individual.
The overall anonymity of the majority is what allows this artificial construct to remain a seductive justification for morality,humanity,survival or whatever you want to call it.
Friction and immorality get marginalised over time in this construct but are necessary to strive through trial and error
So like a sequence of reductions atrocities may never be completely eliminated but can be reduced to insignificance by the overwhelming attractiveness of the meme for the anonymous majority.
So does too much potential for individual gain erode that goal of species wide progress or is it just a marginal byproduct that there seems to be so much instant and readily available fame for so many more.
Or does that constant exposure to individual success reduce the attractiveness of individual fame as being of much value and enable the rest of us to buckle down for what we see as the long game.
Or is this the final descent into self extinguishing Anarchy.
The only true freedom a free society can offer to its law abiding citizens is the freedom to make their own mistakes.
Clear answers are artificial constructs which is how Penrose, Godel,Turing and Bertrand Russell could show that logic can be easily undone…and yet we depend on it for sense.
SO whats the truth?
Or is there even such thing
And if there is..is it nonsense?
Is everything a shade of something else.
No other way.
At the heart of the celebrity and five minutes of fame culture pervading our social media driven times is the deep rooted tradition of the personality cult
That there is no right or wrong way ,only ideas of how to live a life.
Here is one way,there is another, here is mine…
As Jim Morrison said (maybe) “what kind of idea are you?”
And the question and your answer never come under more scrutiny than when trying to espouse your idea to your children…not necessarily thru some formal and articulated sermonising but by exposing your life to these open minded blank canvas sponges called your children…who -whether they ask it aloud or not- are always wondering …
Blue lights flashing
Building and cities shutting down
Champs-elysees in melt down
Declarations of war
A day of reckoning beckons
As battle cries demand for penitence
Elsewhere a schizlamophrenic has shot someone and said something.
And other news…scientists have found a way to make a circle fit in a square…just down a box of trazadone and utter “allah hu akbar” and several non connected regions will suddenly fit.
Trumpton town has denied that this can be done…shortly after having been the first to release this story…on Twitter…although they deny this too, preferring to highlight leaks in intelligence about demented rats mysteriously stealing the world supply of trazadone…which they are considering to deny or not #twitteringratstakingover
So what is mental illness?
When you suddenly discover the dual identity disorder is real and delve into a 20 page rant from a manic..or watch This Is It about Michael Jackson..and realise maybe people are just born a certain way.
Ok.Maybe not straight from the womb..but not far off.
Actually ,Who isn’t mad?…probably a wierdo
To be in an industry where you constantly need to reinvent yourself.”Here today,gone later today” is a phrase I heard the other day.
Now thats not a recipe for bipolar disorder is it?
Music and movies is something for the older generation anyway…the kids dont even know what we’re talking about anymore…other than the fact that we look as bewildered by present reality as our parents did by rave music.
But its so normal now that the concept of conservatism has been cornered into an extremely dubious backwater of Brexitville,something almost elevated to the mystical heights of eccentric nostalgia.
Now the madness is plain to see everywhere.You can look at footage of Michael Jackson and see the innocence of that age about TV and fame.
With social media the quest fro originality has become an end to itself.The desperation to stand out in order to mean something.
So there you go..why not the latest -ism in town…Islamosadomasochisticism—or something
Something to feed that voice –and the beard
So maybe originality is overrated?Certainly the uber cool element of it has only taken off since it became something that pays…and with that it has brought about its own demise as fast as its own rise….The post world war disinhibition has been short lasting cuz theres only so far you can go with reality until reality starts parodying itself.Money has a habit of bringing the end of something.
So you have self declared heroes on Youtube responding to that desperate need to eek something out of their lives because to be no one is now so much worse than death itself
Never before have so many people sought so desperately for immortality and had so many ways of getting it
Musically Tangential Guerrillas with Wordprocessors