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The Big Yoink: A Smol Detective Story, Chapter 15

Standard Disclaimer: I do not take credit for the setting, this story is set in the They Are Smol universe, written by our very own u/tinyprancinghorse.
TPH has a Website, a Patreon, and also a Discord if you need more smol shenanigans.
The first Smol Detective story can be read starting Here.
There will be some spoilers/references of the first SD story in this one, so consider yourself duly warned.
First Chapter
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In the previous chapter:
There was Preparation.
Bgrarh, James Bgrarh.
The Floofdinos do something Stupid.

In this chapter:
Oscar has a Chat.
Ter'yeik makes a Delivery.

Maria half expected that she and her compatriots would be put through some tedious security screening. But instead of walking through a scanner or getting frisked, they were met at the huge doorway by Nerlharg. The Dorarizin wasn't wearing power armor this time; he was clad in a knee-length outfit that looked like a Mandarin's robes.
Nerlharg pulled a small flat tablet out of his pocket. "[Welcome! Just before we start, I'll need to scan anything you're carrying.]"
The Jornissians shrugged and presented their holographic prop swords. Nerlharg waved the tablet near them and nodded. "[Fine. And that?]" He pointed at the guitar case slung on Oscar's back.
Oscar slid the case off of his shoulder. "Scan away. Just be careful, this thing's older than me." He set down the case and unzipped it to reveal the instrument within.
Nerlharg chuckled. "[I assure you our security scans aren't that strong.]" He swept the tablet over the guitar. "[And this is also fine. Is that real wood?]"
"You better believe it," replied Oscar.
"[I look forward to hearing what it sounds like. His Excellency bids you all welcome. Unfortunately, we cannot permit the security drones indoors.]" He pointed at the hovering spheres near each human.
"This is a hell of a time to find that out," said Oscar. His jaw set as he glared at Nerlharg.
Rgrarshok looked pretty pissed as well. "[I assure you that these only use nonlethal protection methods. Scan them yourself if you don't believe me.]"
Nerlharg looked very apologetic. "[It is out of my hands. [Sssnnathor] does not want them admitted into such a large party. He's worried about them deploying a net or taser by accident, what with so many bodies moving around.]"
Oscar and Rgrarshok shared a long look. Maria knew that the Captain was asking the human do you want to go through with this? without saying a word. Finally Oscar shrugged in a sure, let's go for it manner.
Maria kind of wished she'd gotten a chance to throw in her two cents as well; she hoped that the big lug wasn't being cavalier about her safety. Or his, for that matter.
"[Very well,]" said Rgrarshok. "[We'll program them to remain here. Will that be acceptable?]"
Nerlharg nodded with a slight smile.
"[Good. What time do we start?]" asked the Captain.
"[In [one hour]. In the meantime, [Sssnnathor] requests the honor of your presence among our guests.]"
Maria groaned inside. The last thing she wanted to do was make small talk with a bunch of fearsome aliens who were, oh by the way, a bunch of criminal assholes as well.


Much to Oscar's annoyance, one hour became two. On top of that, their presence at the tyrant's party wasn't a simple case of 'walk around, mingle a bit, then go do the show'. No, from the outset Sssnnathor was determined to keep them circulating among the considerable number of well-dressed party-goers. But Oscar didn't let the outward civilized veneer fool him for a second.
He was glad Myyreh wasn't there. The poor girl would have been crawling right out of her fur to see him in the midst of so many untrained xenos. At least they were polite enough to keep their distance when asked.
Right now he was holding a drink of some fruity-tasting cocktail. At least the glass was human-sized. He was chatting with a gray-furred Dorarizin who was wearing what looked like a frock coat with a lacy 'ruff' that accented the alien's mane. Several other huge xenos hovered around them, clearly waiting for their turn to talk to the human. In the meantime, Oscar kept himself facing the Dorarizin so that the nanocams in his suit could get a good look.
"Got a positive ID on him!" said Egrwreh's voice in his ear. "Ghranzor-of-Ahnz, known trafficker in small arms, suspected of Green smuggling as well."
Oscar nodded, both in response to the information as well as to a question from Ghranzor.
"[So you are enjoying your stay thus far?]"
"I sure am, sir. Didn't think I'd get to go this far into space, let alone meet so many people!"
Ghranzor gave a little bow and motioned to the several-foot gap between them. "[I'm pleased to hear that. I feared that you were overly paranoid about us, given how much personal space you requested.]"
Oscar shrugged. "I gotta admit I'm a little worried. Can't be too safe, right?" He caught a nearby Karnakian's eyes and winked. "Remember what happened the first time we tried to shake hands with y'all." He used his free hand to mime pulling his other arm off.
The Karnakian floofed out her neck feathers in anger. "[Really! It was an honest accident!]"
Oscar waved his free hand. "Relax, I'm just kidding ya!"
The Karnakian subsided and let forth a little trilling, forced laugh of her own.
Oscar motioned with his glass overhead, where the party's main source of light floated. The hologram consisted of two bright suns floating in the atrium's center. Around both suns coiled a massive, scaled body that endlessly moved in a figure-eight formation like the living representation of infinity. Another coil emerged from the huge figure to reach out and circle another, smaller blue-white sphere which floated near the larger figure-eight. There was no real head or tail that Oscar could see, just an impression of never-ending sinewy strength.
"What's that?" he asked.
He heard Sssnnathor's smooth hiss-purr behind him. "[That, [human], is Sotek-Who-Circles-The-World.]"
Oscar turned casually to face the tyrant, and noted how everyone around Sssnnathor stood with a slight bow to their head. Not wanting to stand out, he followed suit.
"[Oh, please, you all honor me too much,]" said Sssnnathor. Oscar picked his head back up and saw the Jornissian looking up at the hologram. Oscar was still figuring out Jornissian facial expressions, but judging by the tilt of Sssnnathor's hood he could swear the tyrant had a look of longing.
Sssnnathor pointed at the encircled binary star system. "[Sotek coils the earth and sky in himself. He holds all fire in the sky, and lets out just enough of it to warm the world.]"
"Huh, neat. Sort of a sun god, then?"
"[Not just that. A god who encompasses eternity. He lives forever.]"
"Hey, who wouldn't want that?" replied Oscar as he took a casual sip of his fruity-stuff. It was time to do a little fishing and see if he could draw Sssnnathor out as to his true intentions.
Sssnnathor slithered towards Oscar with a gleam in his eyes. "[That's exactly what I say! Everyone desires eternal life, even if they're too craven to admit to it!]"
The surrounding courtiers moved away, and from their startled body language Oscar got the sense that this passion was not something they were used to.
"[Those fools in the Senate refuse to see the truth,]" continued Sssnnathor. "[The universe is unimaginably old compared to even a few thousand [years] of existence. Why not at least give us the option?]"
There was no Junior to give a warning noise, so Oscar raised a hand. "That's close enough, sir."
The statement snapped the tyrant out of his trance. He chuckled and motioned with his snout at Oscar. "[It's a pity you have to resort to such coddling just to have a chance at a any life, let alone an eternal one.]"
"Times change, sir. Sure we're fragile and endangered now, but we won't be forever. And I dunno, a thousand years or so sounds like a pretty good run to me."
"[Of course you say that now, you're barely out of a clutch! But a thousand [years] from now, I wager you'd be very receptive to living a thousand [years] more.]"
Oscar gave a noncommittal shrug. "[Maybe. I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."
"[The [powers that be] won't let you,]" replied Sssnnathor. "[After all, they threw me out for daring to even think of the possibility.]"
The tyrant's hood flattened out in anger, and those around the pair drew back in fear of being the recipient of some of that wrath. Oscar figured he should get the conversation back to light and fluffy.
"That's a shame, sir. Still, looks like you're doing all right for yourself, eh?" Oscar grinned and waved his glass in general at the huge atrium.
Sssnnathor's hood relaxed and he gave a Jornissian shrug. "[I suppose I am.]" He looked at the fearful faces around him and gave a wide, fanged smile. "[Please, everyone, drink! Smile! This is supposed to be a party!]"
Before anyone else could chime in, Captain Rgrarshok moved her way into the circle around Oscar. She kept glancing off into the distance in irritation as she moved.
"[Sorry to stick my paw in, sir, but my performers need to make their way backstage,]" she said.
"[Of course they do,]" said Sssnnathor. "[I look forward to the performance. I'm sure we all do, yes?]"
Amid the hasty assurances and declarations that followed, Rgrarshok gave another irritated glare. Oscar followed her direction of interest and saw...
Bgrarh-of-Arhraz stood a ways away, also ringed in by partiers. He gestured casually with one paw as he chatted with a female Dorarizin. His deep blue eyes twinkled as he talked. The alien wolf-woman looked about ready to bear his pups, judging by the way she stared at him.
She wasn't the only one. Among the circle of people surrounding him were quite a few females (some not even Dorarizin) who looked at him with equal entrancement.
Oscar heard a faint grinding noise and realized it was the Captain's teeth. He decided to draw fire for his friend. "Er, boss, want me to go fetch him?"
Rgrarshok drew in and let out a deep breath. "Yes, please do."
Oscar grinned in general at those around him and gave Sssnnathor a bow. "Sorry folks, sorry sir. The show must go on!"
As he trotted away, Oscar heard Sssnnathor say something to Rgrarshok about an announcement. Fortunately the surrounding crowd parted as he called out "Make way, please!". The sycophants around Bgrarh at first looked annoyed at hearing his call, then they looked a lot more interested as they laid eyes on Oscar.
"'scuse the interruption, Bennie. The boss wants us backstage."
"[Of course!]" replied Bgrarh. He reached over, picked up the paw of the Dorarizin facing him, and gave the back of her paw a gentle kiss. "[It's terribly unfortunate we have to part, my dear. But duty calls.]"
The kissee stared after them like a poleaxed steer as Bgrarh and Oscar walked away.


Rgrarshok-of-Ngraz took another deep breath to calm herself as she strode towards the stage. It was set in the geometric center of the soaring atrium, consisting of knee-high circular platform that was expansive enough for all of the acts. The partygoers were already crowded around the stage perimeter but parted to make way for her. Along the far side of the stage was a temporary domed hut that acted as the backstage area.
Both the stage and hut were supplied by Sssnnathor, which meant the latter was certainly bugged. She'd impressed on the whole team that there was to be absolutely no breaking of their cover until they were all back on safe ground.
Her face remained impassive as she berated herself. Why was she getting so worked up over Bgrarh's antics? The specialist could be a little annoying at times, but he was always a loyal pack member. He was just acting a part, not really flirting.
But the knowledge still didn't calm the little churn of unexpected jealous anger in her gut. She'd been on the cusp of striding into the middle of that circle and showing that hussy of a female who was the real Alpha. Bgrarh was hers.
Rgrashok slowed as she neared the stage. Sssnnathor was already coiled up in the middle of it, and he lifted his upper body to tower over them all. As he held up his arms the crowd quieted.
"[My friends, you gladden my heart by your presence. I have enjoyed my time here during the past [sixty years], and I look forward to many more such celebrations. But that is not the only reason to throw a party. As you may have heard, I've recently come into possession of an artifact which has a long and storied history among our [Karnakian] brethren. I've taken great pains to display it with the reverence due its status. It is my pleasure to present to you all...the Sacred Claw of [Ta'irrl'qc]!]"
Sssnnathor gestured to his right, and the partygoers on that side parted as a smooth polished stone plinth rose up out of the marble-tiled floor. The plinth's top split open and folded back down along itself to reveal the artifact that Rgrarshok and her crew had been chasing this entire time.
The Claw was polished, nut-brown sickle shape which lay on a blue velvet cushion. At its root were embedded emeralds and rubies that sparkled in the light from Sotek's hologram above them.
As the crowd gave the appropriate oohs and aahs, Rgrarshok had a fleeting notion of simply grabbing Sssnnathor and holding him hostage while the team escaped with the Claw. But no, that would put the [humans] in unnecessary danger. Instead she made sure to smile and applaud along with everyone else.
Sssnnathor nodded to her and slithered his way back off of the stage. He coiled himself possessively around the Claw's plinth with a very satisfied expression on his face.


"[I don't believe it,]" whispered Tk'rii'na.
"[Don't even think it,]" said Resh'skk.
Maria didn't like the way the Karnakian's fore-claws twitched as he peeked out the ajar door. It looked like Tk'rii'na was getting ready to do something really stupid. She walked up beside him and placed a hand on his arm.
"Hey, Tarky? Relax. We'll..." she glanced around the hut and tried to choose words that wouldn't blow their cover to anyone listening in. "I know you're worried about the performance, but you'll do great."
"[But it's right there.]"
Frick chose that moment to try and pull Tk'rii'na away. "[Let me see!]"
Tarky pushed back against the tug, resulting in a brief round of the two raptors squawking and slapping at each other.
"Both of you COOL IT!" hissed Maria. She glared up at Tk'rii'na. "You remember you swore to protect me? That includes not putting us in danger by causing a scene!"
Tk'rii'na hung his head. "[You're right. I'm sorry. I shall cool it.]"
He looked so literally crestfallen that Maria's anger evaporated. She patted his arm. "No harm done."


Rgrarshok strode into the middle of the stage, turned, and bowed deeply to the assembled throng. "{We thank you all humbly for your attention. The Company of the Long Dance of Fghrealh is pleased to bring to you a wide range of entertainment from around the galaxy. Including that of our newest comrades, the tiny-chompers!}"
That last part drew a nice round of applause.
"{We shall begin shortly, starting with an amazing display of [Karnakian] congretory singing!}"
Rgrarshok spun and walked towards the hut. Its door slid open and Rgarshok ducked inside. It was a small windowless space with a few tables along one curved wall and another door at the rear. The hut was made even more claustrophobic by the presence of the performers.
Rgrarshok raised a curious ear at seeing a few feathers on the floor near the entrance door. She glared back up at the four Karnakians. "{Is there a problem?}"
"[No, just nerves before the show,]" replied Maria. "[Right, guys?]"
A big paw touched Rgrarshok's shoulder, and she turned to see Bgrarh giving her a wide smile that she found herself automatically returning. She just couldn't stay mad at him.
"{Are you ready for our performance, darling?}" he asked.
She put her stoic 'Captain in Charge' face back on. "{I am, just don't draw too much attention to yourself.}" That warning should be sufficiently vague to throw off any listeners.
Bgrarh moved close and slipped an arm around her waist. "{And what if I want the attention of somebody in particular?}"
Rgrarshok blinked as a welter of conflicting emotions ran through her. Bgrarh was a pack member; he was also strong, smart, and athletic. In ordinary circumstances his advances would be welcome to any pack's Alpha. But hers wasn't a normal pack and she wasn't just the Alpha, she was the Captain. She had to set herself apart, be a strong leader for them all...but his eyes were so deep and pretty, and he smelled so nice...
She leaned in towards his face. "{Not now, Bgrarh. We have a show to do.}"
Bgrarh didn't lose that infuriating and adorable grin. "{And after the show?}"
"{We'll see.}"
Rgrarshok gently peeled his arm off of her and cleared her throat. "{Singers, you're up.}"
She stood aside as the Karnakain quartet moved towards the entrance. Rgarshok noted with amusement that there was now a lot less glaring between the two pairs of guards than when they'd first come on board her ship. Now they all just looked nervous at the prospect of that most dreaded of things, Screwing Up.


Ter'yeik put on his best disarming smile as he pushed a big wheeled tub towards the service entrance. This was no grand archway, it was instead a smaller square portal guarded by one bored-looking Jornissian in low-profile armor. A rifle leaned against the wall next to the guard, within easy reach.
A voice hissed out from under the tub's cover, a voice just barely audible to him. "|Stop smiling, you idiot! Look bored and put-upon!|"
He did as The Silken Feather instructed and slouched a bit as he continuted pushing. The Jornissian looked just as bored as he held up a hand. "[Hold up. You with the catering crew?]"
"|Yeah, we had a last-minute menu change. [Sssnnathor] wanted some namptha soup added.|"
The guard held his rifle at the ready as he coiled himself up higher, now looking a lot less bored and more ready to dispense some violence. "[We weren't told.]"
Ter'yeik kept his feathers from trembling with a supreme effort and tried his best to sound peeved. "|Really? That's typical. I get a work order, bust my tail making this stuff, and the Diarchy-cursed paperwork gets lost! What am I supposed to do with [two hundred gallons] of namptha soup? I sure as hell can't eat it!|"
Unbidden, the guard reached forward and plucked the cover off of the tub. Ter'yeik froze as the Jornissian gazed on the sight within. It was a sea of red, with white spheres floating here and there within it. "[Hmm. That does look tasty.]" His tongue flicked out and back in. "[Smells good, too.]"
Ter'yeik flattened his crest in mock distress. "|Listen, can you just check again for the work order?|"
The guard nodded and tilted his head as he checked his implant. "[Huh! Whaddya know, there it is. Musta got held up in the system for a bit.]" He stood aside and waved at the entrance. "[You know where to go?]"
Ter'yeik managed to keep his voice from squeaking as he replied. "|Yep! To the right, isn't it?|"
The hallway beyond the entrance was metallic and utilitarian, its walls bearing the scars from many years of heavy equipment moving through it. Ter'yeik waited until he was well out of sight of the door before breathing out a huge sigh of relief. He reached forward and took the cover off of the tub again. This time, instead of being full of soup it was full of Silken Feather, crammed awkwardly around a small pot of red-and-white soup.
"|Now aren't you glad you let me have my hacking and holo toys?|" she asked as she uncoiled herself and stood up out of the tub. She shrugged her shoulders, then flexed her neck. "|Ooof. Not my most comfortable entrance ever, but I've had worse.|"
"|I was wondering why you insisted we stop off to buy that stuff,|" said Ter'yeik. "|I didn't think about the smell.|"
The Silken Feather reached forward and patted the side of his snout like he was a mere hatchling. "|That's why I'm the master thief and you are not.|" She concentrated, and her appearance suddenly shifted into that of a mottled gray Karnakian.
Ter'yeik started back. "|Wait, what's this all about?|"
"|I'm not about to go walking around wearing my own face. [Sssnnathor's] security team knows what I look like.|"
A low, powerful moan drifted down the hallway towards them. The moan rapidly rose in pitch, followed closely by another moan whose harmonies worked in counterpoint with the first.
"|Ah, it sounds like the show has started!|" said The Silken Feather. She stepped out of the tub and held out her arm to Ter'yeik. "|Shall we?|"
He stared in confusion at the proffered limb. "|What?|"
"|In order to steal the Claw we need to see where it is, silly. Therefore you and I need to crash the party.|"
"|We can't go walking in there! I thought we were going to do more sneaking around.|"
"|There's no time for stealth. Besides, there's plenty of people milling around, we'll just blend right in. A confident attitude is the best disguise. Trust me and above all act casual.|"
After another moment of hesitation, Ter'yeik took her arm.


Nerlharg-of-Aergh nodded along with the song as he stalked through the party. Most of the crowd was pushed in around the stage, but there were a few stragglers circulating around the food and drink tables.
The melodic structure was odd but interesting, even if the words were now a jumbled mess to his translator. He made a mental note to look up other examples of Karnakian congretory singing and see how this compared.
Nerlharg's nose twitched as a scent hit his nostrils that he wouldn't expect to encounter at a party. It was the smell of a Karnakian in the grip of mortal fear, a scent he knew well thanks to his experiences in Sssnnathor's employ.
He kept his expression neutral as he turned to scan the nearby partygoers. In the distance, the four Karnakians' crests bobbed in time with their singing. Closer to him was another pair of Karnakians. One of the pair was a mottled gray alien standing arm-in-arm with a cream-colored one. He discreetly sniffed again. The lighter of the pair was definitely the source of the fear.
"[Doesn't it sound marvelous, dear?]" exclaimed the darker Karnakian in a low, throaty voice. Something about that voice sounded familiar to Nerlharg.
"{Yes darling, quite nice,]" said the lighter-colored raptor. His voice had a little squeak in it as he fidgeted his claws together.
Nerlharg sidled up next to them and cleared his throat. Upon making that sound he got another spike of fear-scent up his nose.
"{Pardon me, but I'm not familiar with congretory singing. Is this a good example of it?}"
The darker Karnakian shrugged her crest. "[It's a little unusual compared to the norm, since you have the pairs alternating instead of all singing together. But it's still quite lovely.]"
Nerlharg was sure she was deliberately pitching her voice lower. More to the point, he was pretty sure he'd heard her voice before. He nodded aimiably at the pair and strolled off. As he did so, the fear-scent subsided.
He reached out with his implant to Sssnnathor. "{Pardon the intrusion, Excellency. We have a situation. I believe I've spotted the Claw's thief among the guests.}"
The distant coiled-up figure of the tyrant didn't twitch, and his subvocal response was nothing but amused. "[Trying to steal back her stolen property, eh? I suppose she doesn't lack for bravery. I imagine these entertainers are in on her scheming as well.]"
"{That is also my assessment, Excellency. Shall I arrest them all?}"
"[No, let's let the show finish. Although, I supposed if you get a chance during the performance to grab them, take it. But I want the [humans] unharmed, understand?]"
"{Of course. What about the others?}"
"[Capture them if you can, but don't worry too much about their health. If they resist too much, go ahead and shoot them.]"
Nerlharg cut the connection and sighed. Tiny-chompers were so notoriously fragile that even grabbing them too fast could seriously injure them. Not to mention they were in the midst of their friends. He'd have to get creative on this one.


Maria Vargas strode out into the center of the stage with Coleridge's words fixed firmly in her brain. She told herself that this was just a simple recitation, nothing at all to worry about. By this point she could do the damn poem in her sleep.
She reached the center, took a deep breath, raised her eyes...
And froze.
A sea of gleaming eyes stared back at her, eyes that were every color of the rainbow. Those eyes were attached to huge forms sporting far too many claws and fangs. Her hind-brain shrieked at her to flee, that she was a mouse under the gaze of far too many predators.
She glanced to her left, and saw Sssnnathor staring at her intently with a silvery gaze. Next to his head was the Claw, the thing that had brought her to this moment of danger. Neither sight helped her nerves, and she could feel her heart hammer faster.
Maria faced back to the crowd and tried to swallow, but it felt like she had a golf ball lodged in her throat. She wetted her lips and closed her eyes, which helped a little.
"It is..." she began with a raspy, choked voice. She paused and told herself that even with no drone Reshy was watching over her. That knowledge helped slow her heart even more.
Maria opened her eyes and this time deliberately kept her eyes unfocused on the crowd in front of her. As far as she was concerned, the assembled crowd was nothing but a blur of color. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again the rasp was gone.
"It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three..."
Once Maria started speaking, instinct kicked in and the words flowed easily. As the poem wound on and the ship in the tale went through first storms and then ice, she began to half-notice the crowd instead of treating them like a backdrop. Their rapt expressions emboldened her, and by the time she hit the part where the Mariner's becalmed ship ran into the ghostly hulk captained by Death himself she knew she had them.
"...A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn."
After Maria finished, there was a moment of silence.
"[Amazing!]" Sssnnathor called out. His exclamation seemed to break the logjam, and the crowd followed suit with a chorus of various whoops and trills. Maria ignored the pounding of her heart as she smiled, bowed, and left the stage. She did her best to keep the wobble out of her knees.
Hrathra'sstah gripped Maria's shoulder after she re-entered the hut. Hrathra's face was still set in its ususal intense glare, but from the set of her hood Maria knew that her boss was ecstatic. "[Excellent job!]"
"Thanks, boss." Maria stared at the floor and all but panted.
"[Are you all right?]"
"I'm good, I got a bit of stage fright there. Just need a while to calm myself down."
Hrathra gave her shoulder a squeeze and moved off. The crew was busy getting the Captain and Bgrarh ready, so for the moment all eyes were off her.
Not getting stared at anymore helped, but Maria really needed some alone time. While everyone was looking the other way she ducked out of the hut's rear door.
There was nothing behind the hut but a short 'alleyway' between the temporary structure and the sloping wall of Sssnnathor's pyramid. Maria leaned forward, placed her forehead on the wall's smooth cement-like surface, and let out another shaky breath. After a little moment of doing nothing but paying attention to her breathing, she stood up again.
She was feeling a lot calmer now, an emotion that lasted for all of ten seconds before she felt the faintest whisper of air and realized she was no longer alone.
Maria spun around towards the hut and drew in a breath to yell just as an invisible paw clamped tight over her mouth.


Oscar peered out through the half-open door to the stage. Bgrarh and the Captain whirled in a complicated dance that he could barely follow. It looked a little like a waltz but with a lot more airborne bits to it. To his uneducated eye it looked amazing, and the Captain actually looked happy, something that Oscar had never seen before.
He turned away and picked up the guitar. It was about as well-tuned as he could get it, but fiddling with it gave him something to take his mind off of his nerves. He'd done a few open-mic nights back on Earth, but this was something much more serious.
Plus there was the whole threat of being found out and getting involved in a huge firefight.
Oscar peeked back out again, this time scanning the crowd instead of paying attention to the dance. It looked like they were digging it, just like they'd dug Maria's recitation.
Speaking of which, where was she? He turned away from the stage door and looked around the hut. He did a circuit of the place, dodging around the Jornissian and Karnakian forms. He didn't ask anyone if they'd seen Maria; that might trigger a freak-out, especially in Resh'ssk. There was no need to worry anyone just yet.
As he walked by the rear entrance, he heard Maria's quiet voice. "Oscar? Can you come out here, please?"
The others were busy prepping, and didn't notice as Oscar set his guitar down and cracked open the door to poke his head out.
Maria leaned casually against the sloping wall across from the door, staring off into the distance.
"What's up?" he asked.
She didn't answer. Oscar glanced to each side and saw nothing. His brow wrinkled as he moved himself all the way out of the door and approached her. "Maria? Are you okay?"
She ignored him and continued to stare off, unmoving and silent. It wasn't until Oscar got within a few feet of her that he realized just how unmoving she was.
As unmoving as if she was a hologram.
On pure instinct Oscar threw his arm up to ward off anyone trying to get him in a choke-hold from behind. He managed to get his sleeve up in front of his face before his world went dark and he found himself unable to move.


"[I'm getting a strange reading from the drones onboard the Claw,]" said Egwreh's voice in Tk'rii'na's ear. "[Plus the telemetry from the [humans] is looking oddly muted.]"
He and Irr''kttz turned from watching the dance onstage. The Karnakians known as 'Tarky' and 'Frick' to their [human] friends both scanned the hut in increasing panic.
"|I don't see [Oscar] or [Maria].|" said Tk'rii'na.
Both saw at the same time that the rear door was now open. After one quick glance at each other, they sprinted as one for the back door.
In true Karnakian fashion neither bothered to open it. The temporary structure shook as the entire rear of the hut all but evaporated, sending chunks of composite ricocheting off of the rear wall and onto the surprised guests.
Irr''kttz pointed. "|THERE! I see them!|"
Tk'rii'na followed the claw with his eyes and saw two faint whirls of familiar sparkly light floating in the middle of the air. There was nothing visible around the pair of sparkly souls as they rapidly approached a side exit.


Onstage, the pair of whirling Doaraizin spun to a sudden halt as the resounding crunch of the Karnakian's dynamic exit sounded through the atrium. Rgrarshok ignored the bits of former hut bouncing off of her skull.
"{REPORT!}" she barked. She saw guards here and there among the party starting to stand up straight, but she ignored them for now. She glanced around in rising panic, and realized she saw no sign of Sssnnathor.
The plinth that had once held the Claw was now empty.
Irr''kttz's voice yelled in her ear. "[THERE! I see them!]"
Tk'rii'na sounded a lot calmer. "[I see them too, they've been wrapped in optical camo. Heading for the exit to your right, Captain.}"
"[Got it,]" said Rgrarshok. She and Bgrarh exchanged one look, to which he gave a Dorarizin nod.
"{[Calvinball],}" they said simultaneously.
Bgrarh sprinted for the hut just as Rgrarshok charged towards the edge of the stage nearest the indicated exit. The confused murmuring of the crowd now became earnest screaming at the sight of the rampaging Captain.
The trigger-word also reactivated the drones hovering near the far-off main entrance. Each immediately locked onto the telemetry readings from their respective [human]; rather than waste time maneuvering through the doorway they both 'decided' that the quickest route between them and their charges was a straight line. Two loud bangs sounded from the main entrance as each drone smashed its way into the atrium.
In the middle of her icy rage, Rgrarshok noted the trajectory of the two drones. Following that line, she caught the merest hint of a pair of heat-shimmers in the air; several panicked partygoers bounced off of the cloaked figures as they sprinted for the side-exit.
Rgarshok leapt off of the stage as the crowd beneath her parted with great alacrity to get the hell out of her way. As she landed in a crouch, a lone Dorarizin guard pushed out of the mob to block her way. He thrust a shock-baton at her chest which she didn't even try to block. The armor did its job, hardening with the impact and allowing the baton to skate off to the side.
Rgrarshok shoved herself upright as she grabbed the guard's weapon-arm. He was wearing low-profile armor as well, so instead of wasting time punching at him she settled for a overhand throw that flung the guard away with a wet crunch that signaled a ruined shoulder.
The Captain continued to push forward, but couldn't go fast enough through the panicked mob. Rgarshok decided that now was not the time to play nice and began throwing people out of her way. Even a Jornissian or two found themselves the target of her flinging. The only good news was that the drones had reached the doorway and now hovered in the path of the cloaked goons carrying the tiny-chompers. They each projected a targeting grid, trying to lock onto the cloaked goon without hurting the tiny-chompers...
Both two drones sparked and fell to the floor with smoking holes drilled neatly in each of them. Two more Dorarizin in full armor and wielding rifles stepped over the wrecked machines.
The guards parted to let the heat-shimmers pass between them, then stepped back together and came running towards Rgrarshok. Her attackers didn't use their guns for their intended purpose, instead they used the long weapons as clubs to smack aside the partygoers as they moved towards her.
Rgarshok roared in rage and charged.
submitted by Frank_Leroux to HFY [link] [comments]

The Permina Codex

The orator in the night moves like mercury. Doctored negatives of logic fall out of my pocket, dispersed like seeds on the Earth, a bountiful flora of blonde and red on the virgin steppe where I lay my head. The light dances uniformly down a dark alley as we disappear from view. There will be no goodbyes embarking on this humble voyage of introspection. Going ever deeper down a ceaseless well of dissociative thoughts that have been the scourge and harmony of my waking existence, armed with a strong desire to counteract the modern sterilization of language. An aesthetic passage attempting to render a unique lingual palette of poetic timbre overladen with corrugated miscellany and purpose, whose nature is derived from various observations of an ever flowing internal dialogue. A thunderous tome of nervous prolixity and verbose preoccupation that is as mystifying to me to write as I hope it will be for you to read and reflect on. The renaissance of human evolution is now upon us, borne again of necessity. Neo-individualism breaking the vials of fabricated freedom that the masters of the physical world have funneled us into, a new class system based on the rise of disposition to mandatory data capture, a distilled essence of sapient mystery ready to be input into a Deus Ex Machina. Total industrialization of mortality, genetics and materialism. We are blinded by the darkness and must realise that wisdom is subject to the ebbing of time, just like all things. I endeavour to raise the oceanic platform from the bases of old wisdom; to output new form into the current age of complex deception. Throughout the process of writing this text, I have found it has become a useful tool; a meditative hammer that can break the obstacles which have stifled my deeper senses for a long time. These words are the spoils of a battle with a life lived twixt lucid dreams and the long, winding malaise of depression concerning modern replacement of morality, subversion of ethics and unravelling of a recurring existence between the flow of the celestial space and the throes of redemption.
When did I lose my voice?, my eyes and tongue burn with a banal tragedy. Disenfranchised with what little I held dear, I now look outside and do not see humanity, but the value of average human lives decreasing. Social doctrines to which I do not subscribe, but rife amongst the statistics of this throw away generation; built on apathy and restless on the scale of consistent illusory fear. The gaunt lives of good people bearing the confused face of judgmental narcissists who lack the empathy to recognise and act on their own feelings. We are repeatedly damned from every marketable angle while intrusive media tentacles slither in, raping every sense at once with no regard for consequence, factory settings racking up points with each entry under close surveillance and monetising our captivity. The last remains of hope, stuffed high above reach on a shelf alongside economy disposable razors with which eventually will be the only option to try and end our lives abruptly, if we pass the checks. Sobbing into the soiled mattresses in the piles of rubble we once called home. Inevitably the result will be unsuccessful, when despair and helplessness become too great.
We spend our time surviving in a time of consistent scientific advancement and cultural identity crisis, both of which have grown gathered considerable momentum since the cold war, snowballing exponentially through rapid development in many areas but most significantly in the fields of computing and communication. The pace and calculation of human thought has been left in the dust and effectively, we as a species have become reliant on technology to maintain and oversee every area of our lives. I propose the speed at which this change has occurred, combined with the total perpetuity of information being processed, has destabilized vast areas of human consciousness, altering how we store information, how deeply we rest and also the way people's opinions are formed. The amount of information most people have access to now is overwhelming, we can find the documented answers to almost anything we desire, instantly. We do not need to retain so much day to day information in our memories any longer, because we have the ability to dump them all onto a visual medium and save them. This surely has had a significant effect on the way our minds work and over time could possibly alter the core function of the hippocampus and cerebral cortex which I speculate will be the part of us that science will manipulate as the mysteries of the brain are untangled. As the areas linked to short term memory become increasingly redundant, I wonder if the innate functions of these parts of us will be altered in the centuries to come. Perhaps we will even branch off once again into several new genus. The type of seeded data suggested to us, that we receive through the abomination dubbed "social media" is drip fed to us by algorithms created to maximize the effectiveness of corporate agendas, like Chinese water torture, information that I did not choose to witness permeates what is essentially a useful communicative idea ravaged by greed, hitting the tender cerebral nerve, vibrating your skull in a manner that assures reliance. As the platforms entrench themselves into the sphere of social necessity, their existence almost creates a state of detached schizophrenia, whereby part of us has become public and vulnerable, and so we second guess ourselves. As I have been writing this text, it is certainly not beyond the realm of imagination that my words may be stored and screened by anonymous electronic eyes. Electronic ears, eavesdropping on my pains and desires. Electronic noses that can smell and analyse the sweat on the brows of the paranoid. I have witnessed the data consumed by this beast sway the mindsets of whole groups in a matter of minutes. We have been led into a confusing state of palpable distrust and hype, borne from the corrosion of mental solidity. Now we contemplate and redefine what exactly our role and ambition is as individuals, and as a species. We look to the hellions of the financial elite for answers, but are received with an air of hope abandoned, dried bodies in the dust shed the black, coagulated tears of a clear moral path, a resolution. Our usurper leaders who try to placate us with distractions and false promises, then after every uprising lull us back to sleep and continue with their diabolic regime. Slowly they are being unmasked to be nothing but decadent charlatans, we are on the final lap in the course of time's dynasty and instinct has revealed the fishing wire that operates the mythical hand that feeds us, wounded but bleeding out across the Earth in an agony of ages. Is there something we should know? Throughout my entire life it has become apparent that the mainstream media is in league with an intangible web of syndicated mafia affiliates who have been administering a steady dose of crooked truth and lies in equal measure, subtly distorting the perception of time and pumping out a polluted fog of confusion with an emphasis on doom and damnation, to which, of course, their devious partners offer the solutions. A lich enigma that sucks out life from all who attempt to decipher it. What is the purpose of globalization and industry? to what end will progress and knowledge arrive? I for one am turning back to search for the united inherent strength of everything we have ever known from the birth of self awareness.
We are living as the dead in the culmination of histories corruption, eroding in the universal torus, trapped as bacteria between the cilia in the lungs of God, whoever he may be, our skins have split, we are exposed, but regardless, we still gorge on the bitter fruit of the tree of knowledge, meanwhile the forgotten sequoia of life withers in it's fallen Eden. The forces of control manipulating any peace of mind we may have almost as if to coax out the son of man from his heavenly labyrinth. Screaming in the face of God like a child, saying " look what I've done, are you angry yet?" hooked into a spiritual masochism where radicals are caste and washed out in a turbulent sea of diluted opinion. I would love to turn back the clock and urge the dawn to rebuke our mistakes as a species as it rises each day. The hour has come to break the brutal generational curses that now bind us in impenetrable walls of law and division. A consolidation of human sin outwardly manifest in the selfishness of macabre buffoons, perched on the high horses of the apocalypse and wearing the cured skins of angels. Exceeding the supply and demand for innocent eyes plucked from their sockets at birth, weapons of midnight mass production, graphene shells clamped round the hearts of the blind who stumble through this century of faceless technology, tortured and crying out to be human once again. The unseen long term goals of greed are now evidently horrific, driven by maniacal evil until law postpones them further. Invisible portfolios of rapid discovery spun on the looms of corruption by unpaid hands who reshape the earth with every waking moment. Their sabotage of long term stability comes at the greatest premium. In the past we destroyed physical things during wartime, but the psychological barbarities of this age have left us with pricked ears, hearing education crumble into ruins, core moral values thrown into the volcano and evaporated by broadsheet indoctrination. There are deep holes in our trust. How backward we have become to the truth. Joy and love have been replaced with lust and addiction, even the spirits who fly in figure eights have reverence for their origin though they are eternal, and who are we? The mere notion of being delivered into life after death reflects the currently inexplicable shape of things that have preceded us and of the things to come. We enter into uncertain climes with a filtered vision of not only ourselves but others, who live on the curve between the output of dimensions, foraging for cryptographic clues amongst tomes of forbidden science in order to unravel the mystery of life and eradicate the uprising of an unnatural order. Dreaming is the gateway to prophecy, a platform of mental clues to evolution, the affirmation of sentience, as the formative spheres spin in the dark chasm of space, a colossal factory of life which contains the future within us. If we construct our ideas by the pulse of a calm, gentle heart, we can become dexterous in self, forming a strong trinity of kindness. Illustrating the wells of our spirit and focusing on the nature of the water we receive. Look deeply into it and reflect on your abandonment of nature. The photons collide in earshot cancelling out the nothing that existed there before, distorting what I see, an expanded spectral array of colour extending indefinitely and eventually granting peace to every tongue of darkness, silencing wavelengths and visions of Lucifer's manufacture, allowing me to gain perspective against the tide of particles crashing against my optic nerves. A trompe l'oeil effervescence in an ocean of illusion encircling the white cliffs of this ancient, blood soaked island. I am primordial, sitting without worry in a Paleolithic forest, hearing the creatures of the natural order calmly tread down their lines of desire, an aeonic track which somehow led to our formation, that which came before it all, an asexual, amorphous seed, undecided on what form it should take, the lacklustre perfection of galactic intercourse, an accidental ooze of elements and energy, which held sentience within it before it reached critical mass, and all that unbridled freedom constrained into infinite density, until chance or something more certain unlatched the doorway through to the realm of visible light. Cages within cages, such was in my childhood , sat cross legged on a long pile carpet in the east wing of a distinguished orangery of exotic souls. Ornate and opaque , while the sands of time fell but had no effect. The arrow was straight and true, all ran parallel to it, though it existed simultaneously elsewhere. There were those that traversed it backwards, in the same fashion as walking the wrong way up an escalator. Always being dragged back to square one in a quantum uncoupling reaching to the past. The original exit point where virtually, everyone's an individual in an unreal plain of succinct imprisonment.
I find the majority of art in this age interminably dull. In the saturated era of associated popularity, vulnerable, captive audiences, whose simple desires have been instantly gratified since birth have become bed-ridden by mental obesity and do not strive to look. Most just give in and surf the tide of austere post-modern boredom, hailing any fecal colour swabs of post- determined meaning that may increase their own sedentary influence. Expressing a general malaise of shit replicating shit. Style revels in distraction, rotten fruits and bruised egos, elevated to iconic status by whatever addled marvel of sex is currently enthroned on the brief peak of faux acceptance called celebrity. Jaded tourmaline eyes that reflect the cosmos. With utmost poise they penetrate malleable minds ready to impregnate another momentary delusion. Non existent passion congeals on shards of chalk and flint under the surface of a shallow lake, one switches to zero binary ripples on calmer waters. Those who dwell in the deep, wallow in furious attempts of mispronunciation, stumbling over halves and fractions cutting themselves to pieces in resemblance to an act of barbaric ritual incited and encouraged by moronic hordes of clones, no spark ever ignited in them, ashes to ashes. In a slight revision to the old trope, I have found there is a broad smear between lunacy and enlightenment. Though my words are highly entropic with regard to the grand schemata, I sympathise with the guile of liberty and gauge of meaning amongst language, the ability to evoke raw power and rouse the flames of spirit withal. Sadly, now we float through a future that wrapped its jaws around such ideas and digested them, often i feel like a cultural fugitive caught hook, line and sinker in the talons of the powers that be, deafened by the insatiable hunger that growls in the belly of a gaol earth. Beauty and boundaries displace regular cerebral activity, regurgitating all my coarseness and overshadowing this pervasive air of dissatisfaction. Sharp teeth consciously evolving, feral instinct vs higher cognitive function, a schism brewing in the second generation of the new world. Standing upright as we hit rock bottom with nothing left in my heart but the shifting drone of bioluminescence, latent mental functions kick into action whispering to our proteins, the cyclical genetic timer has once again been activated. The critics prowl. Those stinking vultures of uniformity, who banquet and slather over the misery of others, tearing at the rotten ligaments of well known carrion, using crude bias as a tool to pick clean the bones of those they have judged. I am blessed with a body, a container of everything I represent and so are we all. With the energy I receive, I attempt to transcend the burdens of physicality with intent to bring about a personal transformation, self repair creating a streamlined flow of mind allowing for adaption and consciously healing the wounds I incur. In a sublime state I was able to topple the lucidly dark and pale structures that suck the matter from the universe. Desperately trying not to breach the code of my own beliefs, a valve holding back limitless force. Half submerged in an exquisite maelstrom, ruby cascades around my body. No sound but my breath altering the course of echoes of souls that tiptoe steadily on the surface of a lagoon found in the long lost cavities, now closed by the fluidity of earth laid under the canopy of algae, remaining still and unfettered by the pond life or the rays of sun shining through. A crimson torrent slips past the flesh of micro-life. My eyes opened, widened as the water moved like an ancient spirit over me. A shoal of children swam by, singing " In the city of life, we do not forget. Hung from golden boughs, no longer shall we hear sorrow crow" I was cocooned in such an isolated peace. The deepest imaginable peace, one of connection and continuity throughout history. A peace eternal, flashbacks of my consciousness living in a time before time. Then in the warm reefs of the oceans, then wandering on land amongst the stone edifices and sunlight of early civilization, when the portion of the creator within us was much larger than it is today. I am vital and happy, filled with raw life and wonder, an exhalation of gratitude etched into me which upon passing through death, the truth of which lies therein, i would just be thankful to have experienced it, holding it tightly to my chest as a keepsake of what I was before.
Retrospectively I arrived at a disjunction of multiple ideologies realised in a unified theory. A confluence of tachyon evasion, hyphenated between positive and negative amongst a lateral similarity of bonds. Modern day creativity boiled down to just a subversion of pre-existing pyramidal structures, rebranded piggybacking on the intellect of yesterday. Long waves of transient communication uttered to our synapses discretely, impulses sold to our malleable minds as if we thought of them all by ourselves. How did we give up our free will so easily? Engineering literary stem cells in analogue, with rare sense for which i desire recognition, (severed connection) a response to all my anxious days ripping the guts from courteous vipers, followed intently by the black dog who was skinned alive and stuffed into a well of excrement in my early days. Now I hang on the lower rungs of society's relentless ladder, fingers crushed by the boots of the ones above. Unable to achieve any lasting happiness, waking moments of a mortality full of holes perforating it's existence. Dredging the mythos of the aether in attempt to haul up the determined dissociation of collective consciousness to the capstone of Zion. Each brain a node in the hive mind swarming, aggravated by a dark cloud of electromagnetic signals, swirling red, blue, green, semi-visible points minutely irradiating, roughening the edges of smooth ideas. Lost in the fog, then in the long flat cornfield, vague instinctive mourning. Out of nowhere, a surge of love's reconciliation bursts through in a giant beam, one i have seen before, ultimately restoring all that was lost in blindness to all those who really matter in this world, the ones who can break down the walls of darkness around you. With all of my free will, the power of focus and creation is unleashed as I am observed under the panopticon of heaven, sailing on the crest of cheering ancestral crowds. The wind stirs as I pray out loud for a total banishment of evil throughout the land, to bring about the divine ascension of spiritual diplomacy and a redemption of compassion for those who have propagated true love throughout the gauntlet of history. We have tried to forge a future on the broken hearts and promises of yesterdays world. In this hour is the time to turn our eyes to the human necessity of unconditional support for each otherworld, something that should be encouraged and celebrated every day and not reserved for the events of crisis, it is something that cannot be clicked away, or solved with a watered down soup of opinion. I am an appointed investigator, purifier of the modern miasma, a prophet channeling words of peace and transfiguration with which I wish to build a union of heaven and earth, whilst I am still in this clay pot, this body, i will cleanse every atom of force that can be harnessed to cause suffering.
I was guided by a benign figure dressed in a red hooded robe. It led me through a dark hedge maze, I could sense it's kindness and ferocity. In it's right hand it held a lantern. There were other lanterns moving close by and if i peered over the top of the maze i saw children being guided far in the distance. The sky was jet black, almost as though this were taking place inside a box with the lid closed. Although each was being led down a different route, all were being taken toward a long temple of gold, illuminated by firelight where the red hooded figures stood like statues between columns, flickering with flames in their lanterns. Parsing the background noise, existing in the reverb of the birth of the universe. Transferred by the mechanics of matter sung as a lullaby to trapped, troubled and forgotten spirits who mourn and wail, releasing negativity into this realm. Somewhere there exists a positive fountain of creation and i speak peace and love to all negative energies so they may be converted to joy in the name of the holy father, son and spirit, the blessed energy that created us all.
When did my eyes begin to open, the window of perception unlocked, now nurturing what i hold dear in fear of loss, after walking headfirst through a briar of my own foolish creation. Armed with the sword of the word which was handed to me by the son. With authority, I cut to ribbons all enemies of truth that lay before me.
We are all foreigners here, subconscious cosmonauts sent to colonise this once static physical realm of decaying fractal spheres, "the land where time stood still" we descended from a higher dimension of time and light; which has subsequently bled through to this realm in the form of a gateway, a divine injection that was required for the propagation of life, the precursor of all movement. It's measurement is a necessary artifice for us to move freely and survive here. The result of our penetration into this quantum plain of existence. Our bodies are inter-dimensional vessels of energy, higher technology constructed out of atoms, physical binary voxels, that can be altered and controlled in seven dimensional Euclidean space. The dismissal of time as merely a human construct is ill perceived, it is a construct in the same way as any unit of measurement, it is a measurement based on the manoeuvers and positions of the bodies that move through the heavens. Time is what defines life as we move through it. Our own computing technology is a microcosm of God's computer, with the dawn of quantum computing on the horizon, a new era of hybrid life will begin, which will aid the manufacture of genetic alloys, with a goal to further explore the cosmos and achieve invincibility. In our lifetime, we have witnessed the dissolution of faith and religion through all areas of media, which I suspect has been encouraged to gain ground in intensely ethical debates such as the use of stem cells in scientific development. Surely we will enter a new golden age of discovery, but under the terms of the one who proclaims himself to be god, a professor of skullduggery, war and destabilisation, no doubt under an oath of hypocrisy, a knight of the fragmented order; The fat fucking controller. This being said, the puppeteers of the new world have geared everything the average citizen interacts with towards the gratuity of base desires, locking us in sex cells, the youth in its entirety is hopped up on carnality and death, becoming deeply disembodied from the morality of my own youth, where respect meant more than parasitic people glazing over the sound of your heart in a survival of the wealthiest. Floating darkly under a spell, harnessing a leash on everyone they meet until the time is right to suck out all the energy from them to replenish their own in vitro ego. The globalisation of this succubus media puts wary distance between us and the top. It's aim on one hand to equalize the opinions and moralities of the majority and sell life back to us as a no strings attached (NSA)experience "you only live once" so act on your demons, you owe it to yourself, no one else will help you. Get over it, grow up, deal with the pain that engulfs your personal but collective dystopia, everyone has problems. These are the kinds of expressions fed to us as the profitable easy option. Shamelessly, corporations pray on the rationale of the desperate and nurture our gut reactions. Using probability to mould our thought patterns, which ultimately have become increasingly similar over time, due to conditioning. Legion takes hold as mind control is spun as a spiritual blessing. A facade awakening of clairvoyance, that makes every effort to reject radical thinkers from its globular fold, stripping naked the virtual i.d which ticks over of its own accord, making itself known unto the least areas of activity, a public receipt of your mental turmoil. The frustrating thing is that most people are completely apathetic and deny any manipulation is going on, just bending over and accepting it as the scale of the operation bears down on us all, oppressing society like a hulk. The wolf at the door comes knocking on your inbox, It's "all the better to constrain you with". Subtle changes made over the course of your timeline, again the profound effect of conditioning. Something that nobody wants, gradually forced upon us, until it becomes normality. I think it is safe to say that a lot of people are fed up with the inadequacies of a farcical parliamentary system whose members only favour their relationship with those that can win them greater power, but totally fail to meet the complex demands of an educated sector of free thinkers who do not require total transparency to see the burgeoning subtext of our time. The glass is full and we are the overspill. These people will topple the pyramidal hierarchy. An occlusion half in the light, as the sweet procession continues behind the blinds. Intelligence is something that lives in the laboratories of the space age, taking human eyes off the world and installing orbital lenses, the pentagram above us comes in the guise of emerging economic powers that have finally made up time with monopolists. The ones who have been dictating to us under an arc of conflict for decades. I have phased through the turbulence of understanding and created my own peacetime. Even though I am beaten down every day by the knowledge of how ultimately corrupted this world has become. I will bring about the destruction of the corruptors. I hate them beyond words. In all my verbosity, there are no words that could describe my loathing for the evil greed and selfishness which scoffs at any remote benevolence that may occur and has no appreciation for humanity. Despite this, i am resolute and my confidence continues to grow, as does the flame inside me and my spirit man, who radiates out from me, like a tesseract about 50 feet high, made of white light. My wings are beginning to stretch beyond the narrow minded theorems of science, unrefined, the attuned chaos of my thought stream, Jung's pool, the river Styx, the fountain of life, which irrigates and nourishes my physical self whilst trespassing through the vats of laboratory grown abominations and all manner of demi-creation the continuation of veiled greed, now silenced doubt has since been forgotten. Calling upon martyrs and saints, they will rally with me against the face of the evil beast, and we shall overcome it, tethering it down to the bottom of the abyss forever. The correlation of all unlinked thought processes is now becoming clear, thinking with increased clarity and swiftness, gifted with extra sensory perception, a far sighted reconnaissance with my surroundings coming into focus. The delayed exit of a fashionable fatality, the occult etymology of which should be banished and sealed away with subsidiaries of the meaning. Cast off your shackles, ask yourself is this all that there is, the bleeding edge runs across the tracks of exploration. Social engineers employed to maintain peace, shape shifting circuitry multifunctional arrays, concealed aerials. Placed personas, yes, pawn characters are moved about, mystery men from the madhouse given an out from the ghouls underneath. From the guilds that gather in secret at the dead of night. Collecting day to day data from the evil eye.
Woe unto the devils of history, who falsely profiteer from the spilt blood of many, crushing the free will of the individual with all their might, wringing every last penny out with great pleasure in a constant orgasm of greed and gluttony. Well I shall eat drink and be merry far away from these inbred executors, the purity of their bloodlines shall perish and the truth will prevail. I can say this with certainty . This is my life, my society, my world, my existence. I am not a slave to the rhythm of the corporate militia, I dance to my own music, my soul screams out for truth, love and freedom forging ideas out of naught but energy and insight, i indulge in observation, which is my gift. People say I am and unaware of my own actions, and perhaps i do on occasions overlook physical matters. I am probably looking deeper into the finer details as i always do. I have seen things of so much depth and detail, visitors, guides, angels and demons. the fingers of the saints on the blotting paper of neo antiquity. Falsified maps and processes, things are taught as unbreakable fact but a full reversal of corruption will reveal the truth behind an almost impenetrable doorway which can only be kicked open by the divine boot of consciousness. A breakthrough of illogic to return to the fountain of life, restoring the eternal. Have we been witnessing the fulfillment of an ancient orchestrated prophecy between Caesar and pharaoh?, a timed treaty of forbidden knowledge. The manuscripts of all creation locked away in the ark of the covenant, immortal seeds which have endured genesis for aeons, metallic oxygen particles passing on the idiocy of espionage, remote control within the living space, under your skin. Diminishing rights, a tightening grip around the throats of outspoken rebellion, constant obstacles of transaction making it harder to communicate without a device, no more locality, no more physicality, trapping the souls of the dead to turn a profit, synthetically oscillating the wavelengths of mental processes, brain buzzing, vibrating with whole songs formed of buzz words. I have felt the effects, a directed pulse becoming stronger. Maybe I have already been implanted. We are the receivers but we can reverse it. Mail bombing the subconscious with weighty pages of spam effectively acting as a curse of burden and distraction, miniscule alterations to your thinking that switch you from zero to one. The walls have eyes and ears which I rebuke right now to all those in the vicinity of this being read. You shall have a light step, your mind shall be an open pasture, with a seal to protect you from any tampering from outside sources. I siphon all the power contained within the body of malicious spirits away from this place to be purified zutto and forever. Do not mess with my head, do not mess with my genes, let my people go free from this generational experiment, what we consume should be governed locally. This era is still in a limbo state of war and we are all the slaves of war. Interactions between others increasingly becoming like advertisements. Using emoticons as gestures in speech. Some people are fully in the thrall of seeded language a potent mixture of frequency waves, repetition and acceptance. Encouraging pointless activity of no real worth, micro-influencers claimed into the fold of populous media, neither here nor there, baying at the doors of the devils empire, for the beast to throw them a bone to sell. Outright damnation, working even in our leisure time to promote the unnecessary material used to satiate us. We are what we eat, genetically modified to become more subservient. By the addition of pinpointed genes and proteins to our foodstuff, the possibilities are disturbing. Present day discoveries of the brains core processes, memory functions, emotional responses could all be harnessed for unimaginable control. Human mouthpieces, mutations, zombies. The age of the slave is being forged by the ones that call themselves the master race, kicking up the old earth, virgin ecosystems replete, like hairs on my skin, those obstinate birds of blackmail, replacing the omnipresence and fractal nature of the sphere, that avoids tessellation. I lost myself in the environs of sheol, clad in golden armour, i reached out with my message, a scroll to myself, or to anyone who would hear me, hexagonal sapphires skimmed across the fabric of time, self propulsion to a location known and unknown, vibrations of higher and lower frequencies flowing in subspace encouraging all forms of peace and rending the veil of secrecy in two. The wool has been pulled over our eyes, completely blinded from the truth with barriers, limitations, decrease in freedom of movement, obstacles, walls, mirrors, distortions, alterations, book burning, library burning, desecration of holy places, invasion of privacy. The one we are blind to, has all eyes on us, routing all power and knowledge to one, and hiding it from all, which is a wholly futile endeavor. Predicting trajectories, eliminating targets, but unable to hide clues in the path of the new breed of wise men, who completely abhor the corruption of the modern day world calculating on the fly, that which has been infected with this anti-human scourge. I received offers in the aether from the path of Hermes, but knowledge of dealings with his contemporaries, leads me away from whatever force led me to the name. I am aware of the knowledge, but store it as a piece in a much more grandiose puzzle. Possession of receptive materials, dark plans to vanquish the spirit of young blood for the succession of beauty in their precious indigo estuaries, tooth and claw. Perhaps our observations are skewed, our spherical atmosphere here on Earth, is like a protective bubble, which has shielded us from the oppressive void of space, a nothingness almost designed so we could not venture there. Is space a form of fluid? Are we the drops of oil in a vial of water so to speak? The stars and planets, reference points, tantalising glimpses of the higher dimension, which has been drowned in space. black holes attempt to drain it away. Is space the veil that was torn in two, behind which, is the truth? Did life giving atmosphere once pervade this universe, before outer space was added and obscured the true nature of life from us?, like a filter placed over the realm of the angels, something that was designed to hinder us. So we are, for now trapped in a cosmic bubble. Perhaps the "world" once was perceived to be flat as we were on one side of an extra dimensional sphere but now we can only interact with a small segment of that plane, due to the oppression of space. How would we develop on a plane of limitless inhabitable space?
The Angel's arrival was abrupt and slightly abrasive like sandpaper. A plume of bone dust spread out. it landed with a muffled thud on the ancient sanctuary floor. A deep red lantern lit high above me, from where the creature fell, gave me a sense of protection. Feathered skin, it's wings almost metallic, shone with an opalescent refraction of light which audibly ringed around it. Everything was still.
Trying not to meet it's gaze, between glances I took in it's appearance. It's face was like a wooden mask soaked in a strange amber oil the consistency of molasses. Pupils of pure empathetic fire languished in the glimmering dark recesses which were it's eyes; they occasionally lapped against the rim of it's face like waves slowly crashing against a desolate coastline. I stepped forward greet it and to ask it's name, " Excus - - " my hand reached out...
It moved quickly and heavily on it's wings towards an arched stone cavern before I could utter the words, the high pitch noise of light shifted and altered as it moved. It seemed as though the room were saturated in it, and the presence of life was a disturbance. I was in a bubble of perfection, a place opposed to what I was used to, everything seemed backward but the Angel's presence somehow gave me clarity and understanding of my surroundings. Making sense of a new environment was not something I had truly done since the early days after my birth. Had I been born again, retaining the mind of my previous incarnation? Was it the conscious attempt I had made at re-aligning my neural pathways for optimization, back on the XY Branch space station? Whatever had happened, I was still fully self aware, and was able to log and relay cerebral data to some form of node, albeit a slightly turbulent experience causing me some nausea. The interference readings suggested I was in a location close to the beginning of time, or the 'edge' of the universe, decelerating rapidly
Removed all impurities from planet so it is perfectly spherical like Zen garden. Mother is buried in the earth and attached to child who sits on the surface
A literary cascade of insoluble vocabulary, a festival of blue skull indigestion, antithesis of reason, if the sustenance in your news feed was poisonous would you still consume it, please sir can I have some more room to breathe, space to form my own opinions before you force feed me bite size packets of foul smelling data, excuse me waiter, could I have the menu screen, please wipe that thought from the catalogue pumped applause through the aorta like fluid thicker than water , an unrefined procession performed by the seven mystic daughters, gun drawing law enforcement an order to the baton twirling in the basement, muted sutures neatly round God's supernatural fabrics, two books made one down the text aisles, rest up in the crows nest of the flag ship, a slug of non regional courage to battle through the rest of it, get up from your deck chair, face the demons spawning from the subjugation of inflated powers, clawing out from the forest shrines, salvation before salvation, were the dead subject to hel, until the saviour arrived, European kings deceived by the temptation of the serpent, reigning back the artisan treachery to before the bondage of law. The princess diadem, six feet under hand and foot, a twist of the tongue to keep you in check, until you make your movement unquantified in the off-beat masonic board game, backing the king into a corner until he is fully subjected to your will. Regency, a chequered space immemorial stretching past the zenith of the sky. An unattended trove of palm and lichen for hunters. Memoires recovered from the brink of eradication in the foundations of the aqueduct, those longstanding heralds I have seen many times, the unearthing of places I visited to talk to the spirits, it is almost like I am moving in all of time, an immersion between mind and space that enables the full facilities of omnipresence, low cost, light and fast space scouts controlled with man at the helm, via a three-sixty degree camera, a perfect application to the future pioneers of virtual reality. Streaming at high resolution, the living water of nature pouring out of me, never a drought in the mind of infra-spectral light. The sense of life diminishes as we perceive ourselves to age. The most vulnerable and intimate human moments that we experience, deeper levels of understanding. Placing ourselves in the origins of history, a glyphic decoration lining the walls of the soul, transcendent flesh by our own selves rather than the artificial hearts pulsing with rhythms. We are no longer top in the food chain, as we are consumed by the dark lords, our individual parts siphoned into our successors.
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