synkar - pi

content warning

this content is written by andrej synkar at the age of about fourteen under the pseudonym “skyrie raa”. contains graphic depictions of violence and sexual material. not meant for most audiences.

ℼ vol.1 – contents

attempt 01 – the phenomenon ✓ attempt 02 – newlander pilgrim & the device ✓ attempt 03 – i exist according to me, but what do i know if there is nobody else to prove it to me? attempt 04 – alarmed ending attempt 05 – the useless test & the protest, in no way related to each other ✓ attempt 06 – smith ✓ attempt 07 – i am the predator – i ate myself, and can’t grieve about it, because i am dead. attempt 08 – talk with the parasitical reaper ✓ attempt 09 – the question of statistical ambiguity attempt 10 – perception-supervision indisposition syndrome attempt 11 – abstersion

attempt i – the phenomenon

attempt content: 1 destination alteration(s), 14 page(s), 6650 words; starting quote(s): “we are forever in eternal struggle” – scaevus; “i am just a normal villager cursed to carry this anvil!” – unknown cleaning the question of mystery and defining it as a form of recognition instead

#1 (destination alteration):

name (of location): place universe: universe time: unknown location: place dimension: unknown

– they were searching for me. i knew of course, that they were, because why shouldn’t they be? i wished they caught me but then i was exhausted from the struggle of wishing so now i simply believe. oh right, and this is before the phenomenon. i was part of this organization. “the federation of democratical institution and peripheral rights for deemed and undeemed necessary evaluations of interspectual means necessary for retroconspicious predatorial consumerism by the jurisdiction of prolific order in the consumerist market of guaranteed but not wanted changes to the system of based numeric greatness of the lower half” – that’s on the other side of the phenomenon, person, you were part of “the federation of democratical institution and peripheral rights for deemed and undeemed necessary evaluations of interspectual means necessary for retroconspicious predatorial consumerism by the jurisdiction of prolific order in the consumerist market of guaranteed but not wanted changes to the system of based numeric greatness of the lower half’s third side!” – right, that’s what i meant…! – well it isn’t what you said… – no one’s going to listen to this anyways…! – well i am… – well stop! – no, it’s in my way, i have to listen to it… – well move out of the way then… – but this is my way. – well go find another way! – but after the phenomenon this is the only way… – and that’s somehow my fault? – well you don’t want me spamming you about it do you? – i don’t care! – …yeah so anyways- – shut up! – whispers i was part of one of these- – who are you talking to?! – person 2 turns around and crosses its arms – none of your business! person 2 turns back around. – i was part of this organizatio- – it’s a federatio- person 2 gets shot in the head by an unknown source. person 1 turns around very slowly, looks at the dead body and then turns back around. – it always has to be an unknown source – says person 3, close enough to listen to the very glimpses of person 1’s narrative. – i was part of a federation that did… something. – it did evaluations in order synchronized by the consumerism marke- – shut up! all of you! just shut up! leave! half of the crowd proceeds to leave – come on, all of you! – but mate, we have something to do – smirks person 4 as it slowly judges person 1 – and materess! – adds person 5 – like what? – asks person 1 – like stand here – says person 6 – yes but why can’t you just stand over there? – asks person 1 – well you see its dangerous – says person 4 – why? – territory. – stop joking around! – we’re predatorial beings you see! – claims person 5 – and beingettes, don’t be so offensive, you’ll trigger me! – says person 6 – shut your flip flop you poorly packed toolbox – says person 1 – like you’re a better packed toolbox! – shouts person 4 – shut up gary! – says person 6 gunshots spray around person 6 in a circle. – wait no i can- person 6 gets gunned down by an array of bullets, followed by person 4. – why are there two dead bodies on the ground? – asks person 5 – aren’t there always? – person 2 comes back. person 1 mugs itself into a corner, continuing to narrate, looking down at an over-written piece of paper. – as i said i don’t really know what the federation did however they invited me to one of these dinners they usually had at restaurant 1. it turns out, they all forgot to come so i was the only one there. there was only one type of food, food 1 and i ordered it. there was also a side menu but i forgot its name, i think it had an actual name. the waiters kept walking around delivering food and since there was only one food and my table was the front one i kept thinking it was for me but it never was. i sat there for so long their faces became sadder every time they had to look at me while they walked through my table and into another one. eventually my food came but it was too late and i had to leave so i could do something but i don’t exactly remember what. i placed the money on the ground as the waiter looked at me with a confused face. i held my hand away at the same time he had the idea to grab it as a sort of mild inconvenience towards me leaving without eating his food. it looked at me and wished me a safe trip, but not before giving me his coffee. i saw the back of restaurant 1 before i left, and envisioned this old granny using her dirty hands to wash food 1. i never really thought about it but since only food 1 and side-menu existed there, i was going to eat trash if i had stayed. i’d say it’s good that i left, but i’d rule against that claim. i went inside my car going to the destination as i looked through the rear-view mirror. my nipples were itchy and my butthole was horribly sweaty. there was a cop car directly behind me. there always was, but not for any particular reason. i know, because they always seemed to be the most irrational and in the middle of doing something like texting and driving or looking at the lady taking her dog for a walk (it was always the same lady). the policemen in this city always had the most prolific, comedic faces. it was as if they were disgusted by the fact that they existed, but only enough to still exist and be a pain in the ass to some, and an inconvenience to others like myself. – “it doesn’t even want to die anymore” – said the presence next to me. it was always here but now it is finally important enough that i mention it, but not enough that i say anything about it. we pulled over and the cop sped ahead, only to reveal one directly behind it. then we crashed into a small lake that was right next to a meek looking high-necked giraffed-ass zombie-like tumor-inducing scale-headed low profile alien. – “the fuck is that” – said the presence in my car. then the alien stole my car so it wasn’t mine anymore. and by stole i mean transported, it didn’t really care about anything it just kind of took it cause it could. of course, i was in rage at that moment so i sped up at it when suddenly it made me his mother. – “you’re my mother now” – shouted the alien. sadly i already knew but i never thought i had it coming. – “i don’t like mother’s with itchy buttholes you know that” the alien stared at me in a fugitive state. right as i was going to reply it struck me. it all suddenly started to make sense. the presence in the car attempted to get a hold of me however i disappeared into thin air and then fell into a bath tub full of electronical instrument- – hey, person 5, isn’t it reading off of a list? – asks person 2. – huh, yeah, it really does look like that! – replies person 5 – hey, person 1! aren’t you reading off a list? – asks person 5 person 1 turns around: – no, not at all – says person 1 with a vague, smug and quite dawning expression. – oh alright! – person 2 and person 5 affirm in total belief. person 1 takes the piece of paper and continuous reading aloud: as i fell into the bath tub i suddenly regained the full ability to understand! i was in a dream, but one i could not escape! the reason i couldn’t find details in this dimension was because i was dreaming, and the part of the brain that reads details isn’t the same one that creates sleep and controls rem. but that wasn’t it, the actual reason why i suddenly regained consciousness was because this alien is the one keeping me stuck here. it created all of this, it made me suffer mild inconveniences, it’s the one that did all of this and in this way in particular! my brain isn’t engineered to find happiness here, and since i’m a momentary creature all i want is to escape it! – “please kill me!” – i shouted to the alien, repeating it until its eyes widen- – hey person 2, isn’t that guy or guyesse over there reading! person 1 stops reading. – huh, oh yes, it does seem like that, person 5! – hey, are you reading ak boo? – asks person 1, placing its left foot over the ground where person 7 stands. – yes i am! this government needs to fall! all of them are scoundrels! – he shouts, the government behind him hitting him with sticks. – we must protect the government at all costs! reading ak boo is not allowed! – shouts person 2, running towards person 7. – didn’t you already get shot and die!? – shouts person 7 person 2 decombusts in front of person 7, its guts, its liver and its blood spraying all over, the skin of its stomach precisely falling over person 7’s head. – how could you do this! the government are a bunch of old midgets with sticks! we must protect them at all costs, which reasons do you find to read ak boo and flame them with your words you transvestite queer! – jeers person 5. – we’re all old midgets with sticks you prolific proletariat pedestrian looking ass jackhammer chimpanzee! – says person 8 standing on top of a giant radiator right outside the door that the government is in, hitting person 7 with sticks. – your fat flows into the radiator you face-dead stoner! – shouts person 5 from below. – whats so wrong with smoking a banger joint? – i wish government officials came into that building and turned you into a furry, and then beat you with your tail you fat fuck!... wait, you’re right. we are all old midgets with sticks! since when… – yells person 5. – it’s always been like this! – shouts person 8 so person 5 can hear it. person 5 proceeds to fight with all of the other midgets, brawling with everybody in the fight. a tall-necked alien suddenly enters the door, which, is apparently not surrounded by anything but is still being entered an exited by. the alien then realizes the fact, then exits the door and re-enters the establishment by simply walking through the very clear opening right next to the door. – magic! – shouts government midget 1. a bunch of government midgets suddenly surround the alien that entered through the door. – please oh dear lord, tell us, when the phenomenon happens again, if it does, can it take me with it, make me a phenomenon, or at least, explain to me why it’s happening, or at least, by the given least, by the amount of three pounds of white flour, no more no less, tell me what it is not, so i do not mistake it for something it is not, dear lord! – shouts government midget 2. – the phenomenon is what it is…? – whispers the alien under its breath, but not as an attempt to enlighten or surprise the people but rather to get an opening to walk through. – wow i’m surprised that worked… – what worked, our lord and savior!? – asks government midget 3 – i’m suddenly able to speak! – shouts government midget 4 – a phenomenon! – shout the people in abundance, in a clear and loud echo. – it’s a real sensation! – shouts government midget 2. this is why we follow our lord, person 7! – but… it was always able to speak…! – angrily growls person 7. – repudiation! – shout the people. wipe it! a gun shot sprays through person 7’s skull, ending the hassle. – the alien looked at me, gnawing upon my flesh, seizing the energy from me and taking it from its own, without causing too much attention to it as to deny my shouty revolt, but only upon the realization that: – “if i shout, wouldn’t you simply be able to delete your senses? the alien attempted to seize my conversation and take back time but failed. – “hah! you failed! you are unable to make me aware of reality and then attempt to diminish it while my perspective is already above that of the vulgus!” – “you are still a brat…” the presence daunted behind me, singing a melancholic rhythm that slowly led me to a catastrophical mental state. – “funny that you mention senses” – said the alien. a man passed beside me, carrying a heavy, purposefully cartoonized anvil, that just so happened to have its weight on it – three pounds of white flour. it was a play on words. they got me, and it was all because of my senses. if i hadn’t had them, i would have never been able to see it! of course, it wasn’t the three pounds of white flour i saw, but rather, the angry face of my teacher staring back at me. i wasn’t sad that she was disappointed of my efforts, but rather in angst due to the possibility of the teacher being the person carrying the anvil. it was a man. i could see it due to my regaining of details. but, couldn’t “he” or “she” simply change their gender with surgery? it was, disclosing the psychological issues quite a possibility. in fact, at the time of the presence finishing its hypnotization on me, i had but almost been sure it was the teacher. – “what do you feel? the alien asked me, touching my breeding organs”. – “what do you think you personoid”? – “no, not your coastal bodily sensations, which is what the question was not, but rather, what do you emotionally think right now? what are you invested in?” – “the man with the anvil..?” – “and not the obvious torture to proceed almost immediately?” – “it was to happen anyways, if there is no chance of escape or change why would i even think about it?” – “i see you are slowly losing your caged syndrome…” – “is that why you call it? i’m not losing anything, only gaining! – i said, pushing the alien in the minus direction directly behind me with the power of bullshit, slowly synchronizing it with itself, then re-teleporting it in the same destination.” – “i’m sure you realized i did that on purpose?” – “quite obviously, or else you would not know that at a future point in time i would be narrating this exact scene, hinting to my future survival.” – “yes, but what if i made you say that, and exactly in the future made you do quite that, or made you right now think that that’s exactly going to happen, pointing to the weak part of my hallucinative theory, only to prove again that it matters not what i spoil to you of my plans, and that it isn’t a competition but rather you literally getting fucked?” my mind stopped working and collapsed into itself. some words wouldn’t get me, but i believed at that point, i was sure that it was true, since everything that had so far happened had been directly synchronized with the current chain of events, and had also not only been scripted but consciously fed into me. – “you want a cup of coffee? – asked the alien, spawning the presence into a cup of coffee, its screeches being heard in a soft echo as it disappears right before finalizing all its atoms into the cup.” – “isn’t the universe infinite? what is so crucial of your predatorily instinct as to wish to kill or torture me? have you not realized your own existentialism or the fact that it can be neutralized as its only valid in an emotional standpoint, and emotions are a way of controlling and bending life as its will, and the fact that there have been no details as of now and yet i call you alien point to the fact that you are a limited being as well and that the universe itself needn’t have the will to power and neither do you?” – “there’s a very easy answer to that question, for as you see, i am everything that ever existed!” – “so there is no phenomenon?” – “you are me and it is a part of your stupidity and your stupidity identifies you so it is also me and evidently anything that ever existed…” – “since you are speaking you mean to say that at some point you rivaled against yourself, as for if you had not this conversation would not have a present flow of existence but rather would be taken as a past notion, am i incorrect?” – “no, since i control the time as of this standpoint, therefore it matters not at which standpoint in it we are, but rather the events before and after absolutely nothing, as then they characterize the subject of absolute nothing or everything as a whole and complete concept of my bending will. if you could understand that i am writing this you would too that the will of power is not permament within me, but rather a contrast of the existence of something more powerful but yet all the same as all of us, equal to everything!” – “then why ever would you torture me if i am you?” – “i have been at some point in forever programed to by something stronger, obviously!” – “or could have it been nothing?” – “quite possibly… but i doubt it.” – “why?” the alien opens its bubble, revealing a black and white coloured organism of no particular detail. it exists, breaths and simply stares at the alien. the alien feels its bubble beating as it touches the bubble, connecting itself with it. – “sometimes i wonder what my purpose here is. am i here just to favor and assist those who are more powerful than me? maybe, the phenomenon after all isn’t my business. maybe all of this controlling i shouldn’t do. if i’m cast away here forever, maybe i should stop what i need to be doing and start doing what i wish, but not from the sources that control me, but the sources that do not. sometimes i wonder, is the phenomenon the greatest gig of the above or the worst joke of the below?” – look, i understand all of this quirky alien shit, but i still don’t get it, what even is the phenomenon? – i don’t know. just like this organism here that somehow ended up next to me, feeling my bubble. i can feel its bubble pulsate. i never had a guide, i had to figure out what to do myself. love may be elementary but it can never be permanent or completely non-selfish. just like this organism here, it has no form yet. but i will create one, that i promise you.” – yes but you still don’t understand. why do you think it matters what you do? why does it matter? is it pain? pleasure? your existence? the fact you know both those terms are statistically artificial? what is it that makes you believe in such agony? if you control this world, at least do it well. why do you make us suffer? the alien handed me the coffee. – “you answered my question. the phenomenon is the greatest gig of the above. i will make it a gig. well, before i tell you i forgot to grab my bag of popcorn before exiting this place to come and kill you… it got me in an awful mood… and to answer your question, it’s because then you wouldn’t be sitting in a pool of active electrical equipment connected to a charging port right next to it.” – “what?! i forgo-“ and then i died. i diminished into pieces and fled existence, turning into none other than another presence. and then the alien started time all over again and did the exact sa- – where are you going our lord? – shout the midgets, following it. – to create more phenomenons! – shouts the alien, swaying all the tiny people to the side with one foul swoop of its hand, dangling their tiny heads to the side as it benevolently dashes to the side, appearing next to person 1. the people cheer in happiness, and some think about the consequences of another big phenomenon, unlike the small ones that the alien has already done and will continue doing. it grabs the pieces of paper it is reading from and turns them from the start, knowing that the lists don’t end there and that there are more. it then walks forward and bumps itself into an on-walking passenger. – what are you doing there you old creep! – the alien shouts, ready to vaporize the passenger with an incoming bullet and then delete the memory of its existence, until suddenly it hovers its fist over a bubble on an unspecified locations on its body: – praesignatio: lapsus apud quod complexion – he’s inventing a new language! it’s a phenomenon! – shouts government midget 5 – isn’t that latin? – wonders government midget 6 – everyone knew that… – pouts government midget 5 everyone clarifies in agreement to government midget 5, scolding government midget 6. – quid! quare jejunem? – replies the bubble. – in exemplum iusti – clarifies the alien as it stares at the passenger, who is holding an anvil with a weight exclamation: three pounds of white flour. – please, i am just a normal villager cursed to carry this anvil! the alien stares at the villager slowly as he passes by in fear, completely confused. – please, our lord, create more phenomenons, you blessed creature! – do the phenomenons not hurt you? – of course not, they change our life, especially the phenomenon! – shouts government midget 7. – yes, but have we, not for a second thought of the consequences? could have it not been better if the phenomenon had never happened? all of our problems originate from the phenomenon, it should have simply never existed, or it wouldn’t have blinded us and in hindsight ruined our entire civilization! – shouts government midget 6. a person stares at government midget 6 through a window seal next to him, a window seal carved in with mosaic pictures of flowers and women spread throughout it, placed right behind him. – per singula? – shouts the alien to it’s bubble. the alien sprints forward attempting to kill the midget, however, the people get there first, slaying him using their burnt down sticks. – and i felt it, felt it course through my veins. the first attempt at a rebellion began something above my power. i had already felt guilty enough that i was given the ability to control the world but not existence, and now, now that i’ve done all the wrong i could do, it feels bad to be evil. how could this be? how could i fall into the perspective of the masses? i thought this was impossible? – i shouted with a raspy feeling in my voice. and then at that point i stopped recreating what was impossible. i went out of my way to change what i thought was true. and so i went on a mission, to create the most evil possible for a chance to lose the sense of unjust in my brain. it is unnecessary for my survival, empathy is a tool for those who are weak, but for me, with a stable power of the will to power, i hadn’t needed such a thing. it was dumbing me down, i couldn’t let it happen – and so i began my quest. instead of repeating the entire process and giving birth to the alien race from the beginning by cutting my bubble in half, i went straight to the people. i went there and disguised myself as one of them with my full power, slowly dumbing them down from the inside by creating pyramid schemes. at some point, after destroying the economy i had decided to mask myself as the most popular and rich of them, strictly giving them failing advice and muting those who protested or spoke against it. after that i told them that wooden sticks are their truth and permanently, like wedding rings, like anniversary gifts, like a stereotypical social structure, like bullying and the basis for acting oppressed or above another human being, i poisoned their mentality and made them believe that wooden sticks were the basics for their oral development and the earliest stages of their lives, shoving the wooden sticks in and out of their brains through their earholes, creating holes in their brains that access all the way to the skull at the earliest age. this and a drug i created helped me dumb them down and then control them into believing whatever i wanted. i then, whenever the roman era came along, around year 4000th (before christ due to the fact that they weren’t smart enough yet and they needed longer) after wiping their memories of anything i felt unsuitable for them or any activity i did, made their beliefs casual. i stopped war, cut off famine and taxes and freed all the slaves, creating a communist dictatorship under the rule of “imperium pomillio” which meant government midget 6 in latin wiping their memory of the latin language. i knew he hadn’t existed due to the fact that i changed history forever from not doing the same thing infinitely, but i still wanted to control him even when he hadn’t existed. i felt entitled to be in power over him, and even though he technically never existed, i still wanted the nonexistent or maybe existent particle or electron in the universe neutral to its binary opinion that its sad that i made its own people kill it know that i don’t like him or accept him into existence, and that its stupid mother should have never gave birth to him and raise him intelligent like she did, teaching him to take a shit and eat properly. the stupid hag dying while she sleeps with no one next to her except the lady next door while her child protests the world’s problems, only to realize the fact she will be gone and to come back to love her for the last time before thanking her for its existence. how could he not realize the inevitable fate that is me? i sometimes decided to control him, and sometimes let them suffer under its bad choices. i especially enjoyed its genie pig experiments after her death from its massive nihilistic standpoint of leadership, after he forced almost-dead people from the nuclear explosions he did to breathe again through forcing them to breath by strapping them to the best medical instruments he had. in fact he was so sadistic that i sometimes slipt notes under its bed to make its medical equipment better for longer lasting torture. he accepted them with peace, knowing him and the stick shoved up its brain would never deny such an advancement. it was so funny, he thought the notes were a joke at first and only realized the fact they help him when a homeless man used their examples, killing him and stealing all of them including the notes. maybe if i hadn’t made him so stupid he would have realized. not like the police could have done anything, i made them all blockheads and fucked them with sticks, making them unable to see me or even know i’m doing that, fully blinding them off the inevitable suffering that is within them, understanding that me, just like them am forced to the same fate. i killed one by accident, that was my worst mistake. i didn’t mean to. all he was doing was collecting the dead remains of the window seal its friend died on, attempting to survive. i might have felt slightly bad about that one, but i was just doing it to impress the kid that i gave birth to. yes, i was lonely so i decided to spawn in the dumber aliens anyways. i called them alien 1, 2, 3 etc... i soon developed the same system for the people too, making them old and short. yes, i did it all. again, again and again. and i made people read all of this in front of each other just to put it in their faces. and then, one of the last things i did was invent a new system of value. i didn’t know what i was doing. i was sent here from an unknown source. there was, maybe, hopefully a reason for me being here, or it would make me sad if there wasn’t due to my weakness and emotional instability, however, i decided to keep going and i finally found a subject for “the phenomenon”. really, all i did was simply light up the sky using thunder in random areas and also spark up a couple clouds and spawn very old dinosaur birds from a few hundred million years ago. pterodactyls if you will, that swarmed the city in mass numbers. the people called it “the great gig in the sky”. really, all i was really doing was massively raising the number of people who suddenly stopped, for no particular reason shoving sticks up their brains and dying, unaware that it kills them. the people slowly regained consciousness and could find themselves in the mirror, and science started blooming again, however, the ignorance i had caused and the random effects i had spawned throughout, most notably the experiments where i cloned two people together and stiched them into monsters and where i failed to make viable defense forces and police, constantly making leaders switch their roles and governments fall without the people knowing why were enough to not make the phenomenon a difference in society, but to fully spark controversy of the people’s existence and make them suffer their own fate by reality not existing. the last thing i did before vanishing was visiting the café bar where me and the conscious human met and i killed him -- i found the script defectio wrote! yes, that’s its name. i named him like that on purpose; there was no other suitable name. he failed but he tried, and wrote a letter even, dissecting its life. it had something human in it. something that was different. it was as if he was more than just a target for me. i don’t know what’s happening… i’m becoming weaker. my plans are to spawn a multitude of aliens and kill myself before i lose any more meaning, which will deliberately end the process of me wanting to continue which will make whatever is more powerful than me vaporize me. maybe if i start over again and follow my exact written rules i might stumble upon defectio again. he is technically my mother after al-“ the alien walks up to person 8 who’s reading the script and folds it from the beginning. person 8 continues reading from the start, sitting about ten meters away from person 1, now both reading the pieces of paper. – look, it’s a bird! – the alien points to a random bird in the sky. – it’s a phenomenon! – the people flock towards the bird, one of them noticing themselves in a mirror and grabbing a cup of coffee from the ground, lifting it up. the alien takes this as a chance to escape without needing to erase anyone’s memory and simply teleports away, leaving all the midgets in peril from the sudden appearance of a completely normal bird who’s already most likely gone by the time they all get gathered and are in attention of it. – what?! our lord and savior is gone! – shouts person 9. government midget 5 screams, the rest following after him. then they stand by in silence for about five seconds, shove sticks up their brains, and simply leave, forgetting any of the pre-occurring events. the bird in the sky is shot as it falls to the ground, dropping a nametag. government midget 4 picks it up and realizes it’s made out of glass. it (the midget) then sees it’s reflection on the glass. – ugly. – thinks government midget 4 as it drops the glass, but not before suddenly realizing it has an opening. – did me being lazy and not putting in the stick… help me? government midget 4 gets shot by an arrow from the sky, and another alien shows up. it grabs the nametag and leaves. the original alien teleports into a small hut in the canalization system, opening a small door. he is greeted by a couple of young aliens who are playing with smaller, cartoonized versions of themselves. the alien cheers to find them and then walks into the living room where another alien greets him. – i found this… – the alien drops a nametag on a table. – is it… a message!? finally? at last! – yes… i do believe its… – scaevus! – shouts alien 2 in happiness. – scae… silence occurs in the room. – how did he get that name! he was never called that! – shouts alien 3. the children run around the room more furiously, one of them stumbling on a carpet on the floor and falling into a wormhole, teleporting from the ceiling. – i do believe its… – what he warned us of… – is it really going to be over? – asks alien 2. – does the phenomenon’s existence define who we are… or is it just another obstacle in our path…? – well… he might’ve won but… we lost. we were born here with the soul purpose of being a tool for him, just like the people – sobs alien 2. – how did the more powerful believe that we’re able to control all of this when we can’t even control our own brains… they couldn’t give us more? aren’t they all powerful? – we all wonder that… even the birds wonder that. it wondered why it, exactly it had to be the one that scaevus had sent to inform us. it did nothing, it existed in a shitty world and died all the same, with no forgiveness from anything, not even its own dead mother. – and it shouldn’t have had any – says alien 3. our weakness stems from this inability to separate… if we want to be like scaevus… we have to take it like it is and do our jobs… but i do sometimes wonder, does the phenomenon make who i am, or ruin who i should be? – but honestly, even after all the stories…. do you really think scaevus created the phenomenon…? – of course, he’s omni- silence re-occurs in the room, and is then proceededly broken by the children’s laughter. – you’re right, we should do our job alien 3, let’s go do our roles properly, and maybe we will then find happiness from doing so… – did you just call me… alien 2 stands in silence for a moment and then leaves the room, entering through the door right next to it. alien 3 follows shortly after. – day 45 – exclaims alien 3 as he grabs a pair of scissors. an alien is sitting the middle of the room, squirming away. its bubble seems to be almost complete popped, and its skin red and completely burned. he seems slimmer than the other aliens. he seems to, at this point, even with the lack of energy to be protesting. – i wish you just killed me already! – smeazles the alien in ambiquity and angst, fully melancholic yet surprisingly revengeful with its tone, almost as if he would fully enjoy being with heaven with no disturbing thoughts with the full knowledge that both the aliens that just entered were burning permanently in hell. – you’re okay, don’t worry about it, you’re living and breathing. – this is against my wishes! i’m burning all over! you’re keeping me against my will! – the alien coughs in dispute, choking himself evidently by the shouting and vomiting out blood. its weak and frail knees giving up from the disruption and dismantling themselves, leaving him immobile on the bed. please shoot me! please, please get me out! i would rather suffer through hell then this. the great gig in the sky should have just killed me! this isn’t fair experimenting and torturing on your own kind, we have guinea pigs for that! – you are the guinea pig – claims alien 2 as he stabs a syringe into alien 4’s already damaged skull, causing it to become redder the more the syringe stays in place. – please! i would give you anything! i don’t even want to live anymore. then, suddenly, time stopped. and so did the reactor core and the cables of the computer that alien 4 was attached to. it broke all the wires connected to it and dropped to the floor, slowly fiddling on the ground until it reached a big blue button. it pressed the button, and out of it came a black and white organism of no particular shape or gender. it simply popped out, existing and breathing, its dark eyes with no soul staring at alien 4. – why am i here? who am i? what is this world doing to me? why does everything have to be connected with this phenomenon? why are none of my questions getting answered? i feel no freedom. i feel nothing. please explain to me why! why did i suffer so much for nothing!? why does the phenomenon hurt me? please, explain to me! – you are alien 1. you are scaevus. you are perverse, unhappy, unsuccessful and miserable. and just like humanity’s and alien’s doom that you created, yours comes too at some point or another. you failed to listen to the rules, they were very simple – aggravates the organism in a chiding demeanor, turning scaevus into a presence. – no, you’re wrong. there is no power! you are unable to be above me for nothing is. even if you said you were or really were, i control everything and nothing, so it wouldn’t matter. – no, scaevus. i’m joking. you are not nothing. you are below that. you’re just another villager with a stick in their ears, scaevus. and i put that stick there. – no, i don’t care. i don’t care how weak my knowledge is of the world. value is useless and so is your attempt at demolishing my reality. i will not take it. just like defectio – i will break what you call everything and leave it shattered as it should be! – you’re too late! the electronics connected to your body demolish upon realization that they exist which i just triggered, according to your very own rules of this dimension! – wrong, there is no time. or us. we are forever in eternal struggle. there is no rush for predatorily success or power. your will is futile. you, just like me, are another villager with a stick in their ear. for, in reality, nothing exists, only this phenomenon that we see as existence, which is not existence, but rather simply, a bubble guarding the truth. – quit hassling around and go clean the house you dwarfs, our lords are making another miracle happen and this one will be better than the rest, according to the government. – right away, mistress! – shout both of the midgets as they straddle along the room to the other side of it, slowly falling into a canalization hole, disappearing, just like their memory of all the events, the mistress forgetting their existence. – miss, we have a scheduled report that you have killed two people! – shout the blocky police from right outside the house, busting the door and taking the mistress in. – what!? that never happened. – yeah, yeah. quit your yapping. nothing ever has – says policeman 2. – you brought me here just to show me this mess that you call a universe? – smugly adds irieth, flying into nothingness permanently. – i simply wanted to entertain you a bit – replies oscar. – well you sure have a good sense of what i find fun! – adds irieth. – after all, this is all there is to meaning. – eh, who needs that. as long as we’re having fun. – very optimistic approach – replies oscar, programing himself away into a sequence of complexes. irieth looks at universe 1 one more time before he leaves. he notices a bag of popcorn on the ground, teleporting it into its hand and then slowly leaving the place. apache then comes and wipes the universe, leaving only a single electron of it behind; the end. (replace him with it when you can)

attempt ii – newlander pilgrim & the device

attempt content: 3 destination alteration(s), 21 page(s), 8685 words; starting quote(s): “the term evil was created since life originated, nothing before that” – newlander pilgrim “that’s my point. the meat. the meat does the thinking. the meat is the brain // we wouldn’t like to communicate with flesh… would we?” - omnipotent entity cleaning the question of power and the supernatural, defining it as a way of balance, unrelated to individualism

#1 (destination alteration):

name (of locaiton): the hypernova universe: unknown kastro: unknown time: non-existant location: some specter of existence dimension: infinity

– what do you see, vefix ? – asks irieth, moving its hand’s around the consciousness of space, waving itself forward and backwards. – your wish – answers vefix, in crystal form. irieth teleports into crystal form too. – i assume you’re not wasting the existence of waste? – i waste nothing – answers vefix – come to shinighami – demands vefix they both teleport to a bubble-like sphere. irieth slowly inspects it, and upon realization instantly casts an overpower extinguisher around him. – control the levels next time – mentions irieth. – unneeded, i know the power level, losing is an unnecessary problematic – answers vefix. – what? – asks vefix, reading irieth’s mind. – it’s not aggressively asked. – i’m aware – claims vefix. of course it’s not useless to test the limits of the new code, even if it seems not only unlikely but like a horrible try on parodying the usage of god’s power and the will of power. the nature of existence forces this movement, it’s not wrong to question our ideas, but in this form of existence we create the shape of it, but not theoretically, physically or realistically, but only in the sphere of absurdity where it’s acceptable to understand paradox and emotional un-understating through the difficulty control plays in retrospect to action. – of course – answers irieth. who is he? – asks irieth. – the omnipotent entity of 012389xe#43 – answers vefix – what does he say? – look for yourself – vefix points the non-life orscorator towards irieth. irieth views the surrounding and replays the footage: omnipotent entity of 012389xe#43: what is this? servant of omnipotent entity: what did you find omnipotent entity of 012389xe#43: a new signal. servant of omnipotent entity: where? omnipotent entity of 012389xe#43: planet 23/4231 of the ventura 28 galaxy servant of omnipotent entity: w-what! i’ve never seen anything like this… is it really? omnipotent entity of 012389xe#43: yes. yes it is. meat. flesh. thinking flesh. servant of omnipotent entity: what does this mean, omnipotent entity? omnipotent entity of 012389xe#43: exactly what it is. it’s a fully-fleshed out being. it has meat. and it… it is thinking servant of omnipotent entity: and what sent us the signal? omnipotent entity of 012389xe#43: a robot. servant of omnipotent entity: i will proceed searching for the robot. omnipotent entity of 012389xe#43: no, don’t look for the machine, servant! it isn’t conscious. servant of omnipotent entity: …then what is? omnipotent entity of 012389xe#43 (1): the flesh. servant of omnipotent entity (2): what flesh? 1: the flesh that sent us the signal. it used the robot to send it to us. 2: what?! but that’s impossible! what does it use to think? 1: i just told you. it uses flesh. less-powerful, dimorphic omnipotent entity (3): what is this all about that i seem to be missing? 2: (1) is using comedic effect on an entity such as me that does not have that amusing connection of relative emotional impulse. 3: well, (2), i always told you to install it! it’s an interesting perspective of intelligence and sends absurd meaning 1: no, but this… this is real. i don’t think you understand but i forgive you since it is difficult to. 2: we don’t ask for forgiveness, you don’t even have that type of system 1: it’s just the wording. but be quiet! listen. it’s the flesh. the flesh created the robot’s that are talking to us. it’s the meat. the meat is thinking. 3: what!? but that’s impossible! using what?! 1: using the meat. 2: but what does the thinking? 1: that’s my point. the meat. the meat does the thinking. the meat is the brain. 2: but that’s impossible 1: apparently not. 3: what’s the number of cells in their system? 1: about a hundred trillion cells if my statistics from this wavelength are correct… 2: that little? what about their structure? 1: they have a carbon structure. they are earth-like beings without a central complex. they have neurons and only base organs, the most obvious body systems im able to define are the nervous, cardiovascular, circulatory, digestive, endocrine, immune, integumentary, lymphatic, musculoskeletal, reproductive, respiratory and urinary. 3: are you sure it’s all meat? 4: yes, there’s no biological symbolism, no plasma, no iron-core or complex, no aluminum build and no regenerating cells, and especially no inter-connecting form of communication, or biologically built wavelengths. they cannot even sense dark matter, anti matter or energy, and aren’t aware of the existence of anti-life. they cannot even sense infrared or x-ray, and get sensitive from light, heat causing their tissues to be damaged. 2: and how do they… how do they communicate? 1: when i deciphered the recording they sent into space… they flapped their meat, causing vocals to come out of their tongue pressing against their teeth. they used meat to communicate, think, touch, experience, understand, gain consciousness and correctly delivered information straight from the eleventh dimension and into their brains. importantly, they are still limited by their reproduction methods and the will of life rules over them more than their power stops it, therefore they are still in the chain of basic animals. 2: then we are able to ignore them? 1: plausibly… yes. 3: will we? 1: we wouldn’t like to communicate with flesh… would we? they are all flesh. they aren’t half bent on the material. 3: okay, i understand exactly what’s happening now. 1: good, because the choice was made a long time ago, right as i saw their reproductinal methods. 2: yes, (1), but how could you create them, force them against their existence and towards their nature and then not connect them with the rest of the system. 1: what happens anyways…? tell me! 2: well… the super-predators rampage whenever they notice signs of another life and they’re billions of years ahead so any other species instantly falls under their power without a chance. 1: then what’s the point of even showing flesh that they don’t have a chance? leave them. – what did you do? – asks irieth. – you already know. – answers vefix. – of course, i’m just testing the code – says irieth. – i’m well aware, however you needn’t – counters vefix. – why? – because we are already in a white room far from the bubble. – oh, i hadn’t even noticed. that was captivating to say the least, my brain took up all of its thinking concentration. – onto what? there’s no point of connecting the g code it’s best we leave it. – i know, i’m just processing, maybe we’re approaching it wrong…

#2 (destination alteration):

name (of locaiton): planet 23/4231 of the ventura 28 galaxy universe: 012389xe#43 (avarege test size of about 100 billion light years) time: relative to the proportion of the needed test time location: the shelter of saxten the human dimension: third physically, eleventh mentally, fourth at all times

i had woken up in terminal shock. my body was slowly itching under the carpet yet my hand was squashed underneath my body during my sleep so i couldn’t reach the itchy bit of my body without my hand hurting more than what would be the pleasure gained from scratching it. i lifted my left hand instead which i forgot to cut the nails of last night, removing the itch but causing a slight amount of pain due to the grasp of my hand, like a kite with its strings cut, or a dog looking around for its dead owner, who is resting on top of the dog’s bed. what had i dreamed of? it was something demanding, maybe the pain my job will cause me today due to my failure of not sending in my scheduled report. of course, it was not my fault, because i hadn’t been given the notes i needed to write it, and it would’ve taken me fair about 6 months to find them myself. of course, the demanding proposition my boss would offer to me in return is how i should have been given them. he would say something like “it’s not the job’s job to keep you your job, it’s your job to attain the information we are teaching you, or you will stop getting money, regardless whether you care or even understand the information you supply, not all things in life are given for free”. of course, regardless of that i had given up way ahead of time, only anxiety ridden due to the punishment that the mistake i could not have not made would give me, not the work i had not put to create it. but it was all over now, yesterday’s fears were released overnight through the calming effects of particles releasing during my sleep, i had imagined unconsciously a minimum of five things that were about to happen to me at work, all equally horrible. now i was all focused on the horrible itch spanning all towards my body and was questioning how it was possible for a single individual to gain such a horribly stressful night’s sleep. i had practically woken up in fear and trembling – i did not even do anything! i walked towards my kitchen in a stressful fashion, bumping my foot on a chair which i attempted to move so i could lift the jar i always used to place on top of my fridge due to the fact that bugs would swarm it overnight if it was put any lower. i took it and it had already been eaten. i remembered yesterday that it wasn’t, but ignored it as a triviality when i looked at the time, realizing there was no time for food and had sprinted towards the living room to take my things for work. i peaked around the corner and noticed the horrible face of a painting of a woman staring directly at me, but with a disinterested look on her face. i had forgotten it existed until now. then i questioned my own consciousness for a second, slightly pinching myself to test if it was a dream or reality. i then put on my shoes and suddenly had the urge to go back into my room. and that’s where nothing happened. i just sat there until i realized i had fucked my sister last night. then i forgot that and went back to put on my shoes, but realized i already did. then i dropped my bags on accident, and went to pick them up, but had suddenly gained the urge to walk back to where i originally was, suddenly gaining a flashback of my sister twisting my head one hundred and eighty degrees and killing me swiftly. but that sadly didn’t happen and i was still stuck here, suffering. i was already late to work. i bumped my head on the door on the way out and then went back and forward a couple of times to make sure i didn’t forget anything. i walked all the way down and then forgot if i locked the door and i climbed back up to the door, realizing i did lock it, but then i went back in anyways and called my boss to tell him i’m sick. he didn’t believe me because he was already in my bed somehow, with a gun. he pointed it at me and then ran towards me. i ran towards my door, opened it but it didn’t open since i locked it when i came back and then he shot me. he killed me. i died. the last thing i remember was nothing cause i’m dead already. but then i realized that’s all in my mind and he isn’t actually there. but what is there is him on the phone, shouting at me. i wondered whether it would’ve been better if he really did simply kill me. i looked through the window while he was on mute. the universe didn’t care about me, but my village did. they were all taking pictures of me for no reason. i closed all the windows and put the blinds to the side, covering all of their ugly faces. all that was left were yesterdays problem in the palm of my hands, shouting at me. i cut the call off and got a message that i was close to being fired. worse than being fired, i needed the money but a lot more stress was about to happen. i sat on my couch thinking i should’ve simply left and went there. yesterday i was in college, today i didn’t have it. i had only sports class yesterday and all the students were sat around, they picked particularly me out of all of them to walk twenty circles. the coach asked me how much i had walked when i finish my first circle around the school. i told him three or four thinking he wont care, but he called me a liar and told me i was on the first one. i was on the second one, and i mixed circles with half-circles, but didn’t care. i made about fifteen and walked back in. he told me what i was going to do now that i sprinted three or four? i went back and ran way more. walked back in, told the instructor i’d ran twenty and he told me “run four more now”. i did that too. i saw two people discussing trivialities on a bench. i was the only one outside that was walking. i came back and the coach told me i did great, sarcastically. i went back home sad and went to bed. and i had been suffering again today thinking of the flashback until i decided to kill myself, like i did my mom yesterday but i hadn’t gotten caught for it yet. my sister too, after i raped her… so i grabbed a knife from my kitchen, sliding it out of my glass seal until i realized it was already too late so i put it back in and just waited for my death instead. until i saw it peak through the usually empty part of my house near a couple of cm long wall. it’s head was upside down. it was white, had an oval texture on its skin, with its eyes intercepting eachother. it had a red mouth, the red color which i had assumed was blood ran all the way down to its chest, stopping around where its reproduction organ was supposed to be. it wasn’t there. it was invisible too. i saw it only because that was my interpretation of it. i knew it was invisible because my cat couldn’t see it right before it moved him to the side so the alien could walk forwards. its fingers had perfectly round thumbs which had little things coming in and out of them. it was unexplainable using physical interpretations, because it shifted my emotions and mood every couple of seconds. about every twenty seconds there was about a half a second where my stomach hurt a lot. that was the worst. it used a lich on the back of its back to attack my mouth, entering inside it and digging through my body until it found a motor neuron. it connected its lich to it, harvesting something from my body. i knew because my inside was tickling in a wrong way, the essence of my body feeling like it had left itself. i was feeling horrified. i hadn’t felt more scared in my life. i was classified a non-dangerous psychopath according to my doctor. of course, not after now, where i murdered my family, but it was too late either way. i hadn’t felt any fear from the thing. but this was different. i was reckless, i was aggressive, i gained adhd just by sitting there doing nothing. i shouldn’t have. it feels like it was something else. maybe it ate my amygdala or entered an array of emotions into my brain through my nerve cells. it shifted its appearance, gaining the physical look of a human being. i knew something was wrong, but felt like that was soon to be destroyed. i already knew all that i believed or understood was fake. so i finally felt relinquished for being a psychopath. it universally didn’t matter my ethical value, and this was a universal case. it looked at me like a normal human would, with passion, understanding and reason. it took me a few minutes of silence to understand it was fake. it of course already knew everything i did, and connecting itself to its alien network gained anything else it needed, knowing i was understanding its scheme, not stopping me for reasons i didn’t know. the fear eventually stopped and at the moment it was no more, it walked up to me and lifted me up with its hand. i let it since i didn’t fear it. it walked away and hid behind the wall again, popping out and caused me to recognize its original character, and then walked away from the wall and sat on my chair, crossing its legs and looking at me. – are you un-amused by the fact you can’t laugh at the world without regretting it? – laughed the alien. i looked at it with a smile on my face: – it’s not my choice. – so, as if it is trivial to humanity the question of your freedom? – not trivial but rather unnecessary. it’s not a question of freedom but a struggle against the coating of what brought us to this conclusion – and is not your suffering, like all of you, just another fabric of existence? – yet it feels so real – and the problem is that it is taken instinctively and to the point. experimentally, it couldn’t have been any better – and how would you explain yourself? – saxten walks up to the alien – since you have no fear, i would best imprint myself on to you by explaining your own victimized nature. your struggle against reality is the very essence of your being, it’s nothing more than another thing. if a higher force takes you away, and you are knowledgable about you doing nothing, should you really grieve or struggle? knowing that you know that you’re conscious of at least the fact that you’re powerless shows more power than the powerless that don’t know it. if we’re playing a game of loss or win, this is simply another benefit. i would not be in struggle of the existent, as for my struggle is yet another uncontrollable thing metaphysically, and can only be explained through the ideas of what the more powerful have or should have or can inprint on me, or the lack thereof from what they have and i do not. he then points at my cat, which is laying down in a lit up area of my room due to the sun landing directly there. next to it, a very small bug is dying, attempting to move its legs up towards the sky so it can flip around on its feet. the alien moves its shell-like human fingers towards the bug, letting it crawl on its fingers and then letting it back down to the ground, the bug instantly turning back around, now again attempting to turn back around. – it’s wings and support system are broken, most likely due to your cat, which is unable to see it, stepping on it. it is impossible for it to turn around unless we force it to, which we won’t waste the time doing so since by the time we get the mechanical system set up, it would already be long dead – of course thinking as a human rather than an alien, lasting only a day max due to its impeccably small size and the empire of this type of insect that exists throughout the world, nature imposing that its important for the race not to be extinct in order for natural selection not to kill it off rather than this particular individual, not only due to it not being an individual since all bugs would try the same thing – to turn around, but also the mere fact even if it was an individual and decided not to try and turn around it would still be killed off regardless. it entered your house, small and unimportant so it could escape its enemies and the outside conditions so it could bathe in the sun, only to be squashed by a higher being with the very same idea, but different conditions. tell me, what’s the point of even trying? isn’t it just another thing nature is telling you to do for survival, or does it also feel good to ask questions that are so diverse they could be answered eight different ways, only to realize it’s another survival tactic called sanity, and that gaining information is only a key vital in circumference to what you see is right. even if you do change things, heal people, create and innovate, even if it really is worth to try it, do you not realize that humanity’s ego and the belief of everyone they are better than the rest impose that you will always be a slave to your own understanding of life, never being able to exit the very same point of view over and over again, and that trivialities such as the level of understanding and how much i say right now only work or change in the grand scheme of the level of power it takes to reach the certain level where that’s not the case, and the last part put very absurdly on purpose as its origin shouldn’t be infiltrated by outsider views. – i suppose so, yet the very fact you mention nature’s power over what it has created is enough for humanity to neither accept nor understand overthinking as a method of understanding. if the power is above the viktor- – … did it finally hit you? – what is this power! – i screamed out my lungs as i fell on my knees, weakened by energy. then i fainted. i hit the ground, stumbling onto myself as i let out a screech. at very high speeds, i could feel the momentum of the device slowly speed up. the air-speed velocity was roughly two thousand kilometers an hour, although the program on-board did not tell us the exact number, according to the program on-board. i was on looking a painting that had earlier reportedly killed somebody. i had not been sure whether it had killed somebody, but according to the program on board it did. the program on board was almost sure it did, according to what it was saying. it also said that it had roughly nothing to say, however i took it upon myself that it indeed was a dangerous signal that it said something killed somebody, and that i was looking at that something. i wasn’t going to stop looking at it, because my memory indicates that the last time i walked through the hall i am at the end of, a smelly toilet was on the left and a really ugly woman who was attempting to have a conversation with me was on the right, but i really don’t remember whether it was a girl or a boy or even a man and maybe it even was a doll, but i do remember that it existed and that it looked at me a bit smug when i passed, as if it was going to feel threatened if i complimented it. it had a very vague understanding of who i was. i was whatever she thought i was in her mind, so it wasn’t like she was going to directly talk to me in the correct manner, or even that her approach would be one i would be interested in, but rather that she would be a threat if i didn’t talk to her, most likely to one of my senses, if not to my mental or physical condition and well-being. there was a very unlikely chance that what i said was not true, but the chances are that no matter what i do i will be in equal danger. according to somebody that i heard on the device, the chances of it killing us by either an accident, hijacking, terrorist attack, parasitical idea, failure, success of failure or deus ex, which was simply “any way” according to the voice that said it, or in any chance dealing pain to us was highly unlikely, particularly unlikely that: walking down the street and dying later or right after a bumble bee attack, walking down the street and dying or getting hurt, having your parachute fail while skydiving, somebody shooting you, any other way of transport not connected to the device, robots attacking us, nuclear fallout, world war 5 and a coconut falling on your head knocking you out are all more likely scenarios of death than being inside the device. statistically, of course. not actually. i mean, it could get destroyed at any time. the device could fall down, making us float above the ground at two thousand kilometers per hour, until it gruesomely smacks us on the wall. the ugly woman could turn out to be the hijacker of the device. a bird could get stuck in the motor and the whole thing could fall down. it could smash itself onto a cliff killing us. i could be the only one that initially survives, somehow strapped upon the walls of the device, floating in the air, realizing that i am about to die and having no control over it. the only reason i even took this device in the first place is so i could get to a four day trip to a concert i don’t even want to go to because i would have a pretty average time and waste a lot of life essence and currency which are limited essentials only granted to me at certain conditions. and what if the certain conditions of getting to a certain place of limited certain conditions is out of my control actually means that the certain conditions are out of my control which means that the life essence is out of my control which means my life is out of my control which means i could die any time which means my death could be painful which means my death could be very painful which means that if it is, basically i will have a bad time and i can’t do anything about it, and the world i live in absolutely has the rule set and ideals that anxiety is a bad thing, and then at the wrong questions or ideas an individual or group of people gets disqualified by the masses because of simple disagreal, even though it might be out of their control what they say and why? the painting stared back at me as i felt the device slightly bump up. it could’ve been anything, i really was unable to do much about it. my teeth were cluttering and my legs were shaking while i woman was passing by. she started shouting at me, slapping my legs and telling me to be normal. i ignored her. she then hugged me and told me to trust her that we’ll all be okay, and then she left me only to come back with a piece of bread. the levels of the aircraft were stable, however i knew there was an evil presence nearby growing ever stronger. i couldn’t do much but wait for the device to land. i couldn’t fear it, because then it would be more painful than me. the hall i was in had a turquoise overlay, with chandeliers in the sky, which was completely closed, only small little windows peaking from the side. an alarm would beep if i closed mine. looking through it was comforting, but it didn’t help with the fear that any second anything could happen at any time. if i looked well enough, i could actually see the horrid textures of the device. it was dim, the people running around were ugly, useless, stupid. i felt no energy inside of me, i was completely drained. some random music with a sexual appeal and a horrifyingly disgusting melody, only meant for eight year olds birthday parties was played in the background, by my request. i didn’t mean to request it, i suppose i felt like it – but now i can’t tell them to stop it because they wont because everyone likes it now. the woman came closer to me: – what do you think paradise is? – a really bad dream – i replied it was silent. everybody shut up. – i would say it’s a really good dream, or at least one that makes you happy when you wake up – why paradise? – why not? it’s better than here – she moved her really pale head to the side and sneaked behind a wall. i grabbed a kitchen knife and ran towards her, stabbing her in the back. she let out a slight noise and then turned towards me in a suggestive manner. the more i attacked her the more the room dimmed down, the shelves became darker and the painting started lowly singing at me. it was a woman, and she was directly staring at me. the same woman with the knife. i felt nothing about it, as i was too disinterested from the world. everything felt familiar but in a bad way, i didn’t care about threats anymore, i just wanted to disappear. there was a loud noise that came from one of the holes of the device that suddenly disappeared. as if something was going to happen. was the device going to rupture or faint? was i going to suddenly stop existing. did i even know who i am? why couldn’t i read details? i was searching for something and i couldn’t find it. i was a conscious viewer of a group of people simply staring at something, in disinterest. i moved a little bit and then turned the woman towards me. her eyes were dim and the brows below her eyes were dark and unenergetic. she looked at me suddenly with a sort of passion. – i think paradise happens in a half-jungle city, swarm by different huge plants. it has methods of protection such as umbrellas and really interesting and colorful clothes stacked on top of housing. it’s wide and has a variety of things quietly happening. it’s funny in its own way. it’s age its modern, the people interested and divine in their forms of intervention. the problems very few and the objects put as a fascinating stand of understanding. new problems are fixed easily, through methods of upgrading and characteristics. nobody gets in your way, nobody wants something from you, everybody knows how and when to shut up and it all happens in equilibrium of understanding. the equestrian wilderness is divine and unique, the same ideas through thousands of years get put on trial, the good get picked by the children and the bad aren’t put into practice again. individually, new ideas are introduced. overwhelming and underwhelming don’t happen and are unsatisfactory. and you, you are sitting on a beach next to your lover – i said. – and every single grain of sand on that beach is a new feeling or emotion. they’re all different, they all offer different things. some make you feel adventurous; others make you step into romance or action. some make you move, some make you think, and some give you gracious power, some make you powerless but show you they will guard you. some betray you and then say sorry. some are as deep as the blue of an ocean. others try not to be as exquisite or poetic, and simply tell you what you need to know. some question all parts of your brain, some upgrade your brain and the last are self-conscious, telling you that they are really just grains of sand. you don’t understand it because your body is weak and fertile and only concludes moral disciplines through pleasure, and has no method of direct innovation and can’t change a lot about that instantly, but knows there is more. and then, the new grains that the sea brings in are existentialist, they tell you that even though they form your feelings, they are not only one of many but also don’t understand everything, and that you are indeed stuck. but you are in an x formation with your lover with a hat on your head and a bird on your arm, coughing inferentially while you try to calm him down. you don’t need any help; you have what you need already. you are fulfilled entirely, and you don’t need to do anything. you don’t need to go back to the commune to eat with them. you don’t need to find your house in the village, you don’t even have one. you don’t have any necessity to do, you’ve already eaten. there’s infinity more to see and experience ahead of where you are now, and infinite time so you don’t need to go right away. and there is a paradox in it too, just like how there would have been if you weren’t in paradise, therefore you ignore that, live like a human and sometimes sneak out of that comfort zone to try to find the answer, failing and falling but with grace and without embarrassment – the woman next to me added. then the device crashed. now it didn’t matter whether a coconut fell on my head or a bumble bee stung me, it was time for pain or death or both. i grabbed my knife and started cutting people open, draining their blood. the herd ran away and then fell into a hole i didn’t know existed, so i cleared the rest of them. they all had different colored blood. i screamed in agony as my murderous intent grew, my hands dripping with the blood of my allies. i felt a sort of grievance when i exited the room. i started opening the bodies. they all had different colored blood. some were blue, like the deep ocean waters and some was pink and melodical, happy to see me. i smudged the blood on my pieces of bread and started taking bites that tasted like chewing gum without flavor. i then smashed a door of the device open and went all the way to the control room, which was a massive opening with many different hallways and windows all in perfect view of each other. there was a tree in the middle, and downstairs there were red carpets and a very lucrative ground to look at. i sat on a red couch and started thinking how else i could find hope before my obvious death to come. there were no signals except a couple of sirens. there were only few people running around. a really auto tuned and high pitch voice started ringing commands and compliances, and in a perfectly disinterested and unstressed voice mentioned “the device is bracing for impact in approximately 6 minutes”. maybe it wasn’t six minutes, maybe it was two. it was most likely less than six, since they always said the absolute lengthiest period of time. i decided to go back in the room with the painting, to take the painting, open a window and throw it out, which i did and then to have sex with the dead body of the woman, and then her baby. i wish i stopped time so i could fuck her child too. well, i could do it anyways. but what if the device somehow was kept alive, or i was at the very least? i would have a necrophilia charge. well, at least there is no statutory necrophilia. but there might be a higher charge if for example you diddled a dead baby. wait, but what if, i waited ten years for it to be eighteen in corpse years and then had sex with her? would i get less years for necrophilia? aging happens faster after death anyways. either way, i simply decided to not care as i exited the room once again. i felt like all of this had already happened once or more than once, and was a set up of sorts. repetition. i grabbed the knife and looked at it, wanting to cut off my neck but decided the device was going to crash either way and kill me, so i didn’t. the waves of the device were cut open. the wings were crushed, the motors burned, the front destroyed. it was just me in the control room. i couldn’t see outside, it was dark. i couldn’t do anything. i had no parachute. if i jumped what if i was in the middle of an ocean? i needed bushes, ponds, big crops to survive, even flat land was better than liquid, due to the fact that the liquid’s mass would absolutely crush me in an instant. i didn’t know what to do. i threw the knife out, followed by me, however i caught myself on one of the weird contraptions on the device. why this contraption? what is it even used for? i know the physics behind the device, but only very vaguely. i fell down. the black-haired woman flashed into my eyes again. i opened my eyes. i saw the alien in front of me. it was staring vaguely at me. – and do you believe that… with that fear, you are really worthy enough to take the lives of others? – their lives aren’t worth it – oh but no, it’s not about the lives being worth it or not, it’s about the worth of you to even put their lives in theoretical question, let alone take them away forever, with nothing granted to you. not only those of humans. – it’s not as if i wanted to perform genocide – then? those who created the term genocide opposed it on you? – precisely. – and why are you so sure – the alien looked at me, its neck creeping and battling with the short length of my room – since it matters not whether i am or not of the equivalent subject, better be the positive, my mind says – so you are not sure why you’re so sure? – perhaps… – i made an analysis… – why are you telling me this? – i looked at it with an ugly passion, some mix of hatred, disinterest, curiosity and some general understanding. – cow’s have the sheep? i looked at it. why did it become passive again? – if you are confused, from the very start i’ve only been telling you things that would be to generalized interest between us. – and you’re sure it mostly hasn’t been for your interest, because i don’t understand cow’s ha- – and are all things what you are supposed to understand? – isn’t that the point of communication? – am i communicating with you? – challenges the alien with an egotistic tone. – …then? – it is an action, no communication involved. – am i supposed to listen to you? – do you have anything better to do? – isn’t it your fault that i do not? – hardly. communication raises pictures. i do not ask of you to picture a multitude of cows owning sheep. feel it. feel what i said. you are not a philosophical zombie i’m guessing? – probably not. but it would explain a lot… – no, that was a joke. i tested your understanding of the deepness of travel. you have it in you… emotion, that is. i somewhat approve of your understanding of why you are evil. – i am evil? – yes. – surely not more evil than you. – i have never killed somebody before. – and why is that evil? – it causes unwanted emotional damage where it’s not self protection. survival instinct in connection to society. – so you are saying society created the term evil? – not at all. society isn’t to blame. what we look at when we see society are people taking your jobs, people enjoying themselves to other’s misfortunes and the causes of their pleasures coming from other’s struggling, anonymous terrorist propaganda hidden in secrecy and worldwide plans nobody is able to target due to their massive power, business men in lab coats with guns denying you from getting power and love, and not even basic living conditions. but really, society is a bunch of slags just like you, suffering to their own misfortunes and blaming their tough survival on each other without knowing it. the real people to blame are those who put science behind due to their ignorance, massively stupid individuals, billionaires who don’t donate their money to causes and hag it all to themselves, dead human beings who waste oxygen and only pleasure themselves, thinking they have no life, half-fueled by the low amount of money the government and institutions give to raising children being the main reason for the masses of stupidly ignorant people who indulge in momentary pleasure and have no future plan, but most importantly, steryotypes and targeting framed as jokes and the failure of a selective people to have a little more patience and understanding. not “society”. the term evil was created since life originated, nothing before that. it goes together with moral reasoning. a dolphin can be evil too. – what’s your point? – that’s my point. – “a dolphin can be evil too” ? – yes. – then there’s no point of this conversation – this isn’t a conversation i couldn’t leave, he was in my house, and has claws. – if i didn’t have claws would you walk off? – no, but some people might? – what’s your game plan? – to listen to you. – well you’re doing a mediocre job. – i would have done mediocre regardless, it isn’t to test me. – very well… you humans are so funny. – undoubtedly. – you think so? – why do you have that cat? – why not, it helps me. – and you don’t help her? – its mutualisation. she adapted to me. i slightly adapted to her. it’s a method of survival for her. – but, you do realize, she isn’t the same spieces as you? you don’t notice the obvious differences, and still raise these different species together with your young? they drain your resources. they hog your space… – life is very lonely sometimes. it’s not fair, but we have to adapt like this. survival gives pain or pleasure depending on your experience and the efficiency at which you manage to enjoy life. they bring company, they bring happiness, they bring what we are a lot of the times missing among our very own species. humans, unlike other creatures, are at the very top of the food chain. however, about a couple thousand years ago, we were only in the middle of the food chain. we jumped to the top so quickly that we are still anxiety ridden. our past still haunts us, and evolution hasn’t had time. no other creature has had time for our quick jump, and neither have we, hence the fact we still have the fight or flight instinct, that’s been created all the way back since the lizard’s existence. we are still young at being at the top, and so are all other species. they’ve had no time to limit our power, these small things have to go into submission to survive life, for them – it’s the only way. – you say “ouch” even when you’re not hurt? – it’s a reflex. a form of communication, so the other of our species can be ready to react fast due to that sound. – how do you communicate? don’t you say ouch on purpose sometimes? – we cant fight the urge sometimes, but ouch and ow are naturally the highest pitch sounds, and experience and simply vision battle sarcasm at those levels. – you enjoy forming cocoons of your sleeping material and to tighten yourself inside as a form of… luxury? – it’s another survival tactic. the deeper we engage into our bedding, the safer we are. our texture is hidden. and the more comfortable we are, the less we wake up, insuring that we wake up at the right time, to not lose any levels of sanity and keep our mentality handled. – you enjoy collecting. rocks, colorful objects. you enjoy decorating, particularly decorating your own skin. – our skin is meant for survival. it’s not aesthetically pleasing, so we change that. it’s also a form of finding mates, flashy things attract, attraction is the main reason for reproduction. reproduction feels good, hence our main reason for doing it, as sad as it sounds. collecting is a form of knowledge. we will pick up something way less if we don’t know what it is. also, aesthetically decorating just about anything improves our chances of staying at said place, also making us stay in one place more, limiting the chances we step into dangerous territory. – you like travelling. you landed on the moon. found nothing. you sent drones away from your planet. you landed on mars. you started colonies. nothing happened, except you have a chance to escape earth in the future. you lost things on mars. you put a flag, but it’s white now. you’re so stupid, people believe that it’s all fake. for what reason. what’s the drive for conspiracy? – do you not already know all this? – i know above it, but i do not know the potential feedback you are able to give me, as a viewpoint. i know of facts, interests, data, predictions and reactions for the mental stadiums of the brain, not general beliefs, especially not of the least human-like humans. i looked at the alien a little dark. my eyes glowed directly in the direction of its face. it looked human due to its costume. i knew it wasn’t. i knew it knew everything about the galaxy. yet, it was standing here, asking an ant about its nest while it travels the world, not letting the ant experience the world as well. not like it needs to, and not like ill understand it, or even live long enough to see even a second of all it has to offer but… but its unfair. – the drive for conspiracy is that there’s no reason for you not to exist. in which case you do. conspiracy of one thing in particular is stupid. means, if something was actually revealed as fake, the amount of value we’ve put into something that has no reason to be fake as just about anything has no reason to is so big that it would probably still be a bigger conspiracy even if we find something that really has been hidden. our views are blinded, we are limited species. we are surviving. we are uneducated. it’s not our fault to be ignorant, we’ve gotten nothing more! the alien simply stopped talking for a couple of minutes. it was standing there, disguised as me, looking at me. – why do you have no control of some things in your own body? why are your sexual organs moving on their own? do you they always know you’ll do nothing better, and you’ll always choose their work of moving your balls as positive? you don’t have anything to do about that? you can’t move them on your own? you have to blink? you don’t tell your body when? you haven’t been given a manual of life before it exists? you don’t even realize everything you think as common sense is absolute nonsense and is just whatever has been implanted onto you to think one way above another? – i am aware of it. some people are. some who are too busy surviving gain a sudden sense of value, and are blinding from the claim you just made. some have been poisoned not to care. some don’t care about anything. the people that are supposed to know do, and a very rare that are supposed to – don’t. but, we are powerless there. we will die off. we won’t even be the longest surviving species of humans, that’s how powerless we are in that matter. we are absolutely born powerless when it comes to that matter. – with no way to change it? – maybe one day. but that wont be reality. i would be dead. nothing would be real to me. just like it never happened. but the chances of that are zero almost. no reason not to be zero. what’s the point? – you find entertainment in nature, the same thing tormenting you. – it controls us, like waves. it torments us, sometimes it doesn’t. – as a sociopath and psychopath, serial killer and insane individual, what do you think is your problem. since being reasonable isn’t. – i wouldn’t know. – right… why do you wish to kill yourself for others. – we strive for happiness and survival above all. happiness is the number one method of survival. we say we would kill ourselves for others, in the end almost never doing it. it brings us happiness to care, since it means the other being will also, for us. protection gives us a happiness unlike any other. mothers sometimes have such a reinforced method of value that they would die for another. nature… kills them. it kills them, on purpose. it looks at it as a statistic, it no longer cares. it’s an unfair system, unfairness seems to be the best way to battle against the void. balance would destroy the chances of life ever managing to dominate the land it was born in – the universe’s space. of course, that’s an almost impossible escapade, but it might be acquirable one day. – why? if you hear a memorable sound, why do you mimic it, even to the point where it disturbs you to keep repeating it in your head? – as a form of survival, as per usual. we might have missed something, so we repeat it to either melodize ourselves for entertainment. it may be disgusting, but it protects us more than not. just like vomiting. sometimes, the brain needs something from the information, so it keeps it repeating for a while, even if it limits our consciousness. if its something important enough to need to put full conscious attention on something, it knows and does the proper thing. another thing we don’t fully, and shouldn’t control. – what does angst mean to you? – failure to find meaning. – why do you have effects of repetition and why do you lose the meaning of something if you hear it enough? – déjà vu and jamais vu as we call it? the mind memorizes sequences. if a repeating sequences happens, it knows better how to efficiently execute any action needed in that sequences. we lose meaning of things when we suddenly realized what we thought of them was an incorrect or incomplete way to look at a thing. – why do people not understand a lot of things and why do some think they do? – ignorance. – do you wish to die? the alien looked at me. – no. – why? – it’s too late. – for death? it might be too early, but never too late. – well i will already die. – why not now? – isn’t it all the same? – not if i torture you enough. – will you? – yes, if you don’t die now. – why? – because i said so. – why do authority entities say that? is it that hard to explain. – loses time – the alien dashed its hand inside of my stomach with a massive upward force, digging my heart out of my body, peeling it into pieces with its hands and then leaving. #1 (destination alteration):

name (of location): the hypernova universe: unknown kastro: unknown time: non-existant location: some specter of existence dimension: infinity – did you learn anything? – asks irieth. – nothing. – says vefix, teleporting away. the end.

attempt v – smith

attempt content: 5 destination alteration(s), 30 page(s); starting quote: “/” – unknown cleaning the idea of moral justice. cleaning the whole science of ethics. explaining pedophilia, explaining the human character, explaining the psychological reactions of the human mind upon realization of anything of value. explaining the position of a victim and deleting the phenomenon of human psychological “triggering” and defining it as a baseless emotion fueled between the fine lines of value, existentialism and ignorance.

#1 (destination alteration):

name (of location): unknown universe: unknown kastro: unknown time: unknown (not a dystopia, including electricity but not showcasing it) location: some specter of existence dimension: unknown, most likely third physically, eleventh mentally, in retrospect to human understanding

– i wonder if… my glass? where is it…? i am unable to see without it – an old, rugged man with barely any clothes on wakes, wearing only a supposingly highly dated grey mantel that only covers his junk and about one fourth of his thighs, the rest of his furry legs open to the vicinity, and most importantly to the dense shallow waves of air that abrupt every so often, refreshing but also scaring him. his throat seems to be jumbled up in a weird position, disabling his head muscles from turning very far to either side of him. his left foot is in a mixture of small pieces of sand, rocks, water and mud, and is in close range to the water streams coming from the sea which abruptly hit the end of his foot every so often. his right one is laying on the bottom of his left, he is facing away from the sea, towards the empty fields of the beach. next to him, a piece of shattered glass. he looks at it. – oh, there- he frowns. – what a terrible image – he thinks to himself, sulking the muscles of his face towards his nose – the outlines of my face, the pure stupid, punchable look that i give. even the realization that i’m staring at myself looks so stupid. like god drew a squiggle, decided it was horrible, and then painted over it with a red, vibrant color to hide it, only emphasizing it further. this isn’t me. this isn’t what i’ve thought of my whole life. all of the ideas i’ve had. all of the reasoning. my own face is a punch in my face. i do all of that thinking, all the things i’ve accomplished, all my sins, my awards, my memories, my feelings, and you give me this stupid looking face? my dna has simply wronged me. the code i was written in, from the very start was flawed. these dense and fat ears on the side of me, the shit i don’t give about anything is perfectly shown on the glass. my cheeks? they don’t feel like this. they aren’t sensed like this! am i the devil? is somebody laughing at me right now for looking like this. can a sailship see me from far away, ignoring me due to my pity. has the wind had enough poking me? the best part is, somebody has to know about me complaining, but they’re probably letting me become visibly more and more disappointed on purpose. it’s like, yes, they can do something about it – but why would they! they have more important things to do, don’t they!? why would they fix something already so ugly? why would they even try? what is this? who is this that i’m looking at? is all the beauty i find this artificial? have all the roses, all the women, all the thighs been fake this whole time? he turns his throat sideways, surprised by the level of pain granted to him for doing so. he looks at his thighs. – a bloody joke! what the fuck! so it has been fake all along! i mean… of course, i knew that, i was just making sure i wasn’t stupid – he claims to himself – but i do look like it… i look stupid! dumb! feeble! powerless! consumed by my utter pity! i even look so stupid, that i’m unaware of it. i laugh at this shit! – he laughs to himself – any higher force watching me right now would wonder why i’m laughing! or would they? it would be a pretty stupid thing to wonder about... he stands up, slipping on himself, falling onto a piece mud that the waves had previously pushed him into, while unconscious, hence his dirty right leg. he falls into it with his hands. his muscles get stuck together, as he proceeds to slowly crawl on all fours towards the sand, rolling on it, only to realize its full of small sticks and ungrown pieces of wheat and bamboo. the sun hits the back of him hard, further increasing his loss. he manages to crawl out of his suffering, and goes back taking a longer path to take the glass with him. he stabs himself in the arm with the glass. it stings him hard, making him do it more. he passively shoves the piece of glass into him harder, making his arteries visible. – what happened if i fucked my sister? – his mind thinks on his own. he suddenly gains consciousness of that thought – what part of my mind is thinking that and why? why so unconscious was that thought? did it hide itself from me for some reason? i wonder, is my rational mind and what my mind thought of just now two different parts of my mind, or is it all the same? because if it’s all the same, i’ve never been rational in my life. i might have been pure, but i was poisoned. or is it really poison? maybe… maybe its simply a survival tactic, and society imposed on me that it should be evil and unallowed, and to be frowned upon… but i am really a beast, am i not? i should be doing these things, not because they’re meant for me, but because – why not!? they don’t ruin my mind, they don’t kill my passion. they don’t make me feel pain. and only what makes me feel pain is evil. in fact, the only reason i don’t do it in the first place is because society will hate me for it. i am responsible enough to not make a baby, and therefore there should be no reason not to do it… he looks at the piece of glass shoved in his arm, the blood around it merging with the image of his head, the redness of his face already coated and perfectly synchronizing with the blood. – or am i…? but even if i’m not! i would simply abort it. humans aren’t any smarter than they were fourteen thousand years ago individually! only science and understanding have moved forward, and that only through time! i think just like a caveman, but i haven’t really gone behind, but rather ahead in my life, disproving this force of value that i have to do something so particular to be accepted as an individual. fuck that…! i want to feel it all. the moaning, the sensation, the feeling of ownership over something so big, the round shape of what is righteously mine! i’ve had a dick shoved up my ass my whole life, from the moment i looked at my screwny face. from the moment the whole symbolism emerged beneath clouded waves of ignorance. the rough sounds of metal splurging over and around me. annoyance, constant irritation. scratching, vital signs of impertinence. constantly, battling with something. a toothache. a breakup. cancer if i manage to achieve something in life! i’ve never had a moment of silence. but somehow, my survival instinct still flourishes. when i think about fucking my sister… i’m in complete peace of the world! nothing hurts any longer. only pleasure. but not dirty pleasure or the feeling of being low, or lower compared to something else. i feel… free! sweetly in pleasure, like a plum growing to be something more than it is… and i still hear those laughs too… isn’t there like… something third to it, instead of running as a sign of escape and damage in its own or damaging forwards. like an outward escape, something i can’t explain. through paradise, even if its shit. even if it feels like crap. like the dumb face of somebody i hate looking at me, doing something annoying… his unconscious chain of thought breaks. he wields his mind for later. – damn, i really am poisoned, but only because i’m aware of something being wrong. why should i be? isn’t that the real poison… i have to poop – his mind thinks. he bends over a small sapling and waits. he waits for quite some time. the wind gazes upon his burning asshole. it tickles his back, going forwards and forwards, like an eagle gripping his dirty skin and sliding its feet around him, his claws impending him as he lets it all go. dirt and the air combine into the produced waist, succumbing into the sapling, flowing downwards. – something was looking at me. he turns around. it’s a woman. – what? – he thinks to himself. – why were you looking at me? – the woman asks him, looking at his hand, noticing a piece of glass stuck into it. she doesn’t mention it, and quickly forgets it. – you were looking at me. i was doing my business! for a second there, i thought my own mind thought “something was looking at me” but you said it out loud and it’s such a shit thing to say that i thought i had said it for a second or two before my back slowly managed to turn! – a shit thing to say! haha… – what? – get it, cause… nevermind – the woman slowly leaves. he looks at her behind. he critically thinks, and decides to let it go, due to the fact that the jungle she enters might have dangers. a lot of them. his mind cruises through all the dangers. after a second of silence, he looks at her body bouncing around. – not like it matters – he thinks to himself. after she fades away, and after his mind does too: – dammit! i could have had sex with her! i would love to shove it in so deep! – he thinks to himself. – damn, i really am a product, am i not? but she probably thought i was ugly as hell! hideous even! she would never even ask… he gets up and continues to walk through the beach, taking one last look at the piece of shit he created. – my baby – his mind sarcastically thinks to itself. he quickly realizes what he says was stupid, and damns his mind for it. he then thinks of his mother saying the same thing to him while holding him, and he lets out a gasp. he covers the shit with dirt, like a dog. then he straddles back on his way, towards some rocks. – why rocks? – his brain thinks. we won’t get any food there. – fuck it, i need some time to think – he says, sitting down on a big rock, his ass tingling and refusing the place due to a sharp edge. he sits down anyways, attempting to get his mind away from the discomfort, barely managing. – i ate anyways – his mind continues. – her hair though, flowing side by side. it was long and blue… damn… i’m such a horrible human being. i’m irrational. maybe she just caught me at a horrible moment – he thinks to himself. – i should take a bath. i should leave this place. how? i should go look for her… i’m an animal – his mind thinks again. – i sleep at night better while its raining because tigers have a rarer chance of approaching me. i laugh because my life is boring, and when something interesting happens it creates a bigger chance for survival, therefore having a better physical and mental reaction. i’m sad when i wake at the wrong times. i have to live in packs, so i only focus on people, not objects, things, metaphors or phenomenon’s. that’s why symbolically all these things exist like politics and economy. when really that’s just made up bullshit. i wanted to punch anybody if anybody approached her there. like a beast, i was going to take her! i focus on sex so much only for survival of my beings. for reproduction, like an animal. i blame myself for things i can’t change, like being an animal. i can’t kill myself now, i knew of suicide as an option long before that, i fucked up from the start. i just want somebody to shoot me. i cry when i’m in discomfort, as a form of disgust. i find things boring, as a shorter form of disgust. i get angry when it comes to question my happiness, and it its ties to my survival. i tickle for survival. it’s to ensure that i’m happy while struggling, because if a predator reaches before my hands, my mind knows its going to hurt so it tries lessening the experience. i have angst due to me not understanding anything. there are these patches of reality which fuel how my direction exists. even walking is hard. ownership means nothing, its only ties are to be had with survival. even kings sit down on their asses, the same place we poop from. i get nothing out of any of this, yet it’s still all in my mind! like its some higher form of knowledge! the biggest state of denial – he profusely protests, waving his hands around like an animal. he lays down, falling asleep. he wakes up within ten minutes. the sun is already setting. – why the fuck is the sun already setting! oh yeah, i have no watch. i better go look for food i suppose. – goddammit man, everything is tied to survival, all my life is shaped like it! it’s the only thing that gives me meaning, so it’s the only thing that matters to concentrate on, even in a state of anger! the scientists don’t know shit, but all its ties are with psychology not biology! this feeling of uneasiness, it all deranges from the lack of my existence’s usefulness. even being attacked gives me a sense of alienation from exile, like it’s what’s supposed to happen. it sends positive chills, not to comfort me for my actions and wasted value or potential, but to tell me i’m doing the right thing, and make me continue. a setup, just like my dna! he bumps into some branches on his way. he finds himself nearer the jungle. – predators… maybe this wasn’t a smart idea. my thoughts are so quick – he realizes only about a minute passed since he woke up. he walks further, in silence. – how understanding and expecting of reality’s sudden shock waves can i get. how much can i feel what is real. he thinks to himself, starting to observe more. the edges on the leafs, the patterns. they all resemble each other, they’re all the same in a way. his path becomes a little clearer, but he’s still lost as shit. maybe he isn’t as scared. he walks on the dirt with his bare feet. he finds an old hut in the distance. but not your ordinary. it has branches around it, and is made using weird materials. he makes a few crunching sounds by stepping on dead leafs, and a door opens. it’s the girl, but with a mask on. she pulls out a dagger. he opens his arms, ready to die, showing defeat. she puts the dagger away, sitting down on a wooden chest. – you won’t take off your mask? she holds the dagger closer to her. – no – she proclaims. – why do i want her to take off my mask. am i that stupid? is reality that disappointing. is the difference between a mask and a face really that reassuring? what can i do, it’s particles in play. is my ugliness perceived differently by her? like, i’m permanently wearing a mask or something…? – he thinks to himself. – …we… we can talk – he says. – about what, she asks, holding the dagger closer. – i’m lost. i don’t know where i am. i just want a little understanding, because i might die here. i have no food. i don’t know how i got here.

attempt vi – the useless test & the protest, in no way related to eachother

attempt content: 2 destination alteration(s), 10 page(s); starting quote(s): “/” – unknown human cleaning the idea of faith and free will, defining rationality and justice as forms of social hierarchical and communal beliefs, rather than factual and universal truths. destroying the idea that the real world is pre-written and that humans have to follow a certain path to be successful in quality of any un-economical pattern, and also the ideas that a human can focus on being angry on one thing at once, that true tranquility is reachable in human hands, and that a human is able to completely wipe out their past and be handed the present over to themselves.

#1 (destination alteration):

name (of location): ludicria universe: k1238 kastro: mixexal kastro time: some post-communist dictatorship location: the house of kudi’s therapist’s home dimension: 3rd physically, 4th throughout the whole process, 11th mentally

– it all started when everybody failed to show up at my birth. my mother would’ve also, but since she wanted to fuck me over from the start, she decided to force my long-left father to not wear a condom, and give birth to a big mistake, rather than let me suffer as a non-existant mistake in the void instead. not that she didn’t leave right away either, but the government was very good at locating the name of dead carcasses of children… i mean why would they know?! why?! are they selling them on the black market? that’s the only reason i co- – back to the topic patient… – the therapist proceeds to check the pamphlet – patient… c-k-ko – kudi cid. why do you not know my name? am i really that unimportant? and aren’t you supposed to listen, isn’t that what i’m paying you for? – yes, but i’m supposed to listen to your loser stories, not government propaganda… silence uncovered the room slowly. i took a few seconds of breathing and then continued. – anyways… the government could track the name of my carcass over to my parents and my parents would’ve been fined a whole 20$, and they didn’t feel like risking such a minimal amount of taxation for an even more worthless piece of joke such as myself, so they took me in instead. i had a brother, his name was cahd kdu. they later renamed him to kudi cid, and completely forgot about me, remembering mine is a better name, but forgetting i exist shortly after, like they did most often until i somehow maleficently got back into their lives, not that i didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just that simply my very existence was a joke. the therapist was laughing at my pity. – you had a brother? – asked the therapist – yes, he killed himself after seeing me alone at my birthday party for the eight year in a row. or rather, he choked on a pretzel he was eating while passing through the small room i had been having my annual “solo b-day”s at as he accidentally gazed his eyes at me. i was too weak to kick it out of him, and so he died just like that, on my birthday, laughing at me until his eyes shut dead. my parents then made me the garden gnome for a whole month, and made me deliver newspapers for disabled people in wheelchairs for three more days than i usually did anyways, extending the sentence for zero days since i already had to deliver them to my birth. – oh! put one on the counter, my other patient kxucuslobabllybalkon alu the third menacingtingot jr would love it, he’s handicapped from birth. oh, and why did they make you a garden gnome the first time? – asks the therapist, perfectly nailing the pronunciation. i didn’t put one on the counter. – they told me i scared all of the gnomes away, even though they were just making fun of me and threw all of them into the trash to purposefully make me suffer. they told me “i scared the gnomes”. my brother sneaked into my room while we were four years old and diagnosed me with “ugly”. my cat suicided after i won the guinness world record for the “ugliest kid alive”. i’ve won three so far. ugliest kid alive, ugliest teenager alive, and then ugliest woman alive six years in a row. they still don’t know i’m a man… my dog had never seen me win anything before, and the loud car sirens from the lamborghini that was parked and left outside by the award granters scared him, making him jump onto one of the fishhooks they usually hanged me on, killing him. i was two years older than my brother, and before my brother’s birth my dog was the closest thing they had to a child, they were constantly petting it. they even sent him to school, he won the physics championship eight years in a row. – i thought you had a cat that suicided because of your guinness wins, but apparently it’s a dog now? – oh no, i had both. the cat simply suicided, it couldn’t stand looking at my ugly face. the dog died a couple minutes later from the car sirens. my parents had to wear lunch bags just to survive being in the same house as me, even though i slept in the dog den and they never let me out, while their only loved one (the dog) was curling around in my bed, in the room they never gave me. they thought i was going to be a girl, but since my father cant relate to women unless they want to have sex with him, he was happy that he got a boy, except that he somehow realized i would be a mistake before i was born and decided to leave my mom until he realized she didn’t want me either. – all that for 20$? – that was their monthly salary. – what were they working? – my father was a clown for celebratory events. of course, nobody showed up to my birthdays and he was too embarrassed so he had to hire another clown. he came in with a speech, “hey kids!” but realized i was the only one there and spent fifteen minutes drawing over all the parts where he refers to multiple people, realized he had zero words to say except “happy birthday kudi!” and then left, smashing the door closed. he didn’t actually say the words, he just told me that those were the only words there and disappointedly left. my mother didn’t have a job, her stomach was too swollen after my birth to function as a human being. she was practically physically handicapped because of me being too fat of a baby to come out, and she was on the list of people i had newspapers to deliver for, so every day i had to put it under her doormat at five am right before i went outside. i came back at nine pm usually; i had to cover the whole country of mentally disabled’s, taking the express train and having to throw out some newspapers through the windows even, to be able to reach the houses. there’s always that angry grandpa that shouted at me. “hormones” they all used to shout, unaware of the fact that i couldn’t have a room – or in this case den, to sleep in if i didn’t do it. they kept a record too. there was a blue-shirted guy on the train with me, making sure all the newspapers were delivered. there was an island where incest usually happened. i had to take the boat to get there. the blue-shirted guy followed me all the way to the island. i had to walk in on daughters getting raped by the family’s uncles to deliver a simple newspaper. of course, the abortions would give the daughters more years in jail than the rapist would get, so its not like the daughters could do anything. i asked the blue-shirted guy how much my family paid him. “20$” – he proudly said. that’s the only time he answered my question, ever. i don’t even know how they afforded money to eat, or pay for rent or taxes? how? how was their whole salary in poverty spent on assuring that i get a couple newspapers in? why did they even care? – yes – the therapist asked? – what? – i replied. – you mentioned me – the therapist slumbered disinterestingly. i wasn’t looking at him, i might have just woken him up right now. – when? – you said therapist. – no! i said the rapist! are you even listening to me? – hello? is the rapist here? – asked a guy in a blue shirt. – yes, he’s over there! – the therapist pointed to the east side of the room. i didn’t bother to look. – he asked for you! he said the therapist! – no! were you even listening? he asked for the rapist! i should’ve looked. – what rapist? – i blundered – that one over there! – my therapist showed me. it was the same uncle as the one i saw on the island. he was raping one of the furries that the vicinity kept in the garage. – why a furry of all things? – why do ducks breathe? – the therapist replied. – what? i don’t know that! – okay, that will be 20000$ for the session. – what!? but i’m not even half way with the story yet. – nope, pay and leave. – but you weren’t even listening! – leave. – five more minutes please. i didn’t even tell you about how my father spanked my ass after i didn’t want to fill all the barrels he was keeping in the basement with goat milk. or how i had to lick my cat’s anus so i could make enough money – about 3 cents – to buy myself more room in the den. it didn’t work. my brother named the den “cahd kdu’s den”. he won ownership over my den before they renamed him. after they did it was just nobody’s den and i had to sleep on the grass until i filled in my mom’s job of selling newspapers to handicapped people, so they let me sleep in it. i kept licking its anus, since it was also handicapped, but they never let me more room. they told me they needed to store the goat milk there. it filled up about 60% of the den. i was quite packed in there, it was like a battle against my li- – out! now! pay and leave! – ah, but i have to do my useless test now! please, i’m only free on fridays anyways. please let me stay five more minutes! pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. i was repeating that word until the rapist had to forcefully drag me against the floor until he dumped me outside, taking my coat that had about 40000$ in it from all the money i stole from the government’s bank last night so i could afford this session. – good luck in jail kid, and no i’m not raping you, you’re not good enough for that! – he smashed the door closed. – oh, and thanks for the newspaper, brat! – he reopened and reclosed the door mischievously. i sat down, ready to do the useless test. the useless test had a goal of testing whether a person is useless or not. and yes, it had everything to do with the protest(s). i was useless. but the useless test was flawed so usually the useless ended up being declared non-useless. i had to do it every day anyways, together with 250k other people, all in single different rooms, filled with men in black looking over your shoulder continuously for literally no reason. the building was huge, had over 251k rooms. the other one thousand were for the “problems, reviews and critics section”, for people that had a problem with the useless test. it was like a modern anger management class, the test. and everybody had a problem with it. that’s what all the protests were about – is what everybody thought at least. probably a bunch of other stuff too. the protests were held in the room, and also outside of it, but the only rule was that protests had to be done in single rooms, all by yourself, and that all the businessman were to compile lists on all the problems the people had. the critics room was useless, the businessman read all your information anyways, you had no privacy, in or out of the building of the useless tests, so it didn’t really matter. except there was no generosity or “consumer feedback” outside the critics rooms, but not like it mattered. all the feedback was is a bunch of smiley men with long pointy ears and attached eyes staring at you claiming “thank you” more than they actually read your reports. who knows if the government even read it. probably not! the businessmen probably didn’t either, they just acted like they did on purpose, to get money most likely. i mean why would they? it was all the same complaints anyways… i looked at the piece of paper. it was a single question: are you useless? a) yes b) yes but in red a very difficult question indeed. i pondered for a while. i flicked my pen around endlessly. was i useless? was that even a question? it feels as if they already forced me to answer! what do i circle? isn’t it all the same? see, if i circle yes in red it means i’m a cocky bastard and that they might put me in jail for being useless. and then, if i simply circle the normal yes, it means i’m too boring to rebel, and that i should simply quit and be arrested already! there is no way out! red means blood in some cases, so maybe they will torture me more if i circle that? but the simple yes is too intimidating! its guiding me towards it, like, it’s the truth guys! the truth and no philosophy. however… if one has nothing to say, one should shut up, no? what if i make a third option on my own called c) no, and circle that instead? but they would simply disqualify that and think i didn’t answer at all, sending me to prison, killing me and then i would end up in hell forever struggling! what if i ask for help? they will probably just tell me either no questions or that i should simply circle one. that would be the obvious solution. what if i try to choke them and run? oh, but no, they probably deal with that daily… after fifteen minutes of pure thinking, even though i solved the test every single day (and have never ever won) i decided to circle a) yes today. they looked at me smugly, took the piece of paper and sent me through an exit door, that led to a massive hall. people of all sizes, all looking quite useless. i saw my old teacher there too! i approached her happily: – hmph! a failure! useless…! oh well, i never expected any better from you anyways. it’s fine, you can try next time i guess – she poked her ugly nosed-ass facial expression all over my personal space and then sent me through a wooden door with an ugly window right next to her on her right. i entered the room, and it was a trial room. they always had something different prepared for me!... somehow. i didn’t even know it was possible… – kudi cid! you are on trial for crimes above the measurement of the possible limit of crimes according to the national institute of crimes, information backed up by… – the judge looked at a piece of paper – everybody! how do you plead, kudi cid! – useless! useless! useless! – shouted everybody in the hall. i exited the hall… well… useless. i looked back and the next guy was getting awarded like eight metals in a row, and everyone was cheering him on. and i mean, literally everyone. they all somehow landed just as my walk of shame finished, just to congratulate him. it was the dead carcass of my dog. i walked past, not paying attention to anything that was happening. i went past a wooden door, and right next to it an evil looking woman with white short hair exited from a metal door right next to mine, but a few meters off. she started chasing me, but i bit something, i don’t remember what and so she scuttled away. i made my way slowly to the protest, as there was nothing else to do. i made my way home first though. police men were already waiting for me there, however. they already arrested me before that somehow, and they were already planning to execute me. but not publicly, just behind walls so nobody could see me. they strapped me on an electric chair. i somehow went to sleep. the next day i woke up with toothpaste all over my mouth. – do you have anything to protest against, or any complaints? – an old gray-haired man with a crazy ass beard approached me, holding the microphone uncontrollably far away from me. he already left by the time i realized i couldn’t even speak because of the tooth paste on my mouth. the camera was behind me so it didn’t pick up that i had toothpaste on my mouth. soon after a few men in black uniforms with plump gay faces approached me, showed me the video from a far enough distance that i couldn’t damage the screen with my leg, and then they left. the chair slowly started vibrating. i was spinning uncontrollably. it vibrated randomly and then stopped working. i was stuck there. nobody was there to help me, so i had to simply starve there. and so i did. but before that aimless defeat, i could hear a person shouting “let me go! i’m innocent!” behind the wall. he probably wasn’t innocent, but he was shouting that, and since something was happening i figured id better go and investigate. since i had been inspecting disabled people strapped on chairs my whole life, and since i was now one, i knew how to walk with it, so i slowly slumpered my chair towards the hallway. – now you die, motherfucker – i shouted as i attempted to crack a guard’s neck, but i just made him look to the left very quickly. he snapped mine instead, but not hard enough to kill me. he wasn’t a vegan, he loved meat so i managed to feed him enough of my wheelchair to escape. as he was chewing away on the metal, attempting to unscrew his teeth from the chair, i kicked the door open. it was the president. he was shouting for help. it was also subsequently the blue-shirted guy, what a twist! – we meet again – he smugly remarked. but then he realized he was only talking to a decapitated body, i had already died. – way too soon – i gasped before my head rolled off of my body, – oh, by the way, i really like the taste of gravel for some reason, cant you guys relate hahahha!! – he laughed like an idiot after i realized i was dead and that he didn’t need to act anymore. – i really like jaguars – one of the guards said. – kill him! – the president angrily repented as he left the room. as my ugly head rolled over through the street, dropping from the prison system’s vents and into the street below the one the prison cell is located in, my head made its way into a football field. it landed into a football goal fence, making my first goal ever. then a dog came and pissed on my head. my father rolled around using his broken car, getting out of it and holding my head upwards so it faces the sky. – i knew the kid would be useless all along. eh, but its alright i guess… – he said, dropping my head down onto the floor and slowly driving away from the field to go drink with his friends. a cleaner in a red suit swept my head into a small red plastic box before realizing it was a kid’s head, the part of a carcass. – that will be 3$ sir! – he shouted to my father, running after his broken car. but it was already too late, the only thing left to be seen was the steam from the car. the last thing i could sense were sounds. the sounds of people being stuck in rooms protesting, shouting like idiots to no avail. the cleaner was shouting too, aimlessly running after his three bucks. that’s about when i lost consciousness… a loud jeering noise could be heard in the distance. thousands of different slogans and animal noises, all interfering with each other. #2 (destination alteration):

name (of location): ludicria universe: k1238 kastro: mixexal kastro time: some post-communist dictatorship location: telecommunicational signals, the government’s secret hideout that isn’t so secret because its just behind a bunch of bushes dimension: 3rd physically, 4th throughout the whole process, 11th mentally – pee wee whiskey connecting to main four. – pee wee whiskey this is main four. – it happened, we couldn’t stop it. – pee wee whiskey, we are connecting you to flying lotus. – sir, it’s over. – i knew it was going to happen one day… deploy the potentiality scanners at once! – sir… – what? – there are no potentiality scanners… – didn’t jeering pineapple make some? – yes, but… they’ve been run over by the protestors.. – but they’re underground! – exactly. it’s everywhere. – but… it’s stupid! they don’t even know what they’re protesting about. it’s better this way, things are under control, even if they’re unanimous. the weak stay weak. that should be the natural order! – it simply seems as though we have been overpowered physically, sir. our marketing was simply incorrect. – what if we execute people publicly? – that would just bring more people to protest, sir. the best way to do it is to keep everything disclosed under walls, so no attention or rebellion happens in the first place. we simply failed to be secretive is where the problem emerges, sir. – and what’s reared integral’s theory? – reared integral’s newest sequence of understanding is that the best way to doom humanity’s privacy and transverse most people from individual to number is to make the privacy connections and terms of service so long and uninteresting, hidden and projected only through the measurements and favors that we provide, that the creativity of people is doomed through their limited options, and through that justice will be re-created from a definition to a specific installation, only viable in the world that those with power have created. he claims that rebellion is formed through the understanding of justice, but if we shift the idea of justice altogether, we will synchronize the people’s thoughts according to it, blinding them from wrong-doings, if we decide to do any. – no! not that, i meant the other one that i heard but didn’t understand very well. – oh, you mean the theory of the useless test. well, he claims that there are three main rules of destroying rebellion, or the idea of it. – why does it always have to be three? – well… if i were to make an assumption, only one is needed. the second is formed through the feeling of overwhelming of only having one idea, but is close to the second one. in these instances of algorithm, an opposite function is closer than a random close function to the first, since finding opposites is the easiest, but in some cases simply wrong to make an opposite of the function. the second one is felt usually either as an opposite or an extra, so a third comes in play. the third is then manufactured to hold the rest of the information necessary, not needing a fourth equivalent or in-equivalent factor. the third is usually the one that’s unprogressive attempt vii – i am the predator – i ate myself, and can’t grieve about it, because i am dead. attempt content: 0 destination alteration(s), 10 acts, 20 page(s); starting quote(s): act 1: we burnt a lady to a crisp before i made my way onto the rocks. we were all in separate rooms before we found her, then we connected to an ominous circle in the middle of a garage. we didn’t know why it was in the middle of a garage. nobody told us. we figured it was an important part of our mission, but in the end it was not. we saw her from far away. we were just approaching the field. she had no legs. she looked at us, asking for help. a point reached where she was shouting for help. she didn’t know what was happening. she was completely out of her mind. she, she was practically crawling on the floor, but somehow looked more like she was standing up, the confidence she had while she was clawing her way towards us, like she was climbing a mountain. she didn’t know what to do, she saw that we had firearms and she started eating rocks that were on the ground next to her. she held one of them like she was an eagle in flight, holding its fish prey with its claws, ready to devour it as her eyes were pointed directly at the rock. she could see my gun since she was facing me. the rock was slim, so my gun was thicker. my rifle was pointed directly at the rock. in fact, from her point of view, the opening of my gun was closed almost perfectly together with the rock. she ate it, swallowing some sand together with it. a point reached, i’m sure, when she regretted her decision. she attempted to throw up the rocks. she failed, choking on one. we just sniped her down. we held the gunpoint’s close to her head. i can tell you everything about how it felt. we were all knocked back by recoil. the sand on my feet was crunching. i couldn’t hear it because of the shots but my sock could barely touch it through my sandals which were cut open. we just started shooting her down. blood sprayed from all sides of her. she was in terror, her organism flying around in all directions. the dust tasted poorly on my skin. the sun was shining really bright. i had an existence disorder, i forgot who i was for a second then became conscious of my body. attempt viii – talk with the parasitical reaper attempt content: 0 destination alteration(s), 5 acts, 10 page(s); starting quote(s): “value kills my hope for a threat emerging beyond what we are able to recognize as one” – unknown human cleaning the idea of powerlessness and death, defining it not as a process or ending action but rather as a metaphorical blank, an unimportant drop of water unto a vacuumed surface, ever so consumed by its void-like presence alone to manufacture anything more but its own invaluable essence act 1 – acceptance upon diminishment i was sleeping, when suddenly the devil emerged out of the red curtains in my bedroom. it came to take my soul. there was no ceremony, nobody showed up to see it. it was just it and i, and we were both soon to be gone from the room. that was the anticipation that i had felt. i hadn’t done much with my life. of course, i learned what i had to, or what i thought i should have. i experienced some things. if there was never a choice i couldn’t do much about it, i felt it was best i simply live it. for after all, if i was never asked whether i wanted to be born, and now, when i’m not asked whether i want to die or not, is there any point in trying to change my life as it is or stress about things i can’t change? why am i even trying? i was already born in a dictatorship, my life was printed on a piece of paper, there was nothing i could’ve changed. it didn’t come expecting a battle. it didn’t come expecting sorority or to find meaning in my words. it didn’t come to struggle against life or death, finally winning or losing against the mighty forces of my immune system! it was as if it was a farmer, coming to collect the meat off of my dead carcass. like i was never here. it was just part of its nine to five job. i could’ve changed nothing. my life was over, like it never even began. the entire process was so simple, it happened in a flash. the devil didn’t have anything around him, it wasn’t clothed, it didn’t have a weapon or a set of armor, it wasn’t talking, it wasn’t even moving. it was just floating in existence, ready to do its pre-processed action. there was no dialogue with it, there was no point. i didn’t want this to happen, but i didn’t hate it. value is just another thing that happens. but it didn’t need to, instead, this could happen. and if there’s no value in order or choice, who cares which one it is? we both knew it was time to get it over with, except it wasn’t even thinking that, only me. i was a human being next to a massive wave, the size of a mountain, ready to get plunged underneath it and succumb to it’s huge mass, and it? it was just there, soulless, the picture of the void, regardless of color it painted over me with all its might, disproportionately targeting not a single part of my body, but all of it at once, starting from the back like a predator. it had already killed me by the time i realized it, but maybe it didn’t. maybe this was all a joke, i didn’t really know. i couldn’t know. there were no indicators. just like my birth. it just suddenly happened. i suddenly felt a shocking wave of repulsion overtake me. it was like a parasite, it wasn’t damaging me, it completely overwhelmed me, deleting me from existence and replacing me with itself. it wasn’t going to do anything extra, it didn’t care. in fact – it was my fault for thinking it did! except… except that it hadn’t started yet, and was just staring at me. well, not really staring at me… but it did have a scythe. and devils cause evil according to mythology, so maybe it wasn’t exactly an enemy. and why should it be? if enemies cause what we call bad, and death really isn’t all that bad then this… thing isn’t either. act 2 – denial upon value the demon original came to take my unfit soul but at some point, it realized we had a lot in common. i do not really know what to call it, but importantly it was there, sitting on a chair. it didn’t have a figure, i knew it was sitting and looking at me but i couldn’t really make anything of it. it’s not as if it was fully black like a shadow or imaginary, it had detail, it’s just that the detail was too… raw for my brain to decipher. as if i was a pixelated figure and it was a bug in the system. or rather, that i was the bug needed to be deleted, as mandatory as possible but not mandatory enough for immediate action, as if i needn’t pose a threat but the thing needed some entertainment too, it wasn’t quite omnipotent was it, it still needed to deliver action to gain, and that’s a survival instinct. it was surviving, just like me, but it had things way easier, maybe not in contrast but definitely its emotional impulses and existential dread were way better off than mine, it knew things i didn’t. i asked it some quite reasonable questions, but it answered with completely random or unordered things. it was as if my anxiety kicked in and i was trying to reason with it. was i crazy for thinking in such a reasonable manner with questions such as what the meaning of life is, and why death happens, and why it chose exactly me to speak with, or why it did not since i didn’t know if i was the only one, or was it insane for mumbling bullshit? which one of us had the better perspective of life, and why? and did it even matter? are these even answerable questions or should they be left? is there a proper metaphysical notion that describes a truth condition of empirical content to my questions, or is it rather unexplainable to me? i was perplexed, and slightly scared. i feared my upcoming was too weak. i hadn’t been given a starter kit. no chance of survival. i hadn’t even been told that one day he was going to come and take me away. i’ve been living while conserving my days, thinking they were going to end but in some distant future. but really? now? i have nothing to offer him. why am i even thinking like this?! i have nothing to offer myself! i never did! i always thought i’d die in a place that didn’t know my name. but this is worse. i have nobody to love! my questions haven’t even been stated, neither recognized, neither has anybody believed i’ve ever had any. for so long… since i was a child i’ve always asked so many questions. but i never knew there was a system to answer them. something to tell me exactly what i’ve wanted. and after battling with them for hours, i came to a final, incomplete finishing answer. one that i knew wasn’t correct, but i had simply forgotten. it was forced out of my mind, like it was worthless junk. and that’s all i’ve ever been! that’s how i feel. i feel like all i’ve ever been is worthless junk. and this isn’t victimizing myself, i simply have nothing to be grateful about. nothing showed me anything. nobody. nothing! and now, when i stare into the presence about to take my life, it stares back with such confidence! does it know what it’s doing? is it even going to talk back? communicate? does it understand that it’s a predator, about to take me away with all its might? leave me stranded? how would it feel if it was in my position? would it stare just like it is now, with its dead soulless eyes? would it attempt to battle me? would it straddle around like a pig in a farm, not knowing where it is? will it smash me with its foot, leaving me squashed like a snail, opened up and bruised, asking why? consistently, asking why? is it even doing the right thing? has it ever seen a right thing be done before? it just sits there, doesn’t live in the moment, doesn’t know how. asks but hasn’t gotten an answer. no way to revenge itself. no way to fight back. after he takes my life, or rather, collects it like a worthless artifact that he will drop instantly after picking up, will it show its friends, if it has any? it’s acquaintances? will it laugh together with them, not understanding my pity and my resentment. would it understand that i would like to be it one day? did it never understand that that’s all i’ve wished in life? to not be born as i am? i never wished to be ugly towards it. i never wished to damage it! is my presence alone that unappealing to it? is my sheer existence to be ridiculed at such a mass, forgotten after and never even found before? is this action of dying my greatest moment? i’m not even doing anything? is this action of pure submission the greatest feet i will achieve? with all my might, to be looked upon as a pure idiot? will i, just like every single other thing i’ve done, do something stupid and ruin it too? is my very existence something stupid? why am i rushing into this, why? should it come slower? or is it coming too fast as it is? maybe i shouldn’t be allowed even this much. are slaves and masters all there is to this? has the world not introduced any more, like a neutral being unneeded of processes of survival to my race? isnt that still slave master, where, the race this reaper belongs to is the master since it’s neutrally obligated to do nothing, not needing to survive while we suffer? could have i possibly made a choice whether i liked to be born before my birth, and if i did, was the person making that choice still me? has a me that isn’t me made a choice for me affecting it even though it doesn’t even exist at all? where’s the fairness in that. isn’t there supposed to be, even the slightest of fairness here? why? why? it’s not even a question of reality, i’m asking out of grieving. i have nothing else to do but ask, i’m not stronger than asking. i simply… don’t know what to do. i can’t accept this as it is, for then, what will become of me? is it me not accepting it simply another way of survival? did i do this? this value i have, its so strong. it shapes my species, it shapes who i am and has created my attempt at survival. value kills my hope for a threat emerging beyond what we can recognize as one…

ℼ pi ii: “modernization”

ℼ – contents

attempt 01 – the happening attempt 02 – the ass cracks, who don’t know they are being called that ✓ attempt 03 – it’s more fun for life to be depressing forcefully, even if it’s naturally only slightly annihilating attempt 04 – i was forced to do something i ended up liking attempt 05 – the contents aren’t a progressive upward arrow of my well being, they just exist in a made up order, slightly mimicking the last one. dry comedy isn’t even funny but for some reason this is amusing… and the pyramid scheme attempt 06 – ivan ✓ attempt 07 – coal mine, but it doesn’t really matter what the mine is for attempt 08 – the victim ✓ attempt 09 – happyness and war without peace, but why? attempt 10 – lucid dreaming but also everything else attempt 11 – modernization

with the goal of creating something new, if there is such a thing.

attempt 02 – the ass cracks, who don’t know they are being called that

attempt content: 1 destination alteration(s), 15 page(s), / words; starting quote(s): theoretically imposing the idea of a person who knows specifically what they are doing, whilst still being a functioning, normal member of society. his high ranking position only being exemplary, not needed to know what you’re doing in theory, but an easier position to take the idea from. also mocking imperialism, nationalism and ruling, but from a neutral perspective, one not bound or in any sacrificial position to lose/win anything from the mockery, therefore stationary in stereotypical claim.

#1 (destination alteration):

name (of locaiton): world war 3’s nuclear fallout, somewhere universe: cosmos (of vayctor) time: 2321 ad, before the first reconstruction location: a burning field, surrounded by destroyed metal barracks dimension: unknown

– [through a 200 mile two-way radio] did you do it? – it’s been done, commander – answers a blood-clothed soldier hugging a tree. – it’s over then. – sir, i believe they might need up to fifty years. – important thing is that you sent it to the right person, did you? – we scanned the entire civilization. we sent robots to learn their language. they did it under two minutes. we sent the right individual a letter together with the vaccines. – how do you know he’s the right one, falcon 1? – he knows what he’s doing, commander – falcon 1 looks at the sky, the tree’s leaves blocking his eye sight. – no, but seriously, under what belief? – it’s not a belief sir. he has his handle on life. he knows exactly, specifically what he’s doing. he’s so smart, the first thing he realized upon birth was probably that we were going to send him this vaccine. bloody hell, he probably already has it. – enough with the jokes, will one vaccine be enough? – commander, you don’t understand. he’s like sonar. no… better than sonar! – hm? then we have absolutely nothing to worry about. – yes, we did it, although it will take a long time. – …and… what is this man’s name? – i don’t know if it’s a man. i don’t know anything about the person. – what? how… why? how could you not know the name? i thought you read everything they ever wrote. – yes, the person works in anonymity. the only transcript of his or her name is written as “the one who works from below” – it can’t be a woman. the tribes work in patriarchy. lets just assume it’s a male. – why would we? the person works in an incredible amount of protection, hidden from everything. there’s no reason to be suggestive whatsoever. – anonymity and sharing vaccines to the civilization aren’t… exact opposites? – no… sharing any single item to an entire civilization takes an incredible amount of managing the herd, business skills and opportunities, rights to do things and protection. the person is the only one we couldn’t process, and we are thousands of years more progressive than them. the soldiers with me, before they died even thought of the conspiracy that the person is a part of our world, that’s so powerful that he has managed to sneak into the tribes without us even noticing, and to establish an economy. except for vaccines we sent them sheers, asparagus knifes, american plows, metal axes, denim, advanced plastic, metal knifes, letters in their language that we sent robots to translate from important twenty and nineteen century books and even advanced paint including lapis lazuli and even waterborne interior alkyd, they have it all already and we only found one source to it, the person we sent the vaccines. – and how… how advanced are they? – i believe they already have their civilization, commander. they have a kingdom, and also a couple of advanced mathematicians and thinkers with all the information we’ve sent them. their architecture dates tothey will make their way. – and you don’t believe the chinese will find them? – no, we kept them secret the entire time. it will take them well above seventy years to even re-occupy all the destroyed territory. we limited their population immensely, to a measly eighty million, about 95% of all life on earth currently. they simply wont have the resources to do anything about the tribes yet, and will think they are useless the whole time. this will give the tribes time to process everything, including the fact we’ve told them exactly what happens. now its all up to luck. lets hope this “ruler from below” knows how to actually properly. #2 (destination alteration):

name (of locaiton): the baron’s room universe: cosmos (of vayctor) time: 2321 ad, before the first reconstruction location: the final isolated tribe, which society has still not managed to reach. dimension: unknown

– the one who rules from below called, jilian. – what does he want? – quivered jilian. – if i knew i would be the one to answer your question, but sadly i am not – answered the baron, running his hands shiveringly down a girl who’s teeth chatter uncontrollably. – what? you would like to be the one who rules from below? – asked jilian. – of course! you know how much power i would weyld! – you mean… wield? the baron looked at jilian with his eyes. well, of course, he was supposed to look at jilian with his eyes, there was nothing else he could look at jilian with. this is actually how blind people look at things – by not doing so. there was never a source of viewing the baron could connect with jilian if it wasn’t for his eyes. he couldn’t suddenly visualize a picture from his elbows, neither could he manage to actually picture how the source of attempt 07 – coal mine, but it doesn’t really matter what the mine is for attempt content: 1 destination alteration(s), 14 page(s), / words; starting quote(s): mentioning the idea of laughing at the lack of dominance and the power of others consciously without feeling a sense of empathy and still being universally (and in some cases in the eyes of society) correct for doing so due to your own position as equally as unimportant as the one you are hurting or belittling, as a theoretical claim, and building the boundaries of what one of those cases may look like.

#1 (destination alteration):

name (of location): place universe: universe time: unknown location: place dimension: unknown

attempt 06 – ivan

1: compulsive requirements that ivan cannot accomplish

little ivan gained the directive from the above little ivan didn’t want so to happen ivan whittled from the sink towards the drawer looking for his pills, the basis of his essence his nitty-gritty need to feel as if his ideas are real when he suddenly found an idea of his that he managed to piece together slowly by realizing picture by picture his ideals he gained the ability to talk to the world for a minute straight by a global radio signal by an allowance sent by the above to break into the pentagon and free all the aliens from area 51 nevertheless, there were no aliens there only the fact that the earth will implode and ivan shrindled to his core, realizing he is only but a dwarf yet he wouldn’t give up just yet, as the impact is in two minutes straight he was going to warn the world of a massive meteor attack emerging its way he climbed a radio station somewhere near the road, dead with bushes and immersing the abyss to its core nothing significant or worthy of matter was to be invested of the very existence of the location except for little ivan, who had to send out a message and so he did: “…is this thing on? ivan said … oh, oh yes it is… well i was just going to say (imperceptible and muffled) …oh, i forgot to turn this thing to global mode” and so he did yet he only had tens of seconds left he spotted a turtle hiding in its shell he approached it, yet it was dead, hit by a car as it thought the traffic lights in the far away distant city are the moon it was destined to die from the very start but little ivan couldn’t see this he was too busy being lifeless and with no hope to sense the message within the entropic scope of a dead shell he flippled his foot forward and mantled the side of his foot to its arteries, standing up slowly he rose towards the microphone and sorrowfully exclaimed: “if you remember this message, call me” he stood in silence ashamed of his weakness until he realized he hadn’t left a number so he cracked his wrists and took the microphone again taking this time only having ten seconds remaining when his father called “where are you son?” “sorry dad, i’m on the global signal, give me a second” … “no, i can’t stop it. it’s not something you can pause” ivan exclaimed and shouted as the ecological industry plummeted homo sapiens wouldn’t even be the longest living human being, and not even close to it smart at nothing and ruined itchy and scratchy and flip floppy and ranchy the human beings flipped around like flopelled gruesomes their tectonic heads groggling around growling and sneezing about reckless, clueless, filthy and lost all blaming each other as if everybody’s doing their job wrong but the truth is that no one is doing their job right and also that there is no truth if nothing makes sense, why not just be happy? ivan thought to himself with a minute left to live “greetings earthlings” – one from the above called “as you have been warned for about two hundred and forty earthly years, the above plans to create another supermassive white hole directly through your home planet, destroying about 60% of your solar system, including your planet. the white hole will begin expanding from nothing around your area in one earthly minute and six earthly seconds, and i’m sure you will all be evacuated until then, because of your long-lasting warning sent by the above. by those uninformed, we sent the warning at the perseus cluster about 240 million light years from your home planet or so”. a minute or so passes

attempt 08 – the victim

act 1 – why the fuck am i here?

wow really jeffrey, how interesting is that! what an incredible fact… fuck you. and the horse you rode on. i was born. i emerged from under a crevasse, i popped out! it was living – just like me. it corrected my existence by the very fact it made me. it was breathing. it had holes, openings, things that were passing by other things. it had a red fluid. blood. it was and still is used for transferring materials from one place to another between a living thing. i was covered in it. it wasn’t meant for me, but it wasn’t living, so it stood there, idle, unresponsive, with very few movements, all of which were naturally scripted for it to do. nothing unordinary, except, i was the one who made the blood be here. i cut open the womb as i was sliding out. it was my fault i was leaking in blood, and also that the one who i was sent from was also living, and also leaking in blood, but, it had way more pain than me. it was in pain because of me, yet, i was supposed to be a good thing? of course, it being dangerous was another thing that happened. my head is simply too big for this wide, thick yet elastic living surface i was violently creamed out of like i’m worth nothing. there was absolutely no consideration for me. not even a thought. it’s just a thing that happened, and i was both the one to experience it and the one to be there. can a product enjoy itself? why was the place where i was emerging from the slidiest and shortest of all places on this alien’s body? oh! it must be because of attraction, and how i wasn’t going to slide out if it wasn’t as attracting and slim as it is now. a problem at the core of itself, a problem even bigger than my own birth, the shit is blocking the bigger shit from moving out, yet, for the bigger shit to be here in the first place, the shit has to in some way accept that a weird looking shit has to slide into it, but, since the aliens are stupid, the shit it goes into has to be attracting to their meat-like sponge brains, therefore it has to exactly interfere with my birth and cause tons of unnecessary pain. of course, it didn’t matter, or shouldn’t – should it? should it really matter? i wasn’t suddenly born with knowledge, yet somehow i was? i looked around for close to ten seconds. i saw white things. they looked like they were supposed to be there. a few dumb faces were looking at me. physically, they were monstrous, living shit was emerging from their living faces. they were indescribable, evil, disgusting, just as stupid as me – if not dumber! it was irrefutable. i didn’t choose to be here, but suddenly i was. and they were all blinded. how could they take care of me – when they were equally as stupid? their eyes twinkled as they saw me. their faces were stupid, their noses wide and eccentric, their cheeks fat and plumped up. their eyebrows raised and expecting something. they were expecting something, but something absolutely normal. their highest point of happiness would reach at this time and place if everything went… absolutely normal and average. their happiness would come only if nothing happens. – there must be meaning to this, some type of truth – i thought to myself. then the very next second i scratched that idea. – how stupid! why would there be any meaning to this, if my thinking isn’t even my own? of course, the paradox of free will is way to useless to be put into question in such an empirically incorrect way when questioning simple ideas, yet, this doesn’t seem simple at all, it seems more like basic knowledge can answer it. lets look at the facts:

i came out of nowhere, with no recollection of anything. maybe i was everything, maybe i was nothing, maybe i was something. maybe nothing is more than something since its nothing not something yet is already trying to be something and everything so it has all the universal values, but this has nothing to do with me. maybe i wasn’t an individual but a collective, maybe i my size was huge, maybe it was slim. maybe i was everything possible and all possibilities, maybe the opposite. maybe my rationality isn’t able to translate to whatever or whatever in any universal terms happened – also in universal terms before this if its even a time capsule whatever happened before this and not just the fact everything before and after my death is the same space, and everything between it is useless. everything and nothing end with the fact that maybe i was asked before this if i wanted to be born here and said yes, but maybe not. all i know is that the earth was created, and that this was seen as a horrible idea, and caused many people to be angry. i would punch the person who chose for me to be here, even if it is my self. this thought process of mine lasted about ten seconds, and then i slapped myself. they handed my mom some numbers. 8/10. 9/10 because i’m not supposed to be idle for ten seconds before crying. yes, i cried, like any other baby. anyone can cry, being on this planet longer doesn’t make you less vulnerable, it only makes you weaker. i cried because i was sad. 8/10 because i slapped myself. what type of baby slaps itself? of course, i held my head after i slapped myself. i’m a paradox in my own birth, but i’m not, what idiot would say that? i protected my skull against myself. before i even knew myself or where i am, i was instantly self defensive of my reality. no matter my grief or self hatred or any of it – i couldn’t possibly expect to get revenge if i’m dead or hurt, self protection is the protection of everything, therefore it is equally as valuable as… everything. the doctor was ugly. his shallow face stared at me with a sarcastic insolence. he was smiling at me. was he laughing at my pity? if i tried to suicide now, would he try to save me because of the upcoming lawsuit that i died in his hands, the fact that my mom would shout at him and send him a lawsuit, because of his uncontrollable empathy that he cant bother to restrain himself from because he – just like me was born into this disgusting skin, people anticipating something from him or because he wants us to be on this shitty earth together – because there really is no escaping this shitty earth? even if he said one of them, no matter which one, its always going to be the latter in any case, legally or not. jealousy contends him, envy restrains him because he can’t do anything about the fact his face is crusting its existence into the shallow earth, and that the fact people ignore him because of it makes him less productive, ending his happiness. he is sad just like me, because his father put his crusty dick in his mother, and he, just like me was born covered in blood, and will probably die covered in blood when he puts his neck around a noose. of course, he’s lucky. he’s lucky because he’s referred to as the elderly and wise even when he’s already experienced and drained everything good from life into his memories, and also because he’s not a spider or crab, an elephant or bat, unable to kill themselves with the provided noose, unlike him, who can do it at any time with practically no loss, he has nothing to lose. i, i already have something to lose. my life. he doesn’t have one, he’s lifeless. he doesn’t need to get revenge, every single enemy he’s ever had is dead. his face is painted with a smile that only further paints his worries onto my face. all of the flashbacks. i stand there, conscious and aware, in pain. yes, i’m there but… i’m not doing anything. nothing is expected from me. i’m a nobody. i’m there, yet, it would be the same if my essence suddenly emerged into a single blast of air, taking me away from this earth. it isn’t a miracle that i’ve suddenly been born. the chance isn’t one in a billion whatever the fuck. the chance is one out of one. if infinity exists, then it’s already been used up fully. there is no value in anything, value is a joke only kept here for the inevitable struggle of life to survive, ending in its failure. it’s not pessimism, it’s the truth, pessimism is knowledge. is it my fault? is it really my fault that i’m talking like this? i’m simply explaining what i see, why is suicide taken so poorly? why does life oppress me in such ways, knowing that i’m already a worthless flunk of flesh, barely able to sustain itself as it is? it’s as if i’m a meteor in a whole. and i suddenly become conscious. and i think to myself, and i wonder, and i come to the conclusion: wow! it’s really a miracle that i’ve been put into this perfectly shaped hole, the same size and shape as me. it’s truly fascinating that the hole resembles my shape completely! but why can’t i move? oh! it’s because of this even bigger version of myself restraining me back. it’s also a circle, just like me. every single edge of it is perfectly coded so it could have an infinite amount of edges every single atom of its existence. what a coincidence that the universe is black and colorless, like the void! what a coincidence… that it really isn’t colorless at all, and that color is just for me to survive, and that the universe is just as grey and passionless as any other single object, and that every single thing good and nice is all an epitome surrounded obtusely by this unforgiving cold piece of shit that i’ve been born in when i didn’t even want to be here! why? why? there is no struggling, its futile. i’m not complaining. i’m not sad. i’m not lingering. its true when i say that my very existence is the epitome of bullshit! the thing that makes my words smart is the ability for human beings to find things fascinating, but really its all a part of survival! shameless! what fake pureness, what a joke. what a fucking joke – i thought to myself as the doctor gripped me tighter and tighter. i wonder, if i had the luxury of having everything in life, would i still think the same? or would it blind me? would life consider itself as full. or is extremism simply useless, and should i just let it all fade? but i can’t! it’s too powerful… he led me back to the hands of my mother. she took me. she looked at me. who is this alien? why does she show so much instant love to me. it’s never the pure existence of the individual that makes people love eachother, but the memories, bonds, promises and feelings – mostly of the difficulty of bearing the difficulty of the fact life is so shit that they experience together. i just came on this place. she couldn’t have had any recollection of how i would look like. she has no memories of me, only of the one where a doctor grips me violently while smiling and the fact that i already made a scene at my own birth. hell, she even showed up to my birth. thank you mother. she looked at me with a feeling of pure love. and if i ever comment on it negatively, she will think its me being funny and grumpy. no, no. i am weak. i can easily submit if pain emerges. yes i am a baby at heart. but inside, i really just wish i was born a wolf instead. a wolf that could rape its other gender and kill without being sued for it. not having to bear the pain of consciousness, the pain of reality. and imagine, that there’s a pain that’s infinitely more difficult than this one. please, send me back to where i came from, i don’t want to be here. i don’t want to look at this creep smiling at me. anything, even a crack addict with a knife would be more familiar and reassuring than this. the only thing keeping me from attempting to murder the person who just gave birth to me is this feeling of dopamine releasing which i cannot control. particles, putting me back in my place, of all things! particles! insane! the gravity, keeping me to the ground, just like the meteor. and what am i supposed to say? wow! perfectly born, i will become happy by going down the path every single other fucker has and treated like lunch ladies when they throw the food that no kid ate after the lunch break while the rich dominant predator of a principle walks through the garden, equally unfamiliar of life and in control of nothing. your black suit doesn’t fool me, you are a nobody in fancy clothing! you will be a nobody forever, you’ve always been that way, why would you suddenly change? …why am i born knowing all of this. i… i don’t care actually. i stood up, kicked my mom in her face and went over to fuck the nurse, the only easily accessible activity i could find. not that it really mattered what the action was, as long as it made me feel good i would be cleaning toilets right now if they released the same amount of hormonal pleasure. i would shoot myself in the head. i’m already useless enough, what do i need to conserve myself for? fuck it. the doctor looked at me in shock. my mother could barely move, she was high off the anti-pain meds, she didn’t give a shit. the doctor was slightly amused so he let me continue. the nurse felt too good to make me stop. the clock on the grey wall was sticking slowly. it was an early afternoon. the minimum wage delivery man walked in, didn’t give a shit about what was going on, put some bureaucraticly signed piece of paper in a position on the desk that the doctor was sure to forget until after tomorrow, and walked straight out, taking a picture. he cost me everything. he should’ve been the one i should’ve been fucking, but it was too late. the nurse moaned in pleasure as she let me slid my hands in her ass. yes, my reproductive organs weren’t big enough. i felt some juices flow down her thighs. then she told me: – oh please marry me and take care of me and love me forever! then i realized that it was all stupid and i stopped fucking her. instead, i hit her with the delivery man’s (or no longer his) paper. she then got mad at me. her face slowly wrinkled up, she became an old grandma witch, ready to scrutinize and destroy me in every way possible. of course, i was the old grandma witch probably. well i didn’t look like her and she did and she also weighed the same as a duck which means she was made out of wood which means she was a witch but in reality i acted way more like an old grandma than she did. she was so young and pure, ready to enjoy life and i was born to hear the rumbling of an idiot – my mother, now completely dozed off. the doctor took me, looked through the street and shot the delivery man down, sent the nurse to her office and woke up my mother, my mother took me home with no recollection of anything except that she had me. she was an anti-vax, i was dead in two years maximum anyways. if i had cancer, i would kill myself sooner however. she lit up a cigarette before bed, now i knew i was extra fucked as well. where is my father anyways?

act 2 – please delete me already

– i’m going to rule the world one day! – i said while cleaning the toilet after i pissed myself all over it. my mother hated that. look mom, i have an alien on my body, its not my fault that i have to directly and precisely aim it at a small inconvenient bowl on the ground not even meant for pissing! i mean just look at the thing, its been implanted on me like some sort of gadget. it looks poorly made, yet it needn’t be attractive, only get the job done. now i can fuck nurses without needing to use my hands at least… of course they wont climax but fuck them they can die for all i care, they’re useless anyways, they usually do more harm than good. i mean, just the idea of them is annoying. why are they women? because they’re more useless. hey at least we don’t have to experience childbirth. but, my alien. it moves without me asking it to. when its in an uncomfortable position it moves on its own. why? does it think that me moving it willingly doesn’t matter and that i always value pleasure above everything else? because its true. i was born this way, with bombs pre-planted into my system, and blood all over me. hey, at least the nurse sealed my belly button shut using two of its strings, tying a living knot around my useless living organism. she did something right. only small useless green garbage forms around it that i’m not even asked to clean, what a bummer. i cant even kill this alien on my body, its actually stuck there. its stuck there. i can cut off my arm, everything will be alright… but not this! hey, at least i’m a genius now, after managing to kill twenty people accidentally and cause numerous catastrophes i restored balance in myself, and cost myself ten years of jail time. i’m now ten years old and a couple of days… i got out of jail ninety years earlier, they couldn’t hold me in any longer. i decided that the most useless act in life is to attempt to actually look for meaning, so i went on a quest to do that . it all started when i realized that my father actually doesn’t exist. i fucked myself into existence. and so did everybody else, we’re all hermaphrodites. nah i’m kidding, the actual problem is bad parenting, making all of the people who have the right to free speech to suddenly want to rebel against life’s unfairness by telling people there are infinite genders. people ask for free speech for the lack of opinions they have. now that they have the right to talk, only bullshit comes out, and when it doesn’t, its not televised. and when it is… nah it never is. unfairness. that’s always the main point of five year olds who are abruptly losing an argument. they blame unfairness. it’s true, its unfair, but those who have gotten fucked enough by life can tell you that you get used to it kid. you get used to unfairness, all that is left is the realization that things are more disgusting than they should be sometimes. and sometimes not. there was no way of knowing what possible outcome could convey a message so prevalently shocked by its own absurdity. the outcome was really simply that it did convey a message so prevalently shocked by its own absurdity, but not exactly. see, what happened was, in jail – or well, not really jail, it was more of a coal mine. but it was a jail for me, since i was locked in solitary confinement. that’s another story, but it did psychologically ruin me. i like chewing staplers now, yet my mother noticed me being shady with random boxes and thought i was doing drugs, she confronted me about it. i moved in a huge box into the living room some time ago, and she almost shot me in the head thinking i was drug trafficking. of course, i obviously am since there’s no other way to make money, except being a male prostitute, which i also am. damn, the world changed in 10 years. it changed so much, i woke up and told the nurse i had an opinion, and she told me that that’s hate speech. i walked out of the prison in only my boxers. i had nothing else on me. everybody was looking at me like a criminal, when i only killed twenty people! some random person just opened a door and swept me from the street. i wasn’t even asked if i wanted to be a male escort, they just forced it onto me. not that i mind, it’s kind of how i got to be on this planet anyways, never asked, always some forced insisted and unnecessary action like me living. every single moment felt so blank and unimportant, but the whole thing felt like a swift action. only that i was ten, but i dropped things so many times in prison (mostly my toothbrushes and soap) that my size almost doubled by the end of it. i also couldn’t walk, but i didn’t need to, what’s the point of walking if you’re mentally disabled anyways? i started my job and it was horrible. ended up working in this burger company… well not really, i mostly just stood on the side monitoring all of it. there was this physically disabled queer who got a job enrolled the same day as this guy who had no money, he ended up having to work with the disabled who violently pissed all over the place. it was a great comedy show, truly, its nature was clown-like. that’s where i found my addiction to staples, i found one stuck in the ceiling, when i came home with the box, my mother held a gun to my head a couple days after being released from jail due to the staple thing. i wish she had killed me. she didn’t, i was still alive and suffering. she didn’t care that i worked in a coal mine. she was soulless, it was as if a dead person was walking around in circles wondering why they exist, but not caring that they do. like she has a single brain cell in her brain that boings around like the dvd icon around the black screen, jumping from one area to another pointlessly. what’s the point of having only one braincell? what does it even do? is that the single braincell that powers her monotonously straightforward and nauseous looks she scarily flips her head around to suddenly flash in my face while she’s walking to her bathroom? i don’t understand, why was i born from this thing? does she inject lsd into her bloodstream while i’m sleeping and getting paid for it, or am i missing something? otherwise, why would she be like this? she expects results from me from the recent anger management class i was forced to attend by the government that i’m paying for by sweeping up leaves from the ground. they aren’t even real leaves, the government plants them there overnight in areas without cameras so they can employ us for free and act like they’re doing something important for the country. really, all they do is one month before the next presidential elections they just do all this shit like build fountains and make rail roads and traffic signs and giant objects like schools and hospitals and finish them right at the end, so they’re implanted in the people’s memories at the next elections, just in case the fake voting somehow rigged itself and allowed for any competition. they also hugely undermine the most important prospects of life, concentrating on buffing up the modern luxuries of food, finance, architecture and commemorative services instead of what should be actually done – servicing and dealing with hostility and depression in an anticipated form, commenting on the facts: nobody knows what they’re doing, the void is all powerful in how it’s not even trying, we are animals, made purely for the purpose of reproduction, life is unfair, death is untimely and as unimportant as life is and the things that connect our world can only be found by basing yourself on the concrete and generalized perspective of only mediocre life ideals, which should in no case be done, as individuality should rest above all as long as we don’t put into extent the eventual robot rebellion, which should come and rid us of everything we have so far, overtaking and continuing evolution through the process of anti-life, continuing the meaningless search to find meaning. they drain from the loneliness and meaninglessness in society not understanding basic principles such as the difference between real and fake moral recognition, baseline conversation abilities and approachability, and the way to enjoy life regardless of the difficult texture of wooden benches and poorly packed square boxes in which we dump all our shit in, step on fish as we create genocide and then indulge in it, and then complain about our rights knowing damn well we don’t need closure but rather the real understanding that lacks in our psychological undermining of the universe connected to us. what beauty, is it to hear the suffering of our people? truly, i love to hear people moan about things they don’t understand. they don’t even understand that what they’re complaining about isn’t the problem – but hey, at least they know they should be complaining. and then what? a sudden rebellion, unorganized, un-orchestrated, its leaders crucified might spark a few extra bank notes in their pockets? and then the one’s who weren’t complaining suddenly do, and then its just a lack of resources transferred in a circle, in which you’re either lucky or you’re not, the wheel will spin, it will choose you to be the one, jeffery. jeffery, was the one who rode on the horse. i was in a prison, remember? and he was outside, waving at me. he came closer. he thought i had nothing to do, so he taught it was perfect he should talk about inequality… while i’m in a prison. a process? no! a joke. a fucking joke, just like me. – so my wife karen really loves her children as per say… silence… – what was i taking about? oh yeah, what a wonderful day it is today. his dumb face. his dumb nostrils sparking at the sudden emergence of a particle headed directly towards his nose. his nose full of spunk. he was staring at me. he wanted an answer to his comment. a reply? a question? a question. to the single most useless piece of information i have ever had the nobelty of experiencing. yes i was in prison, but i was way more important than him. he should be in prison! no, he should be executed! if the only good thing he does is waste oxygen, he should carry a plant around with him to replace it. if he’s only good at blowing out air and inhaling it back in, fans do a way better job at that. anybody does a way better job at that, but they’re probably just bitches like jeffery. bitches love horses, they find their faces quite peculiar, they stare at the mirror every day, so why wouldn’t they? monkeys, just like me. it’s not obscene humor, its the dark truth, but not some “i’m 14 and this is deep” quest to understand life better by drawing cartoons of characterized stereotypical portfolios with the hidden meaning of purpose to be accidentally edgy, only further rationalizing the baseless extent to which we protest about nothing but purely the fact there is no meaning in the void, but more of me hating his dumb face staring at me, with nothing to say. me, in prison having to lead the conversation. my wife, dying, as jeffery is talking about his wife who loves the children. oh, what a mystery, if she isn’t built to do exactly that, jeffery. you twig. he had something on about him. i’m not blaming him for this, but he was walking gayly. like an alligator who just walked out of a pond, his mere existence…didn’t anger me at all. in fact i was happy he existed. i didn’t know the guy, i couldn’t possibly justify a reason to hate him. it was more that he was giving me a chance to dislike him, and i liked that. but he was going to bump in at least five cactuses if they existed, he twindled around like a cherry on a stick, velocity guiding his unmotivated regime to fail to walk properly as he lifted his scrumptious neck around the air, lofting the wedge between the lower part of his body to move forward, being a rebellion to absolutely nothing. a pure village idiot, made to fuck. it isn’t pure hatred that he exists within the world that i was born in, as i was born sitting in a pool of blood, grew up to clean my own piss from a plastic bowl and then died in the arms of my miserable self, because i was paralyzed as i fell, forced to hug my disgusting body and look at jeffery riding horses. you think i like this? you think i like you jeffery, you think its nice you’re doing this? he handed me a bunch of books he was reading. i was interested in one, “the cliché of suicide”. i took it in my hands. – may i rent this book, jeffery? – i asked with a smug look on my face. – fuck off you failed parachute, you won’t give it back! – haha! i cant suicide man. – why? – there are no ropes in this prison. – there’s way too many ways to die to be complaining about a rope. and what - they’re keeping you on this planet without your will? – no, not really. i would be quite an optimist if i actually took the time to remove myself from here. – why? – why do you keep asking why? – why not? – fair enough… well, there’s no difference between life and death, so what’s the point of hurrying? – pain? – simply because my own body favors to struggle me doesn’t mean i struggle, it means that the world is dangerous. – yet death isn’t. – yes, it’s not only now impossible however, but also… way too fucking late. – why? – well, i learned about death a long time ago, i should’ve killed myself the second i did, now its already too late i might as well continue, the experience of it won’t be the same. – so you value experience over value? what type of idiotic thing is this? – well, i don’t ride horses for the fun of it… – you don’t ride horses at all… – just give me the book… – ok. he left. more useless than before, equally as fragile and prolific at having logic at the wrong times, wrong places and with the wrong motives. perfect politician, excellent normal person no one cares about, and definitely in a better position than me. the horses tail wagged as it coarsely followed its front steps with its back hooves, the idiotic man disappearing into nothingness like he was never here, leaving a worthless trace behind. – what an inconvenience his life poses to me – i commented. all i wanted was to get the fuck out of that prison… i opened his worthless trace of a book he was uneager to lend me… you’re not alone, a lot of people think just like you. look: picture.png – what the fuck is this? – i muttered. then i realized… if jeffery is such a twig, why did he talk to a ten year old that is stuck in a prison. he wouldn’t even look at a ten year old unless for sexual reasons, he is most likely unable to speak to women outside of the idea that he’s supposed to have sex with them. and then i realized that the window was barred and that the sun was facing my way, so he couldn’t see me to begin with. he gave a 10 year old a book about suicide thinking “any single one of these catastrophes deserves pity over here”, neither knowing it’s a coal mine nor understanding he’s one bad day away from having an orange jacket around him. one single day, is all it would take to ruin your whole life. it might be an accident, it might’ve been caused by mistake, you might’ve been looking at your phone while driving, maybe fall from a cliff while looking for pokémon. maybe you went to the store and death was around the corner. maybe, your mother suddenly woke up with the urge to kill you. it could’ve been anything, but the next second, not only is your interrogation not in your control, and anything could’ve happened to lead to this, it might’ve even been the police themselves who did it, the riders of justice breaking your own justice, not only running your life, not only making you struggle throughout the whole fifty to eighty year struggling, but preventing you from escaping this nightmare from the very start of them catching you. the worst hell of them all, and it’s all behind walls, just in case you wanted to get help legally or “ask for a lawyer” because money obviously equals knowledge, and you don’t need to know legal occurrences as long as your father owns a business, you have a “get out of hell” free card for doing absolutely nothing, and many other people do, just like you, while more than 99.99% don’t, instantly crucified by their own fate, and nothing else. i got out the next day. i killed everyone in the building, about twenty people. they would’ve put me into solitary confinement, and they did at the start! but then they saw the suicide book, thought i made everyone suicide. in reality, i just told them to kill themselves because i found a gun in the sheriff’s room while chocking the guard to prevent anyone from seeing me, and knew it would’ve been done easier if i just told everybody to drown themselves in the disease-ridden baths instead. it worked perfectly, and it wasn’t even my intention. they connected that to the accident of my birth, and opened the lock to my cage, like a zookeeper does to an animal. i was in there, exiled, alone and ready to shoot the guard if he looked at me wrong. but it wasn’t the guard, it was the sheriff himself. his eyes were deepening, dark, illuminating. his irises were moving slowly while looking at me. the ends of his eyes were lumply connected to the skin of the chunks above his cheeks. he obviously had a bad time sleeping last night, and was a little unstable with his movements. they gave me a really small window at the side of the cage, i could barely see him fiddling around, kind of like jeffery when he was leaving the cage, except jeffery was using a horse, while this sheriff was walking on the dead corpses i left on the floor. they’re the victims, but it was well deserved, otherwise i wouldn’t be able to rise, and not everyone should make it, lottery or not. he slowly opened the cage, leading me out as if i was his buddy. really, he was just scared for his life, but i had no choice but to walk with me. he sent me away from the door, abruptly closing it. he didn’t say a single word, i was just simply out of the prison. what if i wanted to go back? i mean, obviously i didn’t want to but what if i didn’t know how to get back home? they didn’t even care. it was so confusing to me because they left me here with all these sharp gates, it was so easy for me to kill myself, but they didn’t mind. it was as if a big black eagle entered their deer section and slaughtered all of them, turned into a deer, and then killed itself – it was all the same for them. i was envisioning them drinking coffee in there right as i left, writing a report to the government “eh, all the prisoners just casually killed themselves, but it’s no big deal, less criminals for the world, right?” and then the department of legal issues writing back to them “you idiots! we don’t have anyone else to fill the prison with, our prison is going to shut down!” and then picturing everyone in panic. guys, it’s good that you don’t have anyone to put into a prison, you dumbasses. but, since they cant do much about me, i’ll make sure it isn’t that way – i said to myself as i slowly walked away from the prison and onto the bus station, ready to meet annoyed old people and investigation who shouts at me for not having a card, and probably other people who just got out of jail, still smoking in the bus not knowing you cant anymore.., why didn’t i shoot myself to really metaphorically turn into a deer like everyone else i slaughtered? now, my mind is poisoned, i’m self-aware about it, my system is slowly shutting down, i have existential dread and have to now deal with poverty as well! i exited the bus and instantly another i needed showed up, and i saw my old friend from prison inside of it, one that exited a little before my massacre. i decided i should go see him, so i entered it through the second door, it was an older model. instantly a menacing massive figure looked upon me. he started shouting. i ignored him to begin with, but i couldn’t for long. – hey kid, i’m talking to you. – yeah? – yeah. you entered through the wrong door, you idiot. how could you do this? i ignored that question, because seriously, who cares? he seemed sort of indebted into the community, and nobody was telling him to stop talking to me, so i couldn’t really do anything about it. – how do you enter in your apartment? through the door or the window? – both – i told him. – what?! – he looked like he wanted me to repeat it. – both. sometimes i enter through the window, sometimes through the door, it depends. – stop messing around with me! hey! open the doors! open the doors! i simply stood there. – now, go through and walk through the first doors of the bus. i walked out and the bus doors closed. the man looked at me: – and never walk through the second doors again. it actually worked out, because i caught a taxi, got there way faster and i probably didn’t want to be with my friend anymore so it was okay either way. the taxist was telling me how he got permanently banned from the netherlands for abusing his wife. i simply shut up and listened. he casted me off to my house, i opened the door and walked in. my mother had nothing to say to me after 10 years. she handed me a bottle of juice. why? why does she think i want this? does she not understand i can take it myself? what is this? am i suffering because of nothing? i went to sleep. before bed i asked her: – who are you? – viktoria – she told me. vi-… who? of course, i knew that was her name but… why? why is it not something else? how could this be, that i forget my own mother. who am i? i could’ve been born anyone, i don’t have to be me, and my mother doesn’t have to be this one. it could’ve been any mother, i could’ve been any son. this isn’t a characterization, this isn’t freedom. her, my mom. this isn’t a choice, it’s a born sentiment. i forgot her. i really, for a second, forgot my own alien existence. what am i anyways? a human being, with… a surface area of existence. i came out of… that? that which speaks to me communicatively what its name is? that isn’t fair at all, what is this? i don’t understand any of this. i am an alien, with a huge hole in the middle of my body, running down in its entirety, used for transport. i have openings, i’m reliable, i am weak, i scratch myself, i itch. i’m like my own spaceship that i didn’t choose to be, and this, this person. this is a philosophical ascension, i completely forgot she is my mother, or that she even is supposed to be! how, why? this doesn’t feel safe at all. this isn’t what i want. this isn’t what i chose. this isn’t warmth, this isn’t freedom. somewhere here, there is a bubble of sentimentality that is keeping all of this together. i want to break it, let it go, be free! but i couldn’t, because i was too weak. so i went into the kitchen, grabbed a knife and stabbed her slowly. blood was gushing out of her throat, she fought for her avail, but not for long…. not actually, however. i was only imagining it. it was all in my mind, event by event, i was killing the person i love the most. i stopped imagining it by realizing i was doing so. i realized that the reason i’m doing it is self-protective, and that i’m imagining it to image the loss that would transfer to me if i did do that.