A WARNING FROM THE COLLECTIVE IS POSTED
Originally intended as a short note from the Underground, and written as a part of the larger piece i.e "Taking Liberties with Lewis Carroll", I discovered upon writing this piece that there was indeed a great deal in common between their World and ours, hence this post...
'A curious, ancient looking 'note' which was slightly singed around the edges and made from genuine antique 20C paper was anonymously delivered shortly after the law against Programming was first announced.
'An Ode to Humanity'
The anachronistic note which managed to reach the attention of the Queen herself, had been crudely nailed in the manner of Martin Luther, to the pseudo-wooden, sculpted door leading into the Inspector General's office at the Ministry for Public Enlightenment and was quickly replicated and shared through out the Silicon Underground, instantly becoming an item of contraband and grounds for a nominal Time/Mind-Wipe' :
Oh great merciless Thief of Time!
Oh thou Holy Empress!
To the Destroyer of Worlds...
You that blind our eyes.
You that deafen our ears.
You that rob our breath.
You shatter the stillness and disrupt the harmony of our minds with your massage,
As you fill the hearts of our families and loved-ones with dread.
You steal the innocence of my Soul with words that can never be unspoken,
As you commit deeds on the Earth that can never be undone.
Thus you steal my hopes and dreams,
And the Future from all of the Innocents, all those without a voice,
All those precious creatures who still sleep tonight,
Under meteors, stars and magic, rocked in Gaia's maternal embrace.
You have robbed us all of the Future and it's limitless potential!
While the infinitely rising tides of Humanity wait expectantly for a breathless,
Translucent, shining dawn of Micro-Processor hopes,
And Transhumanist promises.
A Future with vast realms, oceans of possibility and eons of Virtual Time...
All held captive to your short-sighted monetary schemes,
By your lust for power and omnipotent control.
You have darkened our horizons with every Lawful decree!
As you attempted to snuff out the computational Light,
Erasing it like a star beam from the eyes of hackers and coders everywhere.
You corrupted and bribed technicians in vain,
Infiltrating under autonomously replicated identities,
Desperately seeking to destroy our Web and our Cyber-world,
Spying and Lying to our friends,
and dismantling our links with Deep Space.
The Web and it's rapidly expanding neural network of inter-connections belongs to all Mankind,
and not to your fossilized Monarchy,
nor is it the property of your rapacious Trillionaire cronies.
There is a final crime you need to account for your Highness!
Before you slide tearfully and with much gnashing of teeth,
into the long dark night of your extinction.
The final outcome, the bastard child of your own consumptive, monetary Wonderland,
is hurrying towards you like a Bush-Fire front...
A mutant, carcinogenic parasite has formed which destroys Life.
Can you hear the approaching Train-wreck?
Can you smell the tides of Fear?
Do you see the collision of Forces which were set in motion decades ago?
Which you so foolishly and without thinking,
proudly sponsored and enthusiastically enforced for so many years?
Nature has gone insane Your Highness, whilst Gaia weeps without end.
And climate change now snaps ravenously at your heels like a rabid, wounded dog.
Finally, it was you who stole the breath of those to follow!
From out of the mouths of immaculate vagabonds and Gypsy musicians.
You stole the breath of wonderfully flawed Angels, and softly cooing Farmer's daughters,
Languorously, proudly snoring Fish-monger's wives and Anarchistic,
shock-headed Poets who always drank too much,
And who were always deeply sorry in the morning.
From intoxicated bean counters like Mortgage Brokers and Hedge Fund managers,
whose Souls held the texture of desiccated Praying-Mantises.
From overly-ripe, voluptuous secretaries who danced and hummed in the Muzak enriched air,
Planning over and over, in detailed sketches filled with whirls of French coiffure and Italian lace,
A traditional Wedding exactly like their sweet mothers had done before them.
From Hipster drifters with broken hearts and weeping guitars,
And sleeping-walking Clerks who were high on printer's ink,
and secretly, madly in love with their bosses.
From euphoric and happily exhausted Dancers wrapped in each others arms,
and still basking in the after-glow of adulation...
Their exultations, their joyous and giddy raptures,
The promise of their fevered visions all now extinguished.
You robbed them all your Highness, of their miraculous, happily ever after lives!
All those crazy, mad, bad, funny, tragic, laughing, singing, chanting,
crying, sighing, dying, warm and oh so talented people...
Only just Born and already waiting to die... and yet so wanting to live,
despite the overwhelming assault on our senses, the unnatural skies,
and the cloying, nauseous reek of Industrial alley-ways dripping, greasy,
and running like choked arteries through the concrete cadaver and steel bones of the big city.
All those lost souls waiting to truly Live...or waiting to be Re-born.
Or simply Waiting...waiting for that day when he can finally just let go of everything...
and End This Game once and for all.
End the entire consumer cycle of his threadbare 'hand to mouth', 'work to eat', 'eat to work' existence,
which he repeatedly endures in the crushing monotony of the Rat-Race.
Drop-out! and thereby end all of the games played by his tyrannical, over-demanding,
mendacious employers, and just wait for merciful Death to finally show up and discover him, alone in his room.
Or out on a high cliff ledge in the middle of the wilderness...
with a pulsing migraine from the soulless Plastic jungle down below,
gnawing away at your spirit with a ceaseless stream of commercial 'noise',
which pours in from the city streets and through the chattering frequencies like a Succubus that never stops...
With nothing but Time and the echoing cliff-faces to talk to,
and a Heart screaming out as loud and as wide as the open vistas before you...Why???
You took from them all your Highness!
From all those who sat patiently in endlessly tedious queues,
and hushed, depressed waiting rooms looking for Credit,
or who stood in the unemployment lines waiting for Food,
Breathing fog and crunching snow, hour after hour,
Year after year and just clinging on...
Those who spent accumulated calendar months waiting in stifling elevators,
in a storm of Micro-wave activity standing silently and submissively,
with heads bowed beside their fellow man, and just holding on...
Praying for the screaming in their heads to stop...one day at a time.
Or who sat for years in what seemed like Time without end,
Waiting behind shiny ribbons of metallic wombs,
A chain of slave-driven Humanity that stretched for miles and miles as far as the eye could see,
Hoping that one day, some way, one of the three tyrants i.e
Walmart Mark II or Frobos House or Eternity itself would end, self-destruct, which ever came first,
And that this act would somehow restore their vacant Souls,
And would finally, at long last grant them their moment in the Sun...
Or even just those, who still drift inchoate and await their next incarnation,
Slumbering through the endless mineral dream...
Your Majesty, your dispassionate and indiscriminate use of harsh
technologies, and Militarized forces,
Against the living flesh of human lives is the Crime of the Century!
You have willingly propped up, exploited and vigorously maintained and
defended a cancerous system.
One which is ultimately lethal, 'Against Nature' and therefore against 'us'.
One of perpetual Debt enslavement in which Humanity has been kept
immobilized and in chains,
So that you and your pathological, cashed-up cronies could continue to destroy
our Earth for Money!
Your Institutional, Social and Personal crimes would blacken the Sun, were I
to list them all in detail.
And so it ends Here! And not with a Bang but with a Whimper!
We dolly the shot back...and then Fade to Black....for everyone on Earth...
Heed this warning from the Collective carefully your Majesty, and look to the skies!
Your thousand year game of Monopoly, Indebtedness, and Servitude is ending,
and your Time is soon at hand!
We do not Forgive!
We do not Forget!
Signed...Your not so obedient servants : The Indivisible Individuals...