Scene 1 It smells like… time down here. Not just damp earth or rot, but something older. A primal scent that’s been waiting in the dark for a millennium. I’m recording this at the bottom of the scar somewhere in the anomaly. In my mind, it's called the Necropolis Gully . My helmet is trying to map it—casting these sterile, digital grids over the moss and the stone—but the data doesn’t make sense. It’s glitching. It’s shuddering against the reality of this place. I don't know why I'm here, looking at ruins. Just... debris. But in the ruins, I found the ghosts of a future that never happened. I was walking over shards of polymerised memories . This was once a city. It was meant to be the heart of a new world that... simply stopped. It wasn't an engineering failure. It was a failure of existence. Holding that slate, I felt this... weight. The grief of the architect. The "wounds of unbuilt dreams." I realised then that this isn't a graveyard for people. It’...
Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps
Seeking a New Way of Seeing
Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps
-
A political act
To rebalance the inequities
Trust intuition
There is a risk that our story will not be told
Our time doesn't have to be linear
Or by its means of describing us
In the busy work of creating an unfulfilling life
Who is in charge of my simulation?
When I am observed
I behave differently
Fearing my vulnerability
Fearing constant attack
My mind indistinguishable from reality
I step onwards
To self-correct my past errors
As I passively slip through multiple dimensions
With My Judgmental and Righteous Hands
In this game, I have two hands
One is for verity
One is judgment
One is bringing forward truth
One is for corrective measures
One is to bring alignment
One is to teach a lesson
As we transform onwards through this immense virtual space
Night Walking with Weapons
In distant places
Everyone is hacking each other
Everyone is grieving
Everyone overconsuming
There are those trying to reduce socio-economic gaps
Where enforcement is distributed unequally
And I keep searching for signs of what is to come
In my sleepwalks
Whilst I stumble around
Seeking a New Way of Seeing A political act To rebalance the inequities
I step onwards And stealthy transverse multiple dimensions
I have two hands To forge space
In my sleepwalks I hack around The distant places
I am night walking With verity With judgment
Godly Hands
Night walking like an American
Gather your weapons
Forge the intention
Demonstrate your propendency to exert violence
Through intervention
Through approval
Be with the one
Listen to your calling
Walk with purpose
With weapon in hand
Gather in the obedient
Prepare and train
In the presence of victory
God’s hand is with you
Godly Growth
Everything has become digitized
Everything has been even more effortless
Living life exponentially faster
But feeling incomplete
Pushing against the limits of our biosphere
Whilst disregarding the contradictory knowledge
There is only a thin blue line that separates us from the eternal darkness of space
Godly Hands Night Growth
My life has been nothing but a failure - Monet
Each night perfectionism
Each night insomnia
Each night dealing with my thinking difficulties
Dealing with "what ifs”
Dealing with “if onlys"
This way of thinking
This epidemic
It is the sickness, sadness, and self-defeating behavior
Of only seeing failure
Augmenting New Ways of Seeing
There are comparative and competitive winners
Observing human actions in controlled and stimulated surroundings
Psychological Anchors The characters thus embody the classic dichotomy between logic/control (BK) and emotion/instinct (JB), a tension that becomes central to their survival when their advanced technology fails and they are forced into the realm of the psychological (the anomaly). They represent two vital, yet opposing, parts of the human response to existential chaos : the attempt to catalogue and talk through the terror, versus the primal urge to act and accept the turmoil. Psychological Anchors video What's the real story behind space tourists BK and JB ? Their identities are in constant flux—changing race, age, and form. Host Alex and guest Dr. V dive deep into this "multiverse" concept to explore the two constant, warring psychologies at the heart of the Subi crew : BK: The ultimate planner, driven by logic and an internal narrator . JB: The ultimate instinct, driven by raw, non-verbal emotion and anxiety . How does a logical mind handle " Paraknowing "—...
Necropolis Gully Ancient Fertility The only sound in the deep quiet of the crevice was the crunch of my boots on the debris-strewn ground. Towering stone walls, draped in vibrant green moss , rose on either side, making me feel like an intruder in a forgotten tomb . My matte-black suit , a product of a future this place could never have imagined, felt profane against the ancient rock . Then I saw it: a weathered, silent figure standing in the path. It was a statue of a woman , carved from the same stone as the gully but shaped with clear intent. Moss crept up its base and clung to its form like a second skin. This impossible artifact, an architectural anomaly in this raw, natural fissure , stopped me. My steady, determined posture belied the storm of questions raging in my mind. The statue stared forward with blank, unseeing eyes, a silent witness to a history I had just stumbled into. My mission was to find my crew, but this place, this silent, stone woman , was a new, un...
Comments
Post a Comment