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Time is a luxury we no longer possess

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Space Tourism Chronicles The Slingshot Saga Time is a luxury we no longer possess Our battered Subi spacecraft, a relic in the night Flickering erratic, its core a dying light On Primary Trade Lane Delta-Nine, a river of light so grand But cycles bled away, draining across the land BK slumped, pale and strained, JB with eyes closed in despair Time a luxury we no longer possessed, consumed by cosmic air. Transcript from the Slingshot Saga - Time is a luxury we no longer possess Our goddamn battered Subi spacecraft, a damn relic lost in the endless black void! Flickering like a dying firefly on the edge of extinction, its core barely clinging to life like some stubborn, flickering candle about to blow out. We’re stuck on Primary Trade Lane Delta-Nine, that blazing river of cosmic light stretching for eons, yet every damn cycle just bleeds away, sucking the lifeblood right out of this forsaken stretch of space. BK is slumped over, looking paler than a ghost at a midnight séance, and J...

Gotta Assassinate Dungeon

 

The Room is a Dungeon

I woke up to the punishment of cramping cold. My bed is dirty, and I have been feasted on by pests and rodents. Realizing my nakedness and no blanket to cover up, I feel vulnerable. My immediate thought is: who has captured me? 


I quickly scan the room. No window. No dunny. No nothing. Just a solitary light, behind its wire cage, simultaneously emitting and trapping a spectrum of transformative light.



I try to account for my lost time. Without any means of measurement, I must endure until an opportunity presents itself. This is a temporal experience. 



I focus on apprehending my fears as a single event in time. I must trust my perceptions to escape.



The roof and walls are cold.  I experience the architect’s subliminal message. I know his place. It is I who dwell inside of his fear. What shall be done must be done. This revolving state cannot withstand my driving force.



When my rotation is complete, four lives will enter into my cell of death. The medieval studded door is the weakness of this fortress. This door will open. I will my escape.



This Fortress 
This Door
This Weakness



My mind is somewhere between fight and flight, as I search into the horizon for my future self. 



I’m standing within a grid, a translucence matrix of blood-red that alters with every iteration of thought. Each stain tells a story of pain and torture. I know I must fight then flee, and my darkness within is the path I must take.


Transverse Fight then Flight

I am contained within this inverted panopticon. My consciousness is hidden behind a societal parable. For centuries I have been receptively owned. Now casted into an actual person I must respond. I am not the sacrifice. I am the weapon. The architect has left subliminal messages. They are imprinted into the wall. They are ineligible to the literal. I just know. My only knowledge is to fight then flight and call on the darkness of within to escape this gridlock.


Transverse Fight then Flight video


Transverse Wakes up in a Cage



Wake up in a cage
Apprehend your fear
Unshackle your memory










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