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The Art of No

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  The Ayes Have It (But She Don't) Everybody knows the bill is dead Everybody knows the Senate’s red Everybody knows the deal is done The major parties had their fun The crossbench bargains were all just show The whips have cracked, the whistle’s blowed That’s how it goes And Hanson always votes no. Everybody knows the bells are ringing Everybody knows the mud they’re slinging Everybody knows the clerk can’t count With all the grievances they mount Everybody knows that the motion’s lost Everybody knows what the lobby cost The Ayes go high, the chamber’s low And Hanson always votes no. And everybody knows that it’s now or never Everybody knows that it’s gonna take forever Everybody knows that the act is rotten Old amendments best forgotten Everybody knows the tellers move With nothing left for them to prove The red room puts on quite a show But Hanson always votes no. Everybody knows the maiden speech The lessons that she tried to teach About the fish and about the chips And the tig...

Vision 2 - The Unbearable Truth

 

The Situation - Red Alert

JB, a middle-aged mail spaceship pilot. Starship piloting JB is held not by ropes, but by the cryo-unit's nanoweave swaddle—a tight, absolute embrace mimicking paranoiac wrappings. This material presses against him, preventing his shivering flesh from flying apart under the centrifugal force of his panic. He feels a cold burn and constant helplessness sinking in.

His anxiety is a crimson klaxon, a "relentless tempest" of warring thoughts. He is mentally back in the cockpit, but the instruments scream in an alien language; every light and warning signifies impending failure. His pure instinct screams ABORT, yet there is no escape route.


Confrontation Rising

JB is shown the war of impulses tearing him apart—the "lunge and the retreat". His existence is reduced to the strained gasp: "I live for fucks sake, I don't know.”


Full Assault a Violet Firestorm

JB responds with explosive, automatic violence, his lungs burning from the primal, desperate push against rising panic.


Vision 2 The Unbearable Truth - Red Alert

Story - Narration

The whisper starts low... curling around the base of my skull like smoke. Some minds... are like black holes.

It isn’t just a thought—it’s a gravitational collapse. I feel my own psyche imploding... a dense singularity sucking in light, logic, and hope—crushing them into nothingness.

Then... the alarm hits.

My anxiety manifests as a deafening... crimson... klaxon. It is a "relentless tempest" of warring thoughts. A hurricane trapped inside a skull.

Suddenly... I am back in the cockpit. But the reality is wrong. The instruments are screaming at me... but the readouts are in an alien language—jagged glyphs I cannot read. Every flashing light is an accusation! Every warning tone signifies a catastrophic failure I. Cannot. Fix.

My instinct—pure... animal... and terrified—screams ABORT! But the canopy is black. There is no vector. There is no escape route.

I am paralyzed by the war of impulses tearing me apart—the violent lunge to fight... and the desperate retreat to hide. I am caught in the friction... grinding my teeth until they threaten to shatter. My entire existence is reduced to a single... strained gasp... forced out through the crushing weight on my chest:

"I live... for fuck's sake... I don't know.”

The Violet Firestorm returns! Hotter this time. I respond with explosive, automatic violence—thrashing against the restraint of the cocoon!

My lungs are burning... scorched by the primal, desperate push against the panic... that is rising like a tide... to drown me.


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John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett, is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via Blogger, YouTube, Flicker, Facebook, Instagram and Deviant Art

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