Most recent post

The Shuddering Breath I Became

-

  

The Shuddering Breath I Became

The cryo unit hisses open, and I remember my name: JB, pilot of the *Subi*. The med-techs call it “revitalisation.” My body hums with a new, raw power. Muscles knit with synthetic fibres, bones laced with carbon-filament. I feel incredible. Invincible.

But in the polished chrome of the med-bay wall, my reflection is a stranger. The eyes are mine, but they glow with a faint, amber diagnostic light. The scar from the asteroid scrape is gone, replaced by skin too perfect, too seamless.

They say they rebuilt me better. Stronger. To survive the long dark. But when I clench my fist, I hear a servo-whine they insist isn’t there. When I calculate a jump vector, the numbers resolve instantly in my mind, not on a screen. Is this their design? A monster of efficiency, crafted for a purpose I didn’t choose?

Or is the monster the part of me that wanted this? The part that, bleeding out in my crippled cockpit, whispered *yes* to any salvation? Did I consent to the erasure of my own softness?

I stare at the reflection. The amber eyes stare back. The line between their masterpiece and my desperation has frozen, shattered, and reformed into something I can no longer recognise. The real question isn’t what they made. It’s whether I’ll have the courage to face the thing I allowed myself to become.







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. 

Subscribe to JJFBbennett's private FB hub: https://www.facebook.com/share/g/18ythpSXPZ/

You can subscribe to my music via YouTube Music, Spotify, iTunes, Apple Music and Soundcloud

To support my art, feel free to donate via JJFBbennett through PayPal  



Copyright

This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws. Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without the written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Vision 3 - A Psycho-Mythic Descent

-
Image
Situation - The Tempest’s Reflection JB , a spaceship pilot, has been placed into a cryo cocoon to revive and transform his life essence. Inside the cocoon, he experiences his mind as a "relentless tempest of clashing thoughts, swirling and churning, mirroring the furious chaos outside of the machine." JB also sees his older self trapped in the same transitory state. The Storm in my Looking Glass A cinematic close-up of JB’s face behind the curved glass of the cryo-cocoon . The glass reflects not the room but a "relentless tempest" of swirling dark clouds and lightning , symbolising his churning thoughts. In the storm's reflection, a ghostly older version of JB is visible, trapped and silent, mirroring the pilot's current state. Cryogenic Rejuvenation Chamber - Night This trapped specter is the true mirror of our pilot's current, suspended state: a mind caught between two ages, the man he was refusing to be silenced, terrified of the man he is about to ...
Read more

The art of authenticity

-
Image
  The Struggle for Authenticity in Art I want to speak today about authenticity . And about what we quietly give up to be accepted. We’re told that contemporary political art values autonomy . That artists are free. That inquiry sits at the centre of practice. But autonomy, in reality, is often something we *perform*— not something we’re allowed to exercise. Freedom is celebrated rhetorically, while legitimacy is granted only when work conforms to approved languages , approved theories , approved causes . Autonomy isn’t denied outright. It’s curated. This system doesn’t fail artists by accident. It functions mechanically. It rewards work that aligns with predetermined frameworks and filters out work that doesn’t speak the sanctioned dialect . Many voices are excluded not because they lack skill or meaning, but because they refuse to translate their experience into institutionally legible language. I’m not saying all excluded work is good. I am saying much of it is never heard. An...
Read more

The art of futility

-
Image
  Creation doesn’t save. Art stabilises. That’s why art continues after belief has died. Not because it promises something— But because consciousness cannot stop itself. The will to create isn’t heroic. It’s involuntary. A reflex. The art of futility A spoken monologue I don’t make art because it matters. I make it because consciousness produces excess. And excess demands release. That’s the first lie we’re taught—that art points toward truth. Truth doesn’t need us. It existed before our gestures and will remain after our silence. Art isn’t revelation. It’s a regulation. An overdeveloped mind can’t remain idle. Thought accumulates. Pressure builds. Expression becomes a discharge—not a message. This isn’t noble. It’s biological. Paintings. Texts. Sounds. Images. All variations of the same maneuver. Not transcendence . Containment . Once you see this, ambition collapses. Influence. Legacy . Relevance. These are metaphysical debts art can no longer pay. The work is finished the mome...
Read more