Sunday, April 18, 2010

aladdin sane

Aladdin sane dropped the bag on the doily, which mutltiplied itself spread-eagle style over the surface of the victorian end-table. “great meeting you.” chimed cristina and nelson. “likewise,” said miss charlotte. “likewise,” i said. “i'll see you soon,” arturo said, as he walked toward the door, closing it as they left. Arturo flashed his retina opposite the obscured laser vomit in the wall, flush with the “secure” icon. “take a seat, hrodebert,” arturo said, as he stumbled away from the door. Ronko morphed into the second co-host of the 1985 edition of the gameshow “break the bank” and lifted the celluloid cover off the table, waving her hand sexily above. Hrodebert stood objectively in place, handsapocket, scowling with a look of silicon-determination. “what the fuck do they want from me?” he shouted. “take it easy” - arturo broke into a coughing fit, cyan colored saliva dribbling into his beard - “they want structured dreams from you. You operate on the fringes. Exploiting exotic images as if they were common.” “can't you see i'm losing my motherfucking mind,” hrodebert yelled and picked up a folded tin chair with a warped wooden seat and threw it through the plaster wall, exposing the steel reinforcement. “500% fuzz,” hrodebert said, as he slid into the glandular seat and ran his fingers through his hair, torturing his follicles with shrewd, angry strokes. “listen,” arturo said. “you're my responsibility. I'm the reason you're here. Trust me or them, hrodebert. I'm all you have right now.” arturo made his way toward the far window, wheezing, using chairs and tables for support. “you see,” he said, throwing the sachet to light. A horseshoe fly hovered against the glass window. “they're here.” “who's here?” “a surveillance subsidiary, of course. You're not safe in meatspace...” “but i'm on their mainframe?” “don't worry about that. I uploaded you. Besides, you're worth too much...” hrodebert turned sharply to arturo who began coughing uncontrollably and muttering unintelligible monosyllables, “table!” he managed through two quick breaths. Hrodebert walked over to the table and laid down. He closed his eyes, and his morose expression sent miss charlotte into the corner of the room where she stood facing the wall, grinding her teeth and punishing her cuticles.

Aladdin sane turned his head toward the back of miss charlotte's shiny black silhouette, turned back toward the table and promptly reached for the wifi jammer. He turned it on and sent a continuous stream of valid wifi packets to the embedded module of the locomative simalucra in order to block 11layr's mix cascade messages, tunneled through onion layers of routing complexity streaming from the floating host. Hrodebert's consciousness left his body, floating in a non space field. Sane took out a pen laser and set to work despoiling the product code. Ronko gingerly gathered the organic aesthete membranes as sane carved into the body's proportions. Miss charlotte floated over to the table, lit a cigarette and watched on as the metamorphosis took place. Sane toggled in and out of the beyond, following the prescript for physical detection avoidance of simulacrum 17-543, the prescript being similar to algorithms used for digitally manipulating human images to form superior second-life attraction without removing the beef-eye essence. Sane's hands moved effortlessly as if guided by a marionette. his genius lay in his technical reality hacking. The prescript information flowed to digitally infuse his grey matter from the dionysian muse of infinite phosphorescent alphanumerics. Ronko emoted “transfigured night,” which exploded off the walls while Sane composed a maestro godhead sculpture, fusing the loose membranes into the indents and hollows of the body, forming an alternate physical equasion, understated in its complexity, though revealing a diagram of bones separate and less intense, more approachable even than the original form. The essence remained, though without the threat of laser identification. Sane removed the rfid card and handed it to ronko who crushed it. The monomers fell feebly to the floor. Miss charlotte stood apprehensively, fidgeting with a chinese trinket she picked off the end table. Her downturned eyes peeked up occasionally, bobbing vertically as a result of curious whispers that shook her from deep inside an atomically dark place.

“el fin es en la demarcacion.” sane announced.
Ronko farted a series of sound files before waving her hand over the nerve fibers of the chrysalis. Sane cut off power to the jammer, and hrodebert awoke with chimerical dread.

“talk to me.”

“i'm having a nervous breakdown.”

“the prosthetic eye is a camera, hrodebert.”


“you've been recording everything. You'll continue to record events, people, environments, situations, and you'll organize the movement and time into a movement image.”

“like, edit the footage?”

“right. But that fact won't make the credits.”

the freudian-marxist program was sated. His sternum began palpitating regularly, and he turned to miss charlotte.

“you look great,” she said.

“i saw them,” he said. “they crashed down through the glass paneled roof of the warehouse. Swung down on steel cables, wielding the most violent hardware. They were wearing ballistic clothing, sonar helmets... i made it through a window in the wall and could hear a chopper overhead. You wouldn't believe the noise, air currents. They stormed into the room... i weep for the future... i figured out how to reverse the extinction of the earth... Glad puppet hell... i love you.”

“you need to take him to the periphery. There's a public lab group operating in the blur zone where psiphon software will allow him to circumvent state controls of cyberspace. Find kraftwerk. He needs to feel the connectivity, the rush of second life in abstract space. go. I'll call you a smartblade. Go, mutherfuckers,” he said, flailing his arms toward the door.

sane plucked the inhaler off the table and bent his worn lever of an elbow perpendicular to his mouth. He released the Drug into his bloodstream. The old prick began sputtering, coughing. He waved them out of the room before he collapsed in a heap of organic detritus, fluids and phlegm exuding out of his soft machine case.

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