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A DAY AT THE ORIFICE - The awakening

Novel By: ZED
Religion and spirituality



A journey into madness. A dissection of insanity. A description of the pyschosis of awareness....as it decends into a hellish nightmare where reality becomes ever so clear as it disintegrates before your hollow eyes. A close up of alieanation inside sophistication, where the voices in your head start to make sense. A prediction of the totalitarian envelope that starts to feel ever so comfortable as the boot crushes your head yet again. View table of contents...


Chapters:

1

Submitted:Jul 22, 2009    Reads: 93    Comments: 2    Likes: 0   


The sun shone like a yellow pepper in the spicy blue sky. Osiris entered through the doorway with a cheerful spring in his walk. That however would soon end. Osiris had entered a dead zone. Here all hope is lost; no decent thought could survive the weight of stupidity that Osiris would surely encounter in the next few hours.

Outside the bright azure sky was still etched like a flaming orb that trumpeted the joy of the cosmic unity that we are all immersed in. But now as Osiris crept inside this cavernous block of office suites he felt his soul being completely eclipsed.

A few more delicate steps and here he was completely inside the belly of the beast. Every new step took him closer to the crushing sickness of a corporate machine gone crazy.

A machine that spawned the heroes of lust and greed, captains of the industrial deception that branded the sweet innocent of human flesh with despair. Inside their control center the shadowy figures conspired to execute methods that would guarantee the accumulation of more than they needed and more than they deserved.

The secret whispers and guarded laughter rang like hollow promises throughout the corporate flesh and bones of the startled cadaverous work-forced, who were lined up in neat rows, writhing in chains, lacerated with submission scars and marked with open festering cankerous sores of oppression. A pestilent fever raging inside their beaten brows beaded with globules of blood, sweat and tears.Osiris was entering the digital networked orifice.

He could smell the stench of the ruling elite. From deep within their moist fleshy sunlit offices the corporate market babble echoed, like the screeches of demented vultures riding the thermals of a corporate updraft, beaded eyes focused on the search for dead decaying meat opportunities.

He could hear the schemes that were now being plotted inside the chattering minds of the blond one known as Mr. Cranky Bollocks CEO (Chief Entrail Officer) and his simpering hunch back side-kick, Mr. Dick Head CTO (Chief Testicular Officer) and CDO (Chief Dowsing Officer) who had a permanent look of strained confusion and bewilderment on his face, as if he was experiencing a sudden cardiac arrest.

Osiris turned on his heels and with the grace of a slender SAS ballet dancer plunged through the door, which bares on an engraved plate the following words - "International Asshole Systems, Inc."

Suddenly Osiris realized that up until that infinite moment he had been entranced deep within a daydream. Reality was going to be much worse.
The office was animated this morning - Loony Ham, VP of Not Very Much was bouncingaround like a pin-ball stuttering commands while her face contorted and leapt around like a bag of frogs being electrocuted.

Suddenly she screams, her hands thrown up into the air as she loses all control in an ecstasy of pleasure - the XML message had successfully posted to the database. "Wow!!" she says in total amazement that it had actually worked and confused as to why it had. She screams into the DBA's ear "Only 400 more message errors to correct!" Her body shivers in anticipation while her face drops into an agony of depression punctuated by a nervous laugh. Her hands shake the papers they hold as if to force an answer out of them - but they only respond by trashing around.

The noise of her falling apart does not go unnoticed by the DBA, Mr.Chang-Bar sitting in front of her - his eyes narrow and move imperceptibly as the glowing monitor spews out the result set of his latest SQL script, he turns ever so slightly and his dead stare takes a moment off from the screen to penetrate, like a cold knife into Loony Ham's being. "What the fuck was she doing, if only he could grab that stupid neck and throttle the life out of this nitwit - maybe he would get some peace. After 60 hours in front of this fucking screen he would love to slice those eyelids off and watch her eyes dry out - oh what a pleasure that would be - instead he announces to her that the stored procedure would have to be changed again to insert a table join to allow the carrier view of associated equipment to work properly.

For a moment, the waving of thousands of Little Red Books held in thousands of hands marching passed a giant poster of the chairman, revolves in Chang-Bar's inner mind. A thought like a pop-up window forces itself upon him. "The flattery of the bourgeoisie may conquer the weak-willed in our ranks". The window closes and the screen flickers . He turns to catch a figure looming ahead puffing and panting a fixed stare on the face - dark black holes where fleshy eyes should be.

At that moment Mr.Mazoid Man, the Senior VP of Bugger All sales, speeds past - "Hellooo!", "yes - wonderful", "amazing," "awesome", "marvelous" the words fall out of his mouth like bricks, sounding a hollow thump as they hit the uniform bland gray office carpet. His mastoids, like a regiment of soldiers goose-stepping around his lean frame, "What a great day!!" he sings, little does he know that his mind is held together only by the underlying psychological problem that he keeps deeply hidden from everyone. He glances at the DBA whose body, for a split second, begins to morph and pulsate. Mazoid moves on, there is no time to waste he has to make a sale, somewhere in this global market; he has to 'Sell! Sell! Sell! Kill! Kill! Kill!" The rhythm set up by his internal mantra pushes him forward and upward. He is truly an International Asshole.

He sweeps passed the Loony Ham as she scratches her head and mutters to herself, - "What I don't know won't matter, right?" Mazoid scuttles off to find someone who will listen to him - the words are bubbling upward from that place where no one should know - a grin begins to grow on his face.

Loony Ham slips into her glass cage and immediately begins typing furiously at the keyboard, the screen flickers and springs into life like a lover that she has just caressed. The chattering of her mind is echoed by the clicking of teeth synchronizing with the tapping of the keys of her IBM clone, she imagines that she is a code warrior springing into battle to trap and eliminate those bugs that infest her mind and make her twitch with indignation.

"Can't tell Mr.Dickhead that nothing works" - no matter she thinks, he wouldn't notice since he has never used the system and only knows what she tells him, she remembers many a time the hot rush of a wave of embarrassment as Dickhead would spout on about the system's ability to be able to dynamically map event messages into data tables" what a crock of dung balls" she thought, "What planet did he come from, YOUR ANUS!!"

The system was a series of broken threads that required the poor CSR slobs to massage the messages to get them through - indeed that was their unsung motto, "MASSAGE IS THE MESSAGE" but the what the heck - as she always said, to herself, "what you don't know can't hurt you, can it?"
Yes the Dickhead wouldn't notice if the system was hard-coded just to pass QA's tests, which it was and by then she pondered, she would have tracked down all those code bugs and have gotten the engineers to code and fix it to make it simple - just like Dickhead had always wanted. "Keep it simple!" he'd said "just like me, eh?" Now what did he mean by that, she pondered awhile until her mental loop was interrupted by a fetch command, the blood slowly drained from her face like a contagious disease.

Osiris steals slowly away from the cacophony which like an unruly rash is breaking out all around him. Another Post Traumatic Software release has done it's usual belly-up, and like a collection of tortured rabbits the work-force is attempting to correct matters by running around very fast and screaming techno clap trap at each other, Lindy Ham had perfected spinning around in a tight circle very fast, the suction of her personal vortex causes all the paper-work in her office to swirl around her and she quickly grabs at each wastrel document confident that she has the matter in hand.

Osiris recalls the immortal words of the CEO Crinky Bollocks - "we have assembled the finest experienced set of technical staff into our organization" - he would continually say this to the board members who had more money than sense, to the sales team who for three quarters running had managed to sell nothing to nobody, and to potential customers who wandered into the office looking for a place to piss. Crinky thought, it was so sexy that they couldn't feel the exquisite "hand-in-their-pocket' as he executed the "lemon squeezer" on their testicles, ah but life was grand and he was driving a BMW series 8 with GSP.

Having escaped the madness, Osiris lurches hesitantly towards his chair grabbing it with an overwhelming sense of relief. The familiarity of his own chaotic desktop fills him with the sense of something real. Osiris presses his PC into life; its hard-drive starts to hum spinning around at some ridiculous speed while Heisenberg's uncertainty principal prevents his screen from becoming a giant vagina as he observes it!

The air around his desk starts to feel electric, a quantum probability wave collapses behind his head, and a strange feeling of deja-vu overwhelms his mind. Is this really happening or is he being manipulated, after all he really doesn't want to be here with these strange creatures from the office lagoon. But Osiris, like millions of his fellow human beings, has no friggin' choice, the system has deadly constraints that cannot be violated, and if they are then you are expunged from the warm moist hive and tossed onto the streets with contempt, credit-less without a breast to suckle, and only a cardboard suit to wear and a glue-bag to sniff. Whilst around you the office drones rush by with fear and loathing in their narrow corporate controlled minds. Dead fleshy minds, limping with bad attitudes, platoon-like and flowing through sewer filled subways chanting, "We are free to choose what you give us, and we are free to believe what you tell us!!!"

Osiris is under-whelmed by a feeling that deep down, buried in the cerebral cortex of an ancient mind, lies subdued in anger and love a disturbed dream - it is here in this hidden mental cave that he and his fellow soul travelers appear to be connected. We have been robbed of our inheritance and robbed of our dreams - Osiris ponders.

However, this situation is complicated and the system's configuration envelopes us like a steel straight Jacket, we have spun the political and emotional alliances into worn-out clothes, which have evolved into a series of interlocked mental chains that are expressed as emotional bondage, blackmail and sexual terror.
Osiris's body shuddered involuntarily. He suddenly begins to see that he is working for an anonymous set of people who are getting disgustingly rich directly from his efforts and in return he is allowed to live in mounting debt and despair watching the majority of his life pass him by, whilst he desperately takes every opportunity to escape from the deadly industrial-military embrace, that he feels leaching into his blood, his feces and his fears.

Osiris could see that it was his labour that provides the 'value' for the benefit of the face-less pugilistic zombies of industry. Osiris realized that he could hear a talking head speaking below the incessant chatter of his internal dialogue; he could only make out the voice in his head when he tilted his left ear so that it was facing the floor and the finger of his right hand was firmly inserted in his ear. He farted involuntarily and crossed his eyes and then experienced a loud pop as if someone had pulled out a plug.

The voice was now crystal clear. "They live beyond the pale of our miserable existence inside their tax-free heaven frittering the hours away in their masturbatory holiday resorts, silicon dead boobs draped over their dysfunctional reproductive organs". The voice droned on……"And what makes it even worse is these paragons of success are not more intelligent, creative, innovative or insightful but 'au contraire' the more rich, important, 'higher-up' on the 'ladder' they seem to be, the more STUPID they are, REALLY STUPID, it is the people who work for them who always have the flair and insight. "After all, it's our productivity that makes those tax dollars that are spent in foreign lands forcing democracy down the throats of people who don't want your fucking freedom. It's what you're dying for right?"

Osiris was startled by this alternative internal dialogue which had seemed to come from nowhere - but was fully formed and inserted directly into his head. And he was embarrassed when he noticed the office herd staring at him, a gawping frenzy of banal water buffaloes - what a complete wanker he must look with a finger stuck in his ear?

He calmed himself by remembering the hire and fire policy he had been given by Crinky Bollocks the other day- he recalled the International Asshole Systems creed spouted from the sneering lips of Dickhead and Crinky bollocks whenever faced with constructive criticism, "We are NOT a democracy" and "if you don't like it then you can Fuck Off!" Osiris pointed out to himself, "Sure leave to fen for yourself without medical insurance, without revenue, without credit, whilst they stash their disproportionately 'hard' earned income into the royal banco de rabido in the sun-filled tropical retreat of misery guts on the isle of vaginal lubricant".
The voice echoed in his head. "Yes, they wave this phony flag of choice and insanity in the land of the brave and free, the United Snakes of America."
"Who was that and how does he get inside my thoughts?" - thought Osiris.

The voice continued……

"The controllers have created an illusion of need. And we have fallen for it hook line and sinker."
"Like the managed health care SCAM - those pariahs - the pharmaceutical companies, the medical insurance companies and their executioners - the DOCTORS of DEATH - those who are sworn into the medicine hat golf club with a hypocrisy oath. Their motto is "Bleed them Dry, Bleed them Dry".

"They can only ply their trade if they have a steady supply of 'sick' and dying people - i.e. you and me, the more broken and sick people they have, the more profit they make giving you the runaround disguised as tests, diagnostics, re-tests, guess-work, then finally they flip a coin and prescribe a drug - whilst in their mind's eye they are anticipating that free blow job as they lie inebriated in their pharmaceutical holiday haven, Disney Druggie-land Inc; with all expenses paid care of DRUGSRU.com."

By now Osiris's was feeling the blood rush out of his right arm, there was a fullness and pain in the ears, he could the hear the rush of pressure release through his Eustachian tube - like the hiss of the background radiation from the birth pangs of the universe which was rotating within it's magnetic bubble as he was rotating in his mental bubble at this moment.

The voice returned only now it sounded like the warm dry breeze entwined within a fragrance of musk gently playing over the baked dry sand-dunes of a Sumerian Sunset. "It's NOT in their interest to CURE ANYONE OF ANYTHING - so they chant their mantra as they laugh all the way to the bank with YOUR MONEY - leaving you dying for their cures".

Did I say that thought Osiris.

"Meanwhile the Holy Wood cardinals create the movie dream states for us to inhabit during our meager free time, hoisting the placard "You have freedom of choice!!" and soothing your addled brain with their hypnotic slogans "You get what you deserve!!" while behind the curtain of Maya they spoof up banal hollow thespians, as idols for us to worship. "Yo Yo YoSchwartz-e-nigger for president!!!!"

"What sort of system would create opportunities for people who don't need or deserve them rewarding them for being rich, whilst keeping the talented and hard-working, who struggle to make ends meet, suffering in poverty, and punished for that fact."

"Strange irony, in the land of the dead braves and the home of the under-classes."

Inside Osiris's mind a face was emerging from within his network of cerebral cells, it glowed with a luminescence that gave the face a hollow ghost-like pallor. He felt he was thinking without time, without words.

The thoughts continued to flow within multiple streams of meaning.

"Is there a time or place that has not been infected with the iniquities of inequality, dressed up as privilege, rank and reward, where greed and violence is not used to justify a meritocracy."

Wordsworth stepped up to the plate, there was a roar in the crowded stands and then a deafening silence followed.
"I wandered lonely like a fucking cloud into a mind trap.As we all will do regardless of your of love for freedom, because you are born into this 'set-up', a system that was configured a long time ago and that has been maintained so that the imbalance always favors the tiny minority, and the few families and heart-less tycoons who create the law and disorder that WE have to live with and in. This imbalance creates the inequality that WE struggle against on a day to day basis, feeling like a failure because you can't win the lotto and live like a rich cunt."

A face void of lens and flesh turns and stares at Osiris. The face sweaty and cold begins to speak…..

"I digress, I am distracted like the rest of us suckers, distracted by the holy wood machine, churning out FANTASY, distracted by the consumer machine, churning out electronic fixes that hook me deeper and drain my soul's energy. Distracted by the race to gain status symbols, get the latest this that and the other, be cool and tuned - in, buy this and get one free, acquire, consume, display, worship the superstar who ejaculates over your poverty whilst they emulate your banal lifestyle during commercial soaked TV-time. Looking with far away eyes whilst those bottom feeders are happy to acquire riches feeding off your broken dreams of envy."

The voice stopped but like the final fuge in bach's "The Art of Fuge" it somehow still continued………in Osiris's head.

The smoke plumes hung like burnt Christmas decorations against the two towers. The kings of the white house wring their hands in glee, the plot moves towards its inexorable climax, like a well written script all the prompts were signposted, "painting by numbers", the Burning Bush pondered over this whilst biting into the third leg of an over plumped estrogen feed genetically modified chicken. Beneath his bullet-proof vest tiny breasts were developing.

The smoke from incinerated bodies was rising like a dead phoenix into the red sky and the columns of soldiers' laser beamed and eyeless scanning the desert landscape in silent homage to the stench of death that flares in their nostrils and chokes their ripped throats.

The face expressed from deep within Osiris's DNA started to fade away until just the trace of a few improbable strings remained as if smiling to him.
It said "Anyway, back to the plot."

Osiris watched the cigarette smoke swirl like a spiral galaxy towards the ceiling of his embassy suites room. From inside the bedroom he could hear the gentle sobbing coming from lena's broken heart. He wondered why the cosmic irony wasn't funny anymore - "man and woman, separated by the one thing they were designed to share …..unity through copulation" He mused on the fact that the more he tried to figure it out the less he seemed to understand - he was going backwards into a cloud of insanity where he could connect things in a most peculiar way - violate the mental laws of physics. And it was while he was being there that the dark side of his soul became more apparent and attractive, he loved to caress this mood whilst he was entombed in this odd state.

Was everything beginning to collapse into nothing or was it a balance of imbalances.

Osiris looked up at the night sky through yellowed nets and thought that it was beautiful to think that the universe may not have been here as it is now penetrating right through everything with the sound of the background hiss, the sound of the beginning of time, the last three degrees of the heat death of the universe……. or was that just a theory.

Osiris almost understood but it all slipped away lost in the dust of stars.

"Osiris - are you awake, haven't you heard a word I've been saying?"

"Lena I heard you darling but I couldn't put it together, something……"

"You never can focus can you Osiris, you'r never here when I need you.In that private place where is it that you go?"

"Lena, I never had the chance to say sorry about the baby. I used to think I would get used to it, but somehow I can't help feeling the family's been murdered and now there's this empty void."

"Osiris you weren't there, you never are here even when you're here! It's too late the time it can't be reclaimed! The clock won't turn back…ever!"

"Darling I understand how you feel…I…"

"No, don't you dare say that, don't you say you understand. Your bloody useless there's nothing you can do to put it right".

Osiris stared at the shaft of sunlight that shone through the dull fractured window and wondered what this life was supposed to teach you.
Below in the bowls of the earth the core was shifting its rotational axis, as it lurched into a new positional procession, huge bubbles of magmata were swelling, pushing on the fragile crusty skin of the planet.'Earth Changes' thought Osiris as the vision subsumed into the wind-swept branches of a sycamore tree.

Osiris picked himself up from the soft peaceful grass and looked around to get his bearings. "Which hyper-dimension was he in?"

He wandered aimlessly down the hill of primroses and gently glided into a Round House. He could hear the cries of crows and banshees and the sounds of cuneiform verses speaking the wisdom of the ancient ones.

Osiris blinked an electronic blink and then suddenly he found himself in a room with no view staring up at a blood stained ceiling.

How long had he been here the thought came well formed and clearly presented itself to his mind. Had this been a long time, or a short time, had he been asleep and was now awake, or was it that he was now asleep and had been awake. These thoughts stalled his brain yet his mind still moved within it."No I am only a prisoner if I recognize these walls as being a prison" he mused. But hey so long as I am feed a sustaining gruel which provides a modicum of nutrition and so long as I can move freely within the confines of my prison…..heck what do I care if your children are having their legs blown off and scream from the pain of that and hunger.

This prison was warm and comfortable and had a familiarity that stroked his mind like a lover stokes their love…..gently and passionate with a implication of pain and death, a sting it its tail…….a little death….a suffocating blanket that comforts but can stifle. Osiris looked around the cell and it slowly became clear that he had been here for years and had in all that time not seen anyone, yet somehow he was being sustained by a presence that feed him directly gave him a flow of energy that sparked up his body and flowed like an electric current, waves of pleasure and pain……he realized he had been playing with these currents and had a vague memory of plunging hypodermics into his veins to short-circuit these flows and provide cardiac arrests, that provide time phasing and jumped.

Night's veiled threat was slowly lifting and through the opaque window was revealed a deathly gray dull sky. Streaks of raindrops were smeared over the cold pane cutting up the scene into a sheared pattern of colors.

Osiris rose from his bed naked and with a numbness that pervaded his whole being he propped his hands against the windowsill and stared out.
His brain didn't recognize the view: for a moment it all seemed unfamiliar, hints of another world began to connect, but it faded as soon as it had begun, familiar reality. Recognition forced itself upon his awareness.

He moved slowly to the door, almost as if someone had told him to and made his way to the bathroom. Turning on the tap he stared at his reflection in the mirror, it stared back. Steam escaped from the noisy faucet warming his face as he plunged his toothbrush horizontally into his mouth, a sickness suddenly welled up in his stomach as the strongly flavored paste spurted between his teeth. Vague images coalesced in his consciousness; a crowded room, masque faces, electric lights, hollow smiles, a raised eye brow, grinning teeth and bulbous eyes all swirled in his mind's eye……then…….blackness.

He moved as if each step were a life-time, reaching his bedroom again he quickly placed his limbs into their relevant attire, his movements slow and completely automatic.

"How many times had he done this?" The thought faded without any reply. Descending downstairs he grabbed his jacket opened the door and entered the street.

The bright sunlight hurt his eyes as he started to walk mechanically down the hard side-walk. Now there was no spring in his step as he stared without blinking. Ahead of him dead heads of flesh limply bobbed along the street, from within their minds radiated the past memories of habit and routine. He was stuck in these thoughts with the cacophony of a dozen human minds buzzing with dismal trivia and complacent disinterest. They led the way as he walked utterly alone towards the bus queue. The sun a yellow haze behind the uniform gray barely warmed his exposed hands as a bitterly cold north wind cut into him causing his muscles to instantaneously seize-up.
Cramp spasms shot through his body. As he turned the corner his gaze fell upon them. There they would always stand, grouped together in silent abjection, decrepit beings old and worn out through life's misuse, standing endlessly at the bus stop waiting for their turn to die.

All they had left was the accumulated after-images of a static past repeating like a tape-loop in their dead decaying minds.

Osiris stopped at the curb. A youngster rolled defiantly by in his gleam machine belching poisons into the air. Across the road the young girls keenly displayed in the latest styles their invitation for consummation to the bulging-eyed brains of the males. Automobiles lined the street silent sentinels of man's progressive evolution.

Osiris sat on a wall and stared blankly at the bus queue, his body heat began to fall rapidly, and life was once again ebbing away out of his body. Silence flowed into his mind like waves on the coast having spent energy colliding with rock and falling back into the ocean lose their individuality. So it was with Osiris' consciousness like a droplet it fell into a vast ocean of selflessness. The rain fell like razors onto the heads of the lost generation, cutting new pathways of thought that made them dream of fighting battles in far away eyeless realms where they would become men.

A crowd had gathered on the corner of Market and Van Ness. A symbiotic simian with black coal eyes was dancing in circles and preaching, 'the ballad of the burning bush' stopping every so often and looking blankly heavenwards with a smirk on his face. He sang the following dirge to the assembled crowd.

It came from the dust pockets of texas,
A gun totin' holy smokin' rolling simian
Mean eyed and squinting for recognition
That catholic fucker with his dick in my eye
Can't seem to find the right way to die!!
He snorted a line than drank some wine
And fucked a lady by the name of Tranny Divine
Daddy I need me a football team and a wet dream
Daddy I seen the lord comin'
I seen the signs in the bush burning
I've seen the blood tracks on the flag
I've seen the black gold gushing from a open wound
I've seen dead babies skewered like suckling muslim pigs
I need to taste that flesh of the resurrection
My dick bears my penetration of beaten dictators
Whose usefulness has come to an end
I need to feed off the carnage of dead Americans
Sent to their slaughter
So that I can raise their daughters
To bear witness to my greatness
I will tear the beating hearts from my enemies
And feed on their congealed blood
Sucking the tears from our memories
While I wave our American dreams
In the face of their children's screams
And for the media's eye
I will gladly sigh
I will caress their cerebral zones
While they obey and try
To reduce the reality
To a soap operated parody
So that the obese children of our loins
Can sacrifice their sanctity
On the chopping block of reason
And hang their friends for treason.
Gitanamo bay hey hey hey
Shawrt-e-nigger can pray
For the rise of a swastika
Reflected in a sunless day.

The crowd clapped for no particular reason and then went about there separate ways, except for the Native American dwarf eating a Carl's Jr cheese burger and swilling a bottle of Thunderbird wine. The spirits of his dream time were sad.


Osiris kicked the crumpled beer can and watched its trajectory carry it towards the heaps of trash that stood festering on the sidewalk. His eyes flickered in the evening light, the sun was low and red in the sky as jet trails playfully polluted the planet. He climbed the stairs in a thoughtfully mechanical way, his mind was feverish, beads of blood appeared on his skin, he wiped them off and shook the drops onto the yellowing stairwell. The familiar door of her apartment was in front of him as he grabbed the cold tarnished gold door knob with a sense of death breathing on his mind. The turning of the door knob ached in his heart and the sound of rusted hinges cut like steel into his ears.

He was in her room. Around the walls the books were standing.

Strings of meaning condensed into pages. She stared at him. She had once understood him but now she knew different. 'Why can't you grow up? Can't you see this has died between us!' The words hit him like snowflakes melting upon contact. Shrieks of muffled laughter came through the walls. Inside her room the silence hung cold, heavy and vaporous around them.

She finished packing and began to walk out through the door; the slow centuries of her movement wasted him. "I don't know what you're going to do now he has asked me to move in?" With that parting shot she vanished.

He sat there for hours and slowly, like a disease the truth dawned on him.

The train slid into the station seething with a gleam in it's eye and a high-brow notion in its steel wheels.Osiris decanted from the carriage and merged with the nameless faceless throng as it was swept along making its way towards the barriers. There standing like tall statutes in black leather were the corporate attitude police scanning the sea of human faces for that one look in the eye of a stranger who revealed too much.

Osiris was preoccupied with the voice in his head.

"You mindless piece of shit! Where are you going - nowhere as usual, walking in straight lines, dropping platitudes like funeral wreaths around you as you tread amongst the killing fields! "

"Touching but never touched by the swarming mass of humanity, whose closeness attaches to you like the stench of a dying gazelle in the foothills of Mount Kilimanjaro.Yet even though these warm fluid-filled skin bags are as close to you as your aging skin, they are nonetheless further away then the dog-star that is shining millions of light-years away. "

The crowd moved like a swarm of army ants towards the stairs, they were gathered together not in love but in a sickly perpetual grief. And amongst them in utter loneliness walked Osiris, apart but connected. At the top of the subway stairs the crowd parted like the dead sea and streams of humans trickled down the street.Osiris felt his earth chakra tingle and his thoughts turned to the last time he had spoken to lena, there had been something distance in her voice, she didn't seem to want to know him anymore and Osiris recalled that he felt that he was falling and shattering into thousands of pieces and his mind became numb. How could anyone make someone understand that there was no separation and that there was only the one centre that we all spin around and around like a demented carousel on acid.

She was not to be trifled with her mind was made up and there would be no turning back - even though she had felt something it was too much and she felt that to kill it was best. She would put Osiris down now and show him up when he was in a crowd of friends. There would be no contact no hope of joy no way that she would let him in again, this was the final separation the act of denial that completes the circle that he had put her in. He thought he knew her, she didin't look different but he knew she was'nt the same. Her laughter destroyed his soul and his heart collapsed like a dark star.

The moon looked like a pale cyst in the beetle black sky. Towards the east a faint glow was edging the deep night sky. Osirisplucked his feet on the pavement and a hollow thud shot through the paving stones and ricocheted off the low wall which had thousands of blinking eyes embedded in the bricks all staring at the acoustic wave heading for them. Osiris's mental silence was interrupted by a low distance hum. Above him an oscillating orb of light blinking, pulsating with white and red light was hovering two miles above his head. He felt that it was sending waves of nausea into his very stomach, his mind began to swim and his eyes were suddenly crossed, he took a deep breath and as he looked down he saw his feet turn into a pair of scaly trunks and he felt something sprouting from between his shoulder blades - it seemed as if he had grown fins…..no this was something else. Before another thought could ferment in his mind he felt a sudden jolt and found himself being launched upward towards the UFO.

The ascent was somewhat pleasurable like being in a lift filled with water. He gasped for breath but couldn't quite catch his breath - it scurried away and giggled at him from the ledge below.His ears were filled with hundreds of laughing chipmunks one of whom would every so often call out - "hey asshole where's your head at?"
He ignored this obvious distortion but couldn't quite grasp the meaning of this new development. Was this going to be his first contact. Osiris looked up, the sky was filled-up with the smooth metallic disk that seemed to quiver and fade into and out of this reality. A clam descended on Osiris as he continued to ascend. He felt that even though he was so high he could still touch the ground if he wanted to, he extended his hand downward, at that precise moment he felt a pull deep in his abdomen and then as if he was on a huge rubber band he was catapulted into the bowels of the spacecraft.

Osiris awoke with a start he tried to turn his head but couldn't, if fact he could move or feel anything and he was immediately overwhelmed by fear.

"Hello me old china !",a voice suddenly spoke.

It was an odd phrase that made Osiris somewhat startled. The peculiar situation that he found himself had been supplanted by this absurdity. Osiris prepared himself for the fall into the unknown, for he was certain that it was there, there in the depths of the realms beyond understanding, that the answers to all of the dancing questions in his head would be resolved.But he was wrong wasn't he?

"Still babbling to yer'sel then Boyo!", the voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. "you wanna stop that before they bang you up squire!"

"Ya canny think fer yersel in the corporate military industrial theme park wank! Can yaladdy?".

The voice echoed away into infinity. Only to be replaced by a dark sultry silky musical vocal.

"Hi Sugar lips, oooh you are soooo smoothhoney buns". "Hmmmm, I want you to eat me up!!" "I'm Tranny Divine at your cervix honey" !!

TrannyDivine was the extra-testicle captain of the UFO Canny Linguist. Osiris was now firmly embedded in it. Osiris tried to work out what the plot was but he seemed to have missed it somewhere between the edge of nowhere and the curve of space time.

"Who cares about that dog's bollocks eh me old fruit".

The voice was now a thought in Osiris' head, an alternative internal dialogue, not the one he had gotten use to. The one that grows inside the child feeding off the poisonous vibes of the ancient occult that lingers through the corridors of time. Lurking in the minds of the people trapped by the magical machine, the supplier of our needs, to entice us in our dreams, and confine us to the overcrowded streets of needless desire.

Tranny Divine glides into the line of sight of Osiris's astral body, she takes a look at his eyes, which were frozen into an infinite stare, whilst unzipping him , she gently waves her painted hands and begins to massage his trouser snake. It swells and grows, pulsating with the rhythms of a mysterious life.

All of a sudden Osiris felt a sensation that was a combination of a warm sucking sensation followed by ripples of pleasure and all rotating around his abdomen….wow Osiris thought silently.

Tranny Divine comes up for air whilst Osiris just comes!

The lights in the spaceship began to jive in unison and started to boogie blinking like a row of Cheshire cats just before completely going out.
Osiris could feel the ebb and flow of hot breath on his ear in this pitch black, the exhaling got louder and more pronounced.
"Hello honey uuummmmhhhh you have very nice ear lobes my sweet orchid", Tranny Divine leaned over Osiris's prostrate body and placed her long, long tongue into his ear and then she began to rotate it at an incredible speed.A gurgling sound began to develop sliently at first and then in steps getting louder and louder, until his whole body was immersed in it.

Quivering and quaking Osiris finds himself stumbling and falling at the same time, his arms are thrashing about like pin-wheels as he listens to his internal dialogue muttering iconoclastic mumblings…..

"wake up, it's the great consumer marathon, your chance to possess the toys of happiness…upgrade, stay ahead, make your dreams come true….have the latest, be the first on your block, be like the vacuous celluloid stars…..have everything you wanted…don't be nervous…stand up proud…taste 'em…tear 'em..guess what?...there FREE!!"

At that moment a silent jet spread a 'chem' trail across the sky, high above Osiris's head, it slowly drifted downward spreading its nefarious cocktail of depression and meaning-lessness.

The weather had turned nasty and a huge dark matter cloud had popped into existence, it was shaped like a toaster with a twin slice setting….as it moved across the sky it occasionally ejected a couple of hot slices which instantaneously disappeared into the multiverse, leaving only a faint signature of ionized gas…Osiris involuntarily farts and petunias escape like hollow butterflies on wafts of methane.

He saw the terra firma rapidly advancing towards him and then just a few feet from impact he heard quiet loudness of an electromagnetic wave grab his falling body and holding it frozen in time. The sensation made him slightlysick.Inside his head a number of threads are running like smooth worms. They slide into his awareness and hint of the lost ages where the fallen ones roamed in search of their lost DNA. The sons of the serpents, the ones who dwelt in the garden of lost paradise. The tree of life sways in the cool full moonlight.

Osiris awakens slightly comatose on the sofa…trapped in a total stalemate. He is neither here nor there……existence has no meaning whatsoever….the happy faces don't seem to be real….and the joy of a toy has been lost. Osiris struggles to identify what went wrong…it seemed that all the opportunity was there….and he was not alone there were so many others ….humans to nurture you….humans to educate you…humans to work with you….humans to love you….reflected constantly in the media machine…life was good and we…..are all so very, very happy…….then why was his soul withering on the vine….why was his heart so melancholy…why was there a nagging doubt in his head.

The room was strewn with the wanderings of his inner mind….it was fragmented and broken ……many artifacts had been thrown away…incomplete models of his understanding….frozen memories of happier times…of simple situations…surrounded in love and peace….then pop, crackle and bang!!......it hits him.

The yellow streaked rain…..the soaked tarmac…… looks smooth as skin…. and the sounds of traffic fill Osiris's ears……its not too late is it? Too late to escape the deadly trap of our senses……we drink in the sensory data…..and like a desert mirage……it does not satisfy our thirst.
You ring me on the telephone…..your world is beyond my reach…your mind is unknown territory…..you cannot share my point of view …..you won't share my pillow…we are bound by impenetrable barriers….a soft prison constructed around our illusion of freedom.

You are a traveler in the wilderness…with the occasional oasis of warmth and love…that you stumble upon…otherwise such exquisite melancholia……within your loneliness.

You are so distracted that you don't even see the bleeding wounds …..the hot blood stains the ice…..what exactly are we teaching our kids….what is being planted in their brains.

Make sure we take the kids to the land where dreams come true…..where all our fantasies…..are manufactured and implanted into our children's head…..and when they go to bed…..their nightmares are real.

The sun is changing before our eyes….osiris, horus and isis rotate forever on the karmic wheel of space-time.
Osiris blinks his eyes on the edge of forever. "Where am we" he thought…..and begins to look around.
In the distance he sees a pyramid with a huge eye hovering within the cap stone which was itself hovering just above the truncated top of the massive stone monument. The eye blinked and turned towards Osiris and in an instant he felt a wave of energy hit his mind and a voice like smooth velvet began to speak.
"The death of care" the voice pronounced. "It is time for you to enter the 33rd degree, where you will be initiated into the dark sun fraternity, the black brotherhood where you will stand with the pelicans and eagles, while the craft-practicing witches throw their secret spells and make the patriarchs nervous".

Osiris was frozen on the spot as the robed figure appeared in his minds eye, black piercing eyes surround by blood rings and a pale ghostly face which contrasted with his chiseled sharp teeth-fangs…..the apparition seemed to sway imperceptibly and no matter where he cast his gaze the figure was always there in front of him a holographic projection of his fevered brain.

"The time has come to raise you into the Asmodeus or Neophyte level, there you will enjoy the ancient practices and invoke your deepest darkest fears………and become one wit




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