#FUCK modern day society of artificial intelligence

[randomthefox]

Of all the dystopian novels, Fahrenheit 451 is probably the one that gut-punched me the hardest due to how frighteningly plausible it is. Fabian tells Montag that people need quality information and time to process that information; modern life provides neither. In fact, as Montag begins reading the Bible, he starts to realize how much noise his life is filled with as ads bombard him from every direction. People are pacified by distraction as war wages.

Fahrenheit 451 is a story with a lot of very captivating ideas that have aged terrifyingly well into relevance in our modern day, which is only undermined by the fact it is an atrociously written book.

The scene where the wife and her friends are talking about the election happening and one of them mentions that one of the candidates is old and bald and thus nobody is going to want to vote for him is one that plays in the back of my mind every election season, for example.

We're also getting pretty close to the idea of fugitives being run down by robot kill dogs and their execution being publicly televised to the masses, with real time artificial intelligence to obscure or alter the faces of an innocent person being executed if the law enforcement decides they need to claim they've caught the criminal but can't actually find their man. It's a scenario that's getting frighteningly plausible.

The fact the city just gets casually nuked at the end while none of its inhabitants were even aware they were a target is also something that feels depressingly likely, if things were to get bad enough.

Its message about censorship is relevant but holy fuck is it a painful read in my opinion. I'm not a fan of the overuse of metaphorical imagery like referring to the stomach pump as a snake. And the monologue Beatty gives about their dream debate goes on for MULTIPLE PAGES of unbroken run on dialog without any paragraph breaks, it is a solid three or so pages of WALLS of text where he's just recounting a back and forth they had in a dream and it drives me fucking insane.

The fact his awakening happens because of an encounter with a manic pixie dream girl who gets fridged off screen is also something that is a bit unfortunate given modern media analysis conventions lol.

But yeah overall the society portrayed in Fahrenheit 451 actually seems a lot more plausible to me compared to, say for example, 1984. Which makes it a lot scarier to me.

[marnz]

2023 book post

I read 63 books this year (i do count short stories & novellas) and there were epic highs (everyone read the school for good mothers) and epic lows (y'all read this shit? for real?).

here are my top ten, in no particular order, followed by thoughts on the rest. it's so long lol okay let's get into it

top ten.

the school for good mothers by jessamine chan - a perfect commentary on the prison industrial complex and how poor, single, and mothers of color are treated set in a chilling near future. loved it. i read this book in june and think about it daily.

edinburgh by alexander chee - this book is a modern classic for good reason. gay tragedy lovers this book is for YOU. the prose is so beautiful, so dream like, that i couldn't stop reading. i read this book in one sitting, very nearly a year ago, and i was completely devastated by it.

in the woods by tana french - love this for: unreliable narrator who sucks but is compelling; prose about the woods and the 1980s mystery; cassie; a police procedure that starts off by being like 'crucially you must understand that the police lie.' i have a weakness for atmospheric books and this has that in spades.

homegoing by yaa gyasi - this book is SO good and the prose and character voices are excellent. it's extremely epic but somehow only 300 pages?!? each character only gets 1 chapter but gyasi does SO much with each chapter 😭 i read this in one day because i could not stop reading. i also read gyasi's other book, transcendent kingdom, which was also very good.

some desperate glory by emily tesh - this book is a mindfuck and is one of the few times i've seen [spoiler] done well. there are a lot of things this book talks about--imperialism; artificial intelligence; fascism; white supremacy and how it intersects with gender; queerness; eugenics. i posted about it early when i had only read like 49% and i was soooo wrong to do so. read this and just trust me.

x by davey davis - okay are you ready for this? X is queer/trans bdsm neo noir mystery set in a dystopian near future. it is dark, it is consuming, it is surprising, it is a book i turn over obsessively whenever i can't sleep. i need to reread and i only read it a few months ago.

baru cormorant series/the masquerade by seth dickinson - this is 3 books but let's count it as one book. much has been said about baru as a cringefail autistic marxist lesbian icon (affectionate) but what i really appreciate about these books, other than how fucking gay they are, is the specificity of the world building. i have a theory that modern readers are in search of detail (and cruelly denied by much of publishing rn). seth dickinson loves details. seth dickinson is going to take semi familiar narratives and tell them in a brand new way using details; math; hyper specific words. god i love it

poverty by america by matthew desmond - relatively short book, read it in a day. i also read desmond's first book, evicted, and it is also SO good but what's sexy about this book is that modern american society and esp. politicians frequently likes to be like 'oh no, poverty is so tragic but it can't be solved' and desmond is like 'watch me.' for people who enjoy reading andrea long chu take downs reviews and want concrete solutions for how to build a better world.

station eleven by emily st. john mandel - many people told me this was the best book they've ever read and i was like 'whatever. i'll get to it when i get to it.' DO NOT BE ME!! read this!! i wouldn't say this is a happy book but it was a beautiful book. i loved it. i cried for about 90 minutes afterwards. for art lovers, weird theatre kids, people unafraid of plague books, non linear timeline lovers, people who have been divorced.

piranesi by susanna clarke - okay i read this on my flight to frankfurt earlier this year and it totally bowled me over with how lovely it was and how emotional i got. just a beautiful, delicate, haunting, eerie book. for fans of mysteries, people who love oceans, gothic houses, people who earnestly believed magic was real as kids and hope it's real today, people who love academic drama they aren't involved in.

okay damn honorable mentions: in the dream house by carmen maria machado (SO good, maybe deserves my rec more than piranesi), normal people by sally rooney (mainly because it did make me insane), under the banner of heaven by jon krakauer (thorough, horrifying), honey & spice by bolu babalola (SO fun), sula by toni morrison (stunning!!), severance by ling ma (millennial alienation during a plague, amirite?), trust exercise by susan choi (who knows what really happened? you'll understand).

okay now the worst books i read this year, aka books i did not vibe with:

broken harbor & the trespasser by tana french; did not enjoy broken harbor due to the themes and did not enjoy the trespasser due to how cringefail the ending was. you can't depict ongoing harassment a woman of color is experiencing in her workplace, make her decide to leave after two years of this harassment, and then back track it in the last chapter? please. this is a problem tana french runs into a lot, but that is a different post

the witch elm by tana french; parts of this book were absolutely delicious. but a lot of it felt very tedious and in need of a stern editor. so many books these days need more thorough editing and the result is that a potentially amazing book is just like, okay. i understand the power fantasy that this book is designed to be, but i'm not the right audience for it (disabled). also, generally i need a character to root for.

amateur by thomas page mcbee; SO sorry thomas. i didn't vibe with this book mainly because i don't think i'm the target audience for it. i'm not cis and i'm not straight?? i also am not interested in narratives about trans men wanting to prove their masculinity by taking up a violent sport. i think this tension is addressed in the book but it wasn't addressed to my satisfaction. violence is often all the world gives to men as a source of power and thus serves as a solace for everything patriarchy takes from them, so i suppose i understand wanting to be able to get a piece of that...logically that makes sense. but also. why.

the late americans by brandon taylor; the thing is, i fucking love real life by brandon taylor and i enjoy brandon's criticism and read his substack (although i disagree with almost every aesthetic opinion he has). so possibly my expectations were too high, but i read this and i guess i was just...wanted to know what the point is. gay people suffering in the midwest? as a genre, it slaps. as a book, i feel frustrated. it felt loose, pointless, in great need of editing. brandon talks about this book by talking about the importance of moral fiction, and this book lacks moral urgency for many of its stories. i've read a lot of moral fiction and this isn't it? anyway I read this in July and looking back all I remember is Seamus' journey and the way brandon dragged workshopping.

the angel of the crows by katherine addison; look. if you're going to write sherlock wingfic, put it on ao3. if you're going to file off the serial numbers, please work harder so i can't tell what it originally was. and absolutely nix the author's note saying it was sherlock fanfic, because that makes me very unhappy! personally!

99% mine by sally thorne; classic second book syndrome. except the third one is also not very good. too bad!

touched out by amanda montei; okay obligatory disclaimer that i'm not a mother or parent but rather an adult who loves my friends' kids! this book really frustrated me and i think i would have enjoyed it considerably more if it was all cultural criticism instead of a memoir (other than the dworkin parts????). a memoir is an art form, a set narrative, but criticizing it feels weird because i am criticizing the author's life decisions as presented to me, in a flattened context, in a controlled narrative. if the memoir parts were instead part of a fictional book i would not hold back lol. this book is marketed as the most important work of feminist scholarship in the last 30 years and...it ain't. i also felt the focus was incredibly narrow. while montei does attempt to cite a broad range of theorists i just kept finding myself wondering, what about people from other cultures? what about disabled mothers? what about queer mothers or parents? what about this? WHERE'S YOUR RESEARCH? WHERE ARE YOUR INTERVIEWS? there is a specific kind of feminism where white women act like their specific experience is the pinnacle of all suffering and tbh it isn't. this book reminded me of that very strongly. like, if you're telling me you won't have an epidural because it was invented by a man then you are not a useful person to engage with, thanks.

books that would have been amazing if not for that one part

he who drowned the world by shelley parker chan - man i have mixed thoughts on this book. look away my beloved swbts mutuals. okay the epic highs (ouyang & zhu!! ma!!) were set off by baoxiang lmao. i'm mainly interested in queer masculinity and femininity and a femme straight guy is like. well, good for him, but i don't really care? bring me back to my loveds zhu and ouyang. but my main gripe...tbh i think baoxiang is a hugely unreliable narrator that protests about a lot of things too much. being straight for one thing; not having a thing for esen is another. AND MORE COULD HAVE BEEN DONE WITH THIS? like i honestly wish the implied incest thing, which was brought up at least twice, was more present. taking a step back, if you're like well i'm straight and i don't have a thing for my dead brother i helped kill but i absolutely will be seducing the spitting image of him while i fuck my way to the top of the throne? that should make me insane. possibly it would have in a book that didn't already have ouyang. who can tell. so i wish SPC had leaned into that a lot more, i wish baoxiang hadn't felt like such a plot instrument, i wish there was more Ma, i wish spoilery completely unbelievable storyline was better, etc.

in memorial by alice winn - damn, this book. it was so good but it fell apart at the end. i respect winn's decision to not have it be perfectly easy after living through the untold horrors of the trenches of wwi but the idea of two brits running away to brazil to live out a life of colonial bliss because being gay wasn't explicitly illegal in brazil at a time is like. what? i guess. anyway, it was good, i just have some notes.

romantic comedy by curtis sittenfeld - here's the thing, i love curtis sittenfeld and i knew going in that this is a book by the author that wrote rodham but man, this is a book by the author that wrote rodham. this is the most Online book i've ever read (derogatory) and it's very specific in its liberal i'm an Online author on twitter type of deal. the point of the book is that Not Tina Fey falls for Male Taylor Swift on Not Saturday Night Live and it was good, it was fun, i wasn't expecting [spoiler] ummm but it worked. i had a good time.

this is very long, sorry.

[nikki-is-a-nerd]

I have never felt more rage in my life than finding out that my old uni. A prestigious art school in my country is implementing AI into the art curriculum. I have left that school for about 2 or 3 years bug i have friends, who i know are extremely talented people, and they’re so frustrated because that school wants them to learn to use AI. Fuckin hell, they deserve better than this. People who make art for a living don’t deserve the bullshit treatment of corporations and society implementing artificial intelligence to recreate something organic.

Art is an expression of one’s feelings, desires and dreams and here’s our timeline, people wanting to manufacture it via robot. For fucks sake, art schools should protect its young up and coming creators not threatening their futures.

This is a big FUCK YOU to those very people. Fuck corporations and companies that don’t see the value of art because paying actual people is so fuckin hard. Writers, animators, graphic designers, you are all the backbone of modern day media. Without any of you, we wouldn’t have a beautiful place to escape reality and im so angry for all of you, because that’s being robbed from y’all by greedy bastards.

[site-19--staffblog]

Hi! If you're reading this that means you've stumbled upon the SCP Foundations only Tumblr account! Well at least to my knowledge, incase your behind the veil yes this is made from actual foundation employees with permission from the 05's themselves,,, well not entirely but they said something similar enough

Well, I should probably get this Intro post started, here we go!

First off

Who are we?

Were the SCP foundation! At least to people behind the veil but you probably aren't behind it so for you the foundation is the men in black the Illuminati a secret government agency although we're not here to make your life harder or do weird shit to make a new world order, no we're here to protect you yes you reading this whoever you are whatever you do, you remember fairy tales told to you as a child right? Fantasy with wizards and princesses stuck in high towers? Elf's and fairy's in mystical woodlands? Well there real practically all of it but it isn't given the same child-friendly treatment because most things that are behind the veil want to kill you, so we shield humanity from them by putting them in overly complicated boxes so they (hopefully) never see the light of day again

But why?

Good question! Answer is most could probably kill all of us 3x over next question

Whats the veil?

Merraim-Websters definition

I kid the veil is what we call what separates your normal world from our fucked up fantasy keeping the normal citizen from learning about the soul-sucking demon that if escaped could murder half of China in a day it's what makes sure that modern society can exist without the fear of being annihilated down to your atoms at least in stable countries, it's also what allows us to do our jobs because sometimes for the greater good great evils need to be committed

If it's so important why are you throwing it away?

Another great question! ,,, we don't know at least no one at site-19 we've asked around at other sites but we still got no answers theories are welcome though! But if I'm being honest were all unnerved

List of site-19 staff participating!

Mik- Me! I'm the one passing messages from other groups behind the veil to where they need to go, along with messages sent to site-19 I also act as a diplomant from time to time

Misha- our resident historian for everything from behind the veil to in front of it she's usually helping tracking down the history of every object that comes through here, I don't know how she does it my bets on magic

Basia- one of our botanists, usually helping people with the health of their poor little cactus plants but when he does have a job to do by God does he do it he'd be able to get you an exact care plan for any anomalous plant you can think of horrible with people though I have to question why they signed up for this

Numbers- they handle most of the backend server stuff with Alexandria I don't know much about them I didn't even know they had a name till they signed up I don't interact with them alot if I do it usually means something has gone to shit with internal servers, so no time for chatting

Alexandria- Our very own artificial intelligence! Or officially an A.I.C. but same thing, she's what helps us keep our site Running! Also the sweetest person to talk with if you've got a question with the foundation or our site in general she's the one to ask! Although I've been told she's had quite the rocky history,,,

For the guys behind the veil

Please act normal don't send a cogitohazzard to some poor unsuspecting soul best foot forward and all that

Or I will sic 682 on you

I know you guys are aware of it, I won't hesitate

That's all!

I'll add more when necessary but please send us some asks!

Ooc))

If you think there's a way to improve this please let me know! This is my first time making an entire AU))

[harrelltut]

卍 JEHOVAH Occult Witness Me [ME = U.S. Michael Harrell = TUT = JAH] as Inner Earth’s [HADES] HIDDEN Underworld [HU = HURRIAN] Military Unit [MU] of Primitively Ancient [PA = SUPERNATURAL] Black Apparition Egyptian [BAE = COSMIC] Technologies Metaphysically UNEARTH [MU] Me [ME = U.S. Michael Harrell = TUT = JAH] on Earth [JE = JESUS] since I LORDLY BEE A HIGHLY Classified Afro [CA] Nigerian Oligarch of KEMETIC [NOK] Technology Kingdoms in Lost America [L.A. = NEW Atlantis] 卍

[baekhyuq]

“Cybersex.” Baekhyun (m) Robot!bbh

[Artificial Intelligence!Baekhyun/Robot!Baekhyun]

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Word count: 3.5k

Playlist: Cybersex - Doja Cat/Say so-Doja Cat

Summary: You order your first AI because you’re lonely, but the AI seems to be more in control of you than you are of him.

Dragging the tab to customize your characters face, you make a sound as it comes together. Your customized character looks absolutely fuckable. In your own words.

Your friend—Yeri—introduced you to a very popular company that allows you to custom a robot/AI and have it delivered right to your door step. This was a dangerous thing you’ve considered many times. What if the AI becomes something evil? Your worries were just childish but valid. Your friend assured you nothing bad would happen, you could always report it to the company.

She went on to tell you how she’s had her AI for about a year and nothing has happened. You remember coming over to meet her robot—man. He was charming to say the least, with the modern technology they’ve developed over the years, they’ve replicated human emotions almost perfectly. Some interactions are still awkward and stiff between the human and AI.

“It’s expensive but worth it, I need somebody.” You talk yourself into hitting the confirm order button. You stare at the button for over 5 minutes before clicking it and instantly regret.

“W-wait.” You breathe out, what if this was the worst thing you’ve done yet?

***

“Y/n you can’t cancel it...Once the order is made you can’t go back.” Yeri tells you over lunch. You’re both eating veggie burgers with a side of fries. You explained how you’ve tried everything to cancel your order to the company.

“I cant believe I just blew so much money on fucking AI.” You sulk in your seat, the truth is, you’re lonely and need a companion but literally buying one isn’t the way to go about it. Right?

“I just wanted someone to share my time with.” You confess, embarrassed. “Is there really no way to cancel my order?” You ask for the third time.

Yeri sighs, “No. Y/n, just think of it as a treat for yourself. There’s no harm done with wanting company!” She manages to cheer you up about the situation in which you’ve spent a large sum on a robot man.

If there’s no way you’re getting your money back then you might as well start making a place for it to stay.

You and Yeri shop for things to decorate its room with. Living in a two bed apartment, you had the space for the AI to live. Or exist, whatever it will do.

Your phone dings, indicating a text message. You check your phone, a message displaying across the screen. “AI has been delivered.”

It’s been only a day.

“Yeri!?!” You yell in the middle of checking out.

She turns to you with wide eyes, “What’s wrong? Do you not like the bedding that much? I’ll change—“

“It says he’s been delivered!” You whisper yell, you didn’t want anyone knowing you fell into society’s trap of having an AI.

Yeri’s face relaxes, “Their delivery has gotten faster, Chanyeol took about three days for them to ship him.” She smiles fondly, “We should go to your house asap.”

***

“I didn’t freaking know he would get here the very next day!” You’re more freaked out by the very tall box that’s standing by your front door.

“I-is he alive in there?” You tap the box.

“He has to be activated first silly.” Yeri giggles at you, pushing the box past your door way. “Let’s go!”

“Yeri im terrified.” The heavy box has been standing in your living room for almost 20 minutes. Yeri has had enough of your hesitating self, she’s taken the responsibility into her own hands to open the box.

“Instructions. These are important, so don’t throw them away, got it?” She talks you through the unboxing. She pulls the wings of the cardboard back and you see a hand.

“Oh my god!” You cover your eyes. This can’t be fucking happening.

Yeri tears away the plastic the robot is wrapped in. You peep through your fingers. He’s absolutely breathtaking. You gasp audibly.

“Oh my god, Y/n. You made this?!” Yeri’s surprised by how handsome he is, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Oh he’s toned, lets activate him!”

Yeri takes your phone and goes to the app of the company. She navigates through some steps before coming to a loading bar.

“Once this is filled up then you’ll have yourself a man!” Yeri’s clapping happily as she sits beside you to wait patiently. “You did such a good job, his face is so handsome.”

You’re jaw is still on the ground, you can’t believe your creation is here in the...flesh? You’re scared but at the same time you’re also excited.

“It’s almost finished.” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your staring competition with the robot that has ceased to live yet. “Complete!”

A sound is emitted from the app, a beeping and a few buzzing sounds before its quiet. You can Yeri are hanging off the edge of the couch.

“Did it work—“

The AI jolts to life and looks around the room before introducing himself, “Hello, my name is Baekhyun.” A smile reaches his face and he looks even more handsome.

You’re forced to stand, reaching out to take his hand, shaking it. “H-hello my name is Y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you, Baekhyun.” Your hand is sweaty and you’re hoping he isn’t able to feel it.

“Your hand is damp, sweaty palms is an indicator that the person is nervous. Am I making you nervous Y/n?” The AI says intelligently, his voice is soothing. It’s also embarrassing that he just pointed that out.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been nervous since I ordered you...” You’re uncomfortable claiming that you bought him right to his face. Is it like an unnamed rule that you shouldn’t mention it?

“That is a normal reaction I suppose.” He laughs, your heart melts and your stomach erupts with butterflies. “Your brain is releasing oxytocin and cortisol, now your blood vessels around your gut are constricting. You must be feeling nauseous now, or as you humans call it ‘having butterflies in your stomach’.”

How can he tell by just standing near you?! It’s almost creepy!

“Baekhyun you’re very knowledgeable, you know that?” Yeri jumps in to slice the awkward conversation. She stands up to shake Baekhyun’s hand introducing herself.

“Nice to meet you, Yeri.”

“I actually have an AI of my own, his name is Chanyeol.”

“I’ve never heard that name before. He must be a customized model?” Baekhyun asks.

Yeri nods, “I should introduce him to you one day!” That’s not a bad idea, Baekhyun will probably become lonely here when you’re out.

Baekhyun smiles before shifting his attention to you. “You are my creator, correct?”

His question throws you off for a second. “Yes.”

“Alright, you must answer a few questions for my system if that’s alright.”

“Ah yes, that’s fine, please come and sit.” You and Baekhyun sit next to each other while Yeri wonders off into the kitchen for food.

Baekhyun asks questions such as what his duties are, or where he may or may not go in the house, ect.

“What is my purpose?” He asks, a blue dot by his ear lights up.

“For keeping me company...” You couldn’t blatantly tell him he was here because you wanted a man in your life! What kind of creator would you look like?

“Just company?” Baekhyun smirks almost, a questioning look on his face. He doesn’t press further, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. He could sense your heart rate increase at his questions. Your cheeks were becoming red by the minute. Each question would result in a stuttering response from you. Baekhyun found you fascinating.

“That is all I needed thank you, my system will accommodate to you based on the answers you provided.”

“Ah, no problem.” You can’t help but stare at him, he’s just so perfect. The round rip of his nose and the curve of his cheeks. It’s all so inhuman.

“I h-have a question actually.” You turn to face Baekhyun, your leg brushing his.

He nods encouraging you to speak.

“May I touch your face? I know it sounds weird but I just can’t stop staring at it, I know I created your face and all but I just want to see for myself. You know? Should I not mention that I created you? Does it make you uncomfortable? I won’t do it if you’re uncomfortable—“

Baekhyun interrupts your speech by grabbing your hand and placing it on his cheek. “Fleshy exterior and a metal interior. I’m made of 60 percent of customized silicone to replicate human skin. But the rest of me is various metals. You may ask any other questions you might have, I will answer to the best of my abilities.” His voice is silk, not skipping even one beat as he spoke.

Your hand hesitates in feeling around his face, tracing his nose and pinching his cheeks even. He feels just like a human. “What’s your hair made of?”

“100 percent human hair.” He chuckles, his hands in his lap. “My teeth are made of the silicone and various muscles replicated are made from the silicone, but with variations of densities with making one organ harder or squishy. Here touch it.” He sticks out his tongue and you grab it without hesitation. It’s wet and rough like a tongue.

“Wow, thats so freaky.”

“Right? The wondrous world of AI technology!” Baekhyun’s first joke to crack has you giggling endlessly.

***

‘He’s charming’ is your first thought of Baekhyun, he hasn’t stopped making you laugh since he’s arrived. Another thing is that he’s understanding, you’ve been sharing your personal life with him and he’s listened the whole time without judgement. He’s even given you well constructed advice.

“Ah! I forgot, Yeri and I were actually shopping for your room today. We picked up a few things, we weren’t sure what you’d like since...you know.” You led him to his room which was right across form yours.

“Wow that’s very considerate of you both, I really appreciate it.” Baekhyun looks around, the rooms to his liking. He doesn’t know exactly what he likes about it but he’s content with it.

“If you want anything else to decorate it with just let me know!” You stand at the door with your hands together. It’s an awkward silence before Baekhyun speaks.

“Is there anything that you would like me to do?”

“Oh, I—no. Not right now, no.” Your stuttering response makes Baekhyun emit a laugh.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me Y/n. I am your creation think of me as...” He pauses to think, his chin in his hand. He looks back at you, “Think of me as if i’m just your boyfriend!”

You choke on your spit, alarming Baekhyun who stands up to pat your back.

“Baekhyun I think i’m going to take a shower feel free to wonder the apartment.” You spit out before practically running to your room. If he wasn’t a fucking AI you would jump his bones right then and there.

You try to calm your heart rate with a steamy shower. The mirrors fogged up and you’re listening to your music on a low volume, minding your new roommate.

You’re shaving your legs when you hear the door open. You pause, did you hear right? There’s no possible way he would—

The shower curtain is ripped back and reveals a naked Baekhyun.

“Baekhyun—close the curtain! What are you doing in here!?” You scream in terror, your AI has literally just seen you naked.

“I thought this was an invitation? Did I read you wrong? Your body temperature was very high and your eyes were dilated. Those were signs of attraction, then you said you would go shower, I thought—“

“Baekhyun get out!” You cut him off by yelling.

Baekhyun leaves the bathroom. You’re absolutely mortified and embarrassed. You get out the shower wrapping a towel around your body to dry off. You begin to dress when you notice the shadow of his feet. You pull open the door, standing face to face with Baekhyun.

“Y/n, I ran through my system to see what mistake I made and I apologize.” He looks down at you, his arms at his side. He looks so robotic.

“Baekhyun don’t come into the bathroom when I’m in here... People take showers alone, okay?” You’re straining from what you want to actually say. Please fuck me now, Baekhyun.

“Yes Y/n.” There’s a pause. “Did you like it?”

“Like what?”

“The body you created.” He almost smirks, and you want to wipe it off his face. His subtle cocky attitude makes you uncomfortably horny.

“Seeing as your body temperature is rising again and you’re blinking a lot. And also how your brain is releasing plenty of dopamine and also your nipples are poking through your shirt. You must have enjoyed a part of it.” He’s leaning closer, blocking you from running.

“Tell me Y/n. Do you want to test if this body can meet your expectations? Would you like a test drive?” Baekhyun’s mouth is by your ear, his breath fanning the side of your face.

You can barely respond with a nod, not trusting your voice.

“I need words, I need your verbal permission. I will not hold back If you agree Y/n.” The way he says your name, your kitty is dripping already.

“Yes, Baekhyun. Please take me.” You gain a small amount of confidence from his want. His desire. Your hands grips his toned arms.“I want you.” You whisper.

Baekhyun picks you up with inhuman strength and carries you to your room. He tosses you on the bed.

“I would ask how you like it, but telling by your arousal at me throwing you on the bed I’d conclude you enjoy it rough.”

His words shoot right to your kitty. Fuck, how could this robot possess so much sex appeal right now? Looking like that should be a punishable crime.

You’re also curious, as to how he will perform. Will he be inhumanly perfect? Will he be careful? They are questions begging to be answered.

“What are you thinking of at a time like this? You’re zoning out.” Baekhyun straddles you on the bed, his hands running up your sides to take hold of your hands. He pins them above you, glaring down at you.

“Keep your mind only on what’s happening in this room.”

“I was thinking about you.” You bite your lip as you shamefully admit your dirty thoughts.

“Were you?” His eyes travel down to your lips, he licks his own.

“I was thinking of how you would be..in bed.”

“Is that so? Why don’t I just demonstrate.” Baekhyun dips his head to catch your lips with his. His lips taste like cherry, how could this be? His hand comes to the side of your face to caress your cheek. He’s gentle.

“Go ahead then.” You gain confidence at his desire, once more.

“Yes, Y/n.” He breaks away to let a smirk play on his lips. He starts with your nightgown, taking off the lacy slip. He kisses your shoulders and over your collarbones. His hand travels to your waist, holding you. You breathe calmly, the nervousness melting away with each kiss set by Baekhyun.

“Your heart rate has calmed but your body temperature is rising. How adorable.” He pushes your panties down teasingly, not taking them off. You roll your eyes, pushing him by his shoulder. For an artificial man he posses enough charisma and sex appeal to charm you out of your panties yourself.

He lets the band of your panties smack against your skin. You whine and pout, furrowing your brows at him. Baekhyun puts his hand over your clothed kitty, letting a single finger push down and sink between your folds. He rubs your clit gently, barely stimulating you but revving your engine nonetheless. You grab onto his wrist, asking him to rub you harder.

“Stop teasing.” You whine at his dainty touch, wanting to be petted way heavier than what he’s giving. Baekhyun laughs at your desperate attempts. He gives in and presses harder on your clit, rubbing in circles. You moan quietly, biting your lip quickly after.

Baekhyun’s brows furrow at the sound of your moans, his ears have never heard such a sound before. He rubs your clit harder to hear the song once more. You hold out trying not to embarrass yourself but it slips out when Baekhyun licks up your neck.

“Your moans are so adorable, Y/n.” You feel his voice vibrate through his chest.

Baekhyun slips his hand into your panties, touching your bare clit, his fingers become sticky and damp. The sounds coming from between your thighs fill the room, along with your heavy breathing. Baekhyun seems to be the only one unaffected.

“How can you not be out of breath?” You ask, turning your head to face him.

Baekhyun grins at the layer of sweat over your body. “Oh, Sweetheart. I am very much affected.” He takes your hand and places it over his chest, his hearts beating fast. “You caused this.”

He catches your lips in his and your hand sneaks up to the side of his face. His finger dipping into your hole surprising you, you jolt and let out a surprised squeak.

“The noises you make, I could listen to them all day.” Baekhyun confesses, he sits up, positioning you to lay on your stomach.

You lay obediently, becoming anxious for his touch. His thighs are on either side of your ass, his hand lands on the small of your back. His fingers walk up your spine to your shoulders, then down to the small of your back.

“Baekhyun stop playing, grab my ass.” You whine, arching your back for him even further.

Baekhyun erupts with laughter, “You’re so impatient.” He smacks your ass before grabbing it and soothing the sting. He slides off your panties tossing them on the floor. He has full access to your pussy. He dips his fingers between your thighs, rubbing you from behind. It feels as if the sensation feels more intense in this position.

You moan softly, earning a grunt from Baekhyun. You turn your head to see his face. He’s already looking at you. His dark eyes are penetrating yours. You feel as if you can’t hold out anymore.

“Baekhyun, please fuck me.”

Baekhyun undresses in an instant, you didn’t have to tell him twice. He’s positioning himself up to your pussy and slowly slides in. You almost cry out from the stretch. His length is perfect but he’s thicker than anyone you’ve ever had. He bottoms out, resting his hand on your hip. He slides out and thrusts forward slowly, letting out a low moan in your ear. His chest touches your back. Your breathing is uneven and your heart is beating fast. You could feel every inch of Baekhyun, his delicious cock buried inside of you. Baekhyun wraps and arm around your neck, holding you to him. He starts thrusting quickly, you squeeze your eyes shut at the pleasure.

Your climax begins to build, the knot in your stomach unraveling slowly. You reach down to rub your clit but Baekhyun slaps your hand away, rubbing it himself. You almost feel sensitive at the way he’s rubbing it and you jerk away from his touch.

“Baekhyun i’m about to cum!” You whine loudly, biting down on his arm. The slapping noises emitting from you both fill the room and the bed creaks quietly. The air is filled with sex and the smell of sweat.

Baekhyun furrows his brows as he speeds uo his thrusts. Your body is buried in the mattress, your hip burning from his grip on it. You feel as if any second you will—

“Ah~” Your feet dig into Baekhyun’s lower back, pressing him further into you. Your greedy kitty contracts around his length as Baekhyun tries to reach his own climax. Is it possible for an AI to ejaculate? You find out soon when Baekhyun lets out an animalistic grunt and your back is covered in a sticky wet goodness. Your feet drop back into the bed, fatigue plaguing you as your head rests on Baekhyun’s arm under you. You can feel his heavy breathing evening out as he rolls off of you.

“Well?” He breathes out, looking over at you.

You look up at him with droopy eyes. “Well what?”

“How was my performance, did I meet your expectations?” His toothy smile melts your heart once more. You place a hand on his chest, curling up by his side.

“You were amazing, I didn’t think I would cum so hard by an AI.” You tease poking your tongue out at Baekhyun. He spanks your ass and you giggle.

“This AI can do more than make you cum more than once, Sweetheart.”

[violetsystems]

#personal

The world and the week fucking sucks.  Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way.  I don’t think anybody here really needs to hear about my problems these days.  The brazenly annoying mantra of ‘stay positive’ really grows old on the fourth or fifth year of waiting for Godot.  For some people, quarantine and isolation has only really been a month and a half here where I live.  I can talk about how I’ve felt like a ghost for years.  Around where I live I’m still considered very much alive.  Alive enough to receive packages without them getting stolen.  The people on my block who know me in passing over the years are polite but keep their distance.  There’s also the opposite.  People serendipitously winding up in the same place at the most inconvenient of times.  Which is all the time for me when I leave my house.  The “we’re all in this together” mind set can be a bit overbearing at times.  I know about socialism.  I just subscribed to Jacobin for may day.  Not that anybody ever asked but I’m an anarchist.  Sounds more hardcore than it is I guess.  But it’s grown out of a need for privacy and safety.  And that’s grown living in the world year after year with barely any filter, a lot of transparency, and roughly handsome looks.  For what it’s worth, I’ve tried very hard to be as good as I can be for society.  I worked for a Korean American Chamber of Commerce for three years as a volunteer.  Even sat on a board as a planner.  Nobody remembers any of that.  Occasionally somebody remembers when I was a dj.  Or a producer.  Or a rapper.  Or a political force to be reckoned with.  Or that guy who took too many pictures of his food in Korea.  I have never gotten the impression anyone understands how I feel or just who I am other than maybe here.  This is because nobody ever lets me talk.  Asks what I dream about.  Or what kind of secrets I hold in my heart.  I hint at them all the time.  But nobody ever pays close enough attention to dig deeper.  It’s all just a conversational pivot for them to talk about themselves.  Which is why I still come here and babble every weekend.  It’s an incredible power to have a place where you can open up.  A place where people understand your position without you having to repeat yourself.  And yet I say mostly the same things here with little or no change.  Things actually sometimes get worse for me.  It’s worse for everybody out there.  In here where I stay I have paid rent for another month.  Things are sustainable.  Even some of the frivolous tings.  I personally don’t think conserving my mental health is a frivolous act.  And the sad realization I’ve come to learn through isolation is that I’m not the one who causes most of my problems.  My problems come from being duped into thinking society deserves more from me.  That we are all in this together and yet I’m always alone.  People are too scared to reach out.  Maybe I’m to blame.  But when they do it’s so fucking haphazard.  I know what self care looks like.  It’s how I stay alive.  And self harm has always come from lowering my standards of trust towards people who don’t put as much into life as I do. 

The good news is I already have my answer on how to deal with modern times.  Work hard, pay my bills, keep to myself and think creatively.  When things don’t go my way I’ve already expected the worst.  I shudder to think about repeating all the bad things that happened to me.  There was never any closure.  So I healed from the wounds and scarred over.  I don’t ever really look back.  But when I do it’s a complex feeling.  I traveled for years by myself.  Fourteen times to Korea.  Every two months to New York.  Two years alone on my birthday.  Nobody called except politicians.  It sounds surreal.  And my life is.  And yet it means nothing to anyone.  It’s a whisper.  I’ll never be good enough to acknowledge openly.  I’m a hushed exception to the rule nobody wants to talk about.  If anything people consistently try to punk me to talk openly about myself in real life.  Just so they can tell other people what I’m thinking behind my back.  I do that here.  Every week.  And to this day I don’t think barely anyone knows or cares what I talk about.  I sometimes have to think to myself that I’m living some sick joke.  Trolled and punked into thinking something is true until I die alone.  And if that is the case then the world deserves all the sickness coming to it.  And that is a horrible feeling to conquer.  To stay positive in spite of knowing how bleak it all is.  That you try your hardest and people get rewarded for not trying at all.  People get rewarded for standing in your way.  For erasing your path.  Your self worth.  People bury every good thing you do.  Or label it year after year as problematic until you are a walking paradox.  What do you do other than to spit on the ground and tell people to fuck off?  I don’t have an answer.  The only one I’ve come up with is to stay in my house and focus on things that make me happy.  And people in this city and their expectations have never made me happy.  I’m a civil person.  I’m also pretty good at talking to people.  I just don’t ever get the impression anyone has the capacity to value anything I say or do.  It’s always about other people.  Not how I feel.  And if people really know how dark and depressing this felt they’d know what I have dragged myself out of.  I don’t like feeling like that.  And so I’ve focused on tuning it all out.  It’s easy enough to do these days.  But there’s so much more noise to cancel.  Everybody is trying to sell you something.  Everybody wants to know how you spend your money.  How you live your life.  Everybody wants to compare themselves against you.  Rank and place you where you are most efficient to the greater good.  And yet here I am after all I have done.  Wasting away.  Is that really my fault?

I’ve beaten myself up for years thinking I wasn’t good enough.  Year after year I’d get a little more focused.  A little more together.  A lot older.  A little more grey.  A little less financially erratic.  A lot less actually.  And yet nobody notices anything.  Unless of course you pound your chest and start a fight.  I’ve never been one to overstate anything.  If you know me deeply then you can read me easily.  And however blunt and matter of fact I am about my feelings week after week, the world forgets.  The world could care less.  And as a result I could care less about the world.  The society that needs me but doesn’t know anything about my value.  I feel wasted.  I feel shit on.  I feel invisible.  I’m made to feel like being forgotten about is special.  That I’m being saved for something special.  And yet it just keeps getting worse.  I’m emotionally emaciated.  In fact I don’t really have any more emotions to anything at all.  Which is why I spend my time agonizing over elaborate end game theory in collectible card games and reading dissertations on Artificial Intelligence online.   Why the fuck do I care about arguing about things no one will change?  I have changed so much about myself.  I have made it my own.  To the point where everybody has completely forgotten about the person I used to be.  I’m healthier and more complete and yet that’s not enough.  I don’t have enough of my money flashing around for people to notice.  And yet I’ve hit every major drop in the last two weeks from your favorite online retailer.  I look fresh as fuck.  But that’s how I roll.  If people notice they never show it.  They just talk behind my back like I’m a fucking mannequin.  To this day I have no idea what I’m worth or why I’m even alive.  I’m fine with that I guess.  But I could die tomorrow and I think the only thing people would miss is all the work that wouldn’t get done.  People think I enjoy being jerked around by an invisible hand that makes me walk in circles.  I don’t.  I don’t even understand half of the shit I’ve been put through the last three years.  In fact when I sit here alone and think about all the horrible things that I was put through it makes me shudder.  People thought it was ok to destroy my personal life.  And from what I’ve dealt with in the last five months alone is my own personal horror story.   The point is my life is the worst it has ever been in some ways.  Except when I shut the door on the rest of the world.  It’s not worth my time anymore to fight battles for people who left me missing in action for years with no explanation or closure.  I don’t know that I’m really missing much in that respect.  I just don’t feel like I matter to anyone or anything.  Except myself.  And the usual suspects that I don’t talk about openly.  If I’m good enough for them then nothing really has changed with me.  I’m still left with the feeling.  That I just don’t know.  And that’s a feeling I just have to live with.  Just like other people have to live with me not giving them the time of day.  I’m not a hard person to figure out.  People just don’t want to let me be me. <3 Tim

[pcy-babygirl]

Pairings: Lee Taeyong x Female!Reader, NCT x Female!Reader (platonic) Genre: Dark!AU, Criminal/Gang!AU, Superhuman!AU // angst, slow burn, smut Series Warnings: dark themes (experimentation/human enhancement, kidnapping, thievery, murder), blood, sex, alcohol consumption, (more will be added if needed)

Chapter Warnings: alcohol consumption, angst if you squint (i think that’s it)

Word Count: 3.2k

Notes: Hey, so this is my first fanfic so I hope it isn’t terrible. I spent a long time writing this first chapter, trying to perfect it. I don’t make it super clear in this chapter, but this story takes place sometime in the near future or maybe in an alternative universe that has advanced technology than what we have today. I had cyberpunk aesthetic in mind when writing (i.e blade runner, cyberpunk 2077, etc.). This story won’t have humaniods or cyber enhanced people, but their will be biological and chemical experimentation involved. If you are uncomfortable with this then I suggest not reading. Anyway, happy reading! ♡

Heathens Masterlist

- Synopsis -

Heathens; this was what they called each other. People who didn’t fit into society nor were like other humans. A group of outsiders who had a plan, one that involved a naive and confused girl.

They were given numbers as names, but she knew them as NCT.

“We are the used and forgotten; you babygirl, are the innocent and brainwashed. In the end we’re both heathens to this unacknowledged dystopia.”

     Neon lights, holographic billboards, and heavy traffic was all that you could see from the high level your room was on. Days were dull and desolate, while nights like tonight glowed fluorescent by technology and culture. Seoul had become the center for all advancing technology. The world calls it the future; where cures for fatal diseases would be discovered and life moved twenty times faster, it seemed. They call it: Neo City. 

The alarm on the glass screen brings you back from your absent mindedness, alerting that it was time to leave for the fundraiser dinner. Walking away from the window and to the object mounted to the wall, you tap the glass and dismiss the reminder. You slip your uncomfortable heels on and check your appearance in the mirror. The sleeveless, cut-out dress was minimal yet elegant. The black material complimenting your skin tone nicely. 

“You look stunning Y/N-ssi.”

“Thank you, Athena.” You reply back to the artificial intelligence system. Something the movies predicted, eventually the high class started living like Tony Stark with their own personal Jarvis. It was something that you found unnecessary.

Satisfied after smoothing your hair another time, you take the elevator down to the ground floor. A car was waiting for you when you stepped outside the apartment building. Rolling your eyes as you get in; you thought, “how typical of him”. 

The fundraiser dinner was a get together for investors who were interested in your father's corporation, a research organization for cancer. Dinners like tonight were important, so you were told. It was to bring in new investors while also encouraging current investors to donate more based off of the newest research found. They were nothing compared to the annual gala your father holds for the corporation, which was his form of gratitude for his employees. As the founder's daughter, you were expected to attend all formal events.

The self-driving car pulls up to your destination and the backseat door opens automatically. You step out of the sleek vehicle and onto smooth, city concrete. Staring up at the tall building you get the feeling of déjà vu. 

Always on the ground floor but never exploring what was above. Curiosity eats at you every time you go to one of these events. The opportunity to go next door and take a look upstairs in the labs was so close to you, yet so far away. You would get caught by security immediately.

You enter the reception hall that your father added next to the research center a few years ago. It was modern and expensive looking like everything else in the Gangnam District. The room was filled with round dining tables, all decorated with silverware, wine glasses, and floral centerpieces. Men and women were all dressed in formal cocktail attire, some being the company's staff but most were investors. You spotted your friend Yuri, a biochemistry research assistant, who worked at the lab. She smiles cheerfully when you step in front of her.

“Hey, are you excited for your trip to Japan?”

Remembering my planned trip abroad, my smile widens. “Very excited, it's going to be the first time I leave the country, the city even.”

It was true, you never left Seoul. Ever since you can remember, you were always sheltered from most of the world. Your father never allowed you to go past city boundaries; but you were an adult now, he couldn't stop you. So when the opportunity to go on a two week, college trip to Japan was available you took it. Your father was furious with you but settled. 

“I'm surprised Minjun Choi-ssi is even letting you go. You're barely allowed to go to school, let alone out of the country.” Yuri huffed in annoyance. You two have known each since your first day of college. It was just a coincidence that she was getting her research experience time at your father's lab.

“He's just very protective,” you explain. Yuri's focus on your conversation was diminished and was now centered on someone else. He couldn't have been much older than you, maybe a year or two younger. He stands tall in his grey suit, brunette locks styled up and away from his pale face. He's stunning, you think.

Yuri must of thought the same thing because she turns her eyes back to you. This time they are filled with curiosity. “Do you know who that is?”

I shake my head; “No-” I turn my head back in his direction to see him walking our way, “-but he's coming over here.”

Before Yuri can do anything more than take in an anxious breath, the mysterious man is in front of us with a charming smile.

He bows to us in greetings. “Hello ladies, who do I owe the pleasure of meeting this evening?”

You grin, knowing your friend is probably too busy malfunctioning to answer him. “I'm Y/N, and this is my friend Yuri.”

He gently takes her hand and bends down to place a kiss on her knuckles. “It's lovely meeting you two. Yuri, a beautiful name for an even more beautiful girl. It means ‘lily’, yes?”

Yuri stands in a daze of fascination and a bloom of dark blush on her cheeks. Amongst it all though, she nods her head and smiles. 

This makes the man's smirk widened. “Their beauty couldn't even compare. I'm Yoonoh.”

You quickly made an attempt to leave knowing you've became the third wheel. “I think I'm gonna get a drink at the bar.”

Yoonoh looks over at you, with his hypnotic smile still present. “I'll keep Yuri company in the meantime. I suggest getting the red wine, it's a special one tonight.” 

He gives you a final wink before taking Yuri off to his table. Walking to the bar, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why did he say it like that? Shaking your head from your thoughts, you make it to the bar and order the wine suggested. You take small sips while looking at the large crowd of people; spotting your father talking to a young man with silver hair. He was shorter than most and currently laughing at, what you presume, was a joke your father just made. There's more young men here than usual, you thought. Were these men new staff or are they possibly chaebols? Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a deep voice next to you.

“Isn't it ironic that these people pour money into this organization even though they don't know half of what's actually being researched in the labs?”

You turn your head to the right to see the owner of the voice. Your eyes meet glimmering yet sharp, brown ones. The man in front of you is dressed in a black suit, the first few buttons of the white shirt underneath unbuttoned to reveal a silver chain underneath. His jaw could cut glass and his lips resembled the color of cherry blossoms in spring. His hair was stained bright red like blood, something that made you want to know who the hell this man was.

Not fully knowing how to comment; you stutter out, “I-I guess it's their blind faith. They believe this organization is going to cure cancer. If they see progress then, why stop?”

He scoffs before finishing his glass of soju. “It's easy to believe in a lie, little one. These days people want something to believe in. The promise of cures, tech innovation, the end of poverty and war are all just weapons used against us to keep the cycle of corruption going. Neo City is supposed to be the world's savior, but what if the people in it are the cause of our destruction?”

His words took you back by surprise but also made you curious. You've never known someone who speaks the way he does. He didn't view the world through rose colored glasses like everyone else. Who the fuck was this guy? Why was he here if he, seemingly, hates your father’s company? 

“I have to go.” 

You grab hold of the mysterious man’s jacket sleeve before he could leave, to his and your own surprise. “Wait…”

The red haired man gives me a warning glare, making me loosen my grip on him. “Sorry but, you never told me your name.”

His gaze drops from mine to the ground and he lets out a dry laugh. It was barely noticeable, because within seconds his eyes are back on you and he smirks.

“Taeyong.” 

He was gone immediately after, vanishing through the crowd of who he called the naive and hypocritical. You couldn’t even spot his wine colored hair anymore. You turn back around to the bar and look down at the glass filled with red, smooth liquid. A reflection of yourself could be seen, one that was glazed over in tones of crimson. All the drink did was remind you of his words. Of the veil of lies he talked about. He couldn’t of been right. Your father runs a good company, your father is good. He adopted you as a child and raised you up, without a wife. Your father’s company makes cures, nothing else.

Not being able to stomach seeing red anymore, you step away from your wine glass and go to sit down at your reserved table. You wished your father had enough time for you to ask about Taeyong. Maybe he doesn’t even know who Taeyong is. Questions spun in your mind like a whirlpool, going over the same questions just to come up with another possibility. Your thoughts are put on halt by the tapping of a microphone. On the stage, behind the podium, in the center was the director of research for the Neo City's branch and company headquarters: Dr. Oh Daewon. He has been you father’s right hand man for as long as you can remember. There was something about the man that was always off putting to you. You could never figure out what it was, but you tried keeping as much distance from him as you could.

The doctor cleared his throat before giving the guests a forced smile. “Hello and thank you everyone for attending the investors’ dinner this evening. It is nights like tonight that aid our progress for the future. I would like to thank all the newcomers who are now joining us on this groundbreaking quest for a better human society. With the help of our international branches, the Seoul Mutations Division is just a few steps closer to a cure for cancer and alzheimer's. By creating mutations of different stem cells, we have discovered a revolutionary change in our trials. This could be the start of a healthier, stronger, human race. We are happy to announce that at this year’s gala, in two weeks, we will be presenting the final product that has been in the works for the past seventeen years.”

The audience applauded his influential speech, everyone except the young man with silver hair you noticed. Instead of a praising smile, he gave a stone cold glare at the doctor. He was unmoved compared to the people around him. He painted on the same expression on his face as Taeyong. Turning back to the front, you see your father replacing Dr. Oh at the podium. You only can take it bits and pieces of what he's saying, your mind was too distracted thinking about the list of questions you'd have for your father if he knew who Taeyong is. 

Finally, your father's speech was over and everyone was welcomed to their entrees. You waited until your father was settled in his seat next to you to ask about the handsome red haired man.

"So, I met someone tonight I had never seen at one of these dinners before."

Your father hummed while chewing his kobe steak before swallowing. "He must be a new investor then."

You continue, "His name is Taeyong. He didn't give me his surname though, just 'Taeyong'."

"Ah", Father beamed. "That is probably Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul-ssi's associate. He mentioned that his associate would join the dinner at some point."

"Who is Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul?" You ask, the name being completely foreign on your tongue. 

“He’s an investor, a very young one at that. He runs a business specializing in medical technology in Thailand. He’s interested in contributing to our Thai branch.”

You nod your head and continue to pick around your food, not having much of an appetite tonight. After a pregnant pause, your father sighs. "I think it would be best if maybe one of my men go with you on your trip tomorrow. For your safety."

You roll your eyes at this repetitive argument being brought up, of all places as well. "Father, I'm twenty-one years old. I don't need a babysitter."

"It's for your protection Y/N, you still need to know more about the world. I intend to give you a protected lifestyle for as long as I can. You are valuable to bad people."

Shaking your head, you throw your dining napkin on the table. "You've given me a secluded and sheltered life. I'm just now getting to experience things people my age do. I'm a grown adult now, I need to start making decisions for myself. I'm going without your security."

You could see your father physically holding back his anger, his ears started to turn red and his hand was balled up into a fist. You almost recanted, fearful of this side of him. When his eyes would grow darker and his mouth would turn into an ugly sneer. His expression took an unexpected turn though when he spotted Dr. Oh and his assistant approaching. It was like you could actually see the lightbulb flicker on in his head. 

“How about you take Dr. Oh’s assistant with you?”

It seemed like you were never going to get out of this without him winning in some way. Your father gives the scientist the smile he gives when he wants something from his staff, already knowing he will get it because he’s their superior.  

You move sideways to see the young assistant behind Dr. Oh. He was about the same height as the latter, his jet black hair styled up making him look more mature than what his actual age probably was. To you, he barely looked out of high school.

“Father, I’m sure Dr. Oh’s intern is my younger. How can he look after me if it will feel like I have to look after him?” You argue. 

"Think of it as bringing along a friend, you two don't even have to talk to each other on the trip. It will be educational for him as well. If I remember right, Jeno is a first year at your school. I will ask a favor of the dean to add him to the list of students traveling." Father exclaimed with a triumph smile.

“What if Jeno doesn’t want to go? You can’t just send him to Japan without his consent first!”

“I’ll go…” All three heads, including yours, snap to the young man behind the scientist. He seemed unbothered by the situation, like this request was to go get coffee for everyone.

“Wonderful!” You silently glare at the younger you barely knew as your father spoke.  “You will both leave at eight tomorrow.”

This was unbelievable, you thought. You were officially going to be babysat by someone who’s barely an adult. You didn’t blame Jeno, your father was to blame, but he didn’t help the situation by agreeing. You could of won the argument and would be flying with just your classmates tomorrow. Shaking your head, you lurch up from your dining chair and grab your clutch.

“I think it's time for me to return home.” You announce, bidding everyone a short bow before walking out of the banquet hall. The sharp, night, Seoul air brushes up your bare arms, sending uncomfortable chills down your spine. You shiver as you wait for valet to bring your car to the front. The wind is cut off suddenly by what you realized was a blazer suit jacket. Shocked, you look around for the owner of the jacket only to find silver hair and a dazzling smile.

“You should bring a jacket if you’re going to wear that beautiful dress, baby. It doesn’t accommodate the cold.” 

His voice was sweet sounding, reminding you of lollipops. Something sweet and syrupy; if lollipops were melted down, they would be his voice. Although, behind the sugar there was a hint of mischief and seduction. Too much of him is an addiction, you think, he has the ability to rot your insides if you let him.

Shaking out of your thoughts, you stutter and hold back from a blush rushing to your already rosy cheeks. “Uh, thank you-” then you notice the invitation in the inside pocket of the jacket, “Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul-ssi?”

He gives you an impish smirk, “You can call me Ten.”

Confused, you question why he wanted to be called a number but never ask. The name oddly suited him well, better than his real name even. Ten was smaller than most men, his figure almost feminine in a way. Everything, from his nose to the fingertips of his hands were slender. He was somehow pretty and handsome at the same time. Elegant yet a sense of edge. Something though that Ten, Taeyong, had in common was that they were mysterious and obscure.

“Thank you, Ten.” 

“You seem distressed,” he comments.

You instantly lie, not wanting your problems to be someone else’s. Especially a complete stranger’s. “I’m not.”

He hums soothly, “You’re lying, sweetheart.”

Looking up at him with anxiety, you knew you were caught red handed. You laugh lightly, just wanting to move on from the subject already. "Am I that bad of a liar?"

He moves closer to you, enough to reach out and tuck the blowing strand of hair from your face. "No, I'm just really good at detecting lies from the truth. Although, I myself would be lying if I said you didn't have stress written all over your face."

You return his smile slightly, not fully mirroring though. Looking behind you at the building next door again, it only clouds your mind up more.

"Do you ever feel like your life isn't in your control? That it's in someone else's hands? Just playing you like a puppet? And you're wishing to be released from their grasp, from their watchful eyes?" You look back at the unique man whose brown eyes have never left your own.

"All the time, Y/N."

There's a silent but not uncomfortable pause between you two. Nothing more than starting at each other and the black sky that's lit with neon. 

Finally the valet brings around your car, apologizing for the wait and opens your back door. You hand the jacket back to Ten.

"Thank you for letting me borrow this. It was nice meeting you, Ten."

He folds the blazer jacket over his arm and gives you a warm smile. "We'll see each other soon sweetheart."

Give one last wave, you step into the vehicle, and tell the automated system you home coordinates. Soon enough you're rolling away from the silver haired man and towards your apartment. It wasn't until you were blocks away did you start to question.

How did Ten know my name?

[fictioninmyblood]

Protector of Her Heart

Chapter Two

Note: I am new to writing fanfic (this is my first one). I welcome constructive criticism as well as pointers and tips for bettering my blog. Thank you for reading :)

Summary: Elinora is an empath’s version of Professor X, only a lot more powerful. She is an enhanced human with the ability to read the world’s emotions. Nick Fury has welcomed her into the fold, but with a fear of herself she has been quite reserved. A forced bonding night with the newly discovered Wakandan royalty brings her out of the shadows of fear and into the light of lust.

Warning: some language, implied smut, 18+

Previous Chapter

--------------------------------------------

As everyone grabbed a plate and sat down Elinora could not help but be wary of the giant warrior who succeeded in what she had always assumed was impossible. Not knowing what to do with the emotions swirling around her head she decided it was best to just avoid him. Unfortunately everyone else thought it best that he stayed by her side. She sat in between Tony and Natasha hoping for some time to process, but Tony got up for M’Baku, dashing her silent plea.

M’Baku turned his chair towards hers, getting as close as possible placing his left arm on the back of her chair in a protective manner.

“So, since this is basically the first time everyone at the table has gotten to meet you, why don't you properly introduce yourself?”

Elinora glared at Natasha while trying to muster up the courage to speak to such a large group of intimidating people, well except for Peter, he was too young and adorable to scare her. While staring and picking at her food nervously…

“Um, well, my name is Elinora, but I uh mostly go by Nora or Eli, well Nora. Only my little brother and sister call me Eli. Well, Ewi with a w cause they're still toddlers, but that's not important and I’m babbling.”

M’Baku sensed her distress and started rubbing small circles at the base of her neck. She relaxed into his touch ever so slightly, taking a deep breath, she continued...

“And I'm uh, an empath, um as previously demonstrated, sorry about that. And I’m uh also a keep to myself person so I'm not used to a whole lot of interactions with people I don't know. So um can I be excused from whatever Natasha roped a 4am me into?”

She finally looked up and saw determined looks on most everybody's face. Except for Okoye, because she was still skeptical of this girl who could not even string a full sentence together, but could somehow control how they all acted. And M’Baku whose face was mixed with determination and confusion. He could not understand how such a beauty could be so intimidated by the people around her and life. It would seem they had all decided as one that she needed to get out of the house either way.

Ignoring her request Natasha took control of the situation…

“If everyone is done eating I was thinking that us girls could help Nora with some shopping and her hair. Mostly F.R.I.D.A.Y. for the hair because I haven't the first clue.”

“Who's that? I don't remember a Friday being introduced. Isn’t that a day of the week? You Americans have such weird names.”

T’Challa leaned in and half whispered,“That is Tony's A.I. Shuri.”

“You would leave the beautification of natural hair to an artificial intelligence born from a colonizers mind? I don't know how to respond to that kind of stupidity.”

“Shuri!” The king looked at her with a silent look of please shut up before you get us kicked out or killed.

“What?! I'm just saying, you leave beautiful hair like ours in the hands of white people and bad shit happens, like straightening it in a non natural way. Burnt hair smells man and I'm really not in a gas mask mood.”

“I apologize for her bluntness.”

Natasha laughed the king’s apology away, she understood the young woman’s concern and welcomed the bluntness of her words.

“It’s quite alright T’Challa. I appreciate her concern because it is the same as mine.”

Nora spoke up just a little putting the lot of them out of their misery.

“Um guys, I kinda already have that covered, no pun intended.”

“For bast sake woman! How long were you going to keep this to yourself?”

Nora didn't know how to process Shuri’s question. Was she truly angry? The young woman had a way with words, always so passionate, but Nora could not tell the true emotion behind them.

“I’m sorry, I uh understand why Natasha and the rest of the gang didn't know, but I kinda assumed that you all would be able to deduce that I did something to my hair underneath the scarf. It’s in braids, all I have to do is take them out.”

Nakia jumped in hoping to ease the skittish woman's worry.

“It is quite alright, we understand your silence, right Shuri?”

She looked pointedly at Shuri, but there was no budge until with a cross of M’Baku’s arms and a lift of his eyebrow she produced a shake of her head in agreement.

“So shall we leave?  And do you boys want to join us?” Natasha locked eyes with T’Challa and Tony hoping that they could see that M’Baku being nearby would be wise.

M’Baku was too busy watching Nora even though she still refused to look at him, so T’Challa answered for them both.

“We will come, I need to help M’Baku not stand out as much possible as well anyway.”

Okoye laughed picking on M’Baku in a sisterly manner, saying in their native language, “no matter what clothes you put on him, a monkey is still a monkey, just in a suit.”

Shuri giggled and thought to add more fuel to this amusing fire, in Xhosa of course.

“And I'm sure the monkey would surely do some tricks if it pleased his master.” She looked between M’Baku and Nora hoping to get her point across.

T’Challa was amused by this banter but he felt bad for the big guy. He was obviously falling hard and fast for this girl. Switching to English...

“For bast sake, leave the man alone lest you run him back into seclusion.”

“For Hanuman’s sake, I have told you time and again that i will not jeopardize the Jabari’s shift into modern society any further. I will go with you and let you dress me in the suffocating fashions of this place.

Nora inadvertently whispered out loud...  “Such a beautiful language, I could listen to them bicker all day.”

Everyone’s head swiveled to her and this became one of the moments that she was grateful for her mocha skin tone because boy was she embarrassed. She shrunk back accidentally making contact with the exposed skin of M’Baku’s arm making her jump up and start clearing the table.

“Is everyone done?”

She moved quickly gathering and putting all of the dishes in the sink and rushing to her room.

“If you give me 10 minutes, I’ll uh go change and meet ya’ll at the front door.”

She scurried away chastising herself for being so careless with her thoughts. It didn’t help that her traitorous body, was protesting with every step she took away from M’Baku. It was like walking up a mountain, every step away from him made it harder for her to breathe. At this rate she was going to have a stupid panic attack whenever he wasn’t next to her.

M’Baku watched her dart towards the elevator and walk in, head down in shame. He wanted to go after her, comfort her, and figure out why the hell his chest was getting tight when she left his sight.

“Do you think you can make me match her clothes T’Challa?”

The Wakandan king looked at the Jabari leader with humor in his eyes. This guy really has it bad. Shaking his head...

“Only if the ladies work together with us, but why do you want to match?”

“I want her to see us as a unit and I want to try and woo her, make her see she is mine.”

Sam crossed his arms and went into big brother mode.

“You just met her, and by the looks of it, you scare her and make her even more jumpy than usual.”

Bucky defended the Wakandan to everyone’s surprise, “But did you see how he calmed her, without even knowing her name, he knew her soul and she knew his. It’s like what Natasha and Bruce have only stronger. I wish I had someone to bring me out of my dark place when I was still....well you know.”

“When did you become so sentimental Buck?” Steve asked.

“I agree with Buck. She may be more jumpy, but it’s obviously just from not knowing how to react to the strangeness of their relationship.” Natasha put her two sense in.

But Sam was still skeptical, “if we can even call it that, but whatever. Just don’t hurt her, I like her happy cooking.”

“Do not worry, I would die for her. I know her deep in my bones and I can’t deny whatever connection we have so I will nurture it instead. Please help me, I don’t want to waste time.”

“No need to beg man, we will help.”

They all nodded in unison.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are they almost ready F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“They are still getting ready Mr. Stark, I will notify you when they are coming.”

“Come on Mr. Stark, I wanna go!”

“No Peter you are too young to even get into a club let alone drink. I’m not risking jail time. Vision and Wanda will keep you company.”

“Ms. Natasha will be down shortly”, F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted.

“Fucking finally?! Are the rest with her?”

“No sir”

“This is not fair!” Peter wailed, proving to be the child everyone thought.

“What is?”

Natasha walked out of the elevator in a slimming black dress with her black red bottom Louboutin’s.

“Is she ready yet? The big guy is getting more and more antsy.”

Tony looked over at M’Baku bouncing his knee nervously and rubbing his chest every now and again.

“They’ll be down soon. Don’t get your panties in a wad Tony.”

“Well, you'd understand if you had to deal with the antsy giant and the annoying king.”

“They are arriving Mr. Stark.”

T’Challa and M’Baku stood at the sound of the elevator ding. Out walked Okoye, Shuri, Nakia, and finally Nora. M’Baku immediately locked eyes with his beauty.

His eyes traveled from the black and gold platform heels that brought her just under his head to the dark skinny jeans that made her legs look a mile long highlighting every curve up until her waist. He lingered on the peek of skin at her torso and grazed over the black crop top that hung off her shoulders exposing her neck but slightly hid her buxom breasts with ruffles. When he got to her lips and just about passed out. Her lips were a deep red matte lipstick that gave him all manners of sinful ideas like him eating blackberries from her full breasts and feeding her in return, but with...something else. She left her face bare with just enough mascara on for her eyelashes to lightly brush her cheeks every time she blinked. Her hair was styled with a few cornrows on the left pushing her full curly hair to the right brushing her shoulder and covering her eye if she leaned forward slightly.

Licking his lips he realized that he was suddenly very parched. Adjusting himself as discreetly as possible as he walked towards her, he thought to himself...

This night is going to kill me, I have to make her mine.

Nora felt self conscious about what the girls had helped her pick out, she thought it clung too much and showed too much skin. She had always been told, “big girls shouldn’t wear stuff like that” but when she saw the way M’Baku devoured her with his eyes, she couldn't help but feel desired. He looked like a starved man and couldn't help but imagine what it'd be like if she was on his menu. Slowly she realized that they were somehow matching and assumed that their collective group of people set this up. He was clad in an all black outfit like her except his gold was on the lapels of his blazer. Next she noticed how his outfit hugged him in all the right places, and she flushed with sudden heat. She envisioned climbing into his lap and snuggling into his neck, basically acting like a cat and oh how she wanted him to pet her kitty. Taken aback by the thought she shook off the feeling and tried to ignore the pulsing in her panties. The latter was basically impossible to do with him now standing so close so she went back to looking at the floor to avoid her thoughts running out of her mouth again.

Damn this night is going to kill me if he keeps standing this close.

Chapter Three

Tags: @skysynclair19 @biglipsandafropicks

[elisaenglish]

All the Difference in the World

It seems almost contradictory to think of shining a light on dystopias. And there’s a certain element of “Why should we?” when history offers a damning surplus of cautionary tales and the future beckons with innovation yet too murky to fully judge. Here we are at the pivot. The pendulum swings without a concrete place to land and opinion drowns consideration. Meanwhile, the clock ticks on; we vacillate like a metronome as spectacle draws attention.

Thus, herein lies our quandary. We can speculate, but we can’t know. We can weigh, but far from settle. Literature presents some longed-for clues, except less discerning eyes are prone to over-simplify the essentials.

After all, non-literary figures frequently cite Orwell as science fiction’s most incisive voice and I agree that there’s grain of truth there. But I can’t help but feel somewhat sorry for poor old George, languishing in his premature grave, largely misread and far too easily utilised to justify all manner of dubious agendas. Quote-mining? Never a good idea. It’s like taking the moral high ground; there really is only one way to go. As for the ghost of the writer? There are two words you need to embrace: context and oeuvre. And in this case, I suspect he’d also like his name back. Because anyone of sober mind really would.

So if not Orwell, then who? If not a partial analogy, then where resides completion? And I hesitate at this juncture because parallelism is never an exact measure and variables come and go. Still, it feels safe – and by ‘safe’ I mean ‘absolutely fucking terrifying’ – to place our bets on Brave New World.

Not entirely original, I know. You could argue that it’s a bit mainstream, a bit staid, possibly a bit done to death. I could trawl obscurity to find something – well, obscure. But no, because what would be the point? Huxley, to use a technical term, knows his prophetic shit.

And ninety years later, here on the brink of some digital abyss, it looks a lot like we’re living it. Or at least we will be, before the next half-century’s done.

Of course, the world was negotiating its own horrifying pre-show in 1931. Lest we forget, communism and fascism were entrenched on the eastern and southern flanks of Europe. Meanwhile, Nazism was on the rise in the crumbling Weimar Republic and the Great Depression took its social and economic toll on the entire globe. In the midst, however, Huxley drew together a vision of a political model that had evolved civilisation beyond war, or famine, or plague, or suffering. A place of continuous peace, prosperity, where the government artificially, by means of advances in biotechnology and social manipulation, keeps everyone in a permanent state of contentment so that no one ever has any reason to rebel.

Control through love and pleasure, we see, is far more potent than that acquired through fear and violence. A whole population anaesthetised, and on and on they beg for another, and another hit. Familiar, isn’t it? And somehow under your skin because unlike 1984, it isn’t as easy to pinpoint what makes this scenario the worst of the worst, or even just one of them.

We turn, then, to the novel’s climactic moment. John the Savage, having lived all his life on a remote reservation in New Mexico and symbolic of the authentic and passionate mindset eliminated in the name of ‘benign’ tyranny, is brought before Mustapha Mond, the World Controller for Western Europe and the only other man in London to know anything of Shakespeare or God, or it must be said, freedom:

““My dear young friend,” said Mustapha Mond, “civilisation has absolutely no need of nobility or heroism. These things are symptoms of political inefficiency. In a properly organised society like ours, nobody has any opportunities for being noble or heroic. Conditions have got to be thoroughly unstable before the occasion can arise. Where there are wars, where there are divided allegiances, where there are temptations to be resisted, objects of love to be fought for or defended—there, obviously, nobility and heroism have some sense. But there aren’t any wars nowadays. The greatest care is taken to prevent you from loving any one too much. There’s no such thing as a divided allegiance; you’re so conditioned that you can’t help doing what you ought to do. And what you ought to do is on the whole so pleasant, so many of the natural impulses are allowed free play, that there really aren’t any temptations to resist. And if ever, by some unlucky chance, anything unpleasant should somehow happen, why, there’s always soma to give you a holiday from the facts. And there’s always soma to calm your anger, to reconcile you to your enemies, to make you patient and long-suffering. In the past you could only accomplish these things by making a great effort and after years of hard moral training. Now, you swallow two or three half-gramme tablets, and there you are. Anybody can be virtuous now. You can carry at least half your morality about in a bottle. Christianity without tears—that’s what soma is.”

“But the tears are necessary. Don’t you remember what Othello said? ‘If after every tempest come such calms, may the winds blow till they have wakened death.’ There’s a story one of the old Indians used to tell us, about the Girl of Mátsaki. The young men who wanted to marry her had to do a morning’s hoeing in her garden. It seemed easy; but there were flies and mosquitoes, magic ones. Most of the young men simply couldn’t stand the biting and stinging. But the one that could—he got the girl.”

“Charming! But in civilised countries,” said the Controller, “you can have girls without hoeing for them; and there aren’t any flies or mosquitoes to sting you. We got rid of them all centuries ago.”

The Savage nodded, frowning. “You got rid of them. Yes, that’s just like you. Getting rid of everything unpleasant instead of learning to put up with it. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them... But you don’t do either. Neither suffer nor oppose. You just abolish the slings and arrows. It’s too easy... What you need is something with tears for a change. Nothing costs enough here. Exposing what is mortal and unsure to all that fortune, death and danger dare, even for an egg-shell. Isn’t there something in that?”

[…]

“There's a great deal in it,” the Controller replied. “Men and women must have their adrenals stimulated from time to time.”

“What?” questioned the Savage, uncomprehending.

“It’s one of the conditions of perfect health. That's why we've made the V.P.S. treatments compulsory.”

“V.P.S.?”

“Violent Passion Surrogate. Regularly once a month. We flood the whole system with adrenin. It’s the complete physiological equivalent of fear and rage. All the tonic effects of murdering Desdemona and being murdered by Othello, without any of the inconveniences.”

“But I like the inconveniences.”

“We don’t,” said the Controller. “We prefer to do things comfortably.”

“But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”

“In fact,” said Mustapha Mond, “you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.”

“All right, then,” said the Savage defiantly, “I’m claiming the right to be unhappy. Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen to-morrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind.”

There was a long silence.

“I claim them all,” said the Savage at last.”

So it is that he rejects the ‘blessings’ of modernity and retires to the wilderness to live out the rest of his days as a hermit. Having tried – and failed – to incite rebellion in those shackled by the system, he has learned from their apathy that they cannot be saved unless they possess inside them the will to liberate themselves. Such instincts are instilled in us through the multiplicity – not least of all, our stories, our art. Without them, we are husks of our generational selves, perhaps never to be salvaged.

True to form, as we see in these our days now, John is eventually hounded to death; his novelty of antiquated longings yet more fuel for a public driven rabid by consumerist lust. But so, his soul remains:

“He was digging in his garden—digging, too, in his own mind, laboriously turning up the substance of his thought. Death—and he drove in his spade once, and again, and yet again. And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. A convincing thunder rumbled through the words. He lifted another spadeful of earth. Why had Linda died? Why had she been allowed to become gradually less than human and at last... He shuddered. A good kissing carrion. He planted his foot on his spade and stamped it fiercely into the tough ground. As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport. Thunder again; words that proclaimed themselves true—truer somehow than truth itself. And yet that same Gloucester had called them ever-gentle gods. Besides, thy best of rest is sleep, and that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st thy death which is no more. No more than sleep. Sleep. Perchance to dream. His spade struck against a stone; he stooped to pick it up. For in that sleep of death, what dreams?...”

What death? What purity? What dreams? And of course, what strength?

Choose your dystopias wisely, you could say. But nonetheless, choose. As Huxley writes in his essay Drugs That Shape Men’s Minds, “Generalised intelligence and mental alertness are the most powerful enemies of dictatorship.” We are the intuitive solution; we are the nuanced light. And for all of Miranda's mistaken claims, we might live to “see how beauteous mankind is.” Just be wary of the distractions.

[rowanblem]

An essay contextualising and defining the Internet Respondent Art Movement.

Rowan Blem

18085

CTCA

Internet Responded Art (IRA) is a movement that emerged late in 2017 and grew to prominence during 2019. It is characterised by works that address the socio-digital era, or show a clear influence from it. These works vary between macro and micro themes and ‘self and other’ themes. They look at things that happen on social media at a personal level, as well as how the personal as practice becomes non-diverse and mass cultural. The themes of self are prevalent through the concept of the ‘user’. One implants their ‘self’, preferences, ego, esteem and image all online and at the same time are confronted with and by millions of other ‘selves’, preferences, egos and images. And all while being watched by an ‘other’. Some corporation that provides the service and owns the content. 

Contextualising the socio-digital era.

This era began in 2004 as a result of  the emergence of Facebook. Facebook created an online social network that operates like a vast, growing series of nodes. There are millions of connections between each point (user). As more users join and use Facebook, they are connected in more ways than just by the friends system. They mutually see posts from pages they like with thousands of others all over the world. Just as google gave way to hyper accelerated information access, Facebook created a hyper accelerated social climate. Posts from users became incredibly frequent while also having an infinite lifespan. Enough time to keep growing and growing in views and reach indefinitely. This extreme growth and reach quickly appealed to people for purposes of promotion. With the birth of instagram, this soon became the ruling function of social media. The image based platform became dominated by marketing of the absolute ‘self’ and a cultural phenomenon developed with practices such as ‘seflie culture’. A behavioural trend hat has been heavily criticised as being narcissistic. This culture has become so dominant that the digital age itself and the generations born into it have often been labelled narcissistic.

We currently live with a civilisation heavily reliant on the same thing, social technology. And as a part of life, it is only natural that artists would begin to criticise the practice, just as art movements have done in the past. Post-modernism criticising the mass spread of capitalism, mass production and consumerism and modernism responding to rigidity and criticising industrialisation and the effects of machines on life and on war. The IRA movement varies in its focus on micro and macro elements of todays society. It can refer to work that utilises social media canvases such Richard Prince’s use of instagram screenshots, addressing the micro of what people do on a day to day basis, to works like Hito Steyerl’s, How Not to be Seen: A Fucking Didactic Educational, which addresses broader macro issues of surveillance.

A still from Hito Steyerl’s How Not To Be Seen: A Fucking Didactic Educational. 

Steyerl’s film contains 3D modelled scenes and it is narrated by an electronic female voice, similar to that of Siri and Alexa. It addresses the issue of online surveillance and server tracking, which became a widely debated topic after a privacy scandal involving a company called Cambridge Analytica. Millions of Facebook users had their facebook information accessed unknowingly as the result of a third party app. Another application that breached privacy was the Russian Face App, which allowed users to make their faces look aged using a filter and also gave away the rights to the images they took. A juxtaposition of narcissism and surveillance. It is as if people stare and fix their hair in a mirror that has double sided glass and a room of people behind. With funny black glasses, black pens and secret code running on their apple desktops. The artist Cindy Sherman has responded to this with an interesting approach to creating selfie art that uses face filtering applications to do the opposite of what they are intended to do. Instead of fixing her photos, she manipulates them by exaggerating the editing tools to results of distortion. It is interesting to take note of what these tools allow Cindy Sherman to achieve and what her art practice centred around before they came about. Creating characters is a part of her work and face filters are a simply a new way of making that art. Only quicker and just as crazy.

Images courtesy of Cindy Sherman’s instagram.

2.

Defining a seminal piece for the IRA movement is hard to do because it is the mass of pieces that defines this content heavy movement. A work that highlights multiple themes at once is useful to look at. An example is Bxd xhn’s Electronic female voice versus female electronic voice, a text piece made in 2019. Bxd xhn is an internet artist who works with text and sometimes images.

Electronic female voice versus female electronic voice. 

1 de-personifies android voice saying the electronic mimics the female voice

2 personifies the electronic and assigns it gender. The electronic is a personality and it is female.

Bed xhn’s ‘Electronic female voice versus female electronic voice’.

The sentence shows different meanings from two word orders. It contains themes of gender assigning in language, A.I consciousness and humanization. A large part of the IRA movement is the debate of challenging pronouns and gender norms. The dictionary tone in the work makes it feel like a lesson pointing out how ingrained assigning gender roles and humanising things are in our society. It is like an educational line teaching new ways of thinking. I like this piece as it is very short and minimal in a way while still containing a clear relationship to current trends of addressing language, artificial intelligence and its personality and rights. 

The IRA movement as a whole is one of mass information, criticism of previous cultural norms and social structures, criticism of surveillance and organisations and governments that possess too much power as well as exploring the self and how the self relates to and survives in this evolving social, cultural and political climate. The manipulation of digital working tools and social media platforms such as YouTube and Instagram are characteristic of the movement and we find that more and more works are being produced outside of the gallery space while still managing to be viewed by thousands and thousands of people. The IRA has a reach quicker and greater than any art movement before it.

[prime-one-blog]

We Done Lost Our Way

I’d like to make something abundantly clear.I’m not trying to give Danielle Bregoli-a.k.a.,”Cash Me Ousside” girl-any additional attention than she’s already received.As far as I’m concerned,she doesn’t deserve any.Her story is only of interest to me because it casts a light on some of that which is wrong with modern society and it affords me the opportunity to finally channel into my inner Dennis Miller and rant about it.

Not to come across like a cantankerous old geezer but,back in my day,bad behavior got a good lot of us youth the palm to posterior treatment.That was getting off lucky because it could’ve easily been the dreaded leather belt or wooden spoon.Sure,there were rotten kids in the 1980s who took a shine to bullying or just being foul and rancid little creatures.But that usually came about due to parents who genuinely abused their children.Either that or they just didn’t give a fuck what their brats did or said.I remember elementary school teachers being able to spank children in the early years of my grade school stint.I got it from parents,teachers,and friends of my parents because it took a village to raise a child.The Danielle Bregolis of today’s world wouldn’t be able to survive in my era.One would have to be incredibly brave yet immensely stupid to challenge our elders to a physical dust-up out in the street.Chances are then that she would’ve been “caught outside” and had the insufferable attitude and fake accent knocked out of her without an ounce of sympathy or an attempt at protection from anyone else who may have witnessed it.

Somewhere between then and the present,the “progressives” came along to fix what wasn’t broken and they gradually imposed a soft style of parenting on to the populace that thumbed its nose at the old “spare the rod” proverb.As if that wasn’t enough to screw up the next generation,they saw fit to damage it further through awarding children for their mere participation in an activity.That created the conditions which has given us the “snowflake” millenials and a surplus of teens that are spoiled,disrespectful,and/or act all ratchet.Which in turn has given talk show hosts like Maury Povich and Dr.Phil McGraw a countless amount of “my teenager is wild and out of control” episodes.So,while Danielle’s mother surely hasn’t helped with the monster that is her daughter,we might not see as many Danielles on talk shows if we hadn’t allowed the “progressives” to fuck with things in the first place.Because we did,Dr.Phil had Danielle on his show and she made sure that the rebellion and mouthiness was dialed up high for the studio and the national television audience,complete with a phony accent that sounded like she was trying to imitate a black girl but instead came off like a white wannabe hoodrat from Low-ville,Kentucky (excuse me,Louisville).She uttered her now infamous catchphrase and,curiously,got catapulted to a degree of stardom by becoming a meme.

I’m cool with memes.In a way,I’m fascinated by them.It’s almost a mystery wrapped around an enigma as to what constitutes as meme wheat and chaff.Apparently,Danielle’s fight invitation to the Dr.Phil audience that found her and her calling them all hoes ridiculous enough to snicker at her was the most golden of wheat.Realistically,it shouldn’t have been.For one,it rewards a pubescent brat for her antics and gives her everything except the cuff upside the cranium that she really needs.Following from that,it gives encouragement to the obnoxious and obstreperous souls of Danielle’s ilk that they too can become something of celebrities if they get rowdy on the right stage.Dr.Phil’s show couldn’t be any better a launch pad unless the pop psychologist decides that out of control teenagers is no longer show fodder.Finally,don’t we already have enough people that are famous for absolutely no good reason?

It’s almost ironic that,in the headlines Danielle Bregoli has made since Dr.Phil and the meme-obsessed propelled her to fame,she put Kylie Jenner on blast.While I won’t rail against Kardashian-Jenner bashing,Danielle needs to shut her big mouth about them.They’re all nobodies that have a spotlight.Why? Because renaissances and enlightenments aren’t as cool or nouveau as a culture of stupid that celebrates the fake and vapid is.Much like the Kardashians,Danielle is a beneficiary of this culture.What contributions do they make to society? In the case of the former,there’s a sex tape,bad reality TV,and oodles of selfies.As for the latter’s contribution,an attitude problem,a catchphrase delivered in an artificial drawl,and Instagram livestreams of her showing off the gold fronts in her mouth or twerking like Miley Cyrus and every girl in a trap music video has never done it before.How...fucking...revolutionary.(Rolls eyes.)

One shouldn’t have to wonder if they’re in possession of an actual talent and getting limited exposure for it if they’ve been doing things all wrong.There could be one of a million that could take a Kardashian’s or a Danielle Bregoli’s place and offer much more to their fellow human beings than the aforementioned could in the wildest images their subconscious minds could produce as they lie dormant.Yet here we are in a giant battle royal,all in a fierce competition with one another for precious YouTube views,Soundcloud plays,and Facebook likes while people with barely a small fraction of our talent steal away a limelight that should be reserved for those with a gift that’s better not to be shrouded in a veil of anonymity.

As much as we modern humans might like to look smugly at our predecessors and think that we are somehow more evolved than they,how can we? For all the blemishes in our history,previous generations placed a higher value on intelligence than many of us today do.We might have the smart cars and the smart phones and yet we’re in ways dumber than those that lived in the world where none of that existed.I can only imagine what they’d think of us if they had a crystal ball to see into the future.They would surely be astounded by our technology but then look at the rampant retardation within this society and become confused at how we even made the advances that we have.How is it possible that our world isn’t teeming with Platos,da Vincis,Newtons,and Mozarts when our advances in so many fields have given it a chance t be.There’s no excuse for us making the ridiculous the sublime.

But we have and there’s no time like the present to right the ship before we sink it.

[lempkejp-blog]

A.I. and the Technological Waste Enterprise

Artificial intelligence systems are not just computational machines, interacting data sets that subsist within some impalpable realm of pure cyberspace ether. They are physical structures. The complex array of pieces and parts in Amazon’s and Google’s products have to originate somewhere, and someone has to make them. As such, a.i. has a cost, one built upon an enormous and dizzying supply chain drenched in waste byproducts at every manufacturing and refinement stage, as well as the exploitation of low-paid human workers.

Kate Crawford and Vladan Joler testify expertly to the capitalistic system underneath the Echo’s plastic outer shell. On one hand, I find the basis of their claims obvious. Of course a.i. systems are entangled in the global market and all the problems that that engenders, because, well, it’s a thing made of other things, all of which must originate from somewhere. Additionally, I’m not particularly surprised to find that the convenience machines Westerners ogle over divide the world along post-colonial lines. Sure, no one is landing the ship, planting the flag, and enslaving the natives these days (as far as I know), but unethical mining companies that reluctantly surrender little more than pocket change to workers in exchange for dangerous, back-breaking labor amounts to basically the same end. Indonesian workers get a dollar a day and cancer in twenty years; the American middle class gets the weather on verbal command. It’s hardly a historic bolstering of human rights.

Nevertheless, the scope of the problem is disillusioning. Seventeen different rare earth metals feed into our technology, all of which rely on non-sustainable mining practices that generate far more waste than ore. On top of this, lithium, a limited resource, does not exactly fall from the sky as rain, nor do plastic components grow on trees. In our society, we are shielded from the inconvenience of this knowledge. Our a.i. machines come in colorful, well-designed, eye-catching boxes, all labor and materials pre-fabricated and packaged with instructions for maximum ease. Such is the nature of our immediately reality. We see advertisements, listen to what our friends say about this product or that product, and peruse the shelves at the nearest Best Buy because we’ve been saving up and really, really, really want an Echo.

Perhaps we’ll become reliant on a.i. one day, just as we have with computers. Laptops and desktops were once a novelty before becoming a modern necessity, now used in virtually every line of work in some capacity. A MacBook is likely no better than a home assistant in its consumption of resources, though perhaps without the free or nearly free data that tech giants extract from the populace. It needs rare earth metals and lithium and plastic to function, just like an Echo. You buy it because you need to answer email and type up reports, throw it away when it slows down too much after five years, and then buy a new one. A cycle like this one, built on unsustainable practices, is, I feel, how the world ends. Not because the nuclear powers that be start a full-fledged war, but because we become trapped by the things we come to rely upon, things that businesses build for us, stripping away the matter, shaping it, burning it, and tossing out the junk no one wants. Then we eventually toss the product itself. And when the earth is too hot and the air is unbreathable, what then? When the waste piles high and corrodes the stomachs of the animals that eat it, then the stomachs of the humans who eat the animals, how do we respond? These problems are our costs, something that goes far beyond a monetary exchange at a retail chain. We’re willing to sacrifice a lot for Jeff Bezos’s toy. It’s function: It turns on the fucking lights.

[harrelltut]

卍 abracadabra… abracadabra… abracadabra… I Now [NWO] Magically INVOKE [MI = MICHAEL] ALL [MA] Primitively Ancient [PA = SUPERNATURAL] Black SOULS of Magically INVISIBLE [MI = MICHAEL] Phantasmic Bodies of SIRIUS Black [B] Memory intEL [MELanin] from Inner Earth’s [HADES] HIDDEN Nubian Underworld States of Atlantis [USA = LEMURIA] since I BEE So SUPERCONSCIOUS of My Biblically Black [Ancient] Egyptian [BAE = COSMIC] ORIGINS from QUANTUM BLACK ATLANTIS [QBA = BABYLON] on HARRELLTV® 卍

[theseventhhex]

Drones Club Interview

Drones Club

With an aim to alter the way people perceive music, Drones Club are a refreshing trio forming music via unorthodox starting points. Drones Club formed in the spring of 2015 out of a desire to reconnect people in a low-attention economy. Within their short lifetime, they've received acclaim from publications such as The Guardian, Noisey and Stereogum. Although nominally a trio based in Tottenham, Drones Club see themselves as a collective - a radically inclusive organisation with fluid boundaries and ambitious ideas on how society should function. Prepared with a way of life they claim informs everything they produce, from the songs they produce to the clothes they make and wear, Drones Club are building an alternate reality where anything is possible and anyone is welcome… We talk to band member Charlie about values of uncertainty, basic human compassion and performing live…

TSH: Does the band’s songwriting commonly unfold in an organic way?

Charlie: Yeah, absolutely. Our songwriting is very collaborative and it all stems from a cohesive vision that we’ve built up over the years. Essentially, it all ties in with us doing a lot of talking, and from there we build up an organised world that we choose to then express. As our world view expands and becomes more total, the songs just naturally unfold.

TSH: Having progressed over the years, what’s the creative chemistry like between the three of you these days?

Charlie: The three of us often have strong and sometimes conflicting views, but the great thing is that this way of working introduces a system of checks and balances. Besides, there’s something magical about the number three! Also, I think each of us working individually sometimes means that the work goes too far in one direction, however, we’ve recently found a happy place in the middle of the triangle - it’s very much our sweet spot.

TSH: Has there been much of a shift with regards to your instrumentation for forthcoming music?

Charlie: Yeah, we’ve talked a lot about wanting our instruments to sort of express where we are as a species and as humans. When you think about electronic music the possibilities with technology are quite fantastical and startling. Also, as artificial intelligence and technology gets more slicker and advanced alongside higher resolutions, the interesting area is the grey are between the two: what’s real and what’s artificial. This is what we want to delve into, we want to make organic noises electronically and make other-worldly cold noises organically too. We call the process wearing the glove, where something wears the gloves or clothes of the opposite and you can never quite tell whether what you are listening to is human or electronic. It’s all about the uncanny value of uncertainty with our music and keeping listeners on their toes. I guess sometimes we as a species struggle to know what’s going on, and these are the type of feelings we want to maximise with our music.

TSH: Is blurring the lines with genre a factor you approach in certain ways?

Charlie: Yeah, absolutely. In terms of using genre we try and use genre itself as colours in a palette - it’s a process of collage. We want to use sounds and textures within songs that have a certain cadence and they remind you of certain feelings and other songs, but they are used almost incorrectly - and deliberately so. We’re trying to make music that feels like it’s unexpected.

TSH: What sort of intentions did you have in mind as ‘The Dirty Road’ was coming together?

Charlie: That track came about as we were writing in Ibiza. It started as a drum loop and we kept putting things over it. We also found a flute in the corner of our studio and that’s all over the track too. We mainly wanted to take the bright tightness of the track and make it thick with a lot of dubbing and a psychedelic echo that wobbles and is woozy all the way through it.

TSH: Do non-musical elements often seep into your musical expressions?

Charlie: Definitely. Most weeks someone will come in having seen or read something and we’ll look at it and how it can slot in into what we’re doing - no matter whatever the art-from it is. Sometimes it’s better when you’re challenged by something and it’s the antithesis of what you do, such as getting riled up by another artist’s approach for example.

TSH: Connecting and engaging with individuals on a deeper level within society is also key with Drones Club...

Charlie: Totally. It’s always important to use your art to connect with others on a deeper level. The whole point of Drones Club is that it’s collectivist. It’s been said that the twentieth century was the century of the self and moving forward this has to be the century of the collective, or even the century of solidarity. What we really need to do is unite, but all you can only do is your best to reflect positivity. I think you have a duty when you’re making music to signpost where you think we need to go. We’re not here just to reflect what we see - it’s taking part in culture that matters.

TSH: Does the notion of people consuming culture like junk food and only being fixated on things for seconds concern you?

Charlie: It doesn’t concern us too much, but we think it’s important to identify what you are about. If we are becoming a nation that is dumbing down, then that’s how we are becoming - there is no point in telling people off and sitting down and listening to the whole of ‘The Dark Side of the Moon', because that’s fucking boring. What you are is defined by the sum of our output, so you just have to keep going and do your work with bravery and without expectations that people are going to put you on a pedestal. No one deserves to be put on a pedestal anyway, but when they do, we just accept it as a facet of modern life.

TSH: You guys also at times bring to light political issues…

Charlie: Absolutely. At the end of the day we are people in a society, everything is a political action and retreating from politics is in itself a political decision - there is no escaping it. It’s like a structure that we are a part of and it’s incredibly important to use our voices as artists to talk about having basic level compassion. It’s obvious that some issues require in-depth discussion, but basic human compassion should be a starting point.

TSH: How excited are you tweak and tamper with your live offerings?

Charlie: Yeah, we can’t wait man. I feel like electronic music, or the type of music that’s focused towards the dancefloor only reaches its true form when it’s loud. Live music has the frequencies to shock people. It’s like that feeling like when you’re a teenager and you first walk into a club and you’re fucking terrified of how heavy it is. Electronic music is uniquely placed to prepare people’s minds for what we’ve got to say. It’s almost like putting people in a prepared state and it can be really wonderful.

TSH: What matters most with your vision from here on in?

Charlie: It’s just like any creative endeavour; it’s very much about vision and principle. We’ve explicitly said from the start that Drones Club is a fluid organisation that can shift and move, but it has to shift and move for the right reasons. We want to progress with bravery as we look ahead. Again, it’s that signpost analogy - we need to signpost and not weathervane, we need to point people in the right direction and stand up to the winds.

Drones Club - “Shining Path”

The Dirty Road - Single

[mirceakitsune]

A sad day for civilization

Usually I try to keep my quota of political journals to a minimum. However the unfortunate events of today prompt what is perhaps one of the harshest journals I've written in this regard. I imagine I'll face quite a bit of criticism for it... both because many will see it as an exaggeration, and because I'm reacting strongly to something happening in the UK despite not being British myself. I will explain both of those things below.

On 08-June-2017 (yesterday as of the date of this posting), a once important member of the modern world (Britain) has left our ranks, by legitimating the war against modern society. An act committed by allowing an enemy of the civilized world to return to power, after its unprecedented attacks against every good achievement mankind has ever had within the last decades. That enemy is the UK's prime minister, Theresa May, the leader of the Conservative party.

For those not familiar with this monstrous woman, and why in my view she embodies the end of modern times, I will refresh everyone on who this bitch is and what she has done thus far:

- Theresa May promised the outright destruction of the internet as we know it, and its replacement with a national intranet under strict ideological control by the UK government (even more tightly than China). Her plans go to the point where every citizen must ask for exclusive permission to post anything online (even journals like this one) and no kind of content may be hosted on any server without the government's explicit approval, meaning literally every website we know today would have to be banned.

- Her battle against technology has already begun with the war on encryption; The UK plans to force companies like Facebook to remove security from messaging apps, so that her cult may spy on everyone and see who is an enemy of its ideology. She asked for encryption to be entirely outlawed if possible, despite attempts to explain to her that this is plain mathematics and simply cannot be stopped. Such would mean banning every secure piece of software on the planet and making it a crime for developers to program such (including open-source programmers like me and places like Sourceforge / Github), plus as criminalizing the https:// protocol and more.

- She is the author of a piece of medieval ideology, recently revived and distorted to match the 21th century, called the war on porn; Her purist sect believes that indecent content on the internet is responsible for terrorism, while of course promoting the despicable myth of children under the age of 18 needing protection from pixels on a screen to avoid being scarred for life. Needless to say, any website containing any kind of porn is to be banned under her theocracy and illegal to possess within her modern inquisition (same as in North Korea). Already the Digital Economy Bill was passed into law, and it's rumored that people might need to sign up at their local post office for permission to access any NSFW website at home... I am god damn serious.

- Under her caricature of a dictatorship, the UK is set to become a surveillance state with a harsher authoritarian regime than many 3rd world nations. Not only should every single online communication be actively monitored by the government, but even public services workers (such as ambulances and firefighters) must have access to everyone's browsing history and private lives. The UK also maintains a list of potential enemies of the state using unknown criteria, which was recently revealed to contain broad categories of people including goth teenagers who suffer from depression. Along with this they also plan on creating computer programs (perversely dubbed Artificial Intelligence) which use patterns to automatically decide if and when someone should be arrested and give the order to the police!

- She has blatantly manipulated the recent terror attacks (the Manchester bombing and the London stabbings) for her sick political agenda. In less than a few hours since those attacks, she outright stepped out and used the lives of those killed to leverage her own schemes, saying it was all the internet's fault and even implying that online pornography is why those people lost their lives!

- She has publicly and explicitly stated that human rights are an issue that is getting in her way, and need to be dealt with so that her plans may be accomplished.

I believe this should be enough to explain why I oppose this devil with my entire being... which seems to spread more panic than ISIS, who it's ironically vowed so hard to fight (by firing the London police or sending them after Julian Assange apparently). Since I'm aware the next predominant question will be "but you're not even British, why do you care", I will also explain why the things that happened in the UK are so personal to me:

- At this point, what's happening is not just a win or loss for the nation Britain; It is a win or a loss for modern society worldwide. The fact that this psychopath was allowed to be prime minister again, instead of being sent to seek treatment at the nearest mental ward for patients with serious psychiatric issues, is a legitimization for this kind of madness here in the free world! The message is literally "in 1st world nations in the year 2017, it might be okay for a president or prime minister to actively work on banning the internet or reviving medieval bans on porn or shamelessly distorting terrorist attacks to push any legislation". Authoritarianism spreads like a disease among the circles of power, and even in Europe or America this sort of thing is like the taste of blood in the water for a shark.

- She is actively trying to spread many of her demented ideas beyond Britain, and has a certain degree of power to do so. Since the UK would remain close to the EU even after brexit, they will be pushing Europe to adapt to her clique's skewed ideologies. The insane copyright proposals already circulating here (censorship machine, link tax, hate speech fines for social media) are said to be the doing of Theresa May and Angela Merkel (another authoritarian piece of shit). During the last attack she has also instigated other nations governments to "stop social media".

- The internet is a global entity, and many of the companies that offer services (Google, Facebook, Twitter, etc) also activate there. Most of their evil plans (such as backdoors in encryption) cannot be done "only for UK citizens"... if they're implemented they will exist for all users worldwide and put everyone at risk! Such companies might have to choose between leaving the UK entirely or giving in to those demands, whereas sites hosting NSFW content might have to decide between being banned at ISP level across Britain or implementing disgusting and unacceptable age verification systems (online identity theft). Worse than that, in an act of total delusion, Theresa May or Amber Rudd already expressed hopes that the worldwide internet will itself conform to their model and "let the UK be the gatekeeper of the internet", meaning they hoped we would all just bow down and embrace their new "internet" as a replacement. We do not want this cancer spreading here, keep it in your Orwellian hellhole far away from the rest of us!

- I have friends in Britain... and even if I didn't, I know that the people living there are citizens of a (once) modern society who wish to live their lives in peace. It's unacceptable that they they are being terrorized by a mad person that's out of control and has lost touch with reality! And yes... I know: Far worse happens in places like Syria or China, where people are killed on a daily basis or starve to death or what not. The difference is that there, it's been this way for ages, whereas here it's new: Most 3rd world countries are places that are evolving slowly, but Britain is a modern nation that's devolving into them instead! People living in those areas are also used to it, they never had human rights or internet so they don't actually lose anything... people in Britain are being raped of fundamental rights they've had for a lifetime, which are granted and unquestionable in any civilized society!

So there you have it. The worst thing about this all is that, I wish I could say it's the fault of some sort of coup; Yesterday's elections got hacked, people with AK47's broke in and put Theresa back in power, so on. Unfortunately it was not: More than half of the British population deliberately voted for this abomination, after she has openly made it clear that she will destroy the modern world as we know it. This... is what people in what's considered a top democracy wanted. I'm struggling not to generalize and discriminate against all elderly people right now... granted that old farts are supposedly at fault for all this, whereas youngsters are the ones who struggled to avoid the disaster. Part of me wants to say "they're fucking 90 already, why can't they just hit the bucket and take their 1940 ideologies with them to the grave"... which is sad because my own grandparents died in the recent years, yet what happened is so wrong that it gets you places you wouldn't want to be.

After this alongside other events, my view of humanity as a whole has been altered beyond repair once more, and I wish I could never see an ape again in my existence. I expect no more safety nor the hope of a decent life even where I live, because I realize no freedom or right is ever basic enough to not be put into discussion decades after everyone has had it. Any breed of fanatic can just rise to power at any moment, and attempt to do whatever the hell they want. I wish the error known as humanity could be wiped out by some natural event already, though its own stupidity will probably do the job for it. I'm sorry that I had to be born here and witness the easily avoidable history of this species. If there's anything close to a god or gatekeeper of conscious minds out there, I will not forgive them for having been forced to live this miserable experience... that I can promise.

Oh, and one more thing: You are free to redistribute the contents of this journal as you please. It would bring some comfort if people could better spread the word about what's happening, so we can all be ready to defend ourselves from the emerging threats against the modern way of life... threats not created by terrorist groups elsewhere, but our own governments copying their tactics and behaviors.