With all the world's death. With all the world's death new world begins. The death of stars burning bright tonight, the universe feels that much emptier. Yet for I wandering alone in the dark, I hunt the rats. I hunt the roaches, and comb out the lice from unkempt hair.
This is the countdown to another life. The tale of a tomb unfilled, the story of a corpse brought back from the dead. This isn't the story of teen romance, or the story of girls having their tap dance at pretentious weddings. The story of the invisible one, playing with cards like others do video games. At least until the Southern army invaded my homeland, hope becoming fainter, and life thinning out. I had been a sickly child, whose mother died of radiation poisoning. I barely knew my father, like others in my circles of trust. Yet now as I have no eyes to see, and no ears to hear, I feel only dust. The cave was dark and damp, this I knew quite well. I never liked caves growing up, yet now as I wander into the endless darkness it is almost like being home again.
See into the mind of my remote pathology.
The pathology of the dead.
With two antenna, I route the coordinates. Mental noise, colors of what I once knew as red, green, and blue. Perhaps these might be telling me the coordinates to avoid. I am told there is a community of others like myself. Yet this hope is something I choose not to acknowledge. In the cave of the spider, in the cave of artificial light. In the cave of creatures destroyed by man's might. The room of men brainwashed to cleanse them of their guilt for their seven sins. These sins, a product of maniacal religion. The product of men with power complexes. The men who lop off the heads of heretics in times of old, the same sin that taunts the young. And breaks the bones of the olden. As the world bows toward its King.
I sense another voice, a voice of someone familiar. Someone who seems to have kept her humanity intact. I wish I could see her, I wonder what the world looks like. The world feels wet, the sounds permanently silent. I feel around the cave floor in order to reach the outside world, a land of desert briefly Terra formed by the original colonists that seeded our ancestors, the original humans. The original humans who fled from Earth, at first in order to expand to the farthest reaches of the stars. I
live in a world where radioactive rain burns my skin, yet my ability to regenerate has increased manifold since the time that I have been alive.
The world of mutated wolves.
The world of malfunctioning air vaults. And artificial oceans gradually becoming more shallow every thousands of years, at least until the world was swept under us by the great virus.
The virus' effects were initially subtle, and nothing like what you might imagine in zombie-holocaust novels. Our intelligence remained, while our energy was drained little by little. Until eventually we developed a new kind of energy, for sake of comparison it is like comparing matter to anti-matter. Our energy a new kind of anti-energy, motivated by some unknown family bond that bound us together. And yet there I was in the darkness, with no eyes to see. I wasn't sure what I was wearing. I was unsure of whether I was still wearing my dress. Rather the sound of groaning in the darkness, there was the sound of buzzing, buzzing, and more buzzing. The sound could drive one mad, until one got used to the communication.
The Civil War has created US. A war that split apart the original familial bond between Adam and Eve, the original cyborgs first resurrected and their limbs automated for the false-flag alien invasion on Earth. The King and the Queen, the Popette and her mistress King Adam. Black triangles filled the air of the second Earth, and I remembered as Samantha, me, and Susie tried to save as many people as we could from the infection, yet it was no use.
It was a new kind of self-abuse.
One would gradually be eaten alive by the virus. But then eventually one began to control the virus, and turn into a new breed of underground humanity. The humans that could survive radioactive sickness, and travel in the darkness. No longer was it the time of Guillotine Guns and beheading women on the spot. Now it was the world of perpetual fermentation of the self.
I reached the world of the outside, having not been to the outside world in so long. Within this world of radioactive rain, I follow a sense of someone that I had once known before. She was the one that had purchased me a flute, back when I lived in the orphanage and my mistress snapped my inherited flute in half. I had played the flute too loudly on that particular night. While the mistress was not one for collective punishment, she jerked the flute out of my hand.
And now as I reach her, she wonders what has happened to me. She comes over and hugs me. We embrace. I sense a man beside her.
"Do you remember me?"
"Samantha, thank you for the flute."
"What happened to your face, you look like a bug."
And behold, I put my hands on my face. I had no eyes, my fingers had suction cups. I traveled by sonar.
I was a Parasite.
"Do you recognize this man? Samantha whispered into my antenna."
"I cannot see him, yet I can sense him. He has a sinister presence." I said.
"He is who you remember, and yet he cannot even remember his name. He doesn't remember anything at all."
It was then that it suddenly dawned on me. They were referring to I, who was the man who had become so tainted by greed, yet still had the softness�of sympathy for our Queen Eve, had been reduced to the mind of a child. The person with no memory of their past.
Who had undergone my own trial. The trial of the seven sins.
I was Silhouette Man.
Somewhere in the world of a more peaceful planet, there�are civilizations not like our own. They have managed to achieve a peaceful civilization. Yet between us, we have become a new kind of entity. Not quite dead, not quite alive. A different realm of experience altogether.
The parasites of Sauna-Creek. Let this be a warning to those who wish to venture off into the stars: that the world is not for humanity. For when you stare into the universe, sometimes the universe consumes you, and turns you into a shadow of your former self. The shadow of what was once humanity.
We are the parasites.
SAMANTHA'S GAMBIT PART TWO
The gas stations were mostly completely empty of goods. In this town, called Sauna Creek, at times I here noises in the night. The sound of men, women, and children under the Earth. In my Boston Clogs, I slip one off to feel the Earth. Yet the ground is much to hot for my foot to bare. I pick the rocks out of my foot, and then try to find someone here I can talk to. I was never one for dialogue, although that doesn't change the fact that dialogue would be nice about now. Yesterday I met a strange man, yet he has not yet come back for me. I could barely see who he was, all I knew was that he wore a black jump suit, and had the most red of eyes you would ever see. In my minds eyes, I see spaceships that fill the sky heading toward domes. During the war, there was a young woman named Eve the man in the black suit would always comment on, and how he was always concerned about her recovery.
Yet I have never seen this woman. She may not even exist, like Big Brother in classic dystopia novels written centuries previously. I am hungry, I am tired. And I want to cry, yet my eyes will not let me. I dream of grabbed pussies, and sexual harassment by my school bully ... and yet somehow I don't think she survived the electro-magnetic nuclear explosions. And severed heads that lined the street with gold. The life of the planet wide Civil War between north and south. The Japanese, Chinese, and Koreans populated the side of the sun. And the Europeans, including the French and the Dutch, populated the side of the American colonists. Yet nobody there is nobody left to talk to me. I am as invisible as I ever was.
I here somebody, a girl perhaps. She scratches and feels around the cave, which I have visited searching through abandoned laboratories, where super soldiers underwent the Trail Of The Seven Tears, a mind control experiment where the seven deadly sins are cleansed from their life. I here a banging in a cell room, a giant figure with a stitched mouth reaches his hand out for me. In my mind I dreams of unicorns and fairies in distant kingdoms.
A better life than here.
I am only dust. Silence has won.
I wake up in an abandoned house, not remembering how I got. There was the man again whom seem concerned about my well being. Does he not realize that I know who he is? He was the one that ordered the explosions of the electro-magnetic biological weapons. And yet now he seems so different. It's almost as if he no longer remembers my name. He wonders why I don't answer his question, "Have you seen this man. He is a security guard for MK 731."
MK 731 was a merger between Unit 731 and MK Ultra. As black as the black budget related to aliens from other star systems, was designed to mind control people along with infected people with retro-viruses that distributed LSD, their mind permanently altered from repeated forced ingestions. But it had other strange effects, yet I was immune from its destruction.
I am not a parasite.
I am human.
It's been a few months since he helped me learned to read. My fears about him have somewhat subsided, but there is still that burning feeling inside me, that somehow he is worse than the parasite men that surround me. I am on guard at all times around him, despite the love of him kissing my neck.
"Why don't you say anything?" he said.
I had no words for him, he killed many people. Any amount of sympathy I had for the man do to his amnesia, was mired by the all the deaths he was responsible during the war that caused me to have to move from my home town in the Southern Slipstream town along the tidally locked planet. Moving from one side of the desert world to the other side was bad enough dealing with moving away from old friends, some of which would never make it to move up North, but even in the new life I could not quite get used to the culture. Even with Susie and Rachel. And now as I wait nights until he comes home, it takes all the strength I have not murder him with an ax. And yet he seems different around those they play at innocence. I continue this game, partially to play with his heart. But also he's the only company I've got.
I communicate words from time to time in his secure Zero Liability Mail. I'm not exactly certain who he is worried about breaking in. It's not like anybody besides the parasite men will come in and watch us as he reads me story books, my favorite story group I had kept since the end of the war. While he was company for me, he was also a lethal general. With Eve the queen of the Colonists of the North, and Adam the King of the colonists to the South, the man ordered a purge of Southern Colonists that migrated to the new school district.
And now as I wait for sunlight, I sleep.
He caresses me and kisses me as I weep.
It was to hard to speak up for myself for my own good, and yet as he put in a magazine to load up his shotgun, as he fired the bullets the armor piercing rounds seemed to bounce off the parasite men. I was torn between him defending me, and me knowing the truth, that he was the alien, and now we.
I embrace the new colonist.
The man from the stars.
I went with him to visit the cave he was interested in, that I had visited earlier. And then I found out the truth, not only did Susie disappear into those ruins from years ago. She became just like those monster, the government Parasite Men.
Susie was home.