interrupted-transmission
3.02.2005
The drone of a million hornets.
All space falling outside of the Panopticon must be brought within the Panopticon immediately. Where this is impractical the outside must be walled off. The perimeter must be surveilled and patrolled with complete vigilance and ruthlessness. No one can be allowed to exist outside the Panopticon. No one can be allowed to exit the Panopticon.
Faces grow out of the walls.
Gargoyles sprout from stone like limbs from a tadpole.
Meadow of stones.
Faces emerge slowly from stone, gradually gaining definition like embryos inside the womb. Watch them form. Features becoming finer, sharper, nose lips and empty eye sockets.
Gecko in a bell jar.
Round, protrubent eye.
Raffish angel.
Portcullis.
In order to isolate the fear neurons a young male chimpanzee is locked inside a 12 by 8 glass box. Electrodes are attached to the chimp’s head to monitor brain activity. A hungry crocodile is introduced into the box.
The chimp scurries desperately around the box, screeching and gibbering, leaping into the air and scrabbling at the smooth glass walls.
The scientists observe and impassively log the data though a leer of bloodlust can be seen contorting the mask of scientific objectivity.
A cloud of bats crosses the sun. drone of a million hornets.
FLYING HYGEINE MISSIONS.
Black helicopters swoop silently over the rat-runs of Nogo.
The child gangs of Nogo have a saying
‘When the black shadow passes over you, you are already dead.’
Run from the shadows.
_____________________
Packs of children dressed in animal furs and grubby manmade fibres stand around a spit. Feral pigeons and stray cats roast on the spit. The children play fight, throw stones, indolently masturbate.
After they have eaten and the sun has finally set, the last embers turned to ashes, the gang becomes a choir and every unbroken voice is raised in song.
All across Nogo the gangs are singing.
There is said to be no more beautiful sound in all the world than the child choirs of Nogo, the songs of the damned.
The gangs resurrect the old gods.
Queatzelcoatl shakes the ashes from his feathers.
All space falling outside of the Panopticon must be brought within the Panopticon immediately. Where this is impractical the outside must be walled off. The perimeter must be surveilled and patrolled with complete vigilance and ruthlessness. No one can be allowed to exist outside the Panopticon. No one can be allowed to exit the Panopticon.
Faces grow out of the walls.
Gargoyles sprout from stone like limbs from a tadpole.
Meadow of stones.
Faces emerge slowly from stone, gradually gaining definition like embryos inside the womb. Watch them form. Features becoming finer, sharper, nose lips and empty eye sockets.
Gecko in a bell jar.
Round, protrubent eye.
Raffish angel.
Portcullis.
In order to isolate the fear neurons a young male chimpanzee is locked inside a 12 by 8 glass box. Electrodes are attached to the chimp’s head to monitor brain activity. A hungry crocodile is introduced into the box.
The chimp scurries desperately around the box, screeching and gibbering, leaping into the air and scrabbling at the smooth glass walls.
The scientists observe and impassively log the data though a leer of bloodlust can be seen contorting the mask of scientific objectivity.
A cloud of bats crosses the sun. drone of a million hornets.
FLYING HYGEINE MISSIONS.
Black helicopters swoop silently over the rat-runs of Nogo.
The child gangs of Nogo have a saying
‘When the black shadow passes over you, you are already dead.’
Run from the shadows.
_____________________
Packs of children dressed in animal furs and grubby manmade fibres stand around a spit. Feral pigeons and stray cats roast on the spit. The children play fight, throw stones, indolently masturbate.
After they have eaten and the sun has finally set, the last embers turned to ashes, the gang becomes a choir and every unbroken voice is raised in song.
All across Nogo the gangs are singing.
There is said to be no more beautiful sound in all the world than the child choirs of Nogo, the songs of the damned.
The gangs resurrect the old gods.
Queatzelcoatl shakes the ashes from his feathers.
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