Coin Tosser

2085

Shoreditch, London

I did not realise how awful this was. The apparition beforehand, the constant worshipping of the gods of the fortune and success, was marred by an embarrassing scheme of endless gains. I did not realise how much has changed since the last fall; the downturn was bad. It took over five percent of the overall working population. I mean, five per cent. Huge deal right! Not really, in all honesty, many people expected worse. My mate Darryl who had been an expo-trader for such a long time, told me the other night that we will consistently depress the pricing levels to such a point that a need for a reprice will become apparent and people will be scared, they will pull their Nets (Future money, virtual, mind-based and behavioural) and then send it to the “bulwark” (Biggest data centre of NETs collection–digital Central Bank). I mean, how fucking crazy is this right!

I looked at the “WS” (Wallscreen, a virtual data screen that gives you day to day, second by second data log on all days’ global events) It was crap, all day. It was not worth coming out of my “Databator” (An incubator where humans live in a virtual reality world, where nothing is real, and everything is prone to a grand illusion). I mean, what is the point “Airpadding – a flying bike that does not go higher than three thousand feet). I chucked it in today. I tell you what, this morning was the greatest ever. I felt myself and I felt I could rule the world repeatedly and again. I remembered whilst I was trying to find sugar, that only two weeks ago, this with the Gregorian Calendar, I was in a total mess. I was so high on expectations that normality became my enemy. I did not need to do much, and my NETs were growing until the whole barrage of the system got so flooded that they had to reprint the whole NETs rig to keep up with the supply. My mate Angie said that it is a once in a lifetime occurrence for someone to NET so much. It never happened, right? I mean, they had to redo the whole thing.

What is the point of all this? I wondered for days. I mean, the whole idea was to remove the power that central banks would have on the money people use. This was the entire plan for the crypto and then NETs came along, and we thought we were free to communicate our wishes in becoming rich by doing what we want. This was an illusion. An illusion that lived with me for a while, but soon I realised I should set myself lower expectations and find something much more fun to do, to reach or to embark on. Whilst in the doldrums of past thoughts because this is what Databator does to you, it expunges your realness out of you and makes you its own platform–I despatched a CALLT (A brain-powered signalling to the virtual- beyond world). Few people appeared to respond. I could not see anything on the WS and nothing coming off the stream via the SIDGNET (Brainwaves that receive and send information via brain receptors). I waited and waited, but to no avail. Not much was happening in the meantime. I looked out of the DATABATOR and for the first time felt normal; I mean whatever that means–NORMAL–Tea was slurped quickly and outside, the skies darkened quickly. No signs of life from SIDGNET. Still, waited long enough to have gotten so bored that I was feeling dizzy or just like a hangover with no reason, no precursor, just dizziness at most. SIDGNET sends a signal, only a tiny beep. I AWARED (Connected onto the CALLT) and then at once Harris said Hi. I said Hi back. Did you see the announcement from Farry Link? He asked. No, I said. I do not know what you are talking about, mate. Then he said something else which sounded like an abomination these days ‘Did you hear, he’s gone over the cliff!?’ He spoke. What do you mean, I asked? Well, he has abandoned us and gone over the VIRAL (Suicide version of late XXI century). Ah, but he switched off the DATABATOR right? I asked. No, he did not. He went over the Rubicon with the data. He did not want to be here with us, mate. Do not you get it. They must burn down the total shit, mate. It is all over CONSCSNET-CNET (Future internet network via consciousness). I do not understand. I said, still sounding slightly confused but utterly unproductive and not that clever. He then sends me the CNET feed. It enters my bloodstream like a needle in the vein. I see everything. I hear the commotion and people haphazardly tearing each other out to get into the zone. Far beyond the noise from the ever-occurring big bangs in the stellar regions, blasts my veins off. The noise is inhumanely bangy, and I try to manoeuvre around the stock, latching from one stream to the other and then got stuck onto this woman’s roller. She had a dog with her, a dog so curious I did not want to look at it. All I wanted to do was continue the haystack, and I was the little needle, purposelessly, not admiring any of my smooch of my life. Intriguingly enough, the immigrants of our cosmos meet me. A group of specimens who seem not to be moved by any laggard of the time-space. They are not bound to anything. I asked myself, super consciously, if I was one of them or like them or just a part of a bigger uptake. But I was not. All I was a human, an advanced one that collates information for the benefit of nothing and onlyonly who is susceptible to change and a bigger mass of evolution. I try to ignore the un-ignorables, the slimy creatures of slippery slope but they would not let go because they see an opportunity to meet more from their realm. I am surprised by this point how much detached is the rest of humanity in this sphere. I spent over an hour in the net but have not met a single fellow human. Sad, but made m e think that the trial is not there forever and that I will somehow encounter the journey that Farry Link would take to enhance his travails all the way to the in-depth source.

One hour became two, and then three, and the rest. Everything else became just a static motion of unique experiences in a minuscule shape. I could see things, but I could not define the phenomena. I switched on the infolp (News feed through consciousness), and I could see the emerging news where Farry Link emasculates himself through a wormhole of energy-busting proportions and uplifts himself onto the SA (Source Alpha–a hose-like unit, endlessly long that goes into a wormhole-type of energy sucking mega-unit.) It is said that this is where all the dead end up. No access has been given to the immortals yet. But they will all find out soon when their time arrives. I wanted to give him a chase. I could not keep up–the stamina, man, jeez. I could not keep up. I wanted to, though. I changed my mind at the last minute. What is the point of chasing a man when he is not interested in being with the living!? I wandered a few more minutes., This Beyondira (The vastness of a universe beyond physical reality where time and space do not matter) is vast man, is vast, is cool, but it is scary. I do not know what I am going to do when I am older, and I need to cross over. They used to call that.

“Death,” “I call it mushrooming into the realm of an endless pit of silences.” Petulance stuff. I reminded myself that for me to chase that freaking story, I need to head back to the room and meditate for a moment or so and recline into a chair with a snack of some sort, make some popcorn and indulge in permanency.

Clues

The corridor that leads to my flat is wide. Normally you can fit the carpter (Flying vehicle). There was a time when the whole neighbourhood was stuck here. I mean when I say all neighbourhood; I mean the lot–everybody was parking their carpters here. You could fit some more. As you may not bring children or older adults in the block–this is all because of high levels of Octaginorenomensis (A thick air which fills your lungs pretty quickly and throws you into a trance experience, known short as Oxis), you are free to release as much as you want Oxis and the only thing you need to do afterwards is suck up all the stuff and not leave any traces of it. This afternoon I am going to fire it all up. I have invited a few Netcratz (a bunch of geeky-teens and older–till the age of 30) to throw a party of sickos. I think its going to be humid and pretty devil-like feel. I am prone to exaggerate, but last time round, when I threw this type of havoc, I got fined because we disconnected the local CNET. There was so much shit going on that day that I lost control of everything around me. I blame it on Thill, my mate who has gone viral and now is chasing Harry Fink and others who had made a lot of crumbs, sucked up all life’s juice and now embellishing in a never-ending interspace excursion. Anyhow, Thill was a laugh. I remember this moment when we were standing by the edge of the labyrinthine entrance at the far end of the corridor, the north-east side of it and I was tempting to tell him something that I felt he needed to know–that I was going to move on from the Trough (a self-employed version of today, own company) and heckle into a new entity where I could depend on the system for a bit because it was getting unbearable for me. I never had the chance to tell him. He would have told me off. I know that for a fact. Anyhow, I told him I will tell him something important the following week as we met for a proper catch-up. But he went viral, and I am gutted now that I did not have time and the opportunity to tell him what I felt like and what I wanted to do. Regrettable, but I am optimistic that he would have somehow a clue of what I was going to tell him. I reminisced the other day about the possibilities of reversing viralism, Virallity, Viral processes (A trance process where one could turn back time). I had it discussed with Twang and Hannah, two of my supporters whose advice was not to go there because there is no need to compensate past losses by involving myself in newer types of losses. Huh, what a thought! I gave up on the idea. But now I seem to have been obsessed with this. So much so that I keep being penalised just because I overuse cnet and they do not like it. The worst thing that the Digicouncil have done was to autonomise the entire process. I flagrantly overused a lot of resource, but I kept emptying my crumbs (autonomous money) so quickly that one day I did not have enough crumbs to latch into the net. That was hard. I thought about viral, but I was too scared if I were to do that and not have access to see my progress. I withdrew from overuse, and I received a lot of warning from them. I stopped misbehaving and moved on. I still find some spare days where I come remarkably close to the over-limit, but I have been given permission to go near it but not over it.

The bunch of people who are attending tonight are quite an interesting lot. I gathered that amongst them is Primarosa (a hybrid human, part dog and the rest fish skinned woman). Apparently supposed to be beautiful and very personable. She conducts herself properly and if she is in the mood, she does multi-sex offers for over ten at once. I never had the chance to immerse myself in such a fun experience. Dell is coming along, then Antropeda (a dead person who turned himself into a permanent hologramic ball of sphere because he had a lot of body sensitivities and insecurities), Day-S (a former space guard with three brains adopted; one from his father, the other from his sister and his own is split between his mother and himself) and the rest are the normals from the neighbourhood who are finding enough time to get out and enjoy time with the semi-physical world. Semi-physical, huh? A real joke, really. I sometimes find it ridiculously hard to distinguish between what is normative, and an accepted term of reference for the presence and the past and more. Totally Immersed in the party's anticipation. I agreed with the rest of the crew–the cnet is such a helpful tool to network with enties (mix of peoples and other species). I made a quick list of who will be there and who would not be. Jeez, a lot of ground to cover. But immersing myself in it I am not the one to do. I receive quick entries in my brain. Antropeda confirmed, Primarosa too, Day-S tick, Trangyk (Human-eating cannibal who comes on the leash and always guarded by Vella, the slave) tick, Bringo (Floating barrager of insects with baby heads, each personifying an up-and-coming famous person) tick, and the rest are followers of those. Overall, my brain accepts thirty-three enties. Excitement cannot describe how I feel right now. I received permission to download them all into the foyer. I am happy at least that the party will go on and that I can entertain as many of them as possible. In the back of my mind, I still think about the loss of many crumbs that the corporation has committed. But I am trying to keep that well past me. I want to focus on the party. Andropeda is the first one in. No knocking, I say to him. No need to. I know you are here; he says. We both laugh. It is awkward to give him a hug as he was still on his hologram mode. Can’t you just turn yourself into a real self? I laugh at him. He does not respond but is very keen to grab himself a drink. I offer him the bar corner. Remember, this is a communal foyer, I remind him. For every drink finished we must replace at once, and it must be tangelonomic (Proper stuff). He laughs, but he continues drinking uninterruptedly until I say to him to calm down and take it easy. Just because you are a laid person, a dead person, buried hurriedly in a graveyard, does not mean that all the excitement of a lifetime needs to spend on one day. He laughs again and his hologram appearance gives me all I do not need to see. I can see the liquid pouring draining away through his guts into intestines and then it all sits in a huge pocket double the size of a twenty stone man. You are thirsty. Here some more. I say to him. I offer him the Nasty Crown. A bottle of spirits made from the ashes of interstellar travel, collections from Constable Remit, who was the first human hero to have made past the initial black hole's walls. You know what this is!? I ask him. No, not really, but it smells earthly, and I am not sure about it. I laugh. It is unearthly and otherworldly because it derives from the furthest of the father that any living, moving, or breathing entie has gone. He continues to laugh. I bet Day-S will love it; he says. As we continue to banter and laugh, Dell steps in. No knocking, I say to him and give him a proper hug. Thank you for coming so quick. Where are the others he asks? I do not know. We have Andropede here. He is just nipped at the balcony upstairs. He disappeared that quickly. Dell says. I know. He must be desperate to access the thick air. We both laugh before Dell adding, fucking earthlings, I laugh, and I add earththings you mean and gesture with two fingers up. We both laugh and within minutes, everybody is in. The foyer gets filled quickly and I waste no time but offer them the welcome and ask each one of them whether they are comfortable to just carry on our party by being in the present. Apart from Dell-S, everybody else is fine. Andropede says that he would like to breathe more air as he doesn ‘t gets a lot of it where he is. I laugh but everybody else stare at me as if to say this is not funny. I decide to ignore the rest and invite everybody up the steps and onto the balcony. Andropede is reluctant, but in the end, he gives in. Bulky lot abandon all of us and they all roam the balcony, some with drinks and some others without any drinks, but with a lot of stamina to have fun. I feel happy at last. I try to ignore the overcast skies. They are not bothered. All they want to do is just feel the heat of the moment. You know, Dell-S says as he approaches me. I always thought you would be like an introverted nerd. I laugh and then he is whisked away by Dell and Primarosa. Trangyk because of the physical constraints come near me but is unsure what he wants to say. You got drunk so quickly I say, and he gives me the smile and all I can see is his steel teeth and see-through eyes that pin an infrared hole in your heart. I do not know why I had invited him. This entie is a dangerous creature. I guess is the feeling that I want to be associated with something. I want to spend the time with the unacceptables and with the deplorable living ones. One fan of the crowd approaches me and offers me to reconnect. I say no thank you. Not interested, but her kind and pretty face switched me on at once, so I thought I would give her the chance. Reconnected at once, but not before I cornered myself by the entrance cabin and left the glass of drink on the side. Her world is calmer. I am shocked. I am at once taken aback and am trying to look her in the eyes. That first moment of entering her connection I lost myself to a lot of painless journeys. She rides faster than I ever could. I Ask her to calm down slightly and concentrate on knowing each other better. She does not budge and No Suggestions Available with the thought of either stopping or making sure that her self-fulfilled obstacle sends us to the canyon and beyond. I got frightened. But at once she stops and before switching em off, she tells me I am not fit to hold parties and that I am not so sure if I could withstand the thought of having another party and be successful. ‘Well, enties like me will never turn up and you need to know that if you lose us, then you will lose quite many people and that I am going to ensure that they don’t come to your party, honey!’ I am by that moment not sure that I will reconnect with anybody else and that the experience left me with a bit of a sour grapes’ moment. I wanted to reconnect with other enties. Now, I just want to see if I can have fun with the rest of the crew. I did not want to meddle with the rest of the crew on board. I was a little more delicate at what I needed to withstand to see what was needed from me to immerse myself with the rest of the lot. I wanted to speak to Trangyk, Vella though would not allow me to approach anywhere near it. Am afraid you cannot just get close to him. Let him finish his drink. He is busy, cannot you see! Vella said to me while whisking me away from Trangyk. I just want to ask him how he is doing that is all. It is my party, and I need to react with my guests. I said to her. There is no need to panic. I deserve more than just some kind of rejection coming from my guests. I insist again on approaching Trangyk. Vella is still the one to push me away and make me feel I needed some kind of protection or some sort of defence from the unpredictable Trangyk. What she does not realise is that I am in the framework of defending myself and I have a lot at my disposal to defend myself, to keep myself away from the rest of the harmful lot that I have surrounded myself with. What she does not realise is that I can just pull the plug off this entire party and then encourage everybody to move out and clear out the whole shit.

After a few hours of drinking and verbal masturbations and, sometimes, up, and down infinite physical dancing and ritualistic congregations, I called it quits. After I had gone through hell and high water to ensure that everybody find some kind of synergy with each other, I later, realised that I actually needed some kind of re-resurrection just so I can keep my feet in the ground and that I can control the framework as it is my invitation, my intent to have them round just so I can feel a little just like our past, just like our coagulated and murky descendants tales of exquisite re-formatting of their lives replenished with the full flavour of lore and tradition, custom and fairy tales. I tried. I cannot see that any sense of ending is being entered these enties brains, well, some of them have none, while some others have way too much and this-is causing a lot of unhappiness and discontent even amongst the hybrid lot. I sat back for a moment while I was holding a glass of wine and feeling that I was the rarest specimen standing on my two legs and both arms with a brain and a heart and lungs to breathe. That this is not working. What has happened to the ones I used to live with? How is it possible that we have come to this point? Nothing is satisfactory or pleasurable to the tilt. Nothing creates anything out of the ashes of the past. By doing this, we believed that. We told ourselves that some other entities were the decision-makers of our fate. What we were building was utterly not just incompatible with our genesis, but also with our sense of future trajectory. We did not think hard of our emotions and the landing of new thoughts. We thought hard on our mind and delivered change that was going to be long lasting but with a beautiful all-encompassing finish line. That finish line was the elixir of our own pleasure and determination. That finish line was our undoing and here I am left here, by myself, surrounded by the visible streams and waves of multi coloured energy fields, full of entities that only twenty years ago never existed or sustained any life at all. Here I am, an observer, a mortal sot with a deep sense of duty to our kind and to our revelation. The permanence of which will not consume more than it needs to. I am content with this, but what I am not in content with is the sense of mongrel thoughts of change. I never wanted to change. My family, particularly my sisters, wanted to change and wanted to-be and feel different. All I wanted was to stick to my guns and enter a long endeavour of strive and accumulated sense of life’s coagulated view, a distorted version of us and me. They won because they were decisive in their foresight. I failed because I wanted to be the person I am today. I mean, this is not some kind of testimony of trials. This is something I was born with, and it has not been that difficult to work out why the finish line manoeuvring worked for me. There is no surprise that I feel contemplated, while the others feel that a deep sense of contrast has been drawn up. But is this some kind of disbursement of my duties and responsibilities, or is this just karma at the highest stage of human evolution? I mean, can you imagine the Peculiarity of thought or the surprise of the shocking proportions I will be drawn in if I were to capitalise in the moment if my mum and dad would walk in at this moment and see the contention? Huh, I do not know what the mortals of them would say or do. I know one thing for sure though, that they will conduct a soul-searching of their past doing and that they will be good at it. No one would understand their stigma of their descent. They will feel guilty and done for. They will resuscitate the past and feel that they have a future somehow or that the future is set upon by the higher norms of society and by the fantastical sense of history made when things are at peace. When I thought about this a little earlier a few days before, I never understood that this would make so much sense to my parents. The sense that reality could just be wiped up and the likes of Trangyk, Vella, Primarosa and all others would just reappear in our lives and that so much would go on and the fascination would never stop. If I were to be in my parents’ shoes, probably or highly likely that I would have been doing the same shit every time there is an opportunity. I mean, you are limited in time and scope to see the world differently. I would rather see to it via the intransigencies of life and pre-death. You know that absurd idea of constant reordering of stale and unliveable. I checked the latest on the infolp. I am addicted to it and a lot of stuff makes little sense at all. I never cared at the first place. Even when stuff made no sense at all, I made part of me a lot of other important stuff, things like limited time consumed in this spherical world of controversies. I live in them, and I am not limited at all by the sheer strand of the unlimited source of strength that derives from the appetite. I follow certain rules, but the resurgence of thoughts and the process of veiled start keep me awake. I thought a lot about this lately. I just need to pull the plug. Get the finish line emblazoned on me. Get the finish line without making a big deal and just envisaging a new process of concept creation. I believe I have gone too far and should calm down and rethink the entire process without knowing when or how I will be accepted by the wider world in advance. I need to end up in the finish-line. I need to master the finish-line. I am the finishing line.

Accuracy over the period!

In the infolp, to enter a particular value, one needs to understand where that number is coming from. In this instance, I know that the value of this number sixty-seven derives from the outputs that the team in Farry Link’s world produces. I have endorsed a lot of those numbers in the past, but now things are different and over the period, I succeeded just like a leech to endorse pain while I am doing numbers. These are numbers that are un-crunched but impossible not to prove right or correct. The three categories of transactions that have gone thru the wire have been accepted. I did not understand this. My trade was not supposed to be accepted, and I was not supposed to indulge myself in even more numbers and gains. I looked at the Infolp again. Close to my bed, I realised that the information was correct. I had pocketed another ten. And then another ten straight afterwards. I could not see many traders online. All I could see was that the old trades have been frozen and that the derivation of behavioural sucking had stopped. I needed to know what was going on. So, I lifted the gorticula and looked at the century trades. Apart from number 333, I saw little in there. I was too static to think straight. I was static in my brain. Nothing was functioning and nothing was going my way. I checked the late infolps and lots of information was looking deferred. Somebody had traded harshly and took everybody’s gains, but mine were intact. I thought someone was winding me up, and that somebody is very much immersed in my gains, but I was not to know that now. I looked at my shields and virility. I wanted to work out how is all of this was going to absorb me so much of my time and how I am going to regret the curiosity? The curiosity to enquire a lot more from life than is ever expected or thought of. I looked at the numbers again and could not believe my own eyes. How is it at all possible to envisage such a thing? I kept looking at the numbers flowing out of my ears in front of my eyes in the subconscious. I feel like I must do more to capture these numbers and not let them become a fleeting thing. Then I had a eureka moment. I thought if I report that assets have been modelled to show an expected returns then I could be fine with that. I think Farry will accept the extend of gains and move on and give me a lease of life. Otherwise, I will be toast if I do not act on it and act fast. So, I pulled all the minerals-based asset allocations from last week; I repriced the fundamentals then I enquired that the overall shielding of transactions needs to disappear into one whole transaction. This would show in my infold leak that I have done well and then my yearly lease of life will extend to another year. I will be happy with that. For a year I can do so much, and I have a few things in my mind. First, I will make sure that I stock up a few remainders of infood. Then, I can lock-up and move into the Terraceclay (A community centre where members are only allowed to stay hooked in the virtual world via their infolps). For a year I might disconnect fully from the real onto the permanence and then move on from there. See where I take.

I downloaded the distribution of assets list and then began loading up several potential saleable assets that can be mechanised and calibrated and be prepared for an extension of life. Quick gains means that the overall performance for the year will be upheld and Farry will not give a fuck what is happening. The guy is so immersed in the other side that he hardly sticks his head in. Then I dislodge all the remaining features of the stock that is held up in the deeper space and reprice everything else. They did not expect this and reported a cataclysmic event for gaining traction with other entities in the realm. Some kind called Enyk appeared in front of my face. He realised I was going to contract a form of privileged gains without his partaking. I needed the assurance for succession. I did not get that because everything else was impossible to reach. I needed more time. Then a few minutes later I switched infolps. I had an old one which I used to use it when I was working for Bluerock. They did not understand it as well as I did. But the cursing of the outcome was to come. I did not realise until I reached a point of departure for the forsaken. The old infolp was wrong. There was a sense of unbinding of contracts between the two. I switched infolps again. What I could not understand was that the process was not as straightforward as I thought it would be. It needed the conscious approval of the Bone Board (a higher level of approval forum that derives its powers from the Cloakers, who are the rulers of the Milky Way) Now, I have had a little of a problem with the Cloakers because they never understood me, and they never liked me. I managed to get a few momentary wins when I used to log jobs (A process of you giving away the consent to be transformed into a form or shape or diverse consciousness) I had agreed to sign up, but I never intended to accept the meaning of obey and deliver. This never happened. This will never happen. But they discovered that whatever I signed up, they realised I was not going to mean it. The obey and deliver order was sucked up in the process and they had forgotten for a few tiyears (Beyond earth years/time framework) but then caught up with me when they argued that the ingredients for a solid payback were matured enough and that my punishment was imminent. I was punished by being sent to the BCS beyond the curtain sphere, where I was asked to do some menial tasks such as inputting lives for human deciphering, lifting remnant rocks from comets and input the data onto a lean platform which coagulated the preferred stock from moon people. I despised that job. I hated it and I needed some relax time but could not find anything from anywhere. Then suddenly the eureka moment came in and we were left with the inner space shit for which I spent the last few months of my life there. Cloakers are a revengeful lot. They distribute their forces throughout a gama of strength and forces. But they are weak too. They are concerned that the process of consolidation is consistent with the equivocal retrenchment theory for which many of the distributed persons tend and who are signed up to their army and get paid. So, I targeted their weakest points of the impulses. That was demanding work. I had to attack their infolp infrastructure, and that was immensely important to withhold my position consistently because it was hurting them. Every time I stopped the attacks, they would cause me most damage. Because they would use my conscious location and use all enterprise power to resist and fire files and postpone the intransigent positioning for which I was very much dedicated to withholding and triumphantly exercise my sense of gain. This would mean a process of Oxin-taking in an industrial scale. But while I am inclined to endure the wrath of cataclysmic Farry Link treatment, I am on the right track. I conquer worlds, but I also ruin them along the way.

They came back!

At least two of the remaining party guests returned. Trangyk is more than drunk. He is trying to wrap up his entire life of misery into a one-day trough of ecumenical doings. Things like, I always try to remind myself that for a while I used to be a human. I mean, I used to be something more than what I am now. He tells me. Finding myself not interested at all for what he is about to say, I try to interject but find it impossible to endeavour such an attempt. Andropeda is more reluctant to talk, and she is content with anything. I think about offering them something to drink, but they are not interested. Of course, they are not because they do not run like me. I can sustain alcohol for a day but longer than that. I think I will just fall apart, have some kind of cancer on me or fuck knows what kind of juxtaposited place I would be in. These two can be drunk and keep a focused conversation, although their chat is not as illuminating as you would think at first. I get bored but am respectful to a point when I need to make myself very clear that I have other commitments. Hovering and lurking, they show no interest in the two, resembling artificial objects in a cosmic space. They never give up or even worry that they should worry about what I think. They are so immersed in their portfolio of violence and trickery that makes my skin scrawl. At least two-party guests who remained returned. Some of them were supposed to be the underlings, but I have received two of the most disturbed ones; Trangyk I can handle, Vella, I cannot. The idea of her chasing him round just for fun or just because she is being told to because it fears swallowing up by a creature that does not understand and know itself, let alone the world around him, is beyond me. Bringo would have been a choice only if I knew how hard it is going to be to enrage oneself on the antics of some fucking species, I do not understand but I lived with, hang around with and invite them for parties and meaningless interactions. I did not want to spend more time inhaling poisonous passivity. I just want to feel normal again and have the chance to enrage. When they turned up at the door, I did not realise that my outdoor sign was on. I ought to have turned that off and consider replenishing my thoughts with better things. In the meantime, I had plenty to do but withheld the powers of temptation. I would not allow some fool to wander around and wind my socks off, betray my inner sense of lofty human duration and sanity. I allow patience in, but I will not tolerate anything that is beyond comprehension, things like the unpredictable mores of a lived life not to the fullest. And the temptations are great. You just cannot control the self-awareness of being surrounded by several known species with an underlying sense of low tolerance. But you do not know that. When I offered them a welcome, they were chuffed. I would like to think so. They were not sure if I meant the sincerity or whether that is something that it does not bother their minds. Everything is built on a phoney foundation. Everything is formed for intransigent agent-murmuring-creating-havoc type of mentality. When simpletons adjourned the opportunity to steal away the artificiality of the moment, that’s exactly when the others beyond the realm of simpletonia exhumed reality. These lots have no frame. They have got no idea how to give me an assurance that I am to feel safe and sound around them. If I were to offer them drinks, its pointless. I retort to conversation because you never know these lot might be able to help me with my conundrum called Farry Link and his antics. I mean, I say to them what bothers me at that moment and when am the most unproductive sod. But ignored the inner struggle and move on with the rest of the evening’s juncture. And the evening juncture was a boring feast of exchangeable chatter, me mostly being polite and just going along with the night. How can one not describe this as the detrimental mode of lower pelvis pain-taking agony? I don’t know. I mean, I could have been a little more generous and find myself excruciatingly ungenerous toward the guests. But they didn’t care really, and I couldn’t give a toss. We carried on with the conversation. The range was wide and complimentary. I didn’t know what to offer them as a substitute for their politeness. Banter, I guess. Banter was the cheapest and nearest thing to my mind and in my mouth. My lips were craving the chance to say the unsayable and to suggest the undoable. They loved it and I deplored the sense of unique uselessness A sense of togetherness and collegiality which in regular forums and corners isn’t supported or considered being an interesting narrative. Trangyk is the one that can spell out stuff and be funny. I enjoyed his funny side, but boy, can he get angry and unhinged for no reason. Andromeda is calmer. The sense I get from her dispositions is that she could be a little bit unaware of her surroundings. Massively overstretched with her encyclopaedic vast knowledge. I am attracted to her immediately. One thing that crossed my mind was that she would be the opening to solving for a lot of my problems. Let’s start with Farry Link and his disappearing cronies who have left me with a vast Blackhole for which I need to be accountable and deliver. She can, just by a flicker of a finger, change my framework. Things like situating my stock from interspace to inner or she could devalue my ever-moving comet stocks for which we have been the best and most radical exposes. She could sort my earthly-global-hyper-tech stock and provide me with a merged view of what’s going on in that world. I could ask her to smash through the walls of penetrability in the interspace market and let me have some kind of readjusted returns. Then, I think Farry will reappear, and I will have a better chance to merge my position everywhere. It didn’t go long until we all tired of the evening. I have forgotten that these guys are nocturnal, they see sleep as something that people, humans do, and this isn’t for them. So, I say goodbye to them with my mind always at the one that Farry pulled off. I can’t get over it. I know that any minute now they will knock in my infolp to tap on what I am doing and what am about to do. I didn’t care at that moment, or any moment for that matter. I felt lonely for a moment and all I wanted was to have a bit of fun with the company. The next day, we didn’t do that much. Their inactivity was getting on my nerves and all I wanted to do now was to head out for some fresh air. The weather had turned. There was more mist than anytime ever before. I had taken a long walking path to see if I could remember my way back. Hardly anybody in the streets. There are a lot of carpters on and above head and a lot more flying higher in the sky so high that they become a speck of tiny air particle. I continue my walk, unperturbed, as usual. I used to top for a fill up of coffee on the way to the St James Street, but not this time round because the fill-up does not exist no more. Instead of a fill up station, I encounter homeless people who are unconscious. People for whom you would think they are dead, but they are not because they are lying on the floor, semi-conscious and unable to be aware of their surroundings. I go past them and check if they are ok. Two of them have got no life on them. The other one is about to pass away. I get closer to him and ask him if he needs my help with the viralism. He waves no. He then tries to say something, but I can’t make out what he is trying to say. I worked it out seconds later that all he wanted me to do was to put my arm around so he can die in peace. I did that, and I felt his soul leaving body as peacefully as you could imagine. The person next to him had long hair and a long beard. ‘That’s what he always wanted. He wanted someone to be there holding his head when he dies! “He said.” I looked at him and asked him whether he was ok. He was ok, he said, but he is going to die this afternoon because he hasn’t much to do no more. “But I don’t need anybody’s arm around me, just in case I won’t be able to depart from this cruel world.” He said, and he laughed. He didn’t have any teeth, and he was part disabled. His legs weren’t as fit and as strong as a man of his age. “You see…” he added, “… there are about ten of us who die everyday just the way my mate here died. We’re all humans. We’re the last of the actual ones.” He then comes closer to me and touches the skin on my arm. “You see, even you are not that real. I think you have tried mixing and realised that after all that science and power of thought and invention, you’re still unhappy…hahaha” he seemed relieved when he said that. I took offence, but then understood why he said that. These lots are not only a minority now, but they are also extinct species. I feel no remorse. I had no hand in it. The guy was laid in the ground by me covered him with his blanket and reported the case to digi-council. They arrived instantly, picked up his body, stuck all of it in the super-heated oven that’s attached on the back of the carpter magazine which is loaded with the mos leathal of all vehicles. I had to sign a communique confirming that I was the last witness, and that I was the last person who saw the gentleman alive. I objected, because that was not the case. There was another gentleman who was next to me and saw the whole thing. They told me that does not count because he was not a taxpayer and that is me and that in front of the court the judge would not accept death certificate because a fellow citizen who was not fully gained was the witness. I did not understand. The officer, whose name on the tag was showing as Hawk, was filling the form on his prompter inside the vehicle. Because my curiosity to see the digicouncil carpters was bigger than anything else, I always wanted to see what these vehicles are like from the inside. So, I get closer and ask officer Hawk what he meant by that. Well, he started, these people around here, they are not gained citizens. These are humans in category Y who have not yet developed to our level. In society, they are considered the losers. They were what they are and who they are. They have lived the lives they have. Lacking the chance to live much of their lives, they are all dying young and immature. These people have refused to develop. These people are stuck to their guns and paid a small price for a brief life. Whereas me and you buddy…he takes a pause and smirks…me and you will live to eternity. Huh, what he doesn’t realise is that my boss Farry Link has disappeared into the abyss because he is a coward and he can’t take it anymore, so he ran. Everybody assumes he is dead, but I know he isn’t. He is buried in the EndlessVerse and that he is there with his loved ones, enjoying the proceeds of endless living. Whereas here, I have been asked to light the torch for everybody and keep on living, somehow. Hawk doesn’t know that. I don’t think I am even going to bother him with that. So, I thank him. Signed stuff he’s asked me to sign and then I get moving. I try to shake off everything that I have just learned or absorbed while waiting for the two muppets to enhance my level of consciousness all the way into the unknown. There is something that bothers and buggers me. It’s a sense of calculated signalling I am getting inside my head. It is transformational, I am thinking while my brain is working non-stop. Then I have an eureka moment and everything else falls in line and becomes an organic part of me. I think I need to take these two for a ride and try to show them what the real-life excommunication from reality means and is. Andromeda is not keen, but Trangyk wants to entice himself with the newest of the recent adventures. I engage infolp just for fun, initially, but then am not sure how am I going to react if I must calendar more fun for this lot. Andromeda wants to inhale the complete experience. Once it got its head inside the infol mechanism, nothing there stops her from conjecturing the continuing process of creativity. It tells me that immediately it doesn’t want to do anything else but conquer the infolp ecosystem, wholly and diametrically endlessly. Trangyk behaving like the princess of the Wrought-out Figurines, stamps his foot and doesn’t alter an inch of his position. It then gains the letest about everything. I am not convinced that solutions are permanent feature. I tell it he must get used to the process of being accompanied by me. I wouldn’t have it differently. Then the second eureka hits my balls. I gasp for breath because I don’t expect the incoming. There was no one there telling me to expect fire and react and overreact. No one expected me to handle the intricacies of the exposure at such levels that I need to be justifying my approachability. We should go into the depth sense. It tells me. I know. I speak. But I don’t think we are ready for that. I think we are not prepared for that. I have never done that, although I enjoy the privilege of being one of the co-founders or cocreators of the bloody thing. It has a lot of dark things in it. I even myself do not get it. Since the moment of setting, it up to the moment of today, I am not so sure how am I going to tackle the intricacies of what I have created if I were to be asked about the thing, the device or the instrument. I gather they are not much interested in developing the idea of an instrument or even bothering with it. Trangyk suddenly begins showing more interest in the idea. I give up for a moment only to see a few minutes later a kind of reenlightenment from Trangyk. He stirred through onto my infolp and pulled all the information that I couldn’t access earlier. How did you do that? I asked him. He just laughed. His human eating urges don’t cannot show but I keep a respectful distance. I don’t want him in the next realm to be next to me. Andromeda is slowly but surely falling in love with hawk. He, though, does not seem to be interested in that at all. But she is adamant that he wants her. He is not interested. I can see that, and I can sense that. The copter round continues all the way until the evening. We got a good view of the practical life down below. Way too many left behinders seen armed and drugged up. Streets of London have that smell, that sense of loss in its midst that makes everybody not feel anything because a lot of stuff has gone past now and that the stuff that matters, such as normality, peace, belongingness does not exist. London is a Blackhole. We saw slightly more from the St Albans city. The town I adore and miss loads. All we could see was rising smoke and a lot more temptations of crime and the smell, I mean, the smell, was unbearable. There is a lot of death spiralling through the air, and we could see the souls. They’re rising on the beyond the curtain, Trangyk says. What do you mean? I ask him. Well, the beyond is where few of you have access and you won’t understand that world. It’s all non-terra and then he smiles. He looks at Andromeda to see if he can get a reaction. Andromeda smiles. And then she throws the killer question; Where do you think Farry Link has gone, mate? I am stunt. I don’t know what to say. I just hope they don’t assume that I lack knowledge...a bit unclear, but you catch my drift. I just don’t want them to have an idea that I am totally unbeknownst to them, some kind of creature of habit who is at the right place at the right time. Well, mister, you need to do more of your homework. Andromeda said. Trangyk smiles. Now, I become slightly suspicious of both. I become unease in their presence. Now, I need to remove Trangyk from my infolp. I cannot afford to have him accessing my stuff. I ask him if he could disconnect himself from my infolp. Trangyl looks at Andromeda. She stops smiling but in a panicky way looks over to see what Hawk is making all of this. Suddenly, Vella reappears, signals to me that Trangyk has gone on a translation mode. He doesn’t understand you no more, she said. Andromeda freezes. I don’t understand now. Everything is riddled with mystery. How is that possible? How can this be? Why is he playing that game now? I get up but Hawk tells me to calm down and sit down tight as we are about to hit the over-bridge area of Notting Hill and that’s where most of the rebellion is happening, I decided to listen to his advice but am flabbergasted by the behaviour of Trangyk and Andromeda. A lot of things are going through my head now. I stay silent. But couldn’t help having a bad feeling. Him on my system, breathing down my neck and here I am sitting here licking my wounds. Step by step I am delving into my shit here. All the years I have spent building a life, building a future as I thought then, looks like is going to go down the drain utterly unnecessary. I say to Andromeda that I am not in the mood to hear any of that stuff. In reality, I wanted to hear more about him, about how is he was going to play this one out. I picked up my motor and take off. Well, the below, as always, looks dimmed and not as bright as I thought it would be. Well above the skies I can see clearly, and my imagination takes off as never. Now I could see clearly and succinctly. Now I realised that I have a purpose. I am inclined to believe that success will follow.

Blades are sharpened, and smiles are as wide as the Atlantic!

The cursor in the reading meters onboard the Jackall are lighting up. I did not know how to react to such entombing of the consciousness. It was a freaky moment. I was crash-landing, and I did not realise until I could smell the burning lava of Icelandic earth. Roamed onto a just smothered and recently cooled lava. I was lucky. Because I opened the door of the aircraft and got myself out unscathed. There was nobody there that could see me what just happened. I got onto my infolp and tried to see why it was my journey cut-off. Gravity has been switched off, I was told, on the system. Billions of neural networks interconnecting a vast array of data and visualisation experiences made it for a freaky show to unlock and understand what is happening. I thanked mother nature for sticking with me. There were no lost feelings having to leave this terra life so early and so quickly. So, I moved on and pulled my flymotor off the back of the Jackall. Poor Jackall, it has been such an excellent company for these past two years, taking me to places where I never imagined I would go and experiencing stuff that I would never go to if I were stuck in my place. I checked that the flymotor was in good condition. It had enough solar power to take me on a trip for years. Then I realised that I have attached all my mainnkit and gear at the back boot of the flymotor. I could not remember why I was that the case. Then I remembered that the reason I have piled up everything onto the bike was that I saw the glimpse of occurrences. The coming and going of a few people. Proper people. These lots were humans I miss. Creatures that I have not seen for a while now and they are penetrating in and out of my life, unscathed, not scared and determined to see what we are doing on this side of things.

The occurrence was not disturbed for a bit. I was set at the top of a decrepit building that was abandoned a while ago. It had the year 2047 on its front signage on top of the main entrance to the building. At the peak, I sat down and turned on my CNET. I was running low on battery because of a lack of solar radiation onto earth. I switched it on and off. I wanted to see more and do more and witness for the last time what does this entail, what is this all about. Then, eureka, the thing came on. I was happy. I had twenty minutes to see through. The blue ray slowly became more normal. I had to make sure that I do not supersede some kind of encounter with people I do not like or people I do not want to see. A normal person would say or assume that the people they would want to see regularly are the parents or siblings or some other loved ones, but I am not sure that I want to emblazon my emotions there for now. I paid more attention to it. The transcending–that is the only word that went through my mind. I could not produce another more glamorous word at that moment. I do not know how I rebuilt my will to be patient. But I continued to witness the disbursement of so many people. Suddenly, the city just got overcrowded. I do not think they could see me, but I could see them. Some of them behaving like lost souls, and some others were so keen to find out about their past that they forgot where they are and what they do. Some of them continue to search frantically for food. They initially knock on the doors of the shops to no avail and then loot with no mercy and so keen to get something out o anything that they lose control and fall out. Then I see the ones that carry a lot of guilt in their consciousness — the ones that are so immersed in their own past that they have lost the sense of attachment to their ancestry or to their past. It looks to me they have been made to come back and taste the actual living, the tangible form of living which, for some others, is unbearable and distraught. I continue to enjoy the view. Not much happens after two hours. I mean within this time length I have seen an enormous number of occurrences. I was impressed by people’s frankness and their nakedness. Yes, that last bit, nakedness was actual and literal. I did not enjoy that. I mean, it may well be that some of them wanted to because they have that sense of missing their youthfulness and some others would not bother because all they want to do is appear or reappear in the aftermath of the earlier hell.

I greet some and some others do not sense my presence, or it might well be the case of them not seeing me. I continue further and a lot of things make little sense to me.

*This is to be continued in the book format with the same title “Coin Tosser” to be published…someday!