I rarely leave my station, or interact at human level, Early each morning I connect to my terminal, After the blue screen lights up my dim cubicle, I am provided with my daily processes and tasks, I sit, I respond, and I am responsive, My vocation is simple enough, I monitor Syndicate payments from farm holders, I report on activity, stock levels, and record data infringements, I monitor and ensure that owed credits are transmitted, I issue alerts when they are not, If payment is ignored, I send a recovery team to assess, They either recover the credits, or I issue a Fire Notice, If the notice is ignored, I process an account deletion, A ‘tact’ team will then respond, cleaning the property of all persons, The Syndicate then installs a replacement farm holder, In the evenings, when I disconnect from my terminal, Lay on my bed, I close my eyes, And am thankful to not exist out in that world.
Dusk falls on a tired dusty rural landscape, The long shadows of the late afternoon have faded to grey, In the distance, bright city lights flicker to life, lighting up the sky, The distant volume of Central City’s chaos rises to a murmur, There is a comfort to be being isolated, distant from humanity, Away from the energy, constant sound, and movement of the city, Tech still fills this rural space, but it is subtle, used where needed, Out here it is functionality over convenience, tech for survival only, No unnecessary body mods, or implants, some city escapees do have them, But out here they are few and far between, chop-shops are a city thing, Grove 18, or G18, is some distance from the hot spot of Central City (G0), Since the war, most people are cautious of machines, however, Salvaged tech has been repurposed, constructive rather than destructive, Varieties of hover vehicles have replaced the wheels and tires of old, Important, considering the surviving roads are overgrown and damaged, Raider crews on hov bikes can be a threat to farming communities, But the Syndicates keep them in check, for a price, a cut of your proceeds, But, don’t pay your Syndicate, your property burns, Or worse, you and your family are deleted, Aside the turmoil, nature still exists, savage and beautifully untameable, Forests reclaim dead townships, creating new habitats and secrets, The grey new world is brutal and unfair, but that is the way of all things now.
Beyond my machine world the Infinite Black, exists 'A Grey New World', a dystopian future set following the war with the machine hellworld as outlined in my art series, and book I co-created with Jeff Oliver.
I have been (very) slowly fleshing out all aspects of this new post apocalyptic world for a while now, and I will continue to release parts of it here. The final product will consist of poetry, art and short stories.
Welcome to the future, where clocks now strike thirteen, Individualism is no longer celebrated, That human condition has been politically corrected, One central government keeps humanity in stasis, One totalitarian leader wields blind control, Sprawling interconnected megacities rise, Tech controls the nihilistic mindset of a dead generation, People disappear by night without warning, Artists, journalists, writers, free thinkers, Lives are deleted as the world embraces sterility, Psychological pharmaceuticals are outlawed, Desperation fills crowded dystopian city streets, Populations sleep in instability, controlled by fear, Supervised, manipulated, punished, This is not the promised bright new world, This is despotism, This is now.
I feel like I have been jettisoned, Newly arriving on an alien landscape, Here, beings exist that are not of my make, They behave in a confusing manner, Their language is untranslatable, Their beliefs, the opposite of my own, It is as though each being is a planet, All squeezed into one tiny galaxy, With no room for expansion, No space for personal expression, No room for creativity, There is no place for your opinion here, There is no silence, it is deafeningly loud, Life is like closing my eyes while watching a movie, And it rolls on regardless, This, is now.
Each pay flows quicker than liquid mercury, Removed from accounts with electronic surgery, Payments for toil that instantly disappear, And it’s becoming worse everywhere year by year, The world is more broken than ever before, It’s like we are living through Orwell’s 1984, How can we possibly hope to retire? The future seems dark and the finances dire, When the basics are getting so hard to acquire, We are just banknotes burning on life’s funeral pyre.
The world feels like it’s on fire, Greed and stupidity pollute the air, People suffer the reign of megalomaniacal pigs, Morally corrupt child-adults influence and advise, Disrespect and violence grow from desperation, The stink of self-entitlement bites at the nostrils, All beauty on Earth is violated by materialistic hunger, Bigotry and self-indulgence are the new faith, The new age of revulsion has begun, Self-immolation is technologically delivered, Mankind’s final act has been scripted and is in play, A dystopia is birthed, screaming and untethered, From this point there is no way back.
There is a hollowness deep inside, A place I crawl into when I need to hide, Where nothing can emotionally affect me, It’s a safe numb place that no one can see, Something activates behind my eyes, And another me removes his flimsy disguise, While I’m curled up within in my hollow place, The other me now owns my face, He’s uninterested in what you have to say, He feels nothing for what you wish to convey, He is my protector, he’s my defensive shield, Guarding the inner me while I’m being healed, Until a change within fills this hollow space, There’ll be no emotion, there’ll be no embrace, He’s insincere, his actions are purely robotic, He’s a wall, dividing me from a world so chaotic, Someday the colour will return to my eyes, The other me will fade, once the chaos subsides, Leaving me present again, with no need to hide, Within the Keep of Hollowness, that I’ve built inside.
A dreamer’s eyes open, suddenly and wide, accompanied by a gasp for air, It feels as though the sleeper has been brought to life for the first time, The confusion passes, and they acclimatise to this new red sunlit world, Standing high on a dune, the dreamer looks down on a black city lit by red lights, This world of exploration is dusty and dim, as the dreamer enters the city limits, It seems lifeless, countless tall glossy black metallic buildings stretch upwards, Every dark doorway is scarlet lit, there is no sound here other than the wind, No birds sing, no sounds of human commotion, just an empty silent expanse, The dreamer stands in the middle of a sand-covered road, paved with dark stone, The wind whips sand into the sleeper’s eyes, as the sound of a low deep hum rumbles, From the bowels of the earth, the dreamer feels the vibration through the road, And as the sun begins to fall, the darkness brings sinister tidings, From the black alcoves along the street, countless glowing red eyes appear, The glowing eyes follow the dreamer while they cautiously walk among the black towers, Again, the deep horn rumbles with a hum, and the sound of 1000 whispering voices begins, The whispers are almost deafening, it feels as though they are inside the dreamer’s head, With ears covered, the run begins, a left turn here, a right turn there, and into a side street, Black metal streetlights line the roadway, all glowing with a vivid red glow, In the dusty darkness at the end of the street, crooked black creatures with red eyes spill out, They cut off any escape, they rapidly approach, driving the dreamer back towards the dunes, The pavement soon becomes deep sand and a steep incline, where feet sink and slip, The creatures are still in pursuit, the whispering intensifies as the dreamer struggles to move, Coal black arms burst from the sand clutching the dreamer’s clothing and limbs, Many unnaturally long arms clasp and pull the dreamer face down onto the dune side, The sand below the dune begins to give way revealing an enormous gaping mouth, Tentacle-like arms begin to drag the dreamer into the mouth from where they originate, In an instant the dreamer is devoured, the mighty jaws snap shut before sinking into the sand, Silence falls, the city empties, the red sun rises, and on the top of the dune, A new pair of eyes open, suddenly and wide, accompanied by a new dreamer’s gasp for air
Dan Verkys 