Creator / imaginer: Dabbler in art, literature and sound.
I wanted to see what AI could do with one of my non AI still images, so I cobbled together an extremely short video with a few video and sound effects, and found it quite surprising how well it connected with my Infinite Black narrative.
Embedded in a dead landscape,
The stone monument stands,
Piercing the stony earth, but not of it,
Ancient, smooth and pitch black,
A tall shard reaching for the stars,
It is said to vibrate on touch,
And to have driven men insane with whispers,
Its northern, sun-facing side is featureless,
However, the southern side is cast in shadow,
This cold stone face features ancient carvings,
Of an unknown, unearthly language,
Some say it pays homage to an entity,
One of unknown cosmic origin,
Who will rise from the earth when summoned,
And lay waste to the land,
Until then, it slumbers beneath the southern sands.
The stars in the sky are like the people around you,
The dim kind are many, and the bright kind are few,
Some stars only shine brighter in their galactic abode,
Surrounded by dim ones who watched them explode,
So, create your own place in the night sky above,
And fill it with bright stars, the kind that you love.
When some nightmares happen, they hit hard,
So vivid, they feel real, because sometimes they are,
Alone in a world fast asleep, a body lies convulsing on a bed,
No one is watching, nobody is there to comfort or to care,
Nobody notices that the convulsing flesh form has frozen,
It now lies prone and cold, sweat-drenched, mouth agape,
Eyes rolled back in their sockets, it has been paralysed,
A new journey is about to begin for this victim,
Following a life of technology dependence and abuse,
It will shed its own energy into the aether,
To be absorbed by a realm of mechanical darkness,
Its human essence will soon become assimilated,
Becoming part of a hive mind of mechanical torture,
Combined with machinery and technologies, old and new,
Soon to be a cog in the engine of a living, breathing hell world.
All machines have a purpose, and this one is no different,
Its purpose is to spread endless pain and suffering to humans,
And ultimately eradicate humankind.
*An Infinite Black Poem.
The threat is invisible, silent, and constant,
There is no escape, no running, and nowhere to hide,
The signal permeates every system, every cell,
It’s a new technological pandemic
The killer is digital and already within you.
Nobody can disconnect, and very soon,
All existence will be erased.
The early morning rain falls like sheets of shattered glass,
Down on the street, the forming puddles reflect the dark sky,
Vehicles pass by like hissing serpents, the occupants barely awake,
Concrete building frontages shine with a watery veneer,
Dripping facades provide walkways shelter before disappearing up into the clouds,
Advertisements flicker with colourful brilliance, LED billboards illuminate laneways,
They cut through the rain and darkness, clashing with decrepit orange streetlights,
A bridge spans a freeway tunnel, and the headlights of hundreds queue to gain access,
A helicopter buzzes overhead, preparing to land at a nearby riverbank pad,
Sirens wail in the distance, the world is waking up,
Time to unplug, disconnect from my terminal and put my mind to sleep,
I power down, remove my headset, rub my tired eyes and stretch,
Now, while the chaos of the waking world ensues, I will rest,
Only to return by night, like some kind of digital vampire.
Although in orbit —
I feel the stars are no nearer.
The rack under naked skin is cold and metallic,
Not quite medical, and not purely a utility bench,
A workbench in a filthy room built for suffering,
The stolen human awaits, like a dirty unfinished project,
Unable to die, a captive, an object, a component,
Living clay, soon to be remoulded, resculpted with other artifacts,
Becoming part mechanical, and part biological,
Dead fingers press, cut, and prod, pulling ropes tight,
All pliable flesh is needlessly lashed into place,
The use of rope is part of the show, it is an aggressive pantomime,
Used to install fear, fear is the source, the essence required,
The dark hoses that crudely sustain life, also fill the body with toxins,
All a mind can do here, is dream nightmares of endless torment,
While the busy engineers tools transmogrify the body,
A single tear falls from the captives eye,
In this place the helpless are stripped down, broken and rebuilt,
All to suit a mysterious unknown purpose.
Looking up from the bay floor of the base, it seemed so immense,
Its titanium red armour plating, intimidating in the bay lights,
The sounds of war, beam rifles and explosions begin outside,
One last battle, one last counter-attack, accomplish the mission,
The enemy is young and keen, advanced minds set on their task,
The pilot activates a lift and slowly rises to the cockpit,
The cockpit opens, sliding up and back with hydraulic hiss,
He enters, blonde haired, arrogant, and seated within the mighty head,
The cockpit closes and the pilot prepares for launch,
The huge unit steps onto the launch conveyer, bracing for launch,
The conveyer rumbles forward, then fires the machine into battle,
Engaging the enemy, the skilled pilot evades and destroys many,
At the culmination of the battle however, the great weapon is hobbled,
The pilot ejects, his fate unknown, Sazabi is discarded above the earth,
Once proud, the great red killing machine’s terrible reign has ended,
It floats silently, a slumbering red leviathan adrift in space.
Vibrating ship engines hum gently,
Sleek panels, white and shimmering,
Reflecting bright starfield bursts,
Silently slipping through an interstellar expanse,
Internally cool, all occupants are draped in white,
Large bay windows framed by great white rooms,
Where the last remnants of mankind gaze out,
Into endless black sparkling emptiness,
Wondering where they will arrive next,
This sanitised environment, clean and carefree,
Is home, the earth is but a distant memory.
Dan Verkys 