OUR CITY…a fragment seen.
Of MYTHS not our own.
Forgotten Things…
Talkin’ bout ReGeneration
Of Psychonauts LOST
A Terrible Template
Of Deathmatch and Delusion
Living Next Door to ALICE - The story of Vapour Park


The Sun was high and so was I. Streets baked by Noon’s kiss.

Marsha guided me to the door. Best in the City, she had said.

Best in the whole damn world.

Glowed, her yellow feathers. My sweet Canary sister. Spliced some six months before.

She fluttered like the breeze.

“It will sting slightly, Mark.”

Adrenaline played. The rest of my year had taken the gene months ago and now here I was. 15 and free.

Legal and longing.

The door crashed open and a beautiful Cat pushed me aside.

Resplendent in the afterglow.

A young Wolf followed her out, racing to keep up.

He flashed me an apologetic grin.

“Sorry kid, she’s a little giddy…Katrina! Wait for me…”

“But Kurt! I want to run! I want to hunt!”

They charged away up the street. Laughter blowing blossom dreams.

I can still taste my smile.

Hopeful honey.

Marsha grins and pushes me inside.

“Good luck brother…choose well.”

A beautiful Bird welcomes me.

A booth is waiting.

Foramix and Detox spray hang heavy.

The squeal of drills and the needles whine.

Jar upon jar of vivid dancing ink.

“Come on, little one. Take your seat.”

Warm feathered smile. Plastic patting.

I sit and wait.

The security straps don’t hurt a bit. I’m trussed tight and tingling.


“You made your choice?”

I nod. Saliva has deserted me. Her feathers whisper as she prepares the probe.

Anti-Bac and Info-Sack.

She consults my notes.


“Oh, lovely. A favourite but always a success.”

The fluid is orange and thick. The numerical sequence, long and complicated.

I watch the screen.

Lose myself in digit’s dance.

“Just gotta factor in your parent’s splice, Mark. A Tom Cat and a Bluebird? Aww…how sweet.”

The pre-meds are playing. I hear my favourite song.

Looped my mind.

Her face.


“Ok, this will sting a little, Mark but it wont be unbearable…try not to hold your breath and don’t panic if your skin tickles…the fur will come pretty thick and fast.”

She’s grinning again. So pretty.

“We ready?”

I nod…I think I make a sound.

The Probe wheels towards me. Probe? It’s really just a big needle.

A giant needle.

I think I scream.

Burning Ice invades me. Holds me. Runs me.

My insides assaulted by needles unseen.

I drool.


Burning. Churning. Reaching.


I see Sun baked plains.

Heavy musk motionless mine.



Cracks, my jaw. Teeth arrive unbidden. Stretching. Retching.

Jaw line sublime.

She’s laughing. Not unkind.

I attempt to leap and crush.


My claws rip plastic seat.

“Nearly there, little one…nearly there. Ride the madness, Mark. Say hello to yourself.”

Kaleidoscope the colours.

Sounds unbound abound.


Slower now.




“Hello…you back with us?”

I answer.

Sounds like a roar.


Passes, the time.

Unbuckled am I.

A mirror.

“Take a look Mark.”

Stripes. Black and Orange.

Thick, my fur.

Face a mask of Black and White. More Orange.

I stretch my limbs. Crack my spine.

The world is sharp. Clean and edged.

Violet laughs and pats me on the head.


Job well done.


In The Days before the Fall.

I remember…

Sun drenched days on Fortune hill.

Sonic Hawks chasing Sylph flies. Handlers heavy in micro-mesh cloaks.

Lovers relaxed. Red faced. Swapping synapse sex via Bio Networks.

Thermal ice cream surprising and delighting tongues unsure.

Augmented Dogs and Cats conversing with owners loving. Chip connected the flow of shapes, sounds and smells. A mix mesmerizing.

I cough Dust and realise I have not seen a real Cat for decades…Do they even still exist?

Monkey Maidens serving caffeine dynamic. Black bubbles slick.

In the distance a storm, denied by Weather Control, rumbles and complains. Schedules tweaked. 9pm tonight the slot.

I see Mother’s face. Porcelain pure and bright with health.

Before the Foul came and ate her cheeks.

Swathed in Singing Silk. I hear Bach and smell cinnamon clouds.

My wrist screen feeds the Deathmatch play offs directly to my iris. Baked Brown they were back then. The Gun Thugs are on a winning streak. Again.

I feel Amanda’s hand in mine. Soft and lightly furred. Feel Ruby mouth brush my cheek.

The Sun kisses us both in return…

Ruffled my feathers, so Black in those days. Glinting they reflect Midnight.

Now they are as brittle and grey as an icy dawn.

Chiming softly my Veil announces incoming. Messages, mail and the faces of my friends was waves upon the beach of myself.

Around us, luminance fed, the flowers shine triumphant. Poppies bleeding virulent Red. Lavender lifts me to heights unknown.

Gracious the grass. Green and cool on my young toes…were we ever so young?

Baby bonnets murmuring soft the learning curve. Young minds drinking.

Sleepy gardens awake and stretch, eager for God’s Golden Globe.

Children chasing sentient Helium globes. High pitched joy as they catch and swallow. Giddiness wafts.

Distracted I attempt to count the Butterfly Repicants. Shifting and splitting before my eyes.

My eyes.

But now my eyes betray me. I feel tears for the Then but they are cruel. Vacant.

Just Empty Fluid.

ReGen sustains me. Sustains and imprisons me.

Outside Ghosts both old and new parade our sickness. Our Glorious Madness.

Burning my arm. The INK delivers Sardonic Script..

“Life’s Too long, as the Lemming said.”

Soon I shall leave the City and take the long walk. Soon I shall stand before the Burning, Shifting Wall at the edge of Forever and plunge these hands, these old foolish hands, into the Fire.

AND THEN…I will know.

I will know what lies Beyond.

But for now I sit.

I sit and remember.

The Days before the Fall….

OUR CITY…a fragment seen.
Binary boys swapping digit dialogue.

Ravens reaching feed enlightenment in Moon Drenched parks.

Droids dancing solitude shapes.

Hover-sleds forcing turbulence waves.

Laser lizards basking in sodium light fields.

Ink scrawling designs dynamic.

Ghouls greeting time’s shifting phases.

Archaic architecture slashing skyline shapes.

Orgone engines shooting quasi-fields skyward.

Matrix flies forming literature in Luna shone clouds.

Purple Brigade canvassing voters lethargic.

Sodium birdhouses sparking lust divine.

Noonian spheres playing captured chasm nymphs.

Solid sound descending from thumping turbulence.

Cyclops Rock in basements blinded.

Lovers merge on Jerusalem way.

Alice Holes hidden by bubbles of force.

Pure-bloods held in sterile rooms.

Dust drenched children choosing future splices.

Criminal code jumping from device to device.

Pyramid pain washing dirty streets.

Holographic head dresses scorching willing eyeballs.

Dogkind scamper Noon Plaza…chasing void Rabbits.

Pollen birds secreting songs in rusty rafters.

Statues weeping wireless loss.

Sabbaths Black.

Days Green.

All our Floyds Pink.

Come….Walk with me.

Of MYTHS not our own.
In the days before form…

Onion layered realities lay. Sound and form flowed as walls were still to solidify. The children next door became heavy and whole. Coalescing the world gained shapes and edges. Sharp became the plane, yet doorways remained…

In those days spake the fatherlode and weaver he became. Shrouded in meat the volunteers awoke. Myth visiting forms divine.

To the Owls he granted wisdom and eyes that never sleep. The Moths attained the dust of dreams and the secrets of the rifts. Dove was blessed with hearts intent and the voice that shifts the soul.

And to Magpie he bestowed darkness, appreciation of the shine and the ability to laugh at the folly of the worlds beyond. Cruel comedian condemned.

Aranja gained the weavers gift and spun the drifts of time. Jackal drank of justice juice and weighed the debts of crime.

And to Ladybird he gave the key of doors. The secret of ages playing black upon skin of rawness red.

It is said that in the days before the fall she fled the fires flesh sent.

It is said she will return one day…….

Forgotten Things…
Lands beyond.

America? Australia? Spain?

Blossom kissed roses.

Futures kind.

Wars mankind fought.


The Sun…

Always the Sun.

Talkin’ bout ReGeneration
Dancing in technologies shadow they came…

Medical upgrades clustered. Quantum keys unlocking God’s code. HIV became a blessing. Years of research found genetic kick-start. Buttons bullied and broken.



Fire wielding the doctors dared. Stripped and spliced the gene upgrade began. Programs initiated. Futures found.

Like Gods were we…like gods.

False Gods.

False hope…

Of Psychonauts LOST
“Hello? Hello?…Earth, do you read me? Hello? Please respond…this is Saturn 5. Saturn 5 calling…The signal is jammed. The Veil seems to be broken…Hello? Earth, please respond…food is sparse…weather gear is all burned…Earth?


This is Saturn 5...please respond………….vzzzzzttttttttt….”

It was the Quantum age.

Unsure as to the mechanism involved they grasped the fire and burnt innovation into society’s skin.

Nothing was inviolate. Everything changed. Science, Music, Art, Genes, Religion and Medicine bowed low to the newest gods.

Suffocating Silent Supplication. Washed the world did Quantum’s fluid. Future fluid.

We were unaware we could drown….

Born unwanted to a Feline and an alcoholic Crow, SCARECROW soon discovered the delights of late night lurking. Muffled groans and late night leakage became the corners of his stolen world. Bio-magnetic viewing devices, secreted amongst neighbour’s belongings. Scurried shufflings at prepubescent growth.

Two years later the neighbourhood pets began to vanish at an alarming pace.

Name long forgotten to corroded birth files he soon found himself cell sitting: virtual and physical stalker concrete bound.

The hidden war began. In the last weeks of the conflict the disarming dregs were given a choice. A super serum. Spliced Soldiers. Spider children.

Captain Arachnid.

Six arms meant six more weapons. Strapped and shaved the splice was given. Kissed by webs wonder the troops were gestated. Anger, bile and cunning.

Interface spewn the demons fell. Burning, draining, raping fiends. Fires found footage in trixillated plains. Weapons heavy: souls black. A breach head won.

Uncaring The New Dawn calculated possible playbacks and future scores. Afraid, they deployed WOTAN. Detonating above the dreaming spires WOTAN burnt the reality white.

Simultaneously the Enemy launched their own, final weapon. The sky cracked heaving. The Sun vanished…

Dust came.

Walls sealed. Fates came crashing down. Reality was locked once more.

Somehow…twisted and burned, SCARECROW made it home. Rampaging rage sprayed Pyramid corridors red. Usefulness acknowledged a position of power was granted.

SCARECROW watches from filths chambers…

A Terrible Template
They found a code, a shifting code, a code that writhed and bred.

They forced the code, the secret code into a pixel bed.

Kali played power games in program’s fields. Left to it’s own devices it mutated and wrote it’s own future. The child to come.

At 2.35am on that fateful morning The Shiva Template was born aware. Excited they let it lose into formal number streams. By 5.23pm the Veil had been created.

“I am become Code…The creator of Worlds.”

Of Deathmatch and Delusion
In those days Deathmatch was the sport of choice. Veil locked the gladiators fell. Furious Futuristic fire-power in landscapes coded chaos.

Skinners were employed to clothe the virtual combatants. Conjuring code in darkened rooms. Locking on and signing off on skins bizarre. Storing information on metallic discs. Feeding creations into the personal Veil of each contestant.

That year, the Final. The Teeny Gun Thugs once again topped the league. Weapon wielding warriors plugged into the arena of choice. This year: MARS. Red sand crunching they faced the opposition. The names have been lost. Some other team, unfavoured in the watching eyes.

Millions viewed as fire raged and titans tore. Each death just a minute away from re-spawn. Objectives gained and lost. Flags raised and stolen.

Death count rose. The opposition stole a lead. Minutes remaining the last of the Thugs chose the ultimate game. The Thermo-kick was engaged. 60 second countdown. Around the glorious coded realisation of planet so red the players ran.

The Teenys reached the bunker. Safe. Yellow fire washed the arena. Opposition vanquished the Victors roared and jacked out to tumultuous applause. Champions still.

Across the land. The giant Ellis telescope registered galaxy disturbance. A plume of yellow rage tore across the surface of Mars. Firestorms ensued. Confusion.

This was when we first realised the Veil was not all it seemed…

Living Next Door to ALICE - The story of Vapour Park

“The corporation is saddened to announce the spontaneous eruption of a molecular shunt in the vicinity of Vapour Park. News is coming in of an unexpected incursion.”

It was just before 23.05 when the rupture occurred. The assembled crowd had been enjoying the annual Free Festival. Backcombed BioBirds and sensory draped DubDragons were rocking the moonlit grass. Lasers spun the air and distortion hung heavy in the sprawling smoke.

Already seen: The Gurus in Drag, The After Effects and Yesterday’s Sockets.

Now, midway through the final act, The Memory Forms cranked the levels higher. Screaming guitar pods bleeding over bobbing heads. The Lennon-Shade leaning deep into the microphone, Shade-Hendrix burning solid notes with fingers of flame…

They say the colour was mainly Pink…the sound: Undefined.

Flying, Folding, Freaking…Lost.

“Bubble fields have been deployed. Access has been denied. All surrounding streets have been temporarily sealed. Disobedience will be punished. Stay tuned for updates.”




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