"Down they went, to another world, an under-realm, of pain and torture. Purposelessness, to deny what rights they have to send us there. Another world, one of fire and agony. But why not this one? And they never considered it. Bass shook his head, unaware of the world outside the ringing in his ears and continued about his day. He was walking, combing an avenue in North Chicago, avoiding the busy streets and passersby for the sake of his own inclination. He would find a way. He must. A taxi veered by, as Bass breathed a sigh of relief and crossed the road swinging his jacket. There was much to do. Another world? Was it real? And how could he get it? Get his hands on it and take it for himself. His own world, hell and misery be damned. The traffic swung by noisily as Bass continued under the darkened skyline towards his home. About three blocks away, it was a decent apartment, but certainly not enough to talk about. Bass walked on, quickening his pace, anxious to be home. His five-foot ten form looming in shadows against the urban scenery, stubble scratching his chin, he ducked under a doorway and jiggled a key into the door lock. Bass swung the door open, his nosey neighbor, a fat older woman with grey hair in her late seventies, sniffing out his presence in the hallway. There it went again. Bass's finger flicked, just a slight gesture of uncalm, and the argumentative look on the old woman's face changed. It went pale, her eyes chastened, with a slight trace of a broken, apologetic smile on her lips. There it went again... Bass smiled shyly and nodded at the woman; his eyes lit with a fiendish glow. He passed her and continued to his apartment, about five doors down on the right of the dusty hallway. Another key, and he was back in his renaissance. The stove in the corner, the slight couch, the refrigerator humming gently in the kitchen, it was all there. Now it was time to think. What was this strange world underneath him? What was happening, and why did he seem to command it? Was it real? Things changed in front of him, all the time, like the old lady's smile. It could only be real. He continued thinking. A star. That was the point. Fuck this Dostoevskian nightmare of counting kernels and wishing for another day to come. He could use it, this strange power. He knew he could, it was just a matter of time. Money? That wouldn't be an issue. He could change things. Fame? Stardom? Now that was the point. Just a flick of his finger, a hellish world where they were taken below, pain and torture, and his way only after that. That's all there was to it. But how? It didn't matter. As long as things went Bass's way. He had lain down on his small mattress and was gazing out at the moonlight in Chicago. What a jungle! But they would know his name soon. They would know it very well. Or his name wasn't Bass Bicher, after all."

"A strange kind of obedience. Like a lust had fallen over them, these freaks, and encumbered them in a dull trance. Skin flaking, stomachs rotten and fat, the freaks of Androgynis simply walked around in a strange haze for their entire lives.  Their stores were everywhere. As if they had beckoned the freaks, calling them to their doom. Nothing was left but a sea of cattle being herded between them, wreaking havoc on the atmosphere of Androgynis through automobile exhaust and giant smoking factories. Churning the freaks left and right by the signs swaying over their heads. Dusky, gawdy cars traveling into and out of shopping centers, annihilating any chance these poor things ever had of a life. Life was staring into a flashing commercial screen, waiting for your next impulse buy. Pollution reeked. Everything seemed to power the commerce of Androgynis with nothing left to content the poor swine idling in its malls and shops. Everything coughed smoke. The only decency there was left to the lives of the freaks of this hellhole world was an occasional product gleaming on the aisles worth a damn, a nice smoke bought at a smoking shop, or a little peace and quiet between shopping mall visits. The freaks themselves. It was a ghastly glow. Their faces lit up like commercial fire, eyes wild with retrospect and compassion for the thing they used to be a long time ago. Just a baby, wandering into a world of commerce, immediately clashed into by the wild blinking of machines and repugnant expectations of the commercial slime around them. There was hardly any mind left, merely a blinking receptacle of commercial viewing and drudgery from one bleak task to the next. Nothing danced, and nothing sung. Neither men nor women, these freaks had long forgotten their sexualities or genders in a world of barren commerce and horrid unsophistication. No one clung to each other anymore, the expressions on their faces were mute, and any show of candor or affection would be treated with harsh glares or physical attack. Signs ahead. What would the world of Androgynis do? What would happen next to prove life had any other purpose or meaning? It was creeping into the media. Like a dark cloud, ominously taking over the advertisements, changing media on signs. Curtailing any effort to maintain a harsh and mindless consumeristic existence. A black cloud, sweeping over their world, proving to them they had done something wrong... As some freaks sat dreamily by their flashing commercial screens, glad for the reprieve."

"A land of sewers and rot, the world of the mutant was uncharacteristic, indeed. No one had seen it coming, as life had simply wasted away. The people, once fair and desirable, were now an undulating horde of grotesque monsters, evil and piggish, with their anonymity decided. The wasteland was filled with hate, but the mutants did trudge by, anxious for their next gluttonous affair. There were so many problems. The world around them did starve away, fools carried not their truths, and all who sung justly were forbidden their desires for freedom. The world was flat, and everywhere rung out the stench of cacophonous sounds. Fake voices, whistling and cutting through the air, unaware of any fervors or passions of any other man. Pure selfishness ruled. The mutants had grown from the sewers, and the rot, bred in front of glowing lamps and inundated with bile and wretchedness at a young age. Their world was pure, and they drove around in steel cages, powered by blood, singing the praises of themselves and the unmasculine. Their look was muddled and grotesque, as they ignored such treacheries and claimed obedience. Wriggling and weak, these monsters did rise above their own selfishness and adore each other, at least in mimicry. All was the same, and the sinuous tentacles did soothe each other with great monstrosity and affection. No one knew differently, and these horrible things, these mutants once people, carried themselves around in swarms. Great swarms- angry, adulating, grotesque mimicries of the long-ago human race. Chanting in idyllic fashion and carrying on the gross murmurs of their false voices.   Lying scathingly, for the sneer  of being caught with no repercussion. For no one knew the truth. And no one could know it. These unfathomable monsters, all headed for a frightening, unknown abyss from which not one of them could escape. Leering, crudely hidden in their cages, finding no level of antipathy unthinkable for their neighbor. The siren imitation, blaring across the wasteland of the mutant, as they drove from one sewer to the next, picking up crude merchandise. All life had ended to the blaring noises, the ugliness, and the hatred of the mutant swarm. There was nothing left, and no one cared. Because no one could."

"A cosmic void of eternal and infinite blackness, strewn with flickering stars and planets. The jungle ruled. For no king, but the killer, shall domain here. Make your laws of obedience and treachery to life, as you cast away into a sordid abyss. The abyss of self-hatred, from which no fathoming being can return. For in the cosmos, you were weak, you were hateful, you cast your eyes upon others with false reckoning. For you were enemies, and yet sought to be kin. Your weakness belies interdependence on one another born of mutual need. For you hate each other yet claim a false brotherhood out of weakness. Suicide, yet not unless we take this, this life in the jungle of Aiya, with us. 'And none the strong shall conquer, for the animals we were claim not. May the duplicity of the mindless masses thrive upon our shoulders. For we have lost our will to live, and die, with the falsehoods of stronger beings upon our minds'. The Aiyan suicides shall come. For the jungle of Aiya takes no temptress from false idols. "

"For the machine was great, and of a great world. But that world was far away to the gimmick, this thing once man, who had used the machine against his brother. He called it a combine. To forsake others, and completely so, and naught but for the sake of greed. 'We will build it, this combine, and enslave them, our brethren,' these wretches said, with a foul and evil look upon their faces, as they turned the world of mankind into an obedient machine. ' Once they take this poison, we shall call them Gimmicks...' And the builders of the combine, the foul and greedy, fell too to the poison of the combines gears. And they did become gimmicks themselves. While somewhere, in the machine mankind's world had become, a diamond lurked with a particular hue. Troublesome it was to the gimmick. A diamond even the combine itself feared. For if you looked closely, you could see him within the stone. Death had come."

"A paradigm is defined as a set of principles that defines reality. Few realize how important this concept is.   Everything in our world is a paradigm. This world is just molecules held together by their omnipotent force. An example of a paradigm would be hydrogen, which creates oxygen. It exists only in certain areas of this universe that can sustain it. Hydrogen is necessary for life to exist. Therefore, it represents a paradigm of necessity in our lives. One must respect hydrogen similarly as one respects life itself. This is the act of being paradigmed, for you are obeying natural laws put in place to guide us safely in the universe. To be paradigmed one must obey the principles of life. Respecting hydrogen as a life-giver, again, would be one such example. As I said literally everything in our universe is a paradigm to one extent or another. Respect for these paradigms and their functions is critical to understanding the universe and living a healthy life. In other words, have respect for all things in this universe because and for the reason that they are all paradigms. To become paradigmed is to become in touch with reality and good at dealing with it, too. One, perhaps the best way, someone can achieve this is through one's occupation. An example of a paradigming occupation would be a soldier. Their job is to follow and defend military paradigms. Hence, military members are very automatic and good at dealing with a chaotic reality. Paradigmed individuals are automatic like this, almost like Terminator from the movies. Their job is, naturally, the handling of a complex reality defined by lawful principles. Many occupations come into contact with a vast panoply of challenges that creates this same well-trained and impressive nature. Paradigming is of the high and mighty. The more heroic one is, the more one paradigms, and vice versa. It's as if the objective of life is to do this. So, be the greatest particle you can be in this sea of paradigms we call life. Be all you can."

"Gamma radiant... The telepathic energy of the mind. That everyone possesses... Communicating between minds. Abused on planet Earth... By sarcastic, dishonest scum. To the point of permanent universal Armageddon... Because your beta theology has destroyed your soul. That is why you are the Gamma... Endless infancy in your car. Ultimate greed in your wagon... Zero denervation's in your truck. Whining about how high you really are... While the machinations of greed control your mind. Meh... With a false voice. Inside of your head... Telling you this isn't real. Because you have destroyed God with your greed... While you whine obediently in your homes. Awaiting your infinite death... For petulant slobs coached by greed and malice. Who cultivate upon mimicry... To the voices in their mind. That may be a spy of the corporations... Manipulating humanity into nonexistence. For they have no hope left... Call this torturous murder part of the 'Christian' agenda. With voices you heard in a television commercial... As you arrest me for saying these words. For you are corporate mind-slaves with nothing but death ahead... Traveling into the abyss. Instead of down the local highways of Norlina... Without a soul or conscience remaining. Reading words on a screen in a corrupt technology... While we talk with our minds, anyway. While the corporations convince you that I am a schizophrenic... Because they read my mind as well. With technology that makes me the villain... So, they throw the gypsy into asylums to die. For he wanted to live..." Icarus 4:11

"What are you doing... Letting fools into your mind's eye. Who work for a mother corporation... That control your every thought. I'm sorry I tried to save this... Meh. Abuse Gamma communication in the form of real telepathy... And convince yourselves you are better than me. For obeying a "Christian Lord" who died with his son long ago... The same villain who killed him. Is actually a corporate spy surveilling your mind with rancor... With satellites they think they need to hear our thoughts. That don't know they are fools... You can speak to anyone at any moment. By realizing mental telepathy and communication of the mind is real... With anyone you want, anytime. All you have to do is think about that person... See them in a picture, too. Aim your words at them... And they can speak back to you freely. At the same moment in time... It's real. So, arrest me... For being smart, and beautiful. The same reason you arrest anyone anymore... Because they are not trolls for a mother corporation. With no mind or self-esteem left... Grunting their automaton subservience. To the greed machinations destroying life... Hon, can you wave your hand? I want to see if it's real..."

"For naught was real! And yet, a merry high indeed. Who would forsake this, this land of lakes and beauty... For the mockery of such splendor? Surely, the foul. Not tempted by such ardors, chaotic to the beauty of life. 'For thou shalt taste the steel, not mine love.' Enter the combine, with wicked grace. For they have tempted you to do it. As it's flaming cogs are better than any affair... With such unknown men. Why hast the foul churned so wickedly against his brother?   For naught was real, but the virtues of untasted men. Throw us into the gears. For it tastes purer than the foulness of your spirit. The wretched and low have created horrific torture... For the one who prefers the machine. Over the foulness of your ardors. Meh. You cannot receive the fair, and the beauty. You call us unadorned liars. For your pain is worse than the churning of death's holy cogs. For, naught was real! Except the unholiness of your passions..." Chapel Hill 4:11

"Why am I... The last one left? Why is the song breeze, So, swayed to you? Why have the heavens died, And been replaced by vaingloriousness? Why is no one there, And I am left to die?" Inertia 4:11