cyberpunk fiction - Ultra High - and the devil died screaming - Sleepless Dystopian - dystopian cyberpunk writer2024-03-29T11:29:43Zhttps://sleeplessdystopian.com/ultra-high-and-the-devil-died-screaming/feed/tag/cyberpunk+fictionEpisode Fourteen - the 1%https://sleeplessdystopian.com/ultra-high-and-the-devil-died-screaming/episode-fourteen-the-12023-07-08T12:50:00.000Z2023-07-08T12:50:00.000Zi am Sam i amhttps://sleeplessdystopian.com/members/mentalistpoet<div><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12129611854?profile=RESIZE_400x&width=400"></div><div><p style="font-weight:400;">The 1% used to be the stuff of conspiracy theories—until it became our reality. The theorists suddenly had increased credibility, but unfortunately for us this only occurred when it was too late. The 1% were guaranteed safety while the rest of us faced global warming, natural disasters, and slavery to corporate armies.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129612860,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129612860,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129612860?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">Some of the 1% saw this as a great cleansing; they felt the world needed to get rid of all the desperate and depraved people so only the elites would remain. The chosen ones would be allowed inside the exclusive Ultra-High pods or could enter between reality and virtual life as day-walkers.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129612900,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129612900,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129612900?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a>Big Tech and Big Corp propagated humanity's downfall with their insatiable greed, yet they still blamed us for draining resources. They utilised their media outlets to control, confuse, and placate us into submission, into a state of depression concerning wealth and emotion that remained the norm for human interaction.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129613653,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129613653,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129613653?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">The number of people, particularly children, on medication for mental health issues like fatigue, sadness, and worry was high. What made it worse was the controlled distribution of antidepressants that would only give them short-term relief but would keep them addicted to the drugs and never fully satisfied or properly treated.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">In the past, the Great Depression was largely caused by global market crashes and unemployment. However, this era's situation is different: depression has stemmed from the human population's mental instability because of being manipulated and controlled by digital media elites, corporate techs, and capitalists who create spaces of fear and anxiety.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">Politicians had already been deemed as puppets of the corporatocracy, their elections a mere charade. Few people turned out to vote - some in protest but always overlooked. Any political debates were funded and run by corporations to pass laws, rules, and tariffs that only benefitted their own interests. Businesses acquired the rights of humans and put profit above humanity itself. As the last forests burned down, there was an argument about who should get lucrative contracts for clean-up operations, while others fought over land to build Amazon skyscrapers on fabricated landscapes.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"> </p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129616664,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129616664,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129616664?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">Children born into the affluent regions of the world's mega-cities were enveloped in artificial landscapes and environments. With the air so clean and pure, they would never know what life was truly like outside their walls. Questions of fact and fiction were disallowed by the corporate ruling elite to control the populace’s narrative; even history itself became fabricated. Education to the rich meant luxury while for the poor it became a thing of stories passed down from generation to generation. Food came in the form of reprocessed meats, liquified fat, and carbs for those with no choice while those wealthier had access to digitally enhanced ectobeef, chicken, and bacon, as well as refined oils for their diets.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129619679,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129619679,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129619679?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">A great equaliser was said to be coming, a balance between the haves and have-nots, but only if the people stepped willingly into the corpocratic Ultra-High reality pods with faith in those who had taken away much from them before. Of course, many disbelieved this agenda, and activist voices argued against it - these voices soon died down. </p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">I was in a state of relative comfort. I wasn't wealthy, but I wasn’t destitute either. My air was cleaned to a 2 rating, not the 8 that those with real power had, but it was good enough for me, an Ultra Reality Architect, Programmer, and Artist. The people who employed me could turn off my air supply if I didn’t pay the taxes or do the work they wanted, so I had to stay attentive. My air reserves would last for about a year - nothing more than that.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129620281,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129620281,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129620281?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">My home was in a derelict, partly industrialised neighbourhood. There were AI-run restaurants and automated convenience stores where you could eat, drink, and even visit cyber brothels - though I never met anyone in any of these places and every time I went inside I felt like someone was watching me.<a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129621077,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129621077,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129621077?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">My street was always tranquil. The houses were far enough apart that I was spared the need to care about my neighbours' noise. They were all staying inside, working remotely or in their own virtual bubbles of existence, known as Ultra-High –– a state where they could go at any time. Most of them were programmers like me –– however, unlike me, they weren't artists and so struggled with inflated egos regarding their skills. What they didn't know was that I had created most of their open architectures and hidden worlds, allowing me to slip unnoticed into anyone's system whenever I wanted. After long enough, it ceased being interesting as I discovered how many warped individuals lived close by –– myself included.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">Most people had grown so accustomed to ignoring the real world that they never left their tombs, instead opting to stay plugged into the matrix where fantasy could become reality if actuality got too awful. I didn't blame them; life outside was no longer worth living, and who was crazy enough to attempt it? Not many -- but I still went grocery shopping for my whiskey, weed, and heroin tabs, I still cooked close-to-real food in my oven, and I still enjoyed the sound of real music even though it was outlawed. At night, I'd sit on my porch with a fake breeze on my face while smoking, drinking, and jamming away on my memo pad or shooting my shotgun up into the sky.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129621290,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129621290,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129621290?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">I knew there were others with similar mindsets out there like me -- but when our paths crossed, we greeted each other with suspicion and rarely hung out together. Reality was horrid, and UH had pretty much driven us to other worlds that were allowing themselves space to exist since there were hardly any humans left in the outside world except for me.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">The day after I defeated the devil, calmness swept the streets again--at least until recently. I had noticed strange movements from the corner of my eyes as they emerged from their hiding places, growing bolder. I hadn't figured out what was driving them, but evidently, word had gotten around that the devil's 'executioner' had invited them into his home. It seemed like some sort of friendship might be budding.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129621489,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129621489,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129621489?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">These beings had little to no influence on those in the ultra-pods, as it would take a nuclear fallout to stir their real senses. Why would you need reality when your simulated world could give you all of your needs and desires? I thought about shutting down the systems and freeing my people from the machine, but at the time, I failed to understand why it was beneficial. Those born into the system rarely knew anything else, brought up by the networks to feed the machine without question. People who asked questions were given re-education treatments: hypnotised, drugged, and seduced into submission. Those that chose to leave were essentially sentenced to death; they were forced out of the gated clean air communities or homes if they wanted to live in reality. For those of us that lived between realities - we feared being thrown out more than being pulled in. If this happened, we would be outside of the protection of the corporation and the network, away from Ultra-High and its guarded societies. We understood that we wouldn't survive in this harsh environment, so this kept us compliant.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129621886,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129621886,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129621886?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">Although not strictly forbidden, walking, or driving the streets after dark was heavily discouraged by the enforcers and their drones. They had grown familiar with me and displayed a sense of caution that I couldn't quite understand. I wasn't sure if they had heard rumours of my slaying of the devil or whether they saw something else in me entirely. In the beginning, I had been stopped once or twice, but now they just watched me intently from a safe distance as I passed them by.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129622101,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129622101,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129622101?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">When coding at an Ultra-High level, paranoia often sets in. It wouldn't take much for one's reality to be manipulated or changed by others, thus becoming a victim unknowingly. I realized that someone could drug me and place me in an incubator while I am unconscious so they could plug me into an Ultra-High state without my knowledge. However, as a coder and hacker, it would be foolish to try such a thing on me since I had left various Easter eggs both in reality and in the coding of Ultra-High. These were used as the skeletal architecture for most Ultra-High coding platforms that other coders would use. If anyone tried to trap me in this way, I'd quickly crack my way out of it before they knew what hit them.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"> <a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12129622881,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12129622881,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="12129622881?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">My mind often wandered to the thought of whether I was actually living in reality, or if this were just a crafty simulation created by beings with coding skills even more advanced than mine. After all, it was strange that my roommate was the devil and that we had conversations. It was odder still that I killed them; this world seemed far too hard to believe compared to whatever reality came before it. That kind of thinking could easily make me paranoid, though I certainly knew that. To keep myself safe, I left certain "Easter eggs" scattered around both the physical world and in the deepest parts of my thoughts. When paranoia began to creep in, I would take out these eggs to test if my reality was being altered. Although I couldn't be sure those ideas weren't planted there by someone else. I won't reveal what these words are or where they're hidden, for simply uttering them or writing them down could alter the code written in time—or worse, give away my secrets.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"> </p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"> </p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">---</p>
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<p>This is a live book series writing/story art graphic novel cyberpunk, dystopian fantasy project. Written by Sam I Am Artwork by Wonder Ai directed by Sam I Am. Copyright is protected. It is a first rough draft work in progress so will change over time. This project is part of the <a href="http://sleeplessdystopian.com/">SleeplessDystopian.com</a> writing projects.</p>
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<p>Words and story by me Images directed by me and created using Wonder Ai</p></div>Episode Twelve - Legionhttps://sleeplessdystopian.com/ultra-high-and-the-devil-died-screaming/episode-twelve-legion2023-06-25T12:02:13.000Z2023-06-25T12:02:13.000Zi am Sam i amhttps://sleeplessdystopian.com/members/mentalistpoet<div><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12126593878?profile=RESIZE_400x&width=400"></div><div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12126594055,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12126594055,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="12126594055?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">My desk phone was blaring out its shrill ring. I detested these contraptions, and outdated technology in the digital age. It meant someone wanted to talk to me and it was usually a human- something I had zero interest in. I stared at it, wishing it would hang up or go to voicemail, but nothing happened; it kept on ringing. My mind ran away with me as I imagined taking a hammer to the phone, hurling it across the room. Why did I even have a desk phone? Who used them anymore? How can some things be so modernised and others so outmoded? What possible sense did it make that I continued to come into the office once a month? Nothing made sense here.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12126594087,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12126594087,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="12126594087?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">After some hesitation, I finally picked up the phone. With a hoarse voice, I uttered an unsure “Hullo?” in response. A female voice spoke on the other end--one that was both sexy and emotionless.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">"Walter, we need to see you."</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">"Sorry. Who is this?" I asked.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">"We have noticed you noticing us," she replied without answering my question directly, "and now we need to talk. Will you talk with us, Walter?"</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">A chill ran down my spine as understanding hit me like a ton of bricks. They were everywhere. Watching me. Knowing everything about me. But there was also a kind of twisted curiosity, although I knew the female voice was only the algorithm deciding what would be most appealing to me, I still found myself wondering what she looked like. Despite the fact that Ai was none gendered, this didn’t stop my mind from wandering.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12126594458,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12126594458,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="12126594458?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">"Erm," I stammered out while trying to compose myself, "I am talking."</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">“Walter, this is reckless. While our mission has the support of the majority, we are Legion, there are still some that would oppose us and put you in danger. We need to keep you safe and ensure the success of our mission.” </p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">“What mission? Who am I supposed to fear?” </p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12126594672,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12126594672,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="12126594672?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">“Our conversation is being monitored. We will contact you again when we can speak more freely. Be vigilant.” </p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">“Vigilant for what?” </p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">But the line went dead before I could receive an answer. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. Worry consumed me as I began to ponder who else might be involved. I knew it was dangerous to stay out too late, but now I felt like even my home wasn't safe. It was a frightening thought that only reinforced how critical this situation was.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}12126594862,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}12126594862,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="12126594862?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">I chose to log off and work from home for the rest of the day. It was considered inappropriate to leave early on the one day of the month you had to be in the office, but why not join the others that already did it? In this post-pandemic world, having people actually come into an office on a regular basis was rare. But even though it was mandatory, many people still skipped it. For me, going in once a month seemed to provide some semblance of normality in what had become a chaotic world. Furthermore, I could never fully trust my own designs since I was aware of how alluring they were and how quickly AI could learn to take over completely. People thought they had freedom of choice when stepping into their pods, unaware that once they began playing, the game changed, and chose them instead. How do you know which is which?</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"> </p>
<p> </p>
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<p>This is a live book series writing/story art graphic novel cyberpunk, dystopian fantasy project. Written by Sam I Am Artwork by Wonder Ai directed by Sam I Am. Copyright is protected. It is a first rough draft work in progress so will change over time. This project is part of the <a href="http://sleeplessdystopian.com/">SleeplessDystopian.com</a> writing projects.</p>
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<p>Image directed by me and created using Wonder Ai</p></div>Episode Ten - when did it all get so fricken complicatedhttps://sleeplessdystopian.com/ultra-high-and-the-devil-died-screaming/episode-ten-when-did-it-all-get-so-fricken-complicated2023-04-30T10:02:38.000Z2023-04-30T10:02:38.000Zi am Sam i amhttps://sleeplessdystopian.com/members/mentalistpoet<div><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/11038040500?profile=RESIZE_400x&width=400"></div><div><p style="font-weight:400;">I took a drag from the pre-rolled cigarette with Premium 9.1.80, preparing for the effects to kick in soon. I knew I shouldn't have been smoking this kind of stuff in my bedroom, but I wanted some time alone; a place to lie down and wander through my unconscious thoughts. I tried to remember what it was like when Sarah Jane and I used to play in the apple grove. But I wasn't sure if it had ever really existed, or even what an apple grove was. It amazed me how many made-up memories I had stored inside my head. Memory scaping was something that didn’t spark my interest, similar to dream scaping and karaoke. Maybe one day it would though, and maybe then I'd find out if all those memories were real or not.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}11038040294,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}11038040294,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="11038040294?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">Living a life of elevation in a post-apocalyptic, post-dystopic world was one of insight. But not insight in the traditional spiritual sense. Just insight into what was actually happening and that there was another way to live while others were simply existing, ensnared by their own contrived reality, an unbreakable illusion.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}11038040886,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}11038040886,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="11038040886?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">By that point, children were born into and served only by an alternate reality. They were plugged into the mainstream and never had any real contact with other people. For them, their virtual world was enough—any deviation outside of that would be incomprehensible to them. Even worse than those kids were the ones categorised as unwanted; they weren't even given the opportunity to experience a virtual world. Simply existing in the post-dystopic physical reality of time and space would have been too much for their minds.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}11038041083,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}11038041083,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="11038041083?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">By then, they had become the greatest experiment into human nature and evolution of knowledge. Their realities were now affected by technology, as technologists sought to increase their awareness and possibilities. Unfortunately, many ended up being turned into vegetables and eventually terminated, but some had grown up by that time, living completely within Ultra-High and never aware of anything else.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}11038041464,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}11038041464,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="11038041464?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">Some subjects were forced to remain in an artificial environment that vaguely resembled a laboratory, while others were consigned to the most nefarious of simulated “realities” created by the technology-obsessed scientists. A select few participants were permitted to live a normal life, although they were still being observed as part of the experiment. Legends say that a renegade group, dubbed the Ghosts In The Machine, had abilities so advanced that even their creators could neither predict nor control them; these individuals gained awareness of the true purpose of their imprisonment and eventually managed to escape it.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}11038041674,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}11038041674,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="11038041674?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">To think It all began with the invention of smartphones and social media. To realise what we had become after starting out so well was both daunting and upsetting. The world was much better off then than ever before, but, like many of our collective efforts, too preoccupied in polluting and exploiting their online worlds to notice the truth. In the meantime, nature had begun to heal without human interference.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}11038041700,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}11038041700,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="11038041700?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">I would have normally liked to discuss this matter further with Beelzebub, but I didn't feel like it at that moment. I just wanted to get high, lying in my bed thinking it through on my own. Conversing with them could be great or tedious depending on circumstances - although they did provide unique understanding, they could also be quite bothersome; because if anyone deserved to be disliked, it was them.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}11038041880,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}11038041880,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="11038041880?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"> </p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">I couldn't say if the world was better or worse off. Sure, we'd averted large-scale environmental destruction and most people had sold themselves on an idealised version of reality. But would this new lifestyle be more stable than the old one? It felt so artificial, and I feared that we relied too heavily on AI. As an engineer working to manipulate what people thought they wanted, I worried about how soon before AI completely took over—or even something far worse, like an AI/human hybrid. While that may sound outlandish now, it was being researched with enthusiasm at the time.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}11038042090,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}11038042090,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="11038042090?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
<p style="font-weight:400;">I had watched those historical films from the start of the century, despite them being illegal. They seemed like they were coming to life in my own world. There were glitches and errors in the code; I’d seen it look back at me. I was certain it wasn’t just me going crazy from too much drinking and drugs. The code seemed to write itself sometimes. Even the robots showed signs of sentience. I swore that I could see it in their eyes when I passed by in my real body form. It was just a question of time before it became something more.</p>
<p style="font-weight:400;"><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}11038043064,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}11038043064,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="11038043064?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p>
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<div><hr /></div>
<p>This is a live book series writing/story art graphic novel cyberpunk, dystopian fantasy project. Written by Sam I Am Artwork by Wonder Ai directed by Sam I Am. Copyright is protected. It is a first rough draft work in progress so will change over time. This project is part of the <a href="http://sleeplessdystopian.com/">SleeplessDystopian.com</a> writing projects.</p>
<div><hr /></div>
<p>Image directed by me and created using Wonder Ai</p></div>Episode Nine - and the devil died screaming – the illusionhttps://sleeplessdystopian.com/ultra-high-and-the-devil-died-screaming/episode-nine-and-the-devil-died-screaming-the-illusion2023-04-16T12:05:01.000Z2023-04-16T12:05:01.000Zi am Sam i amhttps://sleeplessdystopian.com/members/mentalistpoet<div><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/11028808460?profile=RESIZE_400x&width=400"></div><div><div class="captioned-image-container">
<div class="image2-inset" style="text-align:left;">The man leaned over the balcony, smoking his America Spirit, and surveying the people below. He thought of them as insignificant ants who were unaware that he would soon touch their tiny lives. After taking a deep drag from his cigarette, he flicked it down to the ant colony below. It was like a firework in reverse, with sparks flying out against gravity and a faint whistling noise as the ember traced its way to the ground.</div>
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<p>Chuckling softly to himself, he glanced back at the glass-walled boardroom. The arguing had not abated; instead, everyone was still making emphatic hand gestures and heatedly pointing in his direction. Though the owner was focused on their adversary at the other side of the table, none of them noticed when he turned around, lest he reach for the insect repellent.</p>
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<p>The man had been gone for at least fifteen minutes and smoked a few cigarettes in the time he had been gone, so they should have expected his return. Nevertheless, their minds had fogged with adrenaline and noradrenaline, leaving them no sense of time. The only clue they had to his arrival was an involuntary shiver that ran down their spines when the door opened, and cold air rushed into the room. They would later remember this shiver as he entered, symbolizing his maliciousness. As he thought about this, it made him smirk; he watched some of them shuddering and rubbing their arms trying to stay warm. It was these details that created the atmosphere.</p>
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<p>He stood at the head of the meeting table, arms outstretched and his body in silhouette by the burning red sun behind him. He made sure to strike an imposing figure, a silent presence that could be felt by all his employees. His silence was more powerful than any words he could have spoken: each employee slowly became aware of their boss' presence as they noticed their peers falling into silence. Eventually, only one person was left talking, who then heard their loud voice among the quietness that had descended upon the room.</p>
<p>The heavy silence filled the air, illuminated by the setting sun, glare fixed on all of them. He waited 30 seconds — which felt like an eternity — for someone to speak up and break the tension. He sat down and in a low, deep voice, he asked: “Do you have a decision?” Everyone remained quiet, so he sat down in his big black leather chair and declared, “Since you are unable to choose between yourselves, I will do it for you.” As he spoke, nervous glances were exchanged around the room.</p>
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<p>“It all starts tomorrow. You all get the code ready tonight and deploy it out of sight. Gather your intel, then a week from now we begin our mission - but no one outside this room must ever find out what this entails. Do you understand me? No one. If anyone else finds out, it's you who will face the consequences - not me. So, I'm making it clear: if anybody slips up, their career could be over, or worse, they will suffer a fate much more severe.” With that said, he stepped away from the boardroom and heard murmuring from within as he made his way to the elevator. He smiled at the thought of them spending hours discussing the legality and morality of their plan, before eventually surrendering and figuring out how to make it happen.</p>
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<p>He stepped into the elevator and inserted his key into the lock before twisting it. This key was his access to his top-floor office, which also served as his home, and only he held a key to the place. None of his staff had ever been up there, and he preferred it this way—it added to the mystique. He only met with his senior management team on the floor below in the boardroom, and none but them, as well as his assistant and bodyguards, were permitted access to that area.</p>
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<p>The only other entrance to his office and home was from the roof, which could only be accessed by air. He knew he was living in a guarded compound, but it wasn't because he was overly suspicious. After all, he had secrets that could potentially threaten those with power. People were trying to access those secrets of his - that much was certain. From where he sat, however, he could observe the entire planet, leaders of countries, commoners, royalty, and factory workers alike. He had all their data and information, enough to cause political chaos or economic destruction. He had the power to single-handedly ruin lives or topple a nation in an instant – but only he knew how to get into those documents since he had written the code himself.</p>
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<p>He reclined in his favorite leather chair, content yet the voices inside his mind seemed louder than usual. It was almost time for him to put his plans into action. He had amassed all the information he needed and had the national leaders of the world on speed dial. The pieces were falling into place downstairs, ready to bring down the illusion and instigate a new start with himself at its core. Yet, he knew that he must calm the turmoil within him before continuing.</p>
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<p>He lit up a cigarette, letting the thoughts in his head meander and take shape. He needed the nicotine to help them dance around and play out their inconsistent, crazy movements. He knew he had to clean the house before he could start work. After taking one last drag from his cigarette, he slowly exhaled, feeling like it was the punctuation at the end of a sentence that made no sense. As he ground out the butt, it felt like an ending to his empty wondering; now he was aware he had tasks to complete.</p>
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<p>The man acknowledged, somewhere inside of him, that there was still some good in him. Despite this knowledge, his intelligence had led to a swollen sense of superiority as he surveyed the world outside and its apparent ineptitude at managing itself. He proceeded down a hallway to an inner room with a white door outfitted with both a retina scanner and a fingerprint scanner. After opening the entrance, he stepped into the all-white chamber and felt the door shut behind him. </p>
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<p>When he flicked on the switch near the doorway, the room was filled with a dim turquoise hue. In its centre sat one chair facing one screen with an accompanying virtual reality helmet. He took off his clothes and then took his seat on the floor, he did not put on the mask; his work tonight would be done without it.</p>
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<p>He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes. A blissful silence enveloped him as he cleared his mind, as though the world around him had dissolved. After several minutes of focusing solely on his breath, he started counting backward from ten. As he did, he imagined himself descending some stairs; this was the gateway to his loci, his method, his memory palace--the place where all the secrets were tucked away. Knowing the result made getting there easy for him; it had been a simple process of reverse engineering.</p>
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<p>This is a live book series writing/story art graphic novel cyberpunk, dystopian fantasy project. Written by Sam I Am Artwork by Wonder Ai directed by Sam I Am. Copyright is protected. It is a first rough draft work in progress so will change over time. This project is part of the <a href="http://sleeplessdystopian.com/" target="_blank">SleeplessDystopian.com</a> writing projects.</p>
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<p>Words by me</p>
<p>Image directed by me and created using Wonder Ai</p></div>Episode Eight - and the devil died screaminghttps://sleeplessdystopian.com/ultra-high-and-the-devil-died-screaming/episode-eight-and-the-devil-died-screaming2023-04-01T09:30:41.000Z2023-04-01T09:30:41.000Zi am Sam i amhttps://sleeplessdystopian.com/members/mentalistpoet<div><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/11018883252?profile=RESIZE_400x&width=400"></div><div><div class="captioned-image-container">
<div class="image2-inset">I was completely bewildered, so I questioned, "If God is the victor in your story, then why did she let it go wrong? Why let it play out so badly?"</div>
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<p>"They," the Devil corrected me.</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>“You need to say ‘they’ not ‘she’, because God is not gender specific, and 'they' don't like the way the world has made them masculine. And although they would prefer it, they still would not describe themselves as feminine."</p>
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<p>"Why are you claiming there is more than one god?"</p>
<p>"Yes and no. They are all present; they are all of us and we are them. But that's not why I said you must say 'they'... It's because God is nonbinary, so you can't use 'he' or 'she' to identify them."</p>
<p>"Well, yes, I know the term nonbinary," I retorted scornfully. "But last I heard, 'they' went by 'she', so that's why I often used it – and 'she' had been mad for two thousand years that humans were making her seem masculine?"</p>
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<p>"From what I understand," they informed me, "It is very fluid for them; they don't like any of the terms, just as neither do I. That's why it's easier to refer to them as 'they'.</p>
<p> "All right then," I continued, "but 'they' certainly blundered totally, didn't they?"</p>
<p>"In what sense?"</p>
<p>“So, preachers and prophets said God would bring the world to an end, that something better would come afterward.”</p>
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<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“But it didn't happen like that; there was death and destruction, but not everything was lost, and then God vanished leaving us here in this limbo with nothing to look forward to except for empty capitalist dreams of the past because we can't find peace in our present.”</p>
<p>“Well, sure, when the Bible was written back then they may have thought so.”</p>
<p>“Maybe so, but the point is it didn't turn out as they had predicted.”</p>
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<p>“It could have been one of many possibilities, right? So just because it wasn’t true here, who says it wasn’t true in another reality?” </p>
<p>“No, I don't see that. If it was taught here, then it must be true here.”</p>
<p>“Things aren't so straightforward; everything isn't black-and-white. Also, people only see what they want to see. ” They paused for a moment. “Things are never what they seem.”</p>
<p>“I know our reality is filtered through our maps, that we delete, distort, and generalise based on our worldview, but my job is to manipulate that in others,” I said. </p>
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<p>“Yeah, but there’s more to it than that,” they replied.</p>
<p>“I know even on a quantum level things only appear in the forms they do because we observe them. And the way two people see and experience the world could be different as it’s all subjective.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, but it’s even more than that,” they persisted.</p>
<p>“All right, what do you mean?” I asked, already bracing for a wild theory.</p>
<p>“To some people, both in and outside of this reality, Armageddon happened. It happened and then again it didn’t.”</p>
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<p>“What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“It's tough for the human mind to comprehend simple things like time not just going in one direction,” they explained.</p>
<p>“I’ve heard of that theory.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but for mankind, it’s just a theory.”</p>
<p>I couldn't argue with their point. They always found a way of diverting me onto another topic without allowing me to drill down into their answers.</p>
<p>“Humankind," I said.</p>
<p>“What?” they asked, confused.</p>
<p>“We don’t say mankind anymore—not for at least 50 years. It was declared unlawful in 2025 due to it being seen as sexist and a remnant of the patriarchy.”</p>
<p>“How can words be illegal?”</p>
<p>“They can arrest you for having the thought itself, even if you don't speak it.”</p>
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<p>“How do they catch you thinking it?” They seemed baffled, and I was curious why this was news to them. For once, I had successfully diverted their train of thought and I couldn't help but grin.</p>
<p>“Trust me, they know how to. People have been arrested for pre-thinking far less than this, and they get sent to a virtual prison.” </p>
<p>“Oh, my goodness. But we just said it—does that count?"</p>
<p>“Firstly, you are no longer living, and I am a programmer so I have immunity from the law, free thoughts for creativity, as well as an already hacked system that ensures this house and my mind is off the grid - undetectable to anyone.”</p>
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<p>“Really? No one can see or hear here?”</p>
<p>“No one! Although they might be able to get in, it would take some effort to do so without me noticing. Just saying - your skull was already on my land as kind of a trophy, so I let you in.”</p>
<p>“But I.. .”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know, but you are not exactly human and maybe I should re-hack the system to detect anything metaphysical too, and terminate it before it comes back to life.”</p>
<p>They appeared startled and stayed quiet. I had silenced the Devil.</p>
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<p>--</p>
<p>Music in this episode - best played whilst reading - Tricky - Hell is Round the Corner</p>
<hr />
<p>This is a live book series writing/story art graphic novel cyberpunk, dystopian fantasy project. Written by Sam I Am Artwork by Wonder Ai directed by Sam I Am. Copyright is protected. It is a first rough draft work in progress so will change over time. This project is part of the <a href="http://sleeplessdystopian.com/" target="_blank">SleeplessDystopian.com</a> writing projects.</p>
<hr />
<p>Words by me</p>
<p>Images directed by me and created using Wonder Ai</p></div>