kagablog

Chapter 1
The Golden Age

In a fluorescently pallid room, a naked Afronoid man lies on a metal examination table.
“That must be him,” Khah numbly thought. Or rather felt, as he could detect his self voiceless; somewhat nauseatingly alone without himself in tow.
The warehouse-size arena is windowless, that he could sense… computing the stimuli beyond the perceptual capacity of the incapacitated body he inspects from a bird’s eye-view - the third eye.
He must return to the body at once.
This he ponders whilst motioning his assemblage point towards the chest cavity of the man.
There would of course be the initial phases of merging which normally disorients most humanoid bodies, considering that Astral projection was still a new technology for the palate of a rather psychically conservative species.
There had being a motley collage of intrusive and obscuration experiments performed at individual levels by throngs of dissident entities, most of whom gained prominence after The Third World War as reverent sorcerers.
This was a stature espoused through various exploitation of the worship instinct as was fully developed in the human population of Earth.
But, the fully fledged faculty could only be accessed by a specifically designed body capable of handling excessive inflow of sensory-based and non-sensory stimuli.
By design, his society had deemed assisting nature a birth right, therefore biology as whole, ruling out all ‘unnecessary potentialities’ encoded in the sterile coding of the genetic compounds and focusing on those suitable for an ‘Original Man’.
The story as told by mystics of his age had alluded to a time, soon after The Nuclear Winter of 2055, during that epoch the search for obscuration of present human consciousness reached a pivot, whence the remaining population of humans had escaped underground to hide away from infections bred by radiation-charred landscapes.
The winter was a virulent consequence of a scuffle that broke between the animus hemispheric government systems, then battled out scientifically in the 21st century.
The consequences were dire for a population that wasn’t immune to various viral infections emitted by biological warfare and terrorism.
Earth was severed and rationed between two dominant ethnic derivatives of the human gene pool as deciphered through misconstructions of the Genome Project Library Data of 1997.
This was the first barbaric “bi-partisan consensus”, whence The Northern Hemisphere, being territory of The League of Caucasia (which later produced the Eurocoid population of the remaining portion of the Human Species) and the Southern Hemisphere controlled by the dark skinned genetic descendant of the then named Continent of Africa (later named Alkhebulan), become the sole powers that ruled upon Earth’s ‘New World Order System’.
A cauldron of socio-cultural and political tensions had been brewing between the Super-states for a number of decades, mainly over access to Earth’s scares resources and other territorial imperatives.
Nevertheless, even after intense negotiations had lapsed, as was customary for any sentient entity to indulge in the arts of debate; war began.
And in a period of merely 18 days, Earth’s atmosphere was bombarded by great deluges of poisonous gases, radioactive dust, and the eventual 270 day long night.
That was 2036, when a wound was torn in the sky and black blood blotted out the sun.
Those who escaped underground grew accustomed to their new environment; thanks to newer medical leaps in the science of cryogenics, cosmetic enhancement, and overall genetic engineering that eliminated the non-essential components of human adaptability to environment. Melanin replacement surgeries were the initial medical exercises taken by the Eurocoids.

***

These were just recollective exercises he did with his carrier, when returning after suspension and separation.
The integration process was inevitably as chaotic as the dis-integratory phase, but dream control - as mystics called it, was the true test for an ‘Original Human’.
Khah forced open his eyes.
A shard of white dust was strewn onto his dry pupils.
That’s the initial sensation he registered.
And the brain suddenly computed a query: Where am I?
That was a natural instinct inquiry to construct, but just before he could jerk his body over the table-side a voice roared through the arena.

“ITEM 19790825, hold your position!”
He felt his pulse thrust him nearly out of the chest cavity once more, yet he kept still. Heeding his breath to a plausible rate, he turned his inner eyes about the room.
A dangerous endeavor for untrained projectionists, when you imagine someone’s inner head turned towards the side and the mineral physical still facing forward.

“ITEM 197908…” the senility of the voice continued.
A door knob was heard turning and door swung on oiled hinges.
It slammed shut, non-threateningly though caution registering.
But, why the need for caution?
He suddenly pulverized his fear with an utterance he could not have delivered if he had time to think it over.
Pre-meditation is still a form of psychic castration of activity without ration, since it leaves a mind crouched in inner safe-cages of the person-cell.
“Where am I?” he bellowed, in a voice strained as though by a cold.
While clearing his throat to inquire again, with more vigor and foulness, the voice of the entity in the room answers.
“With your Self.”
“Self?”
“Yes. You.”
“How?” he forces open his eyes without turning the inner head, the metal table beginning to moisten under the adrenalin induced paranoia now reeking from his pores.
“How? Who are you ITEM 197908…”
“255399… who the hell am I then, beside the number you allocated my carrier?”
“Carrier?”
He pushes his upper body up and stealthily balances by reflex on the uninjured arm, muscular and scarred in several places.
“Yes. Carrier. Body.” He mutters in exasperated disbelief.
“What is going on? Where am I?” the voice’s ringing echo flooding his cranium.
“Which I, may we ask then are you referring to Self?” the entity finally queries after remaining silent during this barrage of questions.

A strange sight indeed.
The near translucent being wearing medical attire, a silvery fabric covered the entire body with bony hue.
Insulation technology robe comprised of fabric cells charged by human electrical discharge, indestructible so as to not be contaminated or otherwise contract whatever it was that could endanger the occupant’s mineral-physical well-being.
The eyes, he could see though.
Rancid hue of a deep blue beyond any imagination, with no pupil.
And these piercing eyes protruded sacked in an enclosure of glacial white skin, which he sensed to be the entire body’s covering epidermis tone.

“The SELF,” he hisses through clenched teeth, disbelieving the insanity of the response in relation to the correlative situation of there obviously being another being in front of him.
The entity slightly moves his hand over his face, and the fabric cell is removed partially to reveal a sullen, old, pale face.
The eyes, though bladed with telepathic insinuation, bear a grim shadow of a life beyond the means of the present.
Tired, of life if not living at all.
The being could be well over 80 Earth Years, but maintained a youthfully upright posture, direct inquisition and brutal inquiry written all over his demeanor as he fingers the air about the room in a method of one playing an invisible piano. Holographic projections appear in thin air, upon a stroke of a phalange; whence a detailed physiognomy of a human body is seen.
While he proceeds with his orchestra, without looking at Khah,
“So, Self, hey?” a satanic jest tingling his tone,
“What is Self? What do you think you are now to be where you are?”
Khah hesitates for a few seconds which disguised an eternity, yet finally utters,
“I am… here”
“Oh, I… isn’t it?” the man inquires while stealing a glance inquisitively.
“Yes.”
“Then, did you initially want to know whom is meant to say: Who is Self?
“Yes.”
“Would I then be mistaken in assuming that Self is ultimately dependent on ‘Perception’ as comparative analysis in a poll of variable ‘Perceptions of the Self through You’?”
“I am not certain.” Khah felt deviously perplexed by the man’s insinuations.
He fumbles with his inner mind to conjure up some control of the situation.
He feels his mental faculties under strain from a force he could not divulge, but felt.
The stench of heavy clogging in his soul, sneered him cold, like he was in dream where an unknown creature’s shadow was suffocating him.
“I, again. Who is I then?” the man continues,
“You of course, whom I asked Who Self is?”

***

The nano-technological advances that humans have achieved since their desolation decades have since proven quite efficient for all human necessity. Internal cell-based robotic agents that can replicate independently while functioning within a singular program; small doctors and creationists.
Cancers have been healed; even in the aftermath of depopulation caused by the scourge of HI -Virus, the planet could now have been disease-free.
If only…
“Was it the Greeks who named that perceptive entity – THE EGO?” the man miserly interrupts his train of thought as though he knew precisely what Khah was cogitating.
“You mean I. As in the I in I am.”
“Yes. But ultimately you would prefer being evasive of the true reason why You are asking the question again. Is it because there is something more you seek to find out?”
“Such as…?”
“Such as, Who is this being asking you question after question in a pale room without windows. A somewhat familiar phenomenon of awareness that bears rudiments of alteration as would ensue with the ingestion of a hallucinogenic?”
“Are you suggesting this is a chemically induces mental probe or interrogation?”
“Would that session be qualified to bear the title: I investigated?”
“Look, I need to get out of here. I don’t know where I am that is certain. Maybe that is how you can torment me for my unknowing. But please… who are you? What am I doing here?”
Khah was beginning the sequential reconstruction of disarming an enemy through forlorn inquiry.
These are basic whines that project desperation, but which often get laughed at by the presumed recipient targets.
“ITEM1979082553099, you are at The Golden Gate.” The loudspeaker blurted again.
Khah watched with iron bleeding eyes the man as he fumbled with his gadgets hovering in thin air. An ember marking began to pulse in the thorax region of the human replica glazed on a film of a misty white surface.
“You are a member of the so-called Clones. Afronoid of origin, yes. But a Clone. I am Ethiw. Your captor.”
“But. But, I am …”
“I, again. You think you are an Original Human? How foolish indeed of you. Quite expected still, but do believe me, you are not.”
“I am a warrior, descended from an African gene pool… I demand some respect.”
“What sudden vigor. Instinctual I suppose, but it would serve you best to listen and be calm. I need to conduct some more tests on you…”
Khah found a hold of strength to leap from the table onto his feet.
And as he does, knees folded into a pulp and he wobbled onto the floor.
“No boy, you were one of the first Spiritual Machines that we issued in the early 21st century, Poetic Programming for a cyborg’s brain. Your body is organic, yes. But you are not human at all. If by definition the brain’s presence qualifies one to be called human.” He hears the man, while adjusting the pulse to move and expand across the chest cavity space on the monitor, speaking in a monotone whine that brought his eyes to slip.
“What’s this? Am I paralyzed? What’s happening?”Khah mutters in grave anxiety, all reason fading from his mind in a sudden sweep of some sensation in his body.
“You are entering The Golden Age now, my boy.”
It was then that Khah collapsed in fetal position.

***

When humanity awoke from its wintry slumber, an undisclosed number of its surviving 100 000 odd ‘Original Humans’ had undergone extreme bio-physical changes and chemically induced mutations.
Vast portion of the human Gene pool had already being contaminated by various hazardous chemical agents ingested through food stuffs, polluted air and water systems that characterized the shift towards the Capitalist New World Order.
Terminator technologies saw land go to waste under butcher institutions – human organs had begun to be harvested for the perfect breeds.
But, ultimately the cult of over-sexualized social dynamics which bred inter-marriages played a much under-estimated role in the obliteration of physical differentiation attributes within great sections of genetic inclination and heredity of the human species.
Some ethnic groups were inadvertently becoming extinct.

The president order, under guises of convening all of human resources and knowledge towards venturing into a ‘Space Age’, augured a vast proliferation of nuclear material such as Uranium and Plutonium in regions with political and economic instabilities.
Many nationalities dissolved from the planetary map as individual states simply through civil wars, disease epidemics, poverty, and a plethora of factors exasperated by the consequences of Global Warming.
Entire lakes dissolved in the 20th century under strain of wanton industrialism which promised the then developing nations towards sectors that required fossil fuel based technologies to survive.
Steel was mined, landslides increased.
Tropical rain Forests vanished and skyscrapers hovered through the skies like mundane phalluses.
A newer, contrived chauvinism ensued through all spheres of human inventions and expression.
Architecture raped the land, consumerism piled junk-yards with imperishable refuse and diseases roamed the sea shores and air-traffic terminals.
Then, something went divergently wrong.
Rudiments of biological-warfare technologies became primary terrorist commodities.
Their trade boomed like pharmacies when a new test virus had been sent airborne over a demarcated area for experimental purposes.
Most of the tests were themselves untested, unrecorded and extra-legal to certain state agencies that enjoyed global anonymity.
Humanity’s trait of ignoring that which it saw as unmonitored experiments took place of military warfare.
Sections of poor populations were subjected to various covert exploratory studies.
More viruses spread at a maximum pace.
Children died.
Pests increased by numbers.
Life expectancy decreased by a factor of five for some continents, violence triggered by psychological experiments warranted even counter-intuitive personality complexes to the development of a species’ other faculties of mind.
These were the root days of artificial Intelligence, nano-Technology and cloning. Human adaptability to rapid change forced many over boundaries of psychological integrity.
Death by thought became rampant, and diviners mushroomed over the dead tree stumps of the Amazon.
A new age of psychological warfare began, and until now, the fight goes without abating, even in the blackest of night humanity has ever traversed.

***

These were the microbes of negative feedback towards what they were doing to his Original Mind.
His brain’s capacitance shield was leaking.
He vowed not to give in.
He would fight it from the exterior of the carrier, which was his first move that would allow observation of all about his incapacitated body.
The pallid room seemed dimmer after ejecting from the chest cavity.
He decided not to server the umbilical assemblage chord with the body, in as to keep it alive even under siege of foreign chemical agents which could cause fatal damage to volatile genetic combination which seemed to being reprogrammed by a newer yet intelligent binary code unknown to his ‘Original Human’ carrier.
A thought kept nagging him through his identity-formation fatigue in the Astral Plane hovered over his carrier:
“Why me?”
That, he could not answer while cooped up outside his carrier.
He had to reintegrate, to fight and pursue survival until the next unknown.
He was a warrior and only the strong know the pain of surrender.
Only the brave know the bitterness of failure.

The ritual had become too mechanical for him by now.
He had been a novice at the underground enclave of Lord Motk, a sorcerer by terms of the now mystified culture of underground dwellers.
But then, the winter was at its brazen; he was still a child and wind charred with a freeze that any molecule that constructed the chemical composition of the entire biosphere was dead.
Perhaps, un-evolving.
Lord Motk, having faced battle all his life after the Nuclear War, his blatant mockery of non-logic could often be mistaken for selfishness, not alacrity.
It is rumored that he’d fasted for 200 of the 270 days of night, and had achieved himself the mysterious noumetic talents and psychic powers he was endowed with.
After a stint as a rebel leader in the enclave of his initial habitation underground, he and an army of seven managed to pulverize their way through a mountain, discovering yet more safe havens which were still deemed non-safe by security reports from various habitations.
But, telepathic sensitivity, automotive suggestion, astral travel and other entirely mystical dexterities seemed to rise within him with every kilometer ascended into the unknown belly of a giant mountain somewhere below what was called Alkhebulan.

“Out, dear soul. Out.”
This is a mantra unto the resurrecting veil of mist tailing from the chest, mouth and perhaps all orifices on the human body.
Khah calls the body, a carrier.
His mind had always convinced him that all humans are asleep and the body is a mere digital projection of a mind in an eternal dream.
He was human then.
Or the ‘Original’ him.
He was not certain anymore. The dreaded self-reflective analysis was taking toll.
It was detrimental for one to self—analyze.
He had to think of a way out of here.
But with the body as well.
“Awake, SOUL.” He murmured.

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