Friday, December 11, 2020

R e d C u r t a i n

Incident on Platform 6 ~ Mike Worral

The kingdoms of Metropolis London spin towards another daybreak; another spin around the earth’s axis, another chance to shine.
The breast of the earth upon which they ride is riddled with a diseased specie
- one that has managed to destroy just about all others
-one which having managed through greed and ignorance to bring itself to the precipice of extinction now stumbles on; its numbers greatly depleted
- one that hangs on that precipice
- one whose terminal urgency has rendered greed obsolete.
Ignorance however, remains, since ignorance knows no other way, and can never be accused of being obsolete since ‘obsolete’ is one of the many words that Ignorance has neglected to look up the definition of.
Ignorance will still wager on mortal combat.
Covent Garden – Saturday Matinee.
Clench-jawed, foot on the chest of his fallen opponent, Jimi retrieves his blade. The chest wound emits bubbling blood and the eyes of the downed man are clenched in a paralysis of pain. Jimi grabs a handful of vest and wipes the blade clean with the emp from the downed fighters rig.
Jimi notices there’s a new chip on the blade’s honed carbon steel edge.
The crowd murmurs and fidgets in pornographic awe, wrists tap wrists as bets are paid and debts are settled.
No middlemen here.
Seen from below; from between the clenched eyelids of a dying man; some manufactured victim of the violence of popular entertainment; seen from below, the evening sky roils red with London’s lust.
Air escapes from a punctured lung; the species continues with its toes on the precipice. Curtains.
Show’s over.
“Jimi” the pap-drones ask, “How do you feel?”
Jimi” they needle “do you think you will ever lose a fight?”
Jimi laughs, what else can he do?

Jimi’s Daddy said there were no such thing as feelings; only actions, so don’t talk about feelings Jimi – you’re a man; it’s in your hardware and it’s in your software.
Jimi’s Daddy thought he was some kinda Buddhist philosopher.
Jimmi’s Daddy told me everything and he never hid the facts from Jimi either.
Jimi’s Daddy would hammer at that drum kit to the rhythm of the carbon printer, he never softened the blows; never tried to smooth the twists and kinks that were forming in Jimi.
Sure I’ll give you an exclusive on Jimi, right after you drop the funds.
Cummon mate you can do better than that.

Okay, so Jimi’s system is a Mk.4 – Tu Tien Nhan’s last successful model right? – so that’s a good thing right?
Well not if you don’t read the small print… Jimi’s Daddy didn’t realise the system he was buying from that ‘reputable dealer’ in Vauxhall Market was missing the preload package – the one with all the rules of conduct in it.
Jimi’s Daddy had to make the rules up himself; in the heat of the crucible so to speak. From the pile of paperbacks that smelled like one of those old bookshops on Charing Cross Road, he’d read mouldy fiction to the boy.
“Jimi” you ask “What you gonna do now?”
I’ll tell you what Jimi’s gonna do now: Jimi’s gonna to go home and read a book, get ready for the next battle. But don’t tell him I told you that.


Jimi’s not the only Pharma fighter but he is the best. The other operators are getting reticent in putting forward opponents, they’ve lost a lot from their stables since Jimi’s been let loose on the circuit.
To accept the system into yourself you have to truly want it.
In return the system will reward you with tokens of the game, will keep you wanting, keep you believing that being Number 1 makes a difference to your lifestyle, to your happiness.
The kingdoms that constitute Metropolis London care deeply about your happiness and are willing to supply you with all manner of mediocre premium goods.

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