Meanwhile …
(in a seedy, wind-swept, litter-strewn galaxy around the back of the Burger King …)
… you should read this.
Because this.
The Environment is breaking down as we willfully persist in burning more fossil fuel power than Argentina, The Netherlands (or even The UAE, for goodness sake) ‘mining’ an ‘investment’ in vapourware that we are, somehow, supposed to believe is of inherently more value than the ‘worthless’ ‘fiat’ currencies issued by governments on the basis that they are backed by the labour potential of their nation’s populace
Besieged on all sides by the powers of ignorance and bad faith. we’re in the midst of a global pandemic that has killed millions worldwide already and (albeit, it is hoped, soon at a reduced rate in some parts) will likely continue doing so for some time to come.
And what do we worry about?
Whether the 12 billion more plastic sachet wrapped individual servings of ketchup. to go with people’s home delivery junkfood, promised by Heinz, will be enough to go around.
People like to allude to Nero fiddling whilst Rome burned and make pointed mention of bread and circuses when discussing ‘The Decline of the West’, but we aren’t actually doing anything so culturally sophisticated — the West isn’t in decline … it’s just too busy fighting over its own entrails in the gutter to realise it’s long dead since dead already.
So … anyway … last night was spent chasing through dream realms entered only from a beach in another dimension reached by starting out from a function room in the back of a bar (with some very serious bouncers) in Toulouse, where you learned to appreciate the reliably simple reality of the blade stuck in your waistband and the bottle of whisky in your hand and your greatest strengths/protections were loyalty and conviction, as you could, without warning, find yourself suddenly alone, or surrounded by companions become fetches for inhuman spirits with agendas of their own … Loki the manager and Baron Samedi the master of ceremonies, in a place where Gaiman and Barker’s collaboration, told in Khan’s tunnels in Metro 2033 / Last Light, was subverted by the voodoun powers behind one of Fowler’s Bryant & May investigations into the pirates of the Caribbean … to rescue the abducted soul of a man whose brother’s back I vowed to have come literally Hell and high water, in a place where a simple corkscrew was both a talisman of power and an insubstantial metaphor — that’s right … we went ghost hunting armed only with kitchen knives and glass bottles (well, we couldn’t trust anything else not to turn on us).
Not even what I would call an uncomfortable dream, let alone a nightmare, but intense nevertheless — seriously next-level stuff, even by my standards, and it’s a shame I woke up when I did really (it was unsettling but compellingly arresting and I was keen to find out how it would end).
Then I awoke to learn that the real world is an even worse place — it’s full of real people.
I’ve indulged in some serious poetically licensed allegory here; none of the above characters or storytellers were in any way involved. But it paints an impressionistic picture that gives some sense of what it was like — mash up Gaiman (American Gods/Anansi Boys), Barker (Imajica/Abarat), Fowler, Bradbury’s dark fiction / horror stories, the darker elements of Pirates of the Caribbean, the Shadow Man videogame … and stage it in the places the tunnels you should avoid at all costs in Metro 2033 and Metro: Last Light lead to ¹ … and you’ll get a sense of it though.
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¹ Whatever you do, don’t answer the broken telephone … it’s for you.
