Mold Reality Now!

Don't be stuck in the same old rut! Learn to Change your Surroundings, Bend the World to YOUR Will!

Contact the Center for Advanced Visual Language at 1(888) 55-MOLD-ME Now
It's not too late to change everything for the better. Introductory Classes start on the Second Wednesday of Every Month


The flyer was a little three inch by five inch slip of paper pasted over an Andre the Giant has a Posse poster. I ripped it off and stuck it in my wallet. It might be nice to get some formal training sometime. Probably costs an arm and a leg, but I might be able to subsidize it with a few well placed folds in a jewelry store, or maybe even circuit city.

You have to be careful in the bigger chain stores, though. Some of them have the new Spatial-Temporal Relocation Identification Cameras--SPRIC's. Those things are supposedly so sensitive they can even see cats do it, and they're smooth and quiet as hell. A newbie tries it in one of those places, and it's like he's got a thousand watt halo that flashes morse code: "Arrest Me"..."Arrest Me"..."Arrest Me".

Now, I'm no cat, but I can be pretty inconspicuous, and it's still risky. I just don't want to do jail time for that, because inside, the norms don't take any shit, and if they find out you're in for molding, man, you're fucked. Might as well start ordering lipstick and band-aids, because your life is going to suck.

Another stop in the The Nodeshell World Fiction Project

Leader, president, ruler.

The center of attention.

The lightning rod.

Being placed in a position of power does strange things to a person - suddenly everyone is trying to convince you to believe this or promote that - there will be arguments and attempts at persuasion of every kind. Often it is not the power itself that corrupts, but the people around you who want power that corrupt. "Leadership" positions like that change people, which can be a dangerous thing - it is how they lose touch with the daily reality of the people they are trying to help, no matter how good their original intentions.

Thus direct democracy.


Specials thanks to Mario Cuomo (or his speech-writer).
I could still hear the bomb falling as I saw the sun rise. I didn't want to go down with Babylon.

I pressed the button.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The city was golden. It was on the bleeding, screaming knife edge of technology and aesthetics. Faster and farther it stretched its hands across the land, never ceasing and perpetually uncaring of the so-called "boundaries" laid down by the inferior.

Imagine being in a submarine and flipping every single switch you can reach, never stopping to wonder if one of them would launch a torpedo.

Wars happened as wars do.

And once upon a midnight dreary while I wandered weak and weary through many a quaint and curious alley behind several forgotten stores, I stumbled across a radiant glow in the distant darkness, beckoning my inquisition with a droning hum and a hint of campfire warmth. I remember thinking that if I was going to die anyway, then what was it I had to lose?

Around a corner lay a small rectangular device with one button and an antenna pulsing away green morse code poetry to some unknown recipient. The air smelled like grass and felt like summer.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We will be victorious. Stay strong, citizens."

The words flooded the city through an uncountable number of installed speakers. It was accompanied by visuals played on all the Screens. On any given wall of most buildings. In every home.

Something bad was coming from the sky. Its descent was marked by an ominous and distant whistle.

I was heading to my house, and to this day I can't tell you what refuge I was hoping to find there. I just kept running.

It would be morning soon.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I tore through my house like a lunatic thief. Everything made its way to the floor as I frantically rifled through every cupboard, every drawer, and every compartment. Anywhere that might hold something useful.

It was there, in my bedroom, under all of my socks, that I put my hands on the device for the second time.

I paused. I think my heart stopped.

I looked out my bedroom window to see a golden lining on the mountains. The whistling grew louder.

I inhaled deeply and said a quick prayer for luck.

I pressed my thumb against the colorless, metal button.

Click.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I must have been knocked unconscious. I woke up on my back in an emerald field on a rolling hill.

A delicate female voice danced into my ears, "So you found the gift I left you."

I looked up to see a woman more beautiful than any I had ever seen.

"Wh...Where am I?"

"You're hundreds of light years away from the place you left behind. You wished for escape and it manifested for you in the form of a machine that sent you here while it stayed behind. Someday someone else will find it and they, too, may join us."

I sat up and before me there was a small group of people.

"Do you have a name for this place?"

"We call it Eden."

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.