ψon

The science fiction story that the world became
{Intro}

Not many had the hindsight to see one of the growing side effects of science fiction. Starting out as loose ideas, then plans, blueprints, spinoffs, until the fictional story began dictating reality to such a degree that the world became the story. There is an ocean of waves of information that most folks cannot conceive themselves swimming in. The capacity to be turned on by information does not seem to exist for most. The consequence, naturally, became a type of multi media blindness. The growing tsunami of technology was obvious to the infornographers. The ones who learned how to surf the macro quantum-like waves came to be known as Bardo Surfers.

$INC² stayed obsessed with their game of Risk®. Using the media like a mischievous child dominating the remote control. Oh it was so very clever to bombard the tv addicted nation with cars, war, death (sure to trigger the fight flight response in unsuspecting humans oh yeah when you really want something, start just mention the word 'nuclear'). Nice knowing ya neo-cortex, see you later alligator… and of course some comedy to laugh it all off. {The heart is a brain, the heart is a brain…’ - the words of a song heard in the background} $INC² had no clue that other games with infintely less damaging after-effects were on the playground and that these new games made theirs obsolete.

And like a psychopath, $INC² waged wars over archaic belief systems, out-moded transportation devices and passe drugs. Artificially propped up 0il had continued its monopoily over the alternative energy world quite effectively while religion was a red blanket waved at the public bull's eye and then at the flames of war {hypnotise, mesmerize, disguise, super size, pulverize, regurgitize, fertilize, galvanize, do not analyze} It was good for ratings and even worked for a while. In the end, oil maintained its dominance the way any good reptile would, with a gun to the head.

For a while there, the public animal fed on death coated with synthetic sugar smiles and snacked on candy coated lies. The obsolete were the last to know that it was their funeral, they'd been eating the same garbage that the masses had; downgrading their hardware on a daily basis had become an anti-artform. Their wake gave birth with life springing from the ruins - like wild flowers. And all of us who wrote about it were just stray dogs barking at a funeral. The caskets were filled with yellow withered documents containing the semblance of a plan, but upon further scrutiny: evasion on top of deceit. All the guns were loaded and no one pointing the guns could see.