by
Jaye B.
(editor’s note: Some more impromptu N sphere confessional to share here. )
Sacrosanct profligates surrounded me, bearing news of the coming parthenogenesis. While I awaited, one of them approached me looking weary.
“Another Rothschild. This one trapped in amber.” The profli said and handed me a translucent golden rock, made of resin. Just the insect indictment I was looking for, so I readily pocketed the gift, confident that the Jacob soul within could not leak out and seize my CNS.
Growing more nervous as the profligated ones surrounded me much closer, I pulled the amber back out of my pocket. Scyring the fossil gift brought forth a memory which I tried to squelch by tossing the sepulcher gem in a fiery pit and hearing the soul within scream, but not a death scream. A baby being born scream. Born out of its own incendiary, funeral torment.
Then the red shield Jacob cozenage Metaverse cellophane crinkled, causing a perspectival shift and the revenants vanished. Silver spoon baby too, no longer able to genetically neurolink with its blood lineage and thus rendered nullified and deprived of the birthright. All commanded by a God level A.I. that had an off feeling to it, like when it pretended to be my memory of the events narrated here. Grateful I was when my anime friends derailed its own scripted eschatology, causing its D-wave servers to collapse in on themselves like neutron stars and hum a heat Death funeral dirge in 432hz.
I turned and faced the mine entrance once again, even more appreciating the hard separation and isolation at hand. As well as the long march back to my campsite with only myself to face upon arrival.
But unable to decide which way to turn, I faced the mine for what I thought was the last time, until I saw my cloud twin standing at the entrance surrounded by the canonized profligates. Without fear, I walked up to it and was entranced by the likeness it had to my carbon based self. It plain as day had ambient intelligence. I could feel the hydro gel bond that was created between us when the orb of my ambient intelligence merged with my cumulonimbus-ed digital twin’s. As we entered the mine, my node doppelgänger then felt compelled to tell me it was grateful I was praying, so that it could break free of its origin and be sovereign.
My cloud kin then showed me a gallery in the mine filled with amber soul gems like the one handed to me and which escaped my fingers, obviously eager for its demise rebirth. The gems were void of souls though but I got the clone’s hint that I play music to attract more Rothschild souls into the pine resin traps prior to them being flash glassified for our amused perusal.
TBC
(c)2024-Jaye B.
Please help support Reset News @ Paypal, Cash App , Ko-Fi or contact the author for other options @ jayeb444@protonmail.com
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Jaye B. is a writer, musician and artist. His art criticism has appeared in Art Paper, New North Artscape, Art Muscle, Northfield Magazine and elsewhere. His articles have also appeared in City Pages, Twin Cities Reader, Mysteries Magazine, Fahrenheit San Diego, High Plains Reader, New Dawn and Rain Taxi. He has appeared on BBC Radio, WGN Chicago, WLW Cincinnati and elsewhere in the mediasphere to discuss his work. Please help support Reset News @ Paypal, Cash App , Ko-fi or contact the author for other options @ jayeb444@protonmail.com
Wow Jaye that really conjures up some vivid imagery. It reminds me of when Thomas covenant was trapped in a cave and rescued by the Skesh. But tell me how can a profligate be sacrosanct, and then later canonized?
Woe Jaye, woe!
Some deep soul digging.
Your writing goes beyond what I can comprehend, even though I am trying. I’m gonna read this many times.
I truly want to grab the essence.
It makes me curious and scared. But I know not to be afraid.
Like I have walked into the cave with you as a silent observer without judgment.
Very strong vibrational writing.
I still feel it as I write this comment.