Consent is obtained legitimately when the following bullet points are met.

• The timeline of non-consent is the conception of birth, till the establishment of a true objective context of the entirety of the known tangible/intangible/other relevant realities that could potentially interact with that beings growth. With this objective requirement on the reality that they inhabit, the being has not technically given any consent from a legitimate standpoint within flawed depictions of reality, and are still lacking the ability to give consent due to the inherent immaturity that lacking knowledge entails.
• Consent is properly obtained if it is a result of the combined features of the entities conscious, and subconscious mind deciding and using a level of interaction that it defines proper, whether tangible, intangible, or otherwise. If this is up for question, a basic sense of consent is to be established from the entities preferred form, so that it can be used to establish further contexts of consent from its overall combined mass.
• Consent is only truly consent if the being willingly engaged with the entity in question, and was provided not only an out, but also the ability to give consent without forms of coercion, genetic fear mechanisms, or other mechanisms that stagnate/enhance its ability to make said consent with a clear, neutral head that is containing the objectivity that was implied in the above bullet point.
• An “enlightenment”, as stated above, is only legitimately objective if it is provided with a truly neutral overarching understanding of the basic forces that govern the tangible/intangible realities, and any other relevant realities that could potentially interact with that beings growth.
• If a being preforms a series of actions, such as a rite, with a fully objective state of conscious reality in their knowledge base, than the entities that are implied are of full rights to approach this being on the terms of the contract that established the rite in the first place, regardless of any mistakes that were made. If a rite was done improperly due to an instance in which an entity was not aware of the full objective context, even due to a mental deficiency, there is a scaling spectrum of action done to either render it inert, or to revive said entity to a point to establish whether they actually gave consent or not, in which the rite could forcefully continue, or be rendered inert regardless. Every effort should be made to prevent mental/physical pain/trauma/threatening behaviors, and other abusive mechanisms from being inflicted on the entity involved, in which action should only be taken neutrally to prevent this being from potentially further harming themselves, or creating an aggressive context in which the entities summoned would have to act to defend themselves. This should not extend into legality or pain, unless the being who preformed the rite improperly with a purposeful intent to trap/destroy/or otherwise purposefully impact the entities involved under the context of prey-predator ambush techniques. In the instance in which this happens, only a true contextual abuse contract can be established by the mentioned neutral council, in which the entire timeline will be evaluated for full psychological, physical, and spiritual context. Depending on the level of entity involved on either side, the timeline can include things not listed, depending on the implicit context they center on the surrounding con-sensually based environment.
• If a rite or a similar process is of a mechanism that is unable to be stopped in the above context, the entirety of the process needs to be restrained to a reality in which it cannot continually impact the surrounded consenting environment, until a solution to render it inert can be found. If it has negatively impacted those within the environment before it was restrained, reparations need to be immediately made with any entities influenced, hurt, or otherwise non-con-sensually changed through the process. This process needs to happen at the pace and consent of the victims involved, where the implicit rewards are weighed and given at the desire of the victims objectively stated needs.
• Within contract law, if there is an instance in which a being is caught forcefully placing individuals under a contract without the conception of consent as detailed above, there is an exception of past context, with an expectation that the entities involved potential actions will be aimed towards the establishment of the seed of free will that would have grown from their original growth within an educational system that practices the above rites of objectivity. The educational system of objectivity needs to be at a consistent, and non-intrusive wavelength that is at the pace and comfort of the being receiving it. There is a choice in this finality, in which the contract can be continued, or be rendered inert with equivalent reparations made towards the victimized entities involved.
• Unless the entity that preformed the lack of consent within contract law abides by the newly endowed enlightenment, with a grace period of thirteen months, there will be a scaling spectrum of “reminders” that lead to a potential end contract of being bound to each being that it rendered connected to the original non-consensual contracts that it created in the first place, tying it as a being of its power level to the entities involved as a neutral “ally” who operate under the context of the contract/s that it attempted to create non-con-sensually. However, due to the implications of its power influencing the beings actions, a restriction of presence and action needs to be enforced in order to completely render any action desired by the being who was non-con-sensually placed under it to be unaffected by the entity entailed.
• Reminders can either be given by an established neutral consistency established by the council, or given by the non-consensual individual/s with the approval of the council.
• If any being abuses the above punishment that is meant to support abused beings that had their free will taken away through the above context of abusive contracts, in which they render the punishment a reward for themselves to cater to their own desires, or potential/past desires, except in instances in which both the abused being and the abusive being are simultaneously experiencing a reward on the control and comfort on the terms of the abused beings context, then that being is restricted completely and has its tangible/intangible desires inherently tied to a neutrally established council that is approved by the entities involved that utilizes the objective sense of rule detailed above that establishes a egalitarian context that supports all the abused beings first, with the abused entities giving statements of desired implication to establish an equal end context that treats each abused entity differently specifically off of each of the levels of abusiveness that is implied by the abused punishment mechanism.
• Multiverse rule, and the inherent infinite variety of concepts that it brings, are to be evaluated for consent, and measured accordingly for their aesthetic worth. This aesthetic worth is based off of the spectrum of hedonism to morals, with an objective middle ground to establish context. Only an established civilization of functioning entities or consciousnesses may add a potential addition through a neutral cultural mechanism inherent to our rule that implies peace and patience when dealing with new entities. If it is found that there is a definition for something comparable to these concepts that has not been detailed, immediate reparations and actions need to be made in order to ensure that they are added to the list through a process that celebrates and defines their addition to their own requirements.
• Entities/consciousness is a concept that is subjective, as with multiverse rule, there needs to be a carefully established level of perspective given through neutral collaboration to further define this definition by potential additions to the realities involved.
• Multiverse is the inclusion of infinity, with regards to every conceivable tangible/intangible/dimensional/conceptual reality included, with every new iteration acknowledged and detailed in the above definition to ensure a complete overarching context for multiverse to exist in, as a self perpetuating idea of eternal spiraling conceptualization of context and non-context.

Red Tide: Pre-Land Transfer
October 2017 – Present

Potential Issues:
Lung Throat Infection
Agricultural Contamination
Heightened Infectivity Risk
Large Scale Environmental Deaths

 

By Beck Duston

Darius stood at the top lane, the chattering of squirrels tapping through the slight breeze that fluttered over the peak of Summoners Rift, looking down upon a grand stadium of trees and mountain ranges. The air was slightly cool to the touch, caressing his skin as it passed him by on its way to bigger and better things.
He leaned against his axe, the blade sliding further into the pebble studded ground, gashing open the earth. A bead of sweat traveled down his scarred face, down passed his chiseled jaw line. For someone of his size, he was very quiet, patiently waiting beside his turret. The turret beside him hummed faintly with power, its gaunt, towering frame spiraling above him. In its hammer, a light played gently inside the crystal placed carefully there, watching and waiting to fire upon any unsuspecting enemies.

 

It’s quiet.

 

Darius squinted his eyes, and pushed away from the turret, moving a couple of meters into his lane. The bush to the left of his swayed in the gentle breeze, whispering its songs into the air.

 

A small fox, looking quickly left and right, scuttled across the grounds, one of the few living creatures that survives inside the rift. With the start of the match, all the animals will hide in burrows, avoid all contact with the champions that will scour the rift for kills. With the sight of the bolts of light erupting out of the sky, all life in the rift would vanish, only to return with the end of the game.

 

Darius took two more steps forward, hefting his enormous axe over his shoulder.

 

It had been many years since he had left the orphanage that him and his brother grew up in. He had suffered through intense poverty, abusive guardians. Draven, his younger brother, was his only family in these dark days, and he sacrificed everything he could to make sure he had a better childhood. Darius took all the pain and gave his brother the tools needed to move on in life. In the end though, it was not Draven that overtook Darius, but Darius, who overtook his own expectations. Upon entering the Noxian military, Darius was already scarred and worn into a veteran of pain. He was the alpha, the strongest among his peers, ready to prove himself in battle. Draven took a different path, one that lead to self-centered ego and pride. Contrary to his brother’s show-boating and meaningless killing, Darius looked at himself as imperfect, and the rest of the world as rotting down from the corruption of the evil. Every swing of his axe meant another corrupt influence to exit the mortal plain. Every kill meant a step closer to eradicating the anger he felt towards the people he saw as unfit for living. Ever since he was child, he marveled at how selfish the world can be. He saw children being beaten in their own bedrooms, dogs shot in the streets, the rich profiting off the desperate living on the streets with nothing to give and nothing to lose. This filled him with anger that darkened the very air he breathed, hardening him until he felt nothing, not even pity for those he saw innocent in the conflict.

 

“They are weaklings who would give their own skin to the powerful if they so could.”, Darius would say, the people that he used to live among now just another imperfection in the world he wanted to cut wide open.

 

Anger changes people. What used to be a sacrificing brother, became a man who saw nothing but darkness in a world with so much light.

 

Darius paused and flared his nostrils again, pausing just inside the range of his turret.

 

 

 

 

He sensed an ambush.

 

 

Normally, he was fearless when it came to entering the bushes in his top lane first, ready to fight to the death at a second’s notice, but one opponent would always make him pause before leaving the fountain.

One opponent that knew him before all this, when he was just a small boy, trying to protect his brother from a cruel world.

 

It all started with a dream.

 

 

It was dark, dust gently wafting down from the ceiling of the barn Darius and Draven were resting in. Draven, his face puckered in the thorough of some far-off world, was sprawled on a hay bale. Darius, was half awake, his eyes glazed over as they took in the slight view of stars through a hole in the roof.

 

The stars twinkled gently for a little, and he dozed quietly in the moonlight, falling deeper and deeper into his own mind.

 

Deeper still, he fell, fall beyond what he normally dreamed. Darius always was a good sleeper, one who preferred to dwell in a world free of fear and unhappiness, far away from the muck spattered life he had.

 

With soft feet and a surprisingly clear mind, Darius stepped only an unseen ground, surrounded by inky blackness.

 

Darius found himself feeling afraid, his dream suddenly not feeling like a dream anymore. He felt in danger, somewhere other than in the barn with his brother. The world around him seemed to shake and stretch towards him, even though he couldn’t differentiate between what was and wasn’t there. He could just feel it, a presence of matter floating around him, wanting him. Darius tried to move, but found that he couldn’t, as if he was chained up into the abyss itself. He struggled, his shouts unheard in the darkness of his own mind.

 

“DariussssssSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS”

 

Suddenly, a voice whispered through the void, increasing exponentially until it was screaming into his ears. Fear ripped through his mind, held back for so long so that he could protect his family. He withered in his invisible binds, straining what he could strain.

 

A snap drew his attention, the ground, at least what he thought was ground, cracking into an immeasurable amount of infinitely spiraling chinks that spilled a light that wasn’t light into the world around him. Suddenly, Darius could feel darkness flood into his arms and legs, not even able to feel anything below his neck.

 

A voice whispered in front of his face.

 

“Look into my eyes.”

 

 

 

To his own horror, Darius did.

 

“Minions have spawned!”, echoed the announcer from above, shocking Darius back from his own twisted memories.

 

Back to reality, Darius confronted the bushes in front of him, and realized that his hesitation was cowardly, one of the very things that he killed so many for. With a grunt, he strode into the bush, axe at the ready to attack anything in sight.

 

Nothing.

 

Darius looked left and right, surprised to say the least. He had good instincts, instincts that had served him well throughout his military career. It was a rare day when they lead him astray.

 

Shrugging, he turned around to head back to his turret.

 

ZzzzzzzZSHSHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAA

 

Spinning around, Darius squinted his eyes at the spiraling lines of light erupting from the sky and crashing into the sight ward onto the ground. Understanding what it meant, a small grin curved from his war-scarred face.

 

It was time to fight.

 

The ground thundering with the sound of feet, three champions materialized in front of the sight ward, Lee Sin pouncing in first ahead of Nami and Vayne, punching Darius in the stomach. Grunting, Darius smacked Lee Sin with the side of his axe and started to sprint back to his turret. Recovering quickly, Lee sin threw out a wave of blue energy, the bolt shocking Darius as he tried to escape. Vayne shot an arrow off quickly, the bolt shattering off inside Darius’s armor. Nami flashed and threw a bubble of water out, which bashed into Darius, knocking him airborne. Darius felt his life blood ebbing out of his wounds as he hit the ground, another arrow piercing his shoulder. Lee sin kicked him in the back, using his palms to disable his back muscles.

 

Less than 100 life, Darius got up, the three champions pausing before the final blow.

 

“Exploit every weakness.”, Darius grinned, before flashing and pulling all the players into his tower.

 

With an explosion of sound, the turret came to life, throwing an energy bolt directly into Nami, smacking her into the wall. Darius raised his hand quickly and healed himself, before battering Lee Sin over the head with his axe. Now confronted by a half health Darius under tower, he tried to run, splattering blood onto the ground below him. Another bolt of energy flew over Lee Sins head, smashing into Nami as she got up, killing her.

 

“First blood!”, the announcer shouted into the arena, bringing a deathly energy to Darius. His axe seemed to sing in the dance of battle.

 

With another pause finished, the tower casted a bolt at Lee sin, blasting him to the ground and killing him.
“Double kill”, the announcer exclaimed, its voiced drowned out by the stamping of Vayne as she sprinted away.

 

“NOT SO FAST.”, Darius bellowed, throwing his axe out and catching he by the coattails, dragging her in.

 

With a laugh, he slices her with his axe, and bashes her in the leg, knocking her down right at the edge of his towers firing distance.

 

The sound of the turret blasting the ground apart echoes down mid lane, whispering between the flickering torches.

 

 

……

 

 

A voice lingers in his head.

 

A voice of terror, a voice of nightmares.

 

A voice that has stayed with him for years.

 

 

“Look into my eyes.”, and Darius found himself unable to say no.

 

 

The being before him had no eyes.

 

That’s all he could really understand, his feeble human mind uncomprehending of the vast monstrosity that stood before him, spearing into the far distance of the void that surrounded him. It looked into him, past his eyes and into his hopes, desires.

 

His fears.

 

To some degree, he could understand what he was looking at. Deep inside his mind, hidden behind thousands of years of primal instinct, was a fear that has been with us since the inception of mankind.

A creature beyond age, a creature of fear itself.

 

It spoke again, in its whispering, screaming way.

 

“You…you are different.”

 

“You are strong, holding your fear back behind your will and inner strength.”

 

“You think you are strong, without cowardice.”

 

It chuckled.

 

“But you are naïve. Everything fears something. What do you fear?”

 

Images of his brother flitted across his mind unwillingly, as if they were called there.

 

“Ah, family. Loss. A fear of losing everything.”

 

“But alas, it’s not enough, you still hide a deeper fear. One that is strong enough to interest someone like me…”

 

“…Perhaps I should entice it out….”

 

With a pause, its eyes, or where its eyes should be, spread open, farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther

 

 

 

ZzzzzzzZSHSHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAA

 

 

Darius looked over to the bush beside him, pulling the blade of his axe out of Vaynes back. A darkness seeped out of the bush, spilling out onto ground.

Darius shivered and backed up slightly.

 

SsssssHSHHHHHHH

 

With a hissing slice, a three-bladed claw flew towards him, casting darkness from its wake. Along its blackness, a shadow flew, its twin blades cutting through the air as it approached him.

 

Darius dodged the claw and sliced down with his blade.

 

CLANG echoed as Nocturne blocked his slash with his own blades, pushing the axe back. With a hiss, tendrils of void seeped out from Nocturne and latched themselves to Darius, causing him to back off.

ARGHAAH he yelled, falling back towards his tower.

 

Memories fluttered before his face.

 

Nocturne sliding towards him, blades at the ready, its eyes full of nothing, fear coming in its wake.

 

He suddenly was a boy again, waking up as he fell into the eyes of the monster that stoo-

 

 

“DARIUS WHAT IS THAT”

 

 

With a scream, Draven fell off the hay bale, scrambling to his feet. Darius couldn’t move or see, paralyzed completely. He could still hear however, as Draven sobbed in fear, and as a faint hissing caressed his ears.

 

“Urrrrghh Dravennnnn?”, he breathed, unable to move anything else.

 

“DARIUS WHAT IS THAT. WHAT IS THAT COMING OUT OF YOUR HEAD?”

 

Trying again, Darius opened his eyes successfully, unsure of what to expect.

 

A shadow was seeping out of his head, long and black, coiling into a thick cloud that hovered above his head. Just inside the cloud he could see two long blades, resting just inside the transparent blackness.

 

“DARIUS CAN YOU MOVE.”
Draven was in shock unable to stop himself from shuddering and crying, intense fear wracking through his body.

 

Darius felt himself being drawn away from the barn, back into the darkness that he had escaped. But this was different. A dream perhaps this time.

 

A vision beholds him. A vision that lasted exactly 5 minutes. Draven sobbed in the corner as his brother twitched on the table, shuddering violently. Sometimes he would cry out, as if seeing someone or talking to someone in another place, another time.

 

Draven’s crying was interrupted by a shattering sound, the sound of a thousand mirrors smashing to the ground.

 

He looked above the hay bale, tears streaking his face, his hands white from clenching the wood with fear.

 

A dark shape stretched above Darius, its tendrils draping down where its feet should be. Two brutal blades sliced through the air as it looked around its surroundings.

 

It turned away from Darius, who lay slumbering on the ground. With a silent motion, it started to float towards the slightly ajar barn door. As Draven let out a tight breath, it paused, as if forgetting something.

 

Then, it turned, and said one last thing.

 

“Thank you, father.”

 

With that, the air turned black, and an insane cackling rumbled through the air. Draven held himself in a ball, the ground becoming damp as his sweat soaked him. Suddenly, he was blasted back by a gout of air, the cackling growing fainter and fainter by each second that passed.

 

The air cleared.

 

 

 

 

Somewhere, far off, Draven thought he heard screaming. But, as he strained harder and harder, he couldn’t hear anything more.

 

 

Remembering himself, he ran over to Darius, who was rubbing his eyes, getting slowly up from the ground.

 

“WHAT DID YOU SEE WHAT DID YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENED???”

 

Darius looked at him with dark ringed eyes, slightly surprised, as if he hadn’t thought that he wouldn’t be seeing his brother again.

 

“I saw darkness….”, Darius murmured, before collapsing back onto the ground.

 

 

 

 

…….

 

 

 

Darius ran.

 

He ignored the shouts of his team mates as they came top to assist him, sprinting hard and fast down his lane.

 

Fear ruled his every step, exhaustion and logic ignored.

 

Cowardice.

 

The values that he held to himself over all these years, gone in an instant.

 

Everything was darkness.

 

All the neighborhood kids asked him what he saw in that dream, the one where a creature erupted from the space above his head. Darius would say nothing, and instead shrug his shoulders. No one except children would believe him anyways.

 

His brother used to constantly ask, before he too grew tired off the silence that followed.

 

 

He would never tell anyone what he saw that day, because he didn’t want anyone else to have to live with the fear that he has.

 

He knows one thing, one thing that he reminds himself constantly to drive himself on. One thing that his vision made abundantly clear.

 

The end is coming.

 

 

 

 

Bio – I am a current MPA student at Florida State University studying Environmental Planning to prepare me for a career in Urban and Regional Planning with a focus on compensating for environmental issues, and protection of our natural resources.

I am the recipient of several certifications obtained from FSU, including Emergency Management, Public Administration, and Drone Piloting. I obtained these certificates during my undergraduate career, in which I earned a B.S. in International Affairs at Florida State. I have a deep-rooted passion in this area and intend to use my experiences and education to make a difference.

Outside of school, I have sought to give back to the youth of my community by being an avid volunteer in Exceptional Student Education, and private tutoring.

On a personal note, I enjoy DJ work, outside activities such as hiking/archery, and playing the trumpet recreationally.
 

“I am attempting to further my own career and expand in my passions, in addition to securing a financially stable future. I want to progress humanity. I want to help those in need. I want to travel across this entire planet and see everything there is to see. I want to experience life.”

-Beck Duston, 2017

The concept of parenthood is one that is universal, and consistent throughout the trend of human evolution, in addition to many of the different iterations of organism that exist on this planet. Parenthood additionally remains one of the most influential concepts that exists as simultaneously a control mechanism, and a teaching tool for many different species. The takeaway here is that parenthood is necessary, and has played a part in the eternal parent-child dynamic to shape the world that we live in today. That is, not to say that this dynamic is without flaw, as relations between children and parents have varied greatly over the years, catalyzing in instances of systematic violence inflicted between both parties in an almost ritualistic fashion, coinciding in both method and emotional stimulus. This creation of a spectrum of experience has cut a firm swath through the chaotic imagination that is manifested by children, and defined parenthood for a large portion of human history. The fact that children are now taken much more seriously, have higher perceived human rights, and are defended more stanchly from unprovoked, unnecessary violence is a direct evolution from this trend. However, many still defend the usage of fight/flight training to discipline their children, and the resulting context of ideologies cements itself as the forefront of a moral battle to this day. This war, fought on both sides by children and parents, aims at preserving specific ideological traits that would keep many ancient religious moral standings relevant in the waking world, regardless of which side won.

When observing pieces of evidence that support this line of thought, one could state that the creation of culture that takes stances on either ideological value is relevant in providing a logical context to discuss this claim. In the line of doing so, I could easily list any number of children’s cartoons that steered its audience into combative ideas of either ideology.

As an example, The cartoon named Kids Next Door was an exploratory concept in which children from within different neighborhoods are united against a legion of evil adults. Centered on a rag tag crew of local children, wacky misadventures and satire that extends into modern day adult values, and how children’s imaginative impulses are often suppressed. Other pieces of contemporary art like Total Drama Island could hold connotations with parodying the often ridiculous nature of adult television, while providing said satire in a digestible format for its younger audience. This satire on adult human culture can very well be used as a mechanism by its fans to adapt within subjugation. As many fans of cartoons are aware, one major factor in long term popularity is the satire built within that caters to a higher level of intelligence/age.

This side is mostly categorized by a clear and present dislike for any subjugation that has occurred within the realm of society, and little to no respect for any sort of authority that represents more than just their interests.

On the other side of this ideological wall lies a focus on accepting the mistakes of the past, attempts to lessen any potential future impacts, and refining the artistic integrity and relevance associated for historical acknowledgement. However, this means that they agree to an extent with the existence of said action in our history, and end up usually siding with authority after having this realization.

Both have been at war for a millennium. The student and the teacher. The parent and child. Authority and the individual.

If you watch closely enough, you can see the remnants of these ancient orders rallying each other through various means to this day, using social media, entertainment media, and political movements to shape attitudes, fighting tooth and nail on a battle field composed of social behavior, body language, and commands.

Gazing into the past leads to certain other realizations of the interactions between various cultures, in which this battle perhaps might be more of a simulated war for the sake of social, technological, or ideological progression. If both sides were consenting on the terms, I am sure that this could very well be one of the most advanced, impactful adaptations humans have evolved. Transforming the natural invention of new birth, and matured adult, into advanced positions within each holding multitudes of social roles, among other things.

But is this not an extension of nature, us the flowers within this genetic garden?

What is truly a human original?

 

 

 

P.S.

Oh, as a last thing,

Happy Mothers Day Heidi.

Happy Fathers Day Seth.

 

 

Color dances at the edge of Jasmine’s clear coated goggles, the luminescent buttons lining its strap gleaming in the streams of color emanating from the HoloGRAPHs steaming above her. She lands on the stain laden tiled floors that stretch across the first level of hospice, holding the butt of her 204-1-Ouster. The night was deep and stretched void in an endless ceiling above her. Tonight was supposed to cover her, keep her hidden against the all-consuming tide.

She ran, wind whistling through her hair as she dashed across floor of hospice to a docking ramp, bordered with clear plastic and stretching over into the vast expanse of the LOADingLEVEL, the gigantic elevator that stretched partway into the enormous cylindrical chamber. Looking over this drop, she sighed softly, the crisp air yielding a cloud of frozen exhalation.

“It’s too late in the Unit to obtain credits.”, her AI blurbed quietly in her ear, emitting several quieter whirring sounds.

Jasmine stood up straight, facing away from the relentless drop before her. Her hair, stark in its color versus the gray, featureless surroundings, glowed blackly in the light. Her thick burlap coat, pockets outstretched and holding her hands, tumbled down to her holster, held in place by a thick fauxLEATHER belt. Her shirt, grey and worn, showcased English lettering in the form of RESCUE KID, proclaimed in a fashion along her chest. Her roughly used jeans stretched down to work boots, battered and showing years of continual maintenance and hardcore self-perpetuated usage.

A thump within the hospice center grabbed her attention.

Jasmine stepped forward, grabbing her pistol. Flipping a switch, the 204-1-Ouster jumps to life, scanning her surroundings with calculating swipes. The air freezes around her, paving every movement of her feet with the crunch of frozen humidity.

A figure strikes someone ahead of her, partially masked behind a corner.

“You worthless DiGit. Get out of my way.”

The sound of bone against flesh snaps through her ears again, causing her to wince.

With a leap of motion, Jasmine dived past the corner, deep into the dark of the corridor. Her hand slipped on a pool of reddish blue, seeping into the cracks of the tiled floor.

Two men struggle above her, taking little notice of her entrance. One is bandaged heavily, his head covered with white cloth that extends around his outstretched mouth, skewered into a cruel grin. He grasps the other man with a black, gloved hand, clenched tightly on his arm.

The other man falters, arm twisting wildly as the bandaged fellow pushes and squeezes, dressed in a dark leather jacket, grey in over-line, tapering off in black, finger-less gloves. He clutches a woman clad in a t-shirt, void against the void that surrounds the scene. On her shirt, moving alongside the fight as a rippling portrait, is a group of four people draped over each other, highlighted by a red sun, which threw light over a figure standing in attention in a far-off hill. All the nudity is censored, whether in black lines along the upper halves of both the females facing the viewer, or the pixilated upper half of the women beside the figure in the toga.

Jasmine strikes, her pistol barking and launching several hot pieces of Auriums laced lead into the bandaged man’s head. He collapses beside her, the women he was fighting gasping for breath.

“Who are you?

Jasmine pauses, shifting slightly in response to the women’s question.

“A keeper of sorts.”, Jasmine purrs.

“He is not ready yet, and this one bullet will not keep him down long. Hopefully we can get him finalized soon, so there will be no more need for further bloodshed.”

The women coughs, and grimaces at her words. “Who is he? Why would he hire a hunter?”

Jasmine laughs softly, and shrugs.

“Who am I to speak for the Weaver?”

With a measured boost, Jasmine pulls the body over her shoulder, and starts walking hesitantly towards the LOADingLEVEL. The weight of the body lies unnoticed to her.

Twas not the weight of the body on her shoulders that stressed her, its sinewy arms draping down her back.

No.

The hesitance came from the ripples that would emerge from this moment.

 

Evidence of system failure and decreasing political and ideological bounds between the east and the west.

I feel a tension in the air. I feel as if lines have been etched in the sand, drawing the boundaries of war.

The moment something major happens, I fear for the very basis of structure within our planet.

Preparedness and empathy would do us well during these uncertain times.

 

Cursed, cold winds rustling my hair. A small rustle of motion in the backyard as I unlock my bike.

Behind me, a circling of leaves in the breeze showers the tree shadowed fence with dry, fragile disposed decoration.

The stirring of a spoon in a bubbling, blood red liquid. I mix a sampling of powder into the concoction as I sleepily yawn.

A pumpkin, placed by my hand, lies beside our twisted black mailbox, pummeled with the icy weather, and the occasional drunk driver.

I sit in a center of progress, the typing of hands on multitudes of keyboards surrounds my every motion, imbuing me with a feeling of purpose and hope.

Left alone, a darkness inside eating away, hollow yet so full of life that I can hardly bear it.

I am the darkness, yet it consumes all. Irony and the absence of it. What is life amidst true despair and suffering at the hands of truth?

Steampunk.

The word conjures images of piping, steam erupting from strange, Victorian technology. The aesthetic it represents permeates into the very depths of off-kilter cultural trends that seek to defy modern day stereotype. The best way to explain the appeal that steampunk has, is that it represents the potential level of sophistication that British people hoped to have achieved entirely through their own cultural progression. During the height of their power, there was a certain ego attached to the cultural products of the Victorian age. Steampunk, in a way, seeks to undermine that ego by focusing entirely on the off-kilter underground aesthetic that defined that age. The looks of the eccentric, combined to create an orgy of sensory pleasure. The aesthetics represented within this style are so opposite in implication, that the very combination creates something unlike anything the world has ever seen. This places Steampunk into the category of “Timeless Aesthetics” given its consistent appeal and pattern of re-occurrence.

The world around you fade to black. Suddenly, among the void that populates your existence, a stream of neon lights flies by you. It condenses itself into endless sky scrapers, clad in chrome and sporting cultures of neon advertising, the meaning of which is beyond you. It features shapes and strange contorted bodies, animated to squabble on the screen wildly. Strange anthropomorphic creatures strut on flats extending from the buildings, the levels far below alight with rushing vehicles of makes and models from worlds afar. You descend to the creatures on the dock below. They are of every specie and mutation imaginable, clad in various outfits featuring advanced technological enhancements, protective equipment, weaponry, and other devices that pass well beyond your mode of understanding.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is Cyberpunk.