Though my limbs continue to sway, it is only the conglomeration of larvae and vermin scurrying beneath my flesh which keep this body in motion. Once a young and hope filled enthusiast, I threw myself into a world of optimistic activism. In this world every action, thought and deed was designed to satisfy an overwhelming concern and impulsive revolt which had permeated throughout my logic. I couldn’t understand existence but could see how a few simple changes, like a strategic twist of a rubix’s cube, would bring the whole thing together. So I fought the good fight in every respect. From the simplest of gestures to the most elaborate of affairs every move I ever made was a plea for change and an educated attempt to incite such occurrences.
For years my struggles went unimpeded. Each new season brought new success and the movement I’d become a part of grew stronger. Although at this point I see little reason in preaching of the various methods and means through which we’d achieved such successes, I will mention that the numerous enterprises involved had assimilated many of the techniques invented by our consumerist opponents. We had discovered a means of production and promotion equally as profitable yet completely void of all the manipulative and damaging aspects associated with commercial ventures. Absolutely no hazardous materials, inhumane labor conditions or corrosive advertising were ever implemented yet still our products flourished. As a result the project began to attract attention from a multitude of investor’s, producers, agents, Hollywood stars, writers and critics. A mainstream breakthrough was undoubtedly on our horizon. However time and again, the outside interests proved detrimental, forcing us to abandon seemingly endless avenues of opportunity to avoid the risk of turning into the very thing we despised.
All of this, of course, was to be expected and frustrated us little. We’d been fortunate enough to find smaller opportunities in abundance and were never truly tempted by manufactured success. Do not misunderstand this, for our mission depends on mass communication and every possibility was examined to the fullest. However at the first hint of corruption all negotiations ceased. It was through this process that we were able to discover many people in favorable positions who were not only willing to assist, but truly believed in the cause. So it stood that, around the winter of my fifth year in the organization, things were going according to both or plans and ambitions.
It was a late November evening that I decided to go for a stroll. I had completed a lucrative summer schedule and was nearly prepared for the upcoming winter event. This “event” through not necessarily crucial, was definitely a pinnacle accomplishment in the progression of my work. I was confident and pleased, knowing full well the potential advancements that this particular project might incite. It was by far the most intricate and intelligibly developed of all our attempts. I felt a plausibly invincible and had little fear of any complications. As I wandered the streets filled with decorative lights and shopping hordes, a sudden tingling inspiration struck me not unlike a mild euphoric shock. .All of the hairs on my neck stood up in attention as I stood on the walkway in unexplicable awe and excitement.
Now before I continue it is important to understand a little more about my personal beliefs. I am not a spiritual or religious person in any right. I do not believe in the supernatural, fate, unicorns, honest politicians, Santa Claus or pop music. In fact it has been a particular devotion to logic and reason which has propelled this mission to unfathomable heights. Yes, the things I have been striving for are not unlike those taught with such emptiness by people who claim to be godly (or in the service of deities by any other name). However those of us involved are motivated only by the world we live in, the quality of life and our children, not by any other worldly rewards or punishments.
So there I was a devout atheist, anti-spiritualist, ultimate-realist with little imagination for intangible apparitions, standing in the middle of a glistening windy metropolitan street. Struck by this inspiration, I looked up to the sky and impulsively posed a question unlike any I’d ever considered before. My thoughts ran as thus “If there is something out there watching over us, whatever you are, I wanted to say that this place is a real mess. I’ve done my best to fix things down here and well if you give me a voice I will use it to help.”
I didn’t have time to analyze the absurdity of my thoughts before the sky opened up strange above me. There, as if superimposed between the opaque clouds and glossy sky, appeared two giant red eyes. They were not those of a feline or serpent, but they were not human either. The eyes closed and faded instantly, almost as if I never saw them. Yet in that brief second the mocking glance had, like all eyes do everywhere, told me a story. The eyes were laughing and had said something like ‘boy have you got it wrong, this is not a world for those who’d help, this is the playground of evil. As long as you follow the subservient laws, you are destined to a life of suffering and torture.” I couldn’t hear, nor visualize the castrating cachinnation bellowed by the beast but believe me I felt it. Beyond embarrassment, beyond humiliation, beyond hope, it was like starring in the mirror only to realize that you don’t look anything like you did in any of your dreams or memories.
I tried to put the experience aside and thought very little of it at the time. Even to this day I believe the vision was nothing more than an idle thought which found it’s profanity in my excited exhaustion. Not even for a moment have I accepted the hallucination for anything more than that, yet something terrible has been growing inside me ever since that weird walk. At first it manifested quite slowly like some terribly acidic consumption easily mistakable as some physical ailment. However this repulsive hollowness thwarting my innards soon spread throughout my veins. The perpetually evolving sensation now inhibits my entire being.
A record snowstorm hit the city shortly after the aforementioned incident. This terrible storm hit hard annihilating our winter event. Not only did the snow shun our attendance and shut our doors, but an accident involving several of our transport trucks all but destroyed any hope quick recovery. The winter that followed was plagued by destitution and the mission failed to progress until late the next spring. By that time I was able to recoup to some extent, but had become restrictively ill after a long and poverty stricken winter.
To make matters worse another company moved in on our market, only they were not doing it right. Though they had plagiarized our public appearance and boasted our ideologies for promotional purposes, the competitors were still producing products in an unredeemable fashion. In essence they had staked a claim to all of our innovations but were in fact still selling cheap sweatshop plastics. Before long that company started exploiting the corporate and media relations we had been forced to reject. Within a matter of minutes they had risen to international acclaim using our titles and image whilst belittling all our ideals. Broken by fatigue and corrupted by a despairing stomach I began to lose initiative and shortly thereafter resigned from the revolt.
I’ve spent years now wandering and the world seems perpetually worse. All of the different old buildings are gone and the new ones appearing are organized. I can no longer stomach the sound of new music and even in starvation I can’t find anything of value to eat. Sometimes I muster enough energy to read, but here there is nothing that can rekindle my once passionate pursuits. No, despite all my efforts and foremost ideas, the wound inflicted upon me that November night was a fatal one. My life ended there and then. Still the maggots and rats push me about and around; feeding on meats and seasoned remorse, but do not let these movements fool you, I am merely a staggering carcass. These routines, my remains, all the ruins, are nothing except fitting, for this is truly the world of dead men.
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