After the fallout, the wrath of the devastation left nothing to sustain human life as it had always been known ~ and thus taken for granted ~ without the implantation of specific devices to enhance and maintain a hybrid form of human life, such has it was with Warby. He was a “cyborg”, and had a flat unit the size of a laptop implanted at surface of his back with eight connecting leads going downward and into his spine, controlling his central nervous system, and eight more that were going upward into the base of his neck, activating and enhancing his brain and behavior functions. The whole device was computer chipped for human survival, recharging itself much like a car alternator would charge the battery, although Warby’s system charged off the electrical field surrounding his heart.
Interplanetary space travel had brought with it travelers from other areas of the universe, and with that, also introduced the surgical wizardry of elevated life forms formerly referred to as “aliens” to the ashen remains of earth, selecting random bodies of those lost, to perform and transform them into “cyborg specimens”. Leaving some to remain on earth for continued research, while others were taken to other locations of the interplanetary base for further development into super hybrids. Warby was one of the specimens, and had been left on the apocalyptic earth . . .
It was just another day, no different than any before, when Warby went out on his usual routine of collecting any remnant that could be used or saved. This had become part of what his days consisted of after the fallout, and he had amassed quite the inventory of what would be useful odds ‘n ends, depending upon the situation at hand. It was on that day however, that he had come across something a bit different than usual, and it must have somehow landed there overnight, because he had already been through there the night before. A small shallow black box, about three inches square, with stamped words that he could not read because it was in a language not familiar to him, and it had two metal prongs protruding out from one side about an inch. He was curious at first, then fascinated by what would come of his find . . . being the tinkering jack-smith that he was.
Warby lived in an abandoned salvage yard, he had forged out makeshift tunnel ways throughout the debris to make his own honeycomb of passage ways within, and areas for the harvesting of food producing plant life, along with various projects we was working on. Upon examining the black box more closely, he recognized it had belonged to some sort of communications system, although foreign, and so wanted to put his thoughts to the test. Going to one of his project areas where he had assembled his own transmitter from a maze of mismatched parts ~ but was lacking the booster needed to reach out even farther than what he had been ~ he then gathered what he needed to incorporate and attach the black box into his transmitter. After a few failed attempts to get any signal, he gave up for the evening and would try again the next day.
Sometime through the night, Warby was suddenly awakened by the transmitter noise, and scurried over to have a listen . . . The foreign voice on the other end he could not understand, so after some thought he came up with an idea to see if in fact he could establish some sort of link to communicate with, using numbers. So he began with “eight, twelve, sixteen”, with pause then repeating twice more, after which he started hearing another voice appearing to be communicating with the first voice that he was first hearing, and then to his astonishment he heard the numbers being repeated back to him !! So in rhythm he repeated the sequence again, and after a few seconds the very same was being repeated back to him, whoever was at the other end had heard him and was transmitting back to confirm !! Although he did not know who was at the other end or where they were, Warby had made contact.
As dawn approached, Warby continued with various numbers, even various sounds, until he made the clicking tones . . . The other end was leading the transmission at this point with their own clicking sequence, to see if Warby would copy that and relay back. He did of course, and also started to take note on a pattern that had formed. The series of clicks and pauses imitated the syllables and pauses much like brief sentences, but the syllables had gotten shorter, down to just a click or two with longer pauses, and had gotten much louder as well. Warby surmised at this point that whatever or whomever he had been communicating with, had also moved closer to his transmission location, and he wondered ~ what did he just do (?)
Hearing the sounds of metal and salvage debris being rustled about overhead, as the surface beneath him rumbled, Warby headed out to the open yard area to see what was going on . . . It wasn’t like anything he had ever seen before, a hovering spacecraft of sorts, with a patchwork of a body made from parts of other spaceships, a couple sections even had “Apollo” stamped on them, there were others stamped with “NASA”, but the rest were either not stamped or were stamped with foreign words. There were powerful blower cones spaced around the so called starship, which had created the disturbance of the salvage debris, they appeared to stabilize and guide the looming flying machine. The interplanetary craft appeared to be from some other distant apocalyptic parallel and was by then just a few feet from touching down on the very grounds where Warby stood. Feeling a calm come over him and subdue him, Warby stood motionless as the craft finally landed on the same ground a short distance from where he stood.
Had the transmitted shared signals been some sort of beacon in the night (?) Had Warby unknowingly summoned an unknown presence (?) Perhaps to rescue him (?) Or to transport him to a mother ship for examination (?) Whatever the intentions were to be, he would soon know more about the space travelers on board . . .
The sky all around him had already taken on a rich red like hue, at one time this was thought of as the pretext for red dawn ~ the apocalyptic beginning of the end of days ~ but that time had already occurred, and the outcome, the fallout, had turned out much different than had ever been predicted or written about.
It was then that he noticed an opening, being raised upward, and a ramp descending downward . . .
#fallout #devastation #human #hybrid #cyborg #surgical #sustain #specimen #spacecraft #interplanetary #apocalyptic #aliens #endofdays #dailywrites #shortstories #fictionshorts #kentxsandersxwriter.com
Beyond the city limits a site had been established to hold those who had refused the nasal swab testing and vaccine treatment mandated by the new world order, known simply as the “X-Camp”, it was filled with tents of all shapes and sizes, along with makeshift shelters made from whatever materials could be gathered. Sealed off from the city and the world behind an eight feet high concrete barrier wall eight inches thick, their only view would come from the small eight inch square cutouts spaced at eight feet apart and about four feet high. The non-vaccinated ones tented inside the sprawling camp were known as the “X-Vacs”, they were considered to be rogue free-thinkers and non-productive to the future of society. The projected image of them however was not true, and in fact quite the opposite for they had developed their own system of community and goodwill among themselves. Bartering and trading for goods or services had been implemented since there was no monetary system to divide them socially or by status, they were all equals, recognizing only individual skills and contributions for the prosperity of the camp. As with all social groupings of society throughout history there has always been the outlaw band, the free-will fringe of critical thinkers and doers that would get out from the camp mostly at night to scavenge the darkened alley ways of the city for anything useful to bring back to the “X-Camp”. These were their soldiers, providing the camp with food, clothing, and materials for shelter, etc. So it was that both the city and the camp would and could co-exist within the new world order.
With the original nose swab testing at the onset of the outbreak ~ a planned operation for new world recruitment ~ is where the stem-cell micro-chip had been inserted deep into the nasal cavity, penetrating the frontal lobe at the base of the brain. It was done quickly and without hesitation, causing minor tearing of the eyes only momentarily. The chip then provided the foundation for the vaccine to be formatted, developing a schematic blueprint by which the vaccine when administered, would interact and mix within the chip via the bloodstream, then finally dispersing into the brain a predetermined set of behavioral patterns to include enhanced levels of brain activity, academic capacity, the elimination of free-will and critical thinking ~ to amass and secure loyalty to the new world order without question or doubt ~ and A.I. engagement cells to function within the new world order . . . Those who had refused the original nasal swab testing and vaccine followup, were then gathered up by the new world authority, and sent to the “X-Camp” to remain segregated from the mainstream population, they would not be suitable within the new world order, and were considered to be a disgrace to the evolution of mankind . . . “Mutts”, they were called, a loosely given street-slang tag in reference to being of the “X-Vacs”.
In the years to come, a book had been written and circulated, the origin however was unknown, although suspected to be from within the “X-Camp”. Entitled “Living With The New World Order”, the book documented the existence of the camp within the new world order, providing in detail how the camp came to be and why, with link information to other camps as well. The book also documented the inner workings of the new world order, and how to scavenge off of their excess. The writer of the book had launched a startling insight into the existence of both populations, further writings would be forthcoming, claiming to be a progressive study, and was perplexing to the new world authorities as to how one could know so much about both societies, and yet have enough conscious awareness to understand or possibly maneuver in them both . . .
Perhaps the writer was a mutt, whose brain capacity and academia had been under estimated . . .
Perhaps the writer was posing within the new world order so well as to not be detected . . .
An independent rogue writer who had isolated himself long ago from mainstream propaganda, the rhetoric of mechanical scripted voices, and the subliminal duping of society, slowly brainwashing and diluting their very state of being . . .
Breaking free, saving his own conscious reality before it could ever be doubted, challenged or questioned.
#outbreak #vaccine #stemcell #microchip #behavioral #rogue #mainstream #rhetoric #propaganda #scripted #subliminal #recruitment #mankind #conscious #awareness #newworldorder #dailywrites #shortstories #fictionshorts #kentxsandersxwriter.com
Thought for the Week There are those who do not believe in free will, of course. And they are free to believe that, if they wish (see what I did …Free Will
Between science, fate, and faith, is where the elusive secrets to life, death, and eternity hold the footnotes to understanding not only why we are here, and where we are going, but to understand how we got here.
Is it the trust in science, the acceptance of fate, or the sacred belief in faith that assures our assumed reality (?) our conscious awareness (?) our very state of being (?) . . . Perception of our assumed reality is open to interpretation, even logic can fade when reality is challenged by going beyond accepted academia to other other conscious states of being, where logic is relative to that which one has within to elevate themselves ~ individual conscious state of awareness ~ and is exclusive to each framework of individual capability.
Considered to be an illusionary fixation out of touch with reality and the so called real world, conscious awareness challenges trusted formulas, sacred beliefs, and accepted thinking. It rewards with an elevated state of mind, stay of peace within, and the euphoric sense of sanctity of that which may be currently happening can be shielded from the kind of effects that have no goodwill. In other words, to menu that which is of goodwill, that which can be changed, and the conscious authority to know that which cannot be changed or excluded from the menu.
Not everyone is capable of excluding that which does not improve their conscious awareness, and it is that, that will destroy them from within, tending to that which is not their own and does nothing to improve conscious awareness because then the mind is distracted, overloaded, consumed, and “self” is then lost. The individual importance of conscious awareness is great because it provides cleansing from a polluted, destructive environment, and provides the peace, and clarity of mind for individual adaptive recourse. Conscious awareness cannot be learned, it is from within, and is what makes its framework unique and adaptable for each individual that is capable.
While humans are generically studied, and marketed collectively as one body or as a cross-section of demographic profiles, it is those individuals that are elevated that cannot be fully understood because they are in changing states of adaptive conscious awareness. They can however conform somewhat to blend in to the mainstream, where they can maintain a balance and remain elusive to the effects of a decaying environment and political agenda.
Ultimately, the greatest battle lies within, not to be fought over territory, but at the crossroads of assumed reality and conscious awareness, for it will be there that the trust in science, the sacred belief in faith, and assumed reality will erupt with fury, contempt, and anguish when faith and fate collide in the greatest battle ever to be known . . .
#science #faith #fate #elusive #life #death #eternity #footnotes #reality #perception #interpretation #academia #cleansing #polluted #clarity #crossroads #fury #contempt #anguish #consciousawareness #musings #dailywrites #kentxsandersxwriter.com