The sky is the darkest right before dawn, right before twilight,
when crepuscular animals are out and about and predators begin to retreat into
their dens and hideouts. It is a time when the coldest air sits still and
crickets pause to change their guard. Even the spotted owl nested in the wooden
shed had lost its hoot and screech. It is a time when most people are
asleep, paralyzed in rapid eye movement, oscillating between unconscious states
and vivid dreams. Unable to escape, heart rate beating belatedly, my breath
became shallow. Forbidden fantasies played out like a broken movie where all
goes wrong and there are no happy endings. A presaging voice rang loud as the
screaming sound of a siren disrupted my disgraced nightmare. “Get up, get up,” I heard, “the medical
brown shirt brigades are coming to vaccinate the dissenting town.” It was still
dark and I could see the pitched velvet sky shine like Christmas lights through
the slit veil of my bedroom window that faced the steeple shrine.
“I do not consent, I do not consent, sir, get out, this is the
house of Jesus,” yelled the Minister of the St. Jude parish as he slammed the
steel door and passed the rusty lock ratchet. Like all other places of worship,
mosques and synagogues, Congress had passed a law prohibiting the exercise
thereof, suspending the right to peaceful assembly. Religious exemptions were a
thing of the past and the right of informed consent had been stripped after
enduring 20 months of sheltering in place. A dark shadow sprawled over the
porch on that early morning rising as my friend whispered and alerted me that
the drone police was a few feet above the roof in full throttle over the back
alleys of the gritty 7 square blocks.
The commotion and rotating strobe light-bars flashed the barren
landscape windows of closed mom-and-pop shops that once flanked proudly down
Main Street. I had a flashback to a bygone era where a bustling town of
thriving and entrepreneurial businesses bottlenecked traffic jams down 1st Ave.
I could see several fully armored patrol trucks loading sobbing children with
frostbite, cramped limbs forced to stand still, the sharp needles of
recombinant mRNA vaccines perforated their frail forearms. This protocol of
separating the young from the old had become the norm, particularly in homes
with only 1 bathroom. Social distancing guidelines forbade such close quarters
and restricted only 2 individuals per house. This third wave of COVID cases was
hammering the last nail into the coffin of the family nucleus and had
disfigured law-abiding communities in all the free world.
Our tight-knit community had been disbanded by the coercive
propaganda of the fake news narratives that offered up to 500 dollars for
citizens willing to snitch on anybody that not wore a mask. Neighbors and loved
ones had become suspicious of each other and were enforcing mandatory social
distance that kept us 6 feet apart. Cell phones had been updated with
intelligent tracking apps that monitored our temperature and transactions,
governmental agencies described it as disease surveillance and outbreak
management. Other apps embedded in our phones kept records of a social credit
point system that were configured to manage and report to the authorities how
obedient we had become. We could not leave our homes, sell anything, or go to
the grocery store without certificates of immunity. Air Travel was restricted
to only those with a key fob or RFID with the “COVI-PASS” which had been
designed to track your COVID-19 test history, immune-response, and other
relevant health information. A chain reaction had collapsed the farm and food
systems.
The last news we had gotten on short radio was about the third
world famine that had afflicted up to 3 billion people. We could only shop at
the giant box stores which sprayed disinfectant before letting shoppers in.
Only 10 customers were allowed at any given time as they proudly bragged about
being the only corporate survivors of the economic shutdown. Medical services
and public buildings had been off-limits for anybody who did not comply with
the scheduled mandatory inoculations, which had a slew of dangerous adjuvants,
preservatives, and mutagenic material from dog kidney cells as well as fetal
genetic material harvested on the examination room tables of the abortion
clinics. Amazingly these procedural death parlors had remained fully
operational during the lockdown.
In a stint of frustration and indignation, I had destroyed my
intelligent phone and was using a landline, I remember scrambling for an old
dial phone that my uncle had stored in the decrepit barn. The internet kill
switch had done away with all independent media, and information was now, trickled
and filtered, conveniently deployed as the only truth. We were left with only
big tech and media corporations in command of broadcasting, the airwaves were
restricted after all our ham radios had been confiscated, folks broadcasting
each other with alternative viewpoints had been arrested one by one. My YouTube
channel like tens of thousands of other accounts had been demonetized and
censured. My coverage of the Chinese virus had triggered language-sensitive AI
algorithms to flag me as dangerous and conspiratorial. I took no warning from
the social media giants that removed me from their platforms after one of my
videos had gone viral. The cognitive dissonance promoted by the rigged
alternative reality was spun by the omnipresent fact-checkers that banned and
shut down all independent thinkers. The thought police occupied all our virtual
spaces making sure we only spoke fabricated lies. Dumbed down after decades of
indoctrination, we had lost everything in this societal apocalypse that left us
scrambling for food crumbs and government handouts.
It seemed like minutes had become days as NIH response teams went
house to house knocking and requesting health certificates. This new flagrant
operation forced mandatory quantum dot technology gel inoculations with DNA
nanobots designed to fuse and reprogram our body. The end of humanity and the
rolling out of a post-human era unfolding before my eyes. At that moment the
drenched Bible that sat in ash and soot over the chimney shelf, accidentally
fell almost hitting my forehead, it landed on the carpet and opened
prophetically on page 275. I held up the moldy copy to my face as I forcefully
blew on the layered dusty page that uncovered Revelation 13: 16-18 which read
“Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and
slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy
or sell unless he has the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of
its name. This calls for wisdom: let the one who has understanding calculate
the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man, and his number is 666.”
The sunrise had decided to spend an eternity in obscurity, behind
the thick curtain of a solar eclipse, the rustling feathers of the back alley
rooster had mysteriously forgotten the early morning crow, it seemed so quiet
that I wondered if I was still dreaming, unaware of this moment, the stream of
consciousness uncloaked the knowing as if I were a messenger from the past.
This reminded me of the Bill authorized by the 116th Congress which on May 1st of 2020 approved the H.R. 6666 which
authorized the secretary of health and human services to award grants to
entities to conduct diagnostic testing for COVID-19, and related activities
such as contact tracing, through mobile health units and, at individual
residencies. You couldn't make this up.
The drone kept snooping at close proximity gyrating above our
house, equipped with infrared cameras and body temperature sensors, it could
detect a low-grade fever at 50 feet. I had acquired herd immunity and avoided
the vaccinations, the World Health Organization had imposed their antibody test
kits infected with mutated vials. Their tactical operational PSYOP had staged
the perfect storm stripping nations of their basic rights and reducing us to
unessential and sterile 2nd class citizens, deliberately marching to expire.
The puppet masters had won the information war and successfully hidden their
manufactured bio-attack in plain sight. They were requiring law enforcement to
pledge allegiance to the new world order.
For the ancients the domain of sleep and death associated the
underworld with all events that occurred at night, right before dawn, when the
morning star Venus rising announced the return to the world of the living.
Confused by this rite of passage, and stripped of my basic garments, a coherent
laser spotlight shone my attic skylight, the reflection scattered off the
crucifix pressing against my heart blinding my undisclosed corner in the dark,
the drone had set off a warning signal and given out my coordinates to the
vaccination squad that hurried loudly towards my front yard. In that tenebrific
moment, I had lost my footing wishing for divine intervention, out of fear I
reached for a heavy object, my sense of survival in hyperdrive, all of our
firearms had been seized, and I was not going to give in without a fight. If
only enough of us had stood up to the underworld monsters that had come to
drink our blood. Most people did not want to give up their comforts, hopelessly
and haplessly plugged into the tyrannical system, lost in the vanity windows of
department stores, strip malls and beauty salons, there, like a giant stood the
brave Shelly Luther, the salon owner who opened her business in blatant
defiance of the emergency orders, she stood against law enforcement and ripped
the summons for her arrest, she was jailed for exercising her right to feed her
family. The pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness lay at the center of our
God-given rights and the purpose of government was to secure these rights among
the people.
The raid intensified as the foul mouth officers shouted all kinds
of profanities, one agent blew out through the bull horn a nasty remark, “You
are not essential, you cult of cowards.” If they only knew that they too would
become obsolete, replaced with the latest robot enforcers that had been tested
on the East coast. I could not believe this was happening, minutes had now
become seconds as I could hear footsteps rake and creek up from the ground
level, the thick air slid slowly frame by frame.
A series of deep knocks startled the quiet dusk inside the attic
access, “Open the god-damn door,”
“we know you’re in there,” my
vocal cords froze and immolated my heart that begged to speak, the language of
tears, the idiom of sobs and quiet screams, like a blind, deaf and mute baby
that has been rejected by his mother and has no sense of where to turn.
Threatened by nocturnal creatures of the underworld my humanity about to be
stolen, I needed to put up a fight. I responded with a firm request for a
warrant, the fourth amendment had been suspended after the agitator activist
red guard Mao youth style Sunrise Movement, looted and burned down national
monuments, cities and towns; no subpoena, no court order, there was nothing an
individual could hold in his defense. The proclamation of the medical tyranny
had arrived to violate our divine rights. I was not an enslaved species and
would not acquiesce quietly into the technological Gulag. The door split open
with a deafening clang, 5 goons in hazmat suits dashed towards me, I threw the
heavy object that missed the putrid breath canine unit that barked and growled,
I could see the eyes of evil gleaming at me with snarling teeth snapping inches
before my nose. In the scuffle, I punched somebody in the face, wailing in fear
and demanding to speak with my lawyer, “Shut up, put your hands
behind your back” as I felt the heavy mass of synthetic fabric pinning me down
to the wooden floor.
As the 5 men restrained my limped body, I continued to scream and
plea for my freedom, “I have the right to informed consent” I said, “let me go,
I refuse this unlawful search and seizure, you do not have probable cause.”
“Silence” I heard as the coercive force of the medical agent instructed the
suited brigade to unbutton my shirt tearing my sleeve, he then proceeded to
deliver the bar-code tattoo. I was losing consciousness, my eyelids
drooped and covered my dilated pupils. The grip of latex gloves punctured my
right hand with a square micro-needle. The lab coat technician leaned over and
read a disclosing statement whispering it up close to my ear, “This will
dissolve into your skin and emit light nano-particles. In the name of all
recipients, welcome to the collective, you are now part of the post-human
species 2.0, log-on to see your profile” he laughed as he troubleshoot the
nano-gel-chip with a strange device that looked like a ray gun. I heard a
sequence of beeps and clicks before I fainted.
I remember floating over my body in the stuffy space near the ceiling,
I could see the team of hazmats chuckle among
themselves as they proceeded to leave the room. In a premeditated hellish
ritual, the canine unit leaked a puddle of urine over my unconscious body, the
medical technician threw the discarded plastic rapping over my naked chest,
attempting to cover my crucifix that continued to glare blindly as if ignited
by divine light. I looked down at my face as frozen tears languished down my
cheeks, my life unfolded lighting speed childhood memories intertwined with
kaleidoscopic visions. I could see a spirit before me so beautifully perfect,
with salient features its bright gowns freely flowed. It felt so warm and
delightful, light rays sparkled all around me, I felt safe and protected,
loved, and at peace. I could see meaning and purpose revealed to me from the
source, a caring thought of self-love engulfed me, we come here to evolve as
such. Strangely and without motion, I perceived absolute time, the fabric of
reality projecting out of space itself, merging with the many eyes of the
universe that glanced at a concave mirror at the end of a tunnel where I could
see myself standing staring back.
Then there was a flash, as when a blast-furnace swing open, a roar
of white that went red appeared in the rushing wind. I gasped for air but my
breath would not come, as I felt myself jolt boldly out of the shadows. I remember lying on the bleak floor
distressed and exhausted, still in the darkness of a heinous crime, the mob
justice recollection quickly fading. I felt abandoned and deserted, something
had blocked out the sun that morning. My wrist band activated a short vibration
announcing the arrival of the living dead, where robots with night vision ran
wild and amok. Perhaps I was still dreaming of a future dystopia in this
desolate blackout. A night where the
soul leaves our body, perishing and evaporating into the dark void of
nothingness, where we are all connected and we become one with the bodies of
light.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carlos Cuellar Brown is a media artist and essayist who has written on new media, social theory and metaphysics. His essays have been posted online by Opendemocracy, The Global Dispatches, The Pelican Web, Kosmos Journal, and STARDRIVE.
In 2013 his essay “Intermedial Being” was published by A Journal of Performance and Art, PAJ #106 MIT Press Journals. In 2015 Mr. Cuellar was nominated for the TWOTY awards out of the Netherlands for his essay Blueprint for Change. He has been a regular columnist for Second Sight Magazine and Fullinsight.
His book, In Search of Singularity: Reflections and Chronicles from the End of Time, published 29 January 2017, is a series of reflections on the current cultural evolution from competition to cooperation, and from patriarchy to reciprocity, between humanity and the human habitat.
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