Human Memory Art Logs: Nihilistic Nematodes of Nozintherazine
A large ball of nematodes rolls along on its way home from the bank.
They’re late on the rent, and their ballfriend is cheating on them with their ex.
Their roll is interrupted when they collectively detect incoming human memory art.
They hear… Asaw Fofor by Ignace de Souza & The Melody Aces
Their minds see…
Human beings running.
Behind them is an AVALANCHE.
When one falls, the rest keep running.
Sometimes they’re running downhill.
Running downhill is easier, but the AVALANCHE is faster.
Sometimes they’re running uphill.
Running uphill is harder, but the AVALANCHE is slower.
They dream they’ll encounter a hill so steep and so high they’ll leave the AVALANCHE behind.
They dream of no longer running from an AVALANCHE.
They dream of doing exactly what they feel when they feel how they feel for why they feel.
They keep running.
Before their eyes,
Across the bluest of skies,
Written Lies:
“Survey:
1. We run because:
A) Our ego will not allow us to fall in front of others
B) We fear the unknown
C) We have learned to love the chemical fix running from the AVALANCHE provides
D) Inertia
E) A combination of these. Which ones?
F) Other, please explain
2. Everyone around us is not the same as us because:
A) We believe they are not the same exact biological being as us
B) We believe they do no have the same exact pattern of experiences
C) We believe they do not understand us
D) We believe we do not understand them
E) A combination of these. Which ones?
F) Other, please explain
3. What is the AVALANCHE?
4. Why does the AVALANCHE have power over our time and energy?
5. Are running or being overwhelmed the only two options when dealing with the AVALANCHE? If so, what are the consequences of pursuing each option? If not, what else could we do?
6. Which is more comforting, absolute certainty or absolute uncertainty? Why?
7. Where do we hide our real self when our social context requires us to play someone else? How much energy does this require per minute?
Occasionally, the writing adds:
“Congratulations Contestant (Insert Contestant # here),
You are the winner! You got all the right answers.”
They disengage their minds from the memory waves and stop rolling.
The ball of nematodes shrinks to nothing as individual nematodes flee to find a new ball to join.
The Aesthetic Acquisition Drone gathering data from orbit notes the difference in balls.
- Human Memory Art, 2092 C.E.
- Aesthetic Data Gathering Patrol, 4,954,232 C.E
Your Chapter One.Two
It is 12,420,076 C.E., and you are monitored by an Automated System.
It Logs:
You, paused in your Chewing Chamber.
Your Life Corp Meal Producer scans your brain and detects your preferences.
From its output chute, your Meal Producer expels a beautifully plated Mucho Munch spaghettiQs and sausage flavored refried bean burrito with rosemary and olive sourdough croutons.
You thank God for your meal, which you push through your devouring maw faster than your recorded average food consumption rate.
In response, a MuchoMunch Advertisement emanating from your dish reminds you that food is a gift from God.
“Work is the meaning of life. Entertainment is the flavor.” You recite as penance.
The Advertisement disappears.
You deliver your Plate to your Chewing Chamber’s garbage chute.
Your Floor moves you to your Relief Room.
There your Life Corp Autorelief Machine extracts your MuchoMunch Biowaste.
You begrudgingly believe your Floor should transport you to your Work Center, so it does.
You take an Eterna Sensitivity Reduction Pill.
In the Work Center your SoftApplet Workstation displays a green checkmark next to each of the Automated Systems you’re assigned to monitor, indicating all are functioning as intended.
You believe your Workstation should submit your Completed Daily Work Report, so it does.
You smile, knowing your daily Work is now complete.
Before you leave your Work Center, you diligently browse your Weta Dreams Upgrade list and select an Upgraded Entertainment Device.
After you press the purchase button, a celebratory banner scrolls across your brain, congratulating you for achieving the pre-warning Upgrade Bonus.
The banner is accompanied by dopamine rippling through your body.
Your brain bell rings.
You praise God, which reminds you to check the status of your prayers on your Religionist account.
As a level 3 Deep Believer subscribed to Religionism, each day you’re allotted ten prayers and expected to thank God a minimum of twelve times.
Through conscientiousness to God, you hope to qualify for an increase in your Religionist credit limit, and rank up to level 2 of the Deep Believer tier by this time next year.
For now, your prayers still register as, “Received: Pending.”
You check the time and realize nearly half an hour has passed since you ordered your upgraded Blender.
Focusing on the length of your Upgraded Blender’s delivery time leads your brain through a corkscrewing minefield of disappointment, fret, and worry.
The Outlived Blender currently sitting in your Chewing Chamber festers in your thoughts.
Your anxiety escalates.
What have you done wrong?
Have you been placed on a downgraded delivery time list?
Is this a new punishment for receiving a warning Advertisement?
You open your DTP Search Engine with the dots installed on your temples to find an answer, but stop before confirming your query.
You’re concerned the conglomeration of your daily actions – looking out a transparent window, ordering your Blender too late to receive an Upgrade Bonus, eating too fast, and now fearful DTP searching – will put you over your Emotional Distress Daily Limit and result in a session of Remedial Pleasure Training.
Or even a Demotion.
You slow your breathing and heart rate by repeating, “Be who you dream, not who you are.”
“Be who you dream, not who you are.”
“Be who you dream, not who you are.”
You pray, and purchase an Upgrade for your Comfort Chair.
As soon as you confirm, and a congratulatory banner slinks a trail of dopamine across your brain, your Life Corp Front Door informs you a MoExp Delivery Drone has deposited a package in your Life Corp Delivery Room.
The bell in your brain rings, and a second wave of fresh happiness surges through your body.
You believe your Floor should transport you to your Delivery Room, so it does.
Back in your Chewing Chamber, you use your MoExp Removal Device to extricate the Upgraded Blender from its packaging, install the Upgrade, and dispose of the Packaging and Outlived Device in the nearest garbage chute.
The Upgraded Blender is similar in style to the old Device, but has a turquoise stripe its Advertisement promised would Upgrade your Chewing Chamber by 7.3%.
You check your SoftApplet Laplet Display installed on your inner thigh.
Your prayers were answered.
Your inner thigh display tells you your Chewing Chamber was Upgraded 7.8%.
Even though you’d ordered after receiving a Warning Advertisement, you still received the Upgrade Bonus.
You’d created a miracle through the power of prayer..
You thank God for their wisdom and guidance.
Now certain of your safety, position, and happiness, you know your Floor will transport you to your Comfort Room.
You take an Eterna Sensitivity Enhancement Pill.
You descend into your soon-to-be-replaced Comfort Chair, and engage your Weta Dreams Entertainment Device’s auto-preference-detection setting.
A Split Splat Sploot Adventure dominates your senses.
You’re in the cockpit of a HapHap Warrior Drone orbiting an alien world.
The planet is enveloped in a rust-colored haze and, according to the information display, contains gas-based life forms.
You’ve Adventured here before.
You’re familiar with the local gravity, know the storm patterns, and have perfected the most efficient strategy for annihilating and harvesting the Adventure’s resources.
The more you collect, the higher you score.
A fleet of DugDuo Collection Drones follow in your Warrior Drone’s wake, waiting to collect the materials you Liberate.
You pray for a productive Adventure, and use your drone’s User Interface to scan the planet’s surface.
The scan detects a significant cluster of life ten kilometers away.
Also revealed are significant deposits of metal and plant matter.
You deploy Collection Drones to quarry the planet’s surface at the indicated locations.
Flooded with chemicals associated with excitement at the prospect of destruction, point
collection, and leveling up, you praise God for their effervescent boons and maneuver the drone until the indicator for life is centered in your UI’s compass.
As you descend through the planet’s rust-colored atmosphere, your Collection Drones begin acquiring resources.
Moving further towards the life cluster identified by your UI, you’re able to discern small, moving clouds that are a slightly different shade than their surroundings.
With the help of your drone’s scanner, you recognize these cloudy shapes as the planet’s most valuable beings.
You’re repelled by their visible brains and tiny limbs around their torsos.
You hate their three gassy tails that wiggle disconcertingly as they move.
You resent your Entertainment Device for displaying such offensively designed organisms.
Your last Adventure contained adorable giant ferrets, which you found to be much more pleasant targets.
The distasteful beings before you, around a dozen, approach your drone in a disorganized blob.
Their clumping gives you the perfect opportunity to take your new shotgun missiles for a spin.
Having received the weapon as a reward for reaching level 73 a few weeks ago, you haven’t had a single chance to employ them.
You’re already level 75, and your backlog of untested armaments is a source of consternation.
You select your shotgun missile, target the group, and fire.
The missile works even better than you imagined, scattering shrapnel and explosions throughout the gathered cloud creatures.
You breathe a sigh of relief, and mentally check testing this weapon off your to-do list.
Burned-out husks plummet to the surface of the planet in a dozen individual trails of smoke.
You admire how pretty the scene appears in the rusty fog of the planet’s atmosphere, and take a screenshot for your memory archives.
Selecting a few of your remaining Collection Drones, you direct the group to scoop up the husks, increasing your already skyrocketing score.
The steady tinkling of your investment bell provides a pleasure-inducing soundtrack.
In the heady euphoria of your success, you spot what looks like a concealed entrance to a large cave below you.
You scan the area to confirm your suspicions, and, sure enough, there appears to be an even larger concentration of life inside the cave.
Piloting your drone to the entrance, you use your barrier removal lasers to disintegrate stones and debris blocking your path.
After carving out space, you skillfully pilot your craft into the entrance, and turn on the vehicle’s light beams, illuminating the rough rock walls around you.
According to your UI, the deposit of life is a few hundred meters ahead, down a narrow tunnel just large enough for your drone to pass through without scraping the walls and losing points.
As you navigate the tunnel, carefully keeping yourself stable in the tight space, you begin to hear a noise.
It sounds like a synchronized whistle fluctuating up and down in tone.
As you get closer, the whistling becomes clearer and transforms into the sound of countless theremins harmonizing in a transcendent choir.
A chemical you’ve never felt enters your brain.
Not pleasure or fear or excitement.
Something else.
The Automated System logs your activities.
Modern Issue 