Badtraum2020

Time in the jungle was not experienced as it was by humans on Earth; M observed from his bamboo cage, men and women being born and accelerating through life to be buried of old age in the space of a day. Whilst other human avatars seemed to enjoy eternal youth. He noticed in himself an increase in physical strength and mental clarity. Almost a feeling of endlessly becoming a new being now, since his Bardo experience where he died and passed over into the game. M was now alone with the insects and creatures of the green canopy preying on one another in the hope of finding food or sexual release. He observed their habits and saw that the matrix here represented a hierarchy the same as any he had experienced back in the world. In the morning light he saw a large spotted cat, maybe a jaguar stalk and pounce upon a feral pig. The cat lowered her body into the long grass then jumped on the snuffling hog, sinking her large fangs into the nape of the animals neck. The pig screamed ...

The two men dressed in light grey Sandoz overalls stood over M's corpse sprawled out on the floor in the apartment on the thirteenth floor. "Looks like Jason Bourne here really believed that the mighty Sandoz Industries were going to give him a job!" Both men laughed. "Some fucking loser conspiracy theorist who couldn't even get a job at Mcdonalds!" Said 6 who was obviously the designated comedian of the pair. His straight man was the Polish agitator, squatter and mind mapping pioneer T9. "Yes I read on his file that he couldn't even get to the interview stage with Ronald McDonald, he was that much of a fuck up." Said the Pole. Both men laughed again. The light and noise of thousands of drones in the night sky outside the apartment could be heard like intrusive metal insects on a Summers day.  "Fucking swarms, I'm starting to miss the jungle." Said 6 bitterly, rummaging through books in the apartment. There were piles ...

Two average white British lads are playing Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon on a PlayStation 4 on a large flatscreen television. The apartment has a freshly decorated Dulux sparkle and all the furniture in the living room, including the sofa they are both sat on is from IKEA. One of the lads, Gary, is laughing wildly at the game on screen as his friend Trevor rubs his throat and says, "I'm feeling a bit parched mate, have you got any beers in the fridge?" Gary replies, "Nah mate I ant been t'shops yet, there's just that 3 litres of White Lightning in there I reckon!" They both stare at each other for a moment until Trevor says. "Well it's 11 on the am! Let's have a little taste!" They both crease up laughing. Gary pauses the game and goes to the sideboard, taking out two crystal flute glasses that were a wedding present, "Classy." Says Trevor as he goes to grab the large bottle of cider from the fridge. As he re-enters...

K looked like an old photograph someone had once scanned into M's game console. His large forehead and shaven head, covered in mosquito bites made him look like a feral Russian Billionaire on a jungle expedition to find slaves to turn into Biomechs for some mercenary army. The bamboo box M found himself in felt like a solid cage as he shook a couple of bars and met with the resistance of solid objects. "How is this real if I'm not?" He asked K. K shrugged his shoulders from within his large olive green jacket. "I thought that you could summon any hi-tech environment into life! What's with the cheap theatrics?" M demanded. "The bars of the cage aren't real, although they are a more powerful perception than your own. If you truly knew the sophistication it took to programme this stuff in to look so primitive you would just walk out free through the bars." K began. "I put the shotgun in an Adidas bag and padded it out with fou...

When they arrived at the facility in the Jungle M was surprised by its sleek modern architecture. A high metal fence went all the way around to keep out intruders. A gate with a sentry box served as the welcome centre at the front gate. The whole place looked familiar to M. The white square walls, the palm trees and the Aloe Vera plants growing out of pink gravel all gave M this feeling of deja vu, and for good reason. M had once squatted a TV studio on Gran Canaria, the Spanish territorial island close to Africa, along with some punks from Warsaw University, they had secured the perimeter of the derelict studio and the four of them had lived there for nine months. "Does it look familiar?" Asked 6 with a smile. M just nodded and felt the gravel crunch under his boots, he felt clear headed after his adjustment to crossing over into the game. He was slightly nauseous but overall had a feeling of being improved and enhanced, physically stronger and intellectually and...

M recognized the sinister psychiatrist on the riverbank immediately, he looked forty years younger, his head was shaved and he was wearing green army combat clothing, no patches or insignia were visible. He had his hands outstretched and he looked straight at M with a strange smile on his face. His eyes looked like drilled out holes in a mannequin's plastic mask. He must have beamed in here from UK6 to be with K thought M. "Welcome home my friend", invited 6. "We've been expecting you, leave any weapons on board, it's for your own good!"  M dropped the machete on the floor of the boat as two literal monkey faced soldiers jumped on deck and started manhandling M before putting a rough sack over his head. He felt their superior strength working on his diminished body's frame and he went limp in compliant surrender to their will. "Good boy." Said 6. As the two soldiers strong armed him onto dry land. Excited voices seemed to be all...

K was blasted through a Buddha's stone eyeball into the jungle. He was now pure consciousness. The clichés of existence were now just a children's game to his enlightened mind. He watched as thousands of red ants ate the flesh from a severed water buffalo's head lying in the grass. It was the matrix of the games design, beyond good and evil just hygiene, like human wars. The stink of people was perfume to him now. He ran a hand over his shaved head and inhaled the brackish air of the river delta. Maybe this moment of early morning reflection called for a cigarette but he didn't smoke. He felt no hunger but went into his bamboo house to the fridge running on a solar panel perched high above the jungle. He had paid a young native to shimmy up the tree and install it on arrival, his own bulk inhibited such activities. He was now up to about a hundred and twenty kilos he guessed, maybe more. He took a cooked parrot leg from the cold interior and bit into it. All...

This rough beast that slouches towards Bethlehem to be born. I've had a David Cronenberg moment every decade now pretty much since my teens. Ever since I watched Videodrome in maybe 1988 on a Toshiba portable TV at my parents house. It will no doubt have been on Alex Cox's Moviedrome late at night on BBC2 which was itself a memetic play on the title of the great man's film. Clouds of static wasps would swarm on the screen as my coat hanger aerial tried to scoop up and connect with waves of energy from the ether. Then we fast forward to the early nineties London when Jo who was my wife then and myself dropped acid and went to see Naked Lunch at the arthouse cinema In Camden Town. Little did I know at the time that living insect typewriters addicted to bug powder would lead me to the Petit Socco district in Tangier where I would meet a middle aged tortured soul with brown leathery skin and a drooping moustache who told me that he used to go with William Burroughs ...

I worked in Bulgaria in 2022, down in the badlands 40km south of Yambol, it's not too far from the Turkish border. It was the middle of summer so I would get attacked most days as I was harvesting almonds by big black horse flies. They would land on the back of my neck and as they must have felt safe knowing both my hands were occupied with the tool that I was using to knock down the almonds, they could usually get a good suck In, from my blood, before I felt the stinging bite, dropped the tool and swatted one or more of them away. Cursing them in my native tongue. I was new meat. If I let one of them land on me for maybe five seconds blood would be running in a red stream down my neck, face or hands. I told my boss and she just laughed. She was a formidable size with a tightly wound, barely contained hysterical rage. She lived alone on the next property nearby with her many animals and when I asked her what she did after work she said "I'm a fucking alcoholic." W...

M carried his two bags for life through the lobby to the lift in the high rise. Somalian youths were sitting on the concrete smoking weed. He pressed the lift call button and the youths eyed him suspiciously. The whole place smelled like piss and Ganga. One of the three stoners flicked a knife while the other two giggled uncontrollably. Their teeth looked like dogends mushed up in the rain of spittle. Knifeman melodramatically took an orange from his pocket and started peeling it. "Enjoy the game Mon" he said to M as he entered the multi colored interior of the lift. "Thanks, is that orange real by the way?" The three all laughed at this as M made his getaway and the lift doors creaked shut. He lived alone on the 13th floor. The lift shot up it's tube in a split second and he walked out with his bags. All the supplies he needed for his expedition up river. He put the plastic card in the door and it opened with a click. He put the stuffed bags for lif...