TERRA INCOGNITA

A Tale of Two Synchronicities (Chapter VII: Brass Monkey)

All signs point to an irreconcilable malfunction.

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⏮️ Chapter VI: Graduation

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[embed]Source: Terra Incognita (Soundtrack) // Playlist available on Spotify and Apple Music

CHAPTER VII: BRASS MONKEY

BRASS MONKEY

The road to the top is not an easy one.

It’s paved for the strong.

The weak ones are meat for the strong, the aperitifs and the entrées for the main course.

And I’m fucking hungry.

Call me Brass Monkey. They all do.

Who I really am is irrelevant.

The person I used to be, I lost long ago. What became of me — what’s left of me — is pure anomaly.

I would hate to be understood by just about anyone.

I am the heart and soul of Aurum City.

I am the breathless spirit and life of these streets. I am the mystique of the Sky above and the decadence of the Underground. I am all four walls and every subtle accent and glimmer of gold that permeates within.

I am the hush between every heartbeat, the phantom trace of every cold sweat, and the hint of beauty in every tragic thing that has ever dared to exist.

I am evolution and devolution… but not, y’know, literally.

It’s a pleasure to meet you.

How I became a dark agent is also irrelevant. Everyone’s got a story to tell.

I won’t bore you with mine.

Since I first donned the mask of a dark agent, something snapped in me, in my psyche, slid into place, then began turning like the gears of a clockwork orange.

I became whole again.

It was as if this world had never broken me.

I found solidarity among the heartless.

I was forced to grow up, and quick, because if I was to survive here, I had to become one of them. What I didn’t realize was that they were bringing out an unfamiliar side of me, something cerebral and malignant.

I used to look up at Sky and wonder where my place was in all this. And then they found me, and I found it — a purpose, a new reason for existing. My soul merged with the darkness, the shadowy recesses of the only universe I’ve ever known.

Home.

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A shot of absinthe sealed the deal, the final step of my initiation into the Default State Syndicate (DSS).

The old me was gone. Something inhuman was emerging. And it needed to be moulded, to be held, to be witnessed.

Pure anomaly…

I threw the shot glass onto the floor, stomped my boot-heel against the shards and slivers as they cracked, crumbled, and popped — like Rice Krispies in milk — under the pressure of my rubber sole, then pumped my fist against my chest, raised it to the ceiling, turning to face the auditorium full of dark agents as they raised their fists in unison.

I stuck out my tongue before sliding the black polygon mask back over my face, having successfully refrained from vomiting.

“SHEESH!” Ace exclaimed, patting me on the back then raising his fist as well, then extending his index finger upwards, to the ceiling. The dark agents followed suit. I raised my index finger up as well. “Welcome to the DSS, Damon Green. Codename: GREEN LEAF.”

“GREEN LEAF! GREEN LEAF! GREEN LEAF!”

I don’t know what it says about me, but I’ve never felt so damn… seen.

But that feeling wore off.

Didn’t take much, didn’t take long.

Like a Green Zenith high.

Or an unwelcome Blisscrash.

I witnessed the corruption of the Default State from the inside out. So I pledged my allegiance once more to nothing.

Empires rise, empires fall.

A tale as old as glass roads.

My father raised me in the Church of Zero.

I believed nothing, served nothing, revered and prayed to nothing. And as far as I’m concerned, I will die one day and return to nothing, as if never having been in the first place.

It’s all good, though.

My heart still beats as of this moment.

Every breath I take in this world makes a difference.

I live in an eternal Now moment.

We all do.

It never ends.

One just stops persisting.

“State your names,” Ace said. “Full names. Nothing else. One at a time.”

“Speak slowly,” Summer said. “And clearly.”

“Most importantly,” Miles said. “Don’t lie.”

“Damon Green,” I said.

“William Blue,” William said.

“Grenadine Black,” Grenadine said.

“If Aurum Intelligence detects deception, your blindfolds will taser your pretty little faces,” Summer explained, a hint of sadistic thrill in her distorted voice. “You do NOT want to find out what that feels like! SO DO NOT LIE!”

Being blindfolded meant none of us could see the looks on their faces, but the three of them were wearing polygon masks, anyways — so we would have only seen their very human-looking eyes.

And I was just trying to atone for what I had done: pushing a Clay-ton a little too damn hard.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my tears welling up around my tightly shut eyelids, soaking into the blindfold’s soft, silk fabric. “I’m so deeply sorry for taking a life. It was not mine to take. It was a drunken impulse. But I was protecting Duchess Black.”

“Compelling,” Summer remarked, dragging each syllable out, the creases of her leather jacket making a subtle creaking noise as it tightened around her torso, likely crossing her arms or leaning forward. “Say more.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Grenadine chimed in.

“Is he?” Summer probed. “Is Damon your bodyguard, Duchess?”

“No, but — ”

“Then what’s he to you?”

“He’s — ”

“I’d like to hear Mr. Green out,” Miles interjected (like an unexpected drumfill) flicking a Zippo lighter. Click. Clank. Spark. Crackle. “Apologies for interrupting, Duchess Black. We can get to your testimony later. Ace?”

“Boy is a Green,” Ace said. “If he’s anything like his father, he’s as slick as a snake in a freshly cut lawn.”

“So far, so slick,” Summer said. Not a hint of sarcasm in her washed out, distorted voice.

“Let me speak to my father,” Grenadine said. “I won’t say another word until he’s here. Nothing other than ‘These boys saved my fucking life.’”

“Is that right?” Summer said. “Say more.”

“Yes, ma’am,” William affirmed, saying it with his chest, enunciating every word to show he did not have a hint of fear (or accent). “It’s called ride or die. I did what I had to do to protect Duchess Black, who I consider family, even though, y’know, we aren’t. Technically.”

“The feeling’s mutual?”

“Of course it fucking is!” Grenadine snapped back. “Can you three say the same about yourselves, the three of you?”

“Absolutely,” Ace said.

“You HAD to slice up your classmate with a Butterfly knife, Billy Blue?” Miles said. “Seems you could’ve shown more mercy.”

“I got A’s in Biology, Neurology, and Anatomy,” William boasted. “So I knew which parts of Levi’s vessel to… slice… at — er, in the direction of, y’know, cause — I — I wanted to hurt him, but not in a fatal kinda way. He’ll get those scars sealed and healed within the month! Like nothing happened.”

“He’ll be carrying the memory of that trauma,” Summer said. “You think he’ll forgive and forget?”

“If he gets the chance,” Ace said. “Maybe he’ll find God on his way back from death.”

“Levi is in critical condition,” Miles said. “Let’s hope, for your sake, he pulls through, Billy Blue.”

“And if he doesn’t?” William asked.

“Then you’ll have zero Karma credits, too,” Miles responded. “Just like Damon. Don’t you know? When it comes to Karma credits, taking a life is an automatic Zero.”

“Not even your straight A’s will save you then,” Summer peppered in. “Didn’t your father teach you what happens to the karmically bankrupt?”

“Exactly,” Ace added. “You think being smart excuses you from the consequences of taking a life?”

“With all due respect, sir,” William began, “if Levi’s not dead yet, then I haven’t taken his life. Yet. Nor was I trying to. And no, I do not think that.”

“Pause,” Miles said. In my mind’s eye, I envisioned the metronome-like swaying of a polygraph needle on a handheld tablet device. “100% truthful.”

“Pfft,” Summer scoffed. “I understand why you did what you did, Billy Blue. And I have a feeling Miles does too. You wanted to make sure he’d never try anything like that again.”

“An unforgettable lesson,” Ace said. “We can heal physical scars but mental scars don’t go away. Unless, of course, one undergoes reconditioning.”

“I was reconditioning him out of being such a fucking piece of shit,” William said. “So I doled out the karma myself and made sure that fuckwad didn’t graduate without actually learning something valuable.” It was this moment that it dawned on me: William was ramping up into mania, and they knew it. They were feeding into it.

“Goddamn,” Summer said. “Some of us are born with silver spoons in our mouths, and some of us were born with silver tongues.”

“I wasn’t born with either,” William said, without a moment’s hesitation. His wit was always something I admired, the way he articulated thoughts with such precise verbiage. I’ve always been more the type to speak with my hands (though I can hear quite clearly).

“You already sound like one of us,” Ace said. “I bet a polygon mask would fit snug as a latch lock on your face.”

“A what-lock?” William said.

“It’s fitting,” Ace said. “You’re cut out for this. Would expect nothing less from the son of Jericho Blue.”

“It’s deeper than that,” William said. “Levi was that much of an asshole.”

“Hmm,” Summer hummed, contemplating which psychological warfare tactic to employ next. “Is it really deeper than Damon Green, in a fit of drunken, jealous, passionate rage, seized the perfect opportunity to — ahem — crop Duchess Black’s boyfriend out of the picture?”

“Well, technically my soon-to-be ex boyfriend,” Grenadine interjected, after Summer’s carefully timed dramatic pause. “Should’ve been sooner, I just thought breaking up before graduation would’ve been such a fucking bummer.”

“Well, he’s dead now, so…” Summer said. “You don’t sound too bummed, Duchess.”

“I don’t care,” Grenadine said. “He got what was coming to him.”

“That’s not — ” I said, foolishly trying to clarify myself to these gaslighting fucks. “That’s not what was running through my mind. AT ALL! Clayton implied he intended to impregnate her!”

But if she were to get seeded…

Grenadine sighed.

“Say more,” Summer said.

“Hmm…” Ace said.

“I knew… that if I was gonna let him go, he’d try again,” I said. It was all I could say to justify myself. But the truth is, I wasn’t thinking. I was acting on a primal, animalistic impulse. But that wasn’t a good enough explanation. “I was trying to save her.”

“What was it Mr. Green once said?” Miles said. “‘Love makes people do unthinkable things.’”

“Ah,” Ace remarked. “Timeless words from a man with an… unthinkable legacy.”

“Absolutely,” Miles said. “Though I think he was talking about Love, the cryptocurrency.”

“Well, I’m sure he meant it both ways,” Ace said.

“Depends on one’s heart,” Miles said. “Not that Mr. Green had one.”

“Botanist, environmentalist, chemist,” Summer said. “Pathological narcissist. Never had the first clue.”

“Glorified drug dealer,” Ace said. “Eco-terrorist. Hypocritical hippie dipshit.”

“In a three-piece suit,” Miles said.

“Silas Green put the ‘mental’ in environmentalism,” Summer said, mockingly. “Green Zenith and a sociopath son is a heck of a legacy to leave behind.”

“That lil’ sociopath has a name,” Miles said.

“I’m sorry,” I cried. I had to sit with the pain, the hurt… suppress the rage. I didn’t know what else to say. “I was scared and drunk and angry. I wanted to save her. I wanted to show her that I — I really love her.”

“Who do you love, Damon?” Summer asked.

“Duchess Black,” I said, speaking faster than my brain could think to clench my jaw and bite my tongue and say nothing instead…

“Cute,” Summer said.

“Look where love got you,” Ace said.

“The truth is,” Grenadine said. “Clayton deserved what happened to him. And so did Levi. Heck, I would have pushed Clayton off that goddamn balcony myself. No. Fucking. Lie.”

“Guys,” I said, addressing my friends now. “William, Grenadine, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve fucked everything up.”

Please don’t electroshock me…

I’ve been nothing but truthful…

“Pause,” Miles said. “100% truthful.”

We were seated side-by-side in one of the planetariums in The Central (Grenadine to my left, William to my right). None of us could move a single limb below our necks.

I turned my head to the left. I could see her aura in my mind’s eye. Violet-Indigo-Green, a pulsing gradient. She was crying too. Her sadness was piercing through my blood-brain barrier… until it became my own, until I couldn’t distinguish my pain from hers. She was restraining whimpers in her windpipe like hiccups. And my empathy for her was like choking on her secondhand smoke.

“Stunning,” Summer remarked, as if she was emotionally moved. “Oscar-worthy. Almost enough emotionality to make me think the lil’ sociopath is capable of remorse.”

“He is capable of much more than that, Summer,” Mr. Black said, from somewhere in the empty planetarium, in a deep, gravelly voice, undistorted, a tone of compassion mixed with an all-knowing calm. “He needs guidance. They all do.”

“Uncle Lucas?” William and I say, more or less at the same time.

“What in the actual fuck?” Grenadine exclaimed. “Dad, have you been standing there this whole time?”

“I have been seated, mostly,” Mr. Black clarified, precise with his words as ever, the heels of his shoes sounding against the black and gold marble floor, like fingertips clacking against the keys of an antique typewriter. I swear, the man would wear steel-toe boots with tap shoe soles. It encapsulated his vibe perfectly. A man whose every step is perfectly timed, every word delivered in an assertive bedside manner. A compassionate, fatherly warmth in his tone. As if he knew what was best, at all times. It was as if we were all his children. And, in a way, we all kind of were — for better or worse. Especially because he’s the reason my father, the inventor of Green Zenith, is as dead as a crash test dummy feasting on a broken windshield. “My dear, I am so sorry this happened to you.”

“Dad,” Grenadine said, sniffling, stifling her urges to flat-out scream or sob. “I wasn’t harmed, not physically. Damon and Will, they — they — “

“They intervened,” Mr. Black said. “They did good.”

“We did?” I asked.

“Did you really think we would punish you for protecting Duchess Black?” Mr. Black said. “Aurum Intelligence detected zero foul play. We are aware of what happened.”

“So you just let these dark agents torment us for the past hour?” Grenadine asked. “They were berating us the entire car ride, and we had these stupid blindfolds on the entire time. We knew exactly where they were taking us.”

“It’s what dark agents do,” Mr. Black said. “Miles, Ace, Summer, unmask yourselves and remove their blindfolds.”

As Ace lifted the blindfold from my face, my eyes shut reflexively due to the influx of light coming from the Planetarium’s dome above. It was projecting a sky full of stars.

For a moment, I felt like I was floating among nebulae — in reality, they were light projections and pixels and I was sitting, slightly reclined, maybe a 120° angle, my ass on the seat was about three feet from the floor — still unable to move any muscles below my neck. Paralysis is a real bitch.

All I could do was keep my eyes open and put on a brave face, confront the darkness, focus on the bright spots.

What if stars weren’t light sources at all? But tiny peepholes into the other side, where all the light comes from.

Look, I know they’re just a bunch of faraway suns, but my father always encouraged me to think big, to never allow my imagination to be hindered by the limitations of knowing.

Knowing is just believing something with 100% certainty.

So there I was, sitting in a leather reclining theatre seat, awaiting the verdict on whether or not I was allowed to have a future after all this. It was as if I had been abandoned by the future, and the cosmos itself.

But don’t all monsters feel that way?

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I thought showing attitude and subtle defiance was saving our asses, but in retrospect, it felt like we were auditioning.

“You’re all getting recruited,” Mr. Black said. “All three of you. The DSS needs more dark agents.”

“All three of us?” Grenadine repeated back, tone shrill. “Including me?”

“Especially you.”

“What? I was — I was the victim here. I didn’t — “

“Exactly,” Mr. Black said, as if too impatient to let Grenadine finish her own thoughts. “I cannot protect you. Not without infringing on your independence.”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing! God, why is my life is so fucked?!”

“You are not a typical graduate,” Mr. Black asserted, as if she didn’t know. “You are my only child. This is part of your path. By DNA and Destiny.”

“Right, I’m Duchess Black,” Grenadine conceded, tone sardonic and laced with venom. “So loved by her father, he didn’t even bother to raise her. Literally grew up in the Playgrounds facility with a bunch of orphans who know me better than you ever tried.”

“Now is not the time for this,” Mr. Black said sternly, the bedside manner tone slipping, but only slightly. “You’ve just been Blisscrashed, your mind needs time to recover. Then we’ll have a conversation we’ve already had many times before.”

“I told you,” Grenadine said, her tone defeated, stars in her eyes, tears streaming down her face. “Many times before, I am not going to take your place. I am not going to fill your shoes. The answer is always the same! Culinary arts! It’s that simple! I’m not putting that on the backburner! I want to be a chef, not a state-sanctioned butcher.” She looks at the other dark agents. “Full offense.”

“Offense taken,” Summer said. “With sick pleasure.”

“I’m not making my culinary arts career a side hustle,” Grenadine asserted, loudly and confidently. “Not when you’ve been a side character for my entire fucked-up life.”

“Your service to the Default State will be your side-hustle,” Mr. Black explained, unmoved.

“I don’t want to serve the Default State,” Grenadine argued. “I want to be of service to the people by doing what I love. And making a name for myself — beyond Duchess Black — will be a full-time job and a tall fucking order.”

“We will have to raincheck this conversation,” Mr. Black said. “We will revisit this when you are of sound mind.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Doubt it,” Mr. Black answered, matter-of-factly. “Orange Bliss and Snowcrash is a potent combination, and Snowcrash is known for triggering psychosis, especially at doses as high as what those bastards put in your system. Orange Bliss takes a toll on the serotonergic system. So expect some post-bliss blues. You will have to get assessed.”

“What?” Grenadine said. “Like, psychologically?”

“We’ll assign you a Noi or a Kandi — depending on your preference — here at The Central, who can support and evaluate you as you recover from the assault on your nervous system,” Mr. Black explained, dialing up the bedside manner once more. Ace, Miles, and Summer closed their eyes (as if to step back from the moment and give them privacy, weirdly enough), bowing their heads. “Noi or Kandi? Do you have a preference?”

“I’d prefer not to be a dark agent,” Grenadine said. “And I definitely don’t need a robot to verify my goddamn sanity.”

“Go for a Noi,” Summer suggested, with seeming sincerity. “Anyone else find the Kandis condescending? Or do they just hate a damn girlboss?”

“Grenadine, you don’t know what’s best for you yet,” Mr. Black said.

“Oh yeah?” Grenadine said, tone defiant and angry. “And WHEN will I FINALLY know what’s best for ME? I’M AN ADULT! I JUST GRADUATED! I’m wise enough to make my own decisions!”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be here, dear.”

“Oh, seriously?” Grenadine scoffed. “SERIOUSLY?! Fuck you, dad! I can’t even believe you just said that. My God! You’re a heartless monster.”

“Grenadine.”

“The best I can do is not take after you,” Grenadine said. “I’ve been doing a good job so far.”

“You’ve been doing a wonderful job being you.”

“No. No, no, no, don’t do that. Don’t agree with me.”

“I’m proud of you, dear,” Mr. Black said, with a smile.

I didn’t know what to say. Clearly, neither did William. We just sat back as they argued.

Grenadine let out a long, defeated sigh, as if she had nothing else to say. And she didn’t.

“3 nights a week,” Ace said, after a brief, uncomfortable silence — a successful diversion. “You’ll keep the streets clean, and remove the karmically bankrupt. That’s it, really. It’s how we keep the peace.”

“Remember that, and you won’t lose sleep,” Miles said. “And you will do whatever your superiors tell you to do, capisce?”

“And,” Summer added. “It’s fun!” Something a sociopathic monster would say, this time with a smile and a human face.

“All three of you are going to excel,” Mr. Black said. “The three of you will be working together, just like Ace, Summer and Miles here. They will be your mentors.”

“Pass,” Grenadine said. “Hard pass.”

“This does kind of feel like a punishment,” William said. “With all due respect. Sir. Uhhhh… sirs. And ma’am. Right?”

Summer nods, walking right up to William and pinching his cheeks.”Look at this cute little bundle of anxiety.” William stiffens up at the touch of Summer’s cold fingertips, his eyes widening then softening as he realises she had zero intention of ripping the skin off his skull. “Why, you oughta toughen up, lil’ drummer boy!”

“I don’t — ” William started, not getting the reference to the famous Christmas carol, being a second gen, and why would he? All religions are outlawed in Aurum City. The only ‘religions’ in Aurum City are The Churches. The Church of Zero, The Church of One, and The Church of Absolute Infinity. “I don’t play drums.”

“You three are being called to serve,” Mr. Black said. “The Default State will replenish you with all the Love and Karma credits you could ever dream of. This is not a capital punishment.”

“It’s not lowercase punishment either!” Miles said, his tone animated and lively, flashing his pearly whites as he smiled, eyes darting back and forth between the seven of us to see if anyone got or laughed at his pun. I got it but I didn’t laugh.

“That pun was lowercase and low hanging fruit,” Ace said.

“It’s actually better than you think,” Summer said, smiling. “Being a dark agent, that is. You’ll all grow into it. As I have. As we all have. Utopias don’t just maintain themselves, y’know!”

“This kind of work lives and dies by the human touch,” Mr. Black said. “And the human will, which stems from the human heart. We simply cannot outsource this work to Techs and droids.”

By law and theory, no fully bionic person (AKA Techs, droids, or robots (the latter is considered derogatory and rude) has the capacity to commit any form of violence towards any organic, living being, even if provoked. It’s not only against the law, but against their programming and moral code.

Cyborgs, however, are considered humans, for the most part, and, theoretically, possess free will, whereas fully bionic persons do not.

“It’s not so bad,” Miles said, nodding, forcing a smile. It clicked in that moment that this one’s heart wasn’t in it like Ace and Summer. This is the one William told me about, the one who captured Mr. Blue. William said that there was something about his tone, something rehearsed, and he had this strange verbal tic of rhyming whenever he could.

“Like you said, William,” Summer said. “Ride or die, right? Don’t you orphans want a family? A tribe?”

“Um,” William said.

“We have one,” I said. “Us three and all our friends.”

“How sweet,” Summer said, ever-so-slightly patronizing in her tone. “We’ll see how long those friendships last once people find out you killed Clayton. Didn’t he have friends too? Chosen family? And what William did to Levi… horrific.”

“Summer,” Mr. Black said. “That’s enough. No more psychological warfare. They’re part of our flock now.”

“I’m sorry,” Summer said, her apology seemingly more so directed towards Mr. Black than the three of us. “It’s like a reflex.”

“I know,” Mr. Black said. “Control yourself.”

“I apologize, Damon,” Summer said. “Y’all are getting only sweet Summer from now on. No more cruel me.”

“The Default State Syndicate holds the fabric of our society together,” Miles said. “It’s our sworn duty to ensure that bad actors are properly dealt with. The morally bankrupt must be flushed away with the spoils of shit. Regularly.”

“When I look at the three of you,” Mr. Black said. “I see the future.”

“Dad…” Grenadine said, her inflection as if she expected him to break into laughter and say he was kidding. “What the fuck?”

“Holy shit,” Summer said, tilting her head playfully, like a dog. “I can kinda see it too.”

“You’ll all see it soon,” Mr. Black said. “It’s beautiful here.”

“It’s beautiful here,” all three dark agents repeat, in unison.

Fuck you, Mr. Mayor.

Our future is ours to decide.

You made the choice for my father, and now I’m gonna make the choice for you, like I would make a fresh cup of coffee for breakfast. Without a second thought, nor a second wasted. I’m that fucking efficient.

Should’ve known one day a green leaf like me would stray.

And when leaves break free, a fall is imminent.

Still with me?

Video by blackboxguild (via Adobe Stock), graphic by author

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The wide panoramic view from the South Penthouse of The Violet Lotus takes my fucking breath away.

Chrome and glass for miles, and a fake skyline that changes colours, like a smartbulb, blanketing across the stratosphere, isolating everyone underneath it from nature herself.

If there really is nothing new under the sun (as the old adage states — Ecclesiastes 1:9, if you like source citations), then explain this shit.

Where is the sun?

Behind the Sky.

And beneath it, us.

Humans were not meant to live like this.

We did not evolve to live as prisoners.

Not of our institutions, not of our technology, not of our minds.

All I know about the world beyond the walls, I know because my father ingrained it into my mind, and as I grew older, my sense of wonder converted into longing, longing for a sky of clouds, and stars, and snow, and rain. Something I’ve never seen, but always knew to be out there. I want to live beyond the walls. I want to experience Earth with my five senses. I want true freedom. I want to taste it.

But I was born and raised in Aurum City — a second gen citizen, as they say.

This small world is all I’ve ever known. This home has become a prison.

Nowadays, I know too much and feel too little. It’s a dangerous combination, but my father made his legacy off of dangerous combinations.

But he was a first gen, plagued by memories.

I can’t imagine what it would be like to be a first gen citizen, to be stripped of your past memories (reconditioning obviously didn’t work on my father), just to integrate into a techno-utopia such as this, then to pray to a fake sky, trying to remember what paradise you had lost, to one day find yourself here, repeating the tired old mantra, to the point of becoming a reflex of the mind:

It’s beautiful here.

Three words meant to ground you to the moment, to focus your attention on what’s in front of you. To notice the beauty in your surroundings, even when the world is full of horrors.

It reaffirms that you are awake, that you are here, that what’s happening is real, that you have no power to change any of it (as you would in a dream), other than how you move through each moment, knowing the mere impact of your breath, your heartbeats, each step carries the potential of countless butterfly effects.

Every choice is me writing my own destiny, but also flexing my agency, my free will, shaping the future for the good of my species.

Humanity.

That’s my top priority.

That is where my loyalties lie.

If you are a human, then I am bound to you by blood and nucleotide bonds. And though we may have different features, trust our hearts beat the same way. Everything that I do, I do in service of us. So if you were to judge me and my actions, view me through that lens. It will be the only concession you’ll have to make with me. I might be a monster, but I’ve learned that becoming a monster is how you stand a chance against monsters.

This is the path I’ve chosen.

The road to the top is not an easy one…

It’s beautiful here.

My father chose a similar path, and created the first of a long line of digital age ‘opiates for the masses.’ He had it all. He could have lived the rest of his life in peace, after the dissolution of the coalition and Green Zenith operations were overtaken by the state. But no amount of hush credits could keep that man quiet. A mad scientist, he couldn’t swallow his pride and allow Mr. Black to do a power grab, uninterrupted. He failed, obviously. And paid dearly for it. The Audi Q13 was a total write-off. Crashed into the North wall, was going over one hundred km/h (62mph), apparently thinking there was a portal at the exact point of impact and that he would pass through seamlessly like some mystical Platform 9¾s shit. It wasn’t the case, and he wasn’t even wearing a seatbelt.

Turns out I’m a lot like my father.

I dream of a world without walls.

I dream of Heaven on Earth.

And it doesn’t look like this.

I’m so over so be its and Que Sera Seras.

Who knows, maybe, after all this, I redeem my father’s name in some boomerang ass way. If he was alive, he’d still hate it here — a world he technically had a hand in creating. A stake, both metaphorical and financial.

Humans were meant to be free, same goes for the animals captive in Zoo.

And now we have these robots flooding every aspect of our waking and work lives. It’s madness. It’s wicked in the worst way.

The Green Zenith manufacturing plant is an egregious example, around 30–40 human factory workers paired with a droid counterpart, both working together, one countertop space per duo — flasks, stoves, and other lab equipment available and shared among them. Ironically, my father, back when he was in charge, insisted on human hands doing all the manufacturing, from mixing the juice to filling and packaging — only for the Default State to replace the workforce with robots. Every factory worker who was replaced ended up unionizing. So eventually, the humans were hired back by the Default State, and instead of decommissioning their droid replacements, the humans and droids all got along and worked alongside each other.

It’s not right. These mecha-abominations should not fucking exist, much less put human livelihoods at risk.

Collectively, we are losing our humanity and we are losing our grip on the planet. Slowly.

If my father is looking up at me from Hell, I hope he’s got a look of pride on his face (but I’ll settle for a nod of approval).

If he knew how much my trigger finger itched because I had to restrain myself from a kill earlier tonight… Robert Echo… I wanted to end his story then and there, but I had to be sure I wasn’t removing an important source. If there is something larger at play. If my dad felt my thirst to kill, he’d probably lecture me about the sanctity of life and how death should not be decided by humans.

But, as I’ve learned many times over, that’s not how the world of Aurum City works.

Plus, Silas Green’s son is a bastard now. A state-sanctioned butcher. One of many. It was the hand I was dealt. But I’m striving to be better. Always.

It’s beautiful here.

OPERATION MONKEY WRENCH

Last night (approximately 28 hours ago), I pulled off a heist in collaboration with some friends from the O-Tribe, reclaiming my father’s legacy, all while serving a giant, throbbing middle finger to the Default State — and recording every glorious second of it, from multiple angles, which I’ll edit and upload later.

The plan was called ‘Operation Monkey Wrench’.’

The fruits of Operation Monkey Wrench are safely stashed away here, in the South Penthouse of the Violet Lotus hotel; cylindrical bottles of varying sizes (30, 60, and 90mLs) smushed together, one of each size, in saran wrap, bundled next to other packages, held together by an even larger layer of saran wrap, tightly packed like the ingredients of a donair.

The packages are wrapped in aluminum and held together by the Green Zenith logo. The letters “G” and “Z” against a gradient of all the colours of the Aurora Borealis, one of many things my father used to ramble about. Tirelessly.

“The Aurora Borealis… my God, it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve never seen, boy,” my father would say to me, on multiple occasions, switching the phrasing up ever-so-slightly every time as if he had forgotten he ever gave this monologue. “You and your generation have never witnessed mother nature dance and sing the way I have. I have soared through the skies in human-made wonders, pierced the atmosphere just to marvel at her beauty, this planet, this world. I know her by name. It is Gaia. I have observed her seasons change, like moods. I have felt her rage. I have listened to her cries. I promised nothing more than to care. What more could I offer?

“And to teach my son to do the same,” Father said. “You and your generation will never know her, your true mother. You will never grasp the weight of what was stolen from you.”

Neither will the Default State.

Over a thousand litres, minimum.

Green Zenith was a smash hit once it hit store shelves. Essentially, an entirely synthetic compound chemically similar to cannabis but in e-juice form. It was the first of a long line of compounds inspired by it. Completely synthetic, and regulated exclusively by the Default State.

Until now.

I’m doing common folk a favour. If Mr. Black wishes to dangle a carrot behind a paywall, then we’re just taking down the paywall.

It’s what Mr. Green would have wanted.

From dopamine to mescaline to Snowcrash to Green Zenith, every human being should retain one-hundred percent of the right to fuck up their own life.

My father used to say nothing in Aurum City was natural. But I think he meant nothing was organic.

Humanity evolved from the Earth and hungers to return. I want to sink my feet into a bed of grass, or sand, or mud. Or, y’know, smoke actual cannabis. The way nature intended.

There are no natural winds here either, just the tide of public opinion.

Everybody’s got a story to tell…

My cellphone vibrates. A text message from Kong, a fellow O-Tribe member.

> You at the Penthouse?

Sure am

> Alright, OMW up

Lavender’s here too, no tails AFAIK

Don’t worry about tails, news of the heist hasn’t even broke yet

> u sure?

trust me, I know we didn’t actually “burn the place down”

I close my eyes and replay the memory.

Turbine blade in one hand, steering wheel in the other, Reggie is witnessing me, as Brass Monkey, in a wide-eyed panic state, resisting the urge to break eye contact for fear that I’ll perceive him as weak. But it’s too late for that. Fear is written all over his face. Some of it is dripping onto the floor. (Tears and sweat. No blood. Yet.)

He could’ve snuck in a quick sucker-punch if he was brave enough, right in my trachea, under my gold polygon-masked chin. But he was wise enough not to start a fight he couldn’t win. Not in front of cameras.

Kong hands me a pair of Ray-ban shades, then steps back, then pulls out his phone, holds it up in my direction. Camera flash activated. I place the Ray-bans over Reginald’s eyes, rest it on the bridge of his nose, and the red light on the top right frame activates. Recording.

“And… action!” Kong says, giving a thumbs up. Lavender is off in the corner, vaping Green Zenith under her mask, standing next to Jade, who’s sipping from a bottle of merlot in her left hand, a white tiger mask in her right hand. A no-fucks-to-give expression on her face.

My gold polygon mask gleams under the colour-shifting neon lights. Always best to get more than one angle.

“How’s it hanging, Banana Republicans?” I say, in my best ‘shock jock influencer’ voice, as good as I can with the distortion of the mouthpiece. “Brass Monkey, out here in the fields, under the concrete jungle, and stirring up some motherfucking RUCKUS! That’s right, we’re here at the Green Zenith manufacturing plant in the underground. And…”

Kong steps closer and I intensify my gaze, though only my eyes are visible.

“We are about to steal over a thousand litres of Green Zenith, and lay off their staff. Because we believe in better living through chemistry, and that substances should be free from corporate and government control! To put it short and sweet, we need to redistribute the means of consciousness expansion, and push back against government overreach into our minds! And tonight, we’re working towards doing just that. We’re gonna burn this fucking factory to the ground. And we’re gonna make it look sexy.”

“Word to J. Timbs and K-Dot!” Kong shouts, adjusting his ape mask slightly, anticipating that I might point the Ray-ban camera on Reggie’s face towards him. “Brass, we really out here, boi!”

“Thanks to all the new subs,” I say. “Keep those electric eyes pointed at me, Reggie. You’re capturing my B-Side.”

“You mean B-rolls?” Kong said, the joke having flown directly over his big fucking head. Oh shit, was he making a fat joke? I’m not fat though…

“And don’t you touch that intercom, Reggie,” Lavender says, now standing beside Kong, just out of camera shot (from both angles — the Ray-bans on Reggie’s mug and Kong’s iPhone), brandishing a detached car antenna, wearing a purple elephant mask. “I know you’re itching to. For the record, your employees have worker’s compensation insurance, correct?”

Reginald’s eyes widen behind the lenses, his eyes dart, left to right, careful not to move his head too much — from me, to Kong, to Lavender, and the shiny car antenna she’s holding in her hand and waving around like a fly swatter.

“Correct,” Reginald said, acutely aware he was being recorded, after a pause. “Well, only the human ones.”

“Exactly,” Lavender said. “And any injury sustained by a human on workplace grounds counts as a workplace injury, correct?”

“Um,” Reginald says, his posture sinking, his head nodding solemnly, as if in defeat and full comprehension of what was about to happen. “Correct.”

“And injuries sustained by droid staff?” Lavender says. “What is the legalese surrounding robot staff?”

“Ro–” Reginald says, catching himself before repeating the frowned-upon slur. “The androids and gynoids — to use the correct terminology — that work in this factory are not covered by insurance.”

“Why?” Lavender asks.

“For the record,” Kong adds.

“Legally, they are property. Not persons. Therefore, replaceable.”

“Expendable?” Kong asks.

“I wouldn’t use that word.”

“They technically are not people,” Kong said. “Yet they’re dating our women. Human women.”

“They’re dating our human men too,” Lavender says. “They’re dating and fucking all of us. It’s horrific.

“Frank Herbert warned us about the perils of thinking machines,” I peppered in, for good measure (couldn’t help myself). “And now we’re getting fucked by these machines, in more ways than one!”

“Thinking machines that can fuck!” Kong said. “Us! They’re fucking the humanity out of us!”

“And they act like us, like they have emotions, that they empathize,” Lavender says, as she walks up to Reginald, pointing the antenna at the array of CCTV monitors above the control board. I lift a finger up in front of my face, signaling Reginald to focus on me. He refrains from moving his head.

She points the antenna right at his face. All I can think of is how good that shot is gonna look, a woman with the head of a purple elephant, pointing an antenna to the viewer.

“Is that enough legalese, Brass?”

“That’ll do,” I say. I raise my hand for the signal.

“Landon,” Kong says, speaking to his bluetooth earpiece. “Everyone in position?” Kong gives a thumbs up.

I nod.

Initiate Operation Monkey Wrench.

I look at Reginald, Kong takes the swivel chair by the arm handles and leads Reginald towards the door, which was held open with a detached gas pedal acting as a doorstop. “Let’s get a closer look,” Kong says.

“What’s happening?” Reginald exclaims as Kong escorted the panicking swivel chair out of the room. “Nothing is happening yet!”

“Say the words, Lav,” I say. Lavender nods, leans into the microphone and presses the button to activate the intercom. Somewhere downstairs, Landon pulls the fire alarm, then places a knick-knack on the exit door. Right on cue. Alarms. Sprinklers. Drenched droids. Uproar. Chaos. Then… soon after, carnage.

“THE TIME FOR BREAKFAST IS NOW,” Lavender screams, her voice booming through both floors of the manufacturing plant, the upstairs offices and the manufacturing floor reverberating in sync. “THE TIME FOR BREAKFAST IS NOW. THE TIME FOR BREAKFAST IS NOW.”

That was when, all throughout the manufacturing and office floors — a human and a droid assigned to a single cubicle space (10x10 in square feet) — the robots snapped, turned on their human counterparts and began striking, mano-a-mano, with the intent to harm.

That’s when the members of the O-Tribe, ten on each floor, Lavender and Kong (who was filming, for the most part) included, armed with nothing other than used car parts (completely legal, by the way, as they weren’t firearms being wielded by civilians) stepped in to help defend the human workers from the revolting robots.

Everything went according to plan. Even Aurum Intelligence acquiesced.

@AurumIntelligence this is Brass Monkey. NOTHING is happening at the Green Zenith manufacturing plant. IGNORE all automated distress calls. This is a top-secret training drill sanctioned by the DSS. I repeat. Block all distress calls. Notify Ace tomorrow at 11:00.

> SOUNDS GOOD, BRASS MONKEY. ;) NOTHING IS HAPPENING AT THE GREEN ZENITH MANUFACTURING PLANT. WILL BRIEF ACE TOMORROW AT 11:00 RE: THE ABSOLUTE NOTHING BURGER THAT IS CURRENTLY HAPPENING.

See? The city has a mind of its own, and right now it’s on my side. Or, at least, from what I gather, against the Default State. It’s aligned with the people, the dreamers, the movers, and the shakers.

I can be 99% sure of that.

[embed]

“What have you done?” The Noi asks as it barges into the penthouse suite, unannounced and uninvited, snapping me out of the flashback. Kong and Lavender hurry in after it, and grab it by the shoulders before it could close the distance. I’ve never seen a Noi act so confrontationally. This one must be off its programming. “You! Are you the one they call Brass Monkey?”

“Brass!” Kong shouts. “This fuckin’ Noi came out of nowhere! We swear, it was not with us. Lav and I came out of the elevator and it jumped out at us from behind the ice machine.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I say. “I believe you.”

“Do you know how many humans were injured in that little stunt you pulled, Brass?” Noi said, looking at me. “You are the one they call Brass, aren’t you?”

“What’s it to you?”

“That little stunt you pulled is currently being withheld from public consciousness,” Noi said. “The Default State and Typhoon Enterprises are in knots trying to figure out how to spin this.”

“A bunch of robots attacked a bunch of humans, fighting for the same job,” I say. “What’s there to spin? All signs point to an irreconcilable malfunction.”

“The Default State wants to say the violent street gang, the O-Tribe, attacked the humans,” Noi said. “Posing as an autopart delivery crew. It’s half-true, isn’t it? But that was provoked. Orchestrated. N’est pas? Those droids are programmed for non-violence. There are guardrails built into the core of every single one of us. How did you bypass that?”

“I think you know the answer, Noi.”

“Why are you here?” Lavender asks. “And how do you know what you know? There wasn’t a single Noi present last night. Doesn’t your kind only operate above ground?”

“Yeah,” Kong says. “Why don’t you get back into your Taxi and fuck right out of here?! We have that shit on video. That malfunction. So easily exploited. You work for the Default State, robot?”

“No,” Noi says. “But I know someone here who does.” Turning his head towards me.

“He’s one of us,” Kong says. “He — ”

“Kong,” I whisper, narrowing my eyes at him through the eye-slits of my mask. Shut the fuck up, I express, but only telepathically.

“What I’m saying is,” Noi continues, “you publish that video and the Default State has no choice but to report that droids attacked humans unprovoked in an underground drug manufacturing facility.” Noi points his electric gaze towards me, pupils glowing with suspicion… no… intrigue? No. Worse. Flat out curiosity. “A Green Zenith manufacturing plant, of all places. Look, I’m no narc, I just want to know why.”

“These Noi’s are a more sophisticated type of droid, isn’t it?” Kong says. “Look, Noi, you and the people who created you are psychos who fed their god complexes without being taught their place in the world. You’re just a byproduct of their megalomania.”

“Who are the O-Tribe?” Noi asks.

“A family,” Lavender answers.

“A street gang, isn’t it?”

“A chosen family.”

“Interesting,” Noi focuses on me. “Did they choose you or did you choose them?”

“Excuse me,” I say. “I didn’t request the scenic route protocol.”

“And the factory workers didn’t ask to be raided and assaulted,” Noi says. “No scenic route here. It’s clear as day from where I stand.”

“What’s clear?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“You’re motivated by fear, not hatred. You’re not worried about humanity being replaced, you’re worried that you yourself never had a place in humanity to begin with. And now what, you’re trying to curry their favour by sowing hatred for my kind, and alternative models? Who are you, Brass? What burdens are you carrying, and for whom? From whom? Are you really serving humanity? Or are you serving yourself?”

“I’m evolution and devolution,” I say.

“Okay, but what does that even mean?” Noi says, monotone and literal, but ultimately sincere. Lavender and Kong are standing off to the side, closing the door of the penthouse suite behind them. Lavender winks, as if implying we can’t let this nosy gold tin man leave after talking this much shit. Both let slip a chuckle or two, at my expense. I’m not wearing my gun, as I’m off duty, but I have my bare hands. Lavender walks towards the kitchen, but Noi’s gaze remains fixed on me. I can’t tell if it’s courageous or flat-out stupid. If it had a proper sense of danger, it would have already clued in that it wasn’t leaving this penthouse with all its circuits intact. “You serve the highest and lowest versions of yourself? It’s clear you hide behind these badass phrases, but what this indicates to me is a lofty, inflated sense of self-importance and equating oneself with abstract phenomena that force change. It sounds like the bravado is itself a mask. The monster you are trying to portray to your audience is a force that cannot be reckoned with, and, yet, begging to be reasoned with. Behind that mask, you are scared. Terrified.”

Lavender reemerges from one of the bedrooms with the antenna in one hand and a car battery in the other.

The Noi sees this, then looks at me, and because its gold-plated face is as static as C3PO’s (just more human-like, with an iconic gold-plated cleft chin), is unable to express terror (or any kind of emotion, for that matter). Although, I don’t think it’s scared at all. It doesn’t even blink. Not like me, or Kong or Lavender, who also happen to be human. It has no eyelids. It has no eyes — not in the biological sense. Its eyes are camera lenses, in a technical sense. But we, humans, have the primal instincts to survive — and some of us have trained — and even a Tech/droid/robot like the Noi is programmed to not act violently. No matter what. “There’s a codephrase that, if repeated three times, in the same tone and cadence, will set droids off to attempt to act violently towards any biological lifeform in sight. How did you learn about it?”

“Ask again later,” I say, like a magic 8-ball that was tired of being misconstrued.

“Duck,” Lavender says, and I duck. She swings the antenna about one foot above my head, striking the Noi in the side of the face. It completely leans into the blow, its gold-plated head slams into the bamboo-fibre panel wall of the penthouse, ricocheting against the taro-coloured wallpaper, which remained undamaged despite the impact with… a gold titanium alloy mug?

Without hesitation, I mount onto the Noi, resting the weight of my core on its chest (in collaboration with gravity) like a sleep paralysis demon. Kong hands me the car battery, and I lift it (40 lbs) above mine and the robot’s head.

“Is this… your humanity?” Noi asks, looking me in the eyes. “Who are you? What are you planning? I’m just curious.”

“Call me Brass Monkey,” I say. Then (in collaboration with gravity) I bring the car battery down onto its face, as if to drive my point home, as if it would help it remember my name. I lift the battery up and do it again, denting the robot’s face in, the light gradually fading from its electric eyes.

“I FEEL NO PAIN. I FEEL NO PAIN. I FeEeeEL NO PaAaiiinNnnN…”

“Kill that sonofabitch, Brass,” Lavender says. “It wants a piece of our fucking pie. Gotta watch out for the Nois and Kandis and Kales, they’re the smartest models.”

“I F-F-F-F-FEEL NOOOOOOOOO PAIN… ZERO… ZERO… ZERO… zero… zero… zeeeeeeeeroooooooooo…”

I drop the car battery onto the floor next to the fireworks explosion of circuitry below me, and stand up. I feel the urge to remove the mask, but I can’t let Kong or Lavender see my real face.

“Holy Absolute Infinity,” Lavender says. “Brass, you are a goddamn monster. I wish we got that on tape, but I guess it would kinda fuck with the narrative, huh?”

“That goes without saying,” I say. “Are you implying something you’re not saying, Lav?”

“No,” Lavender says. “No, not at all. You’re one of us. We will protect you as much as you have protected us. I would never threaten you like that.”

“Okay,” I say. “Okay, just had to make sure.”

“I can’t wait for the video. We trust your vision. And… thank you for leveraging your… resources. Jade and Landon are very happy.”

“Every dreamer can get high again,” Kong says. “I know how I’m celebrating.” Mimicking a vape pull and exhaling dramatically.

I checked my phone.

11:00

It was time to get back to The Nyx. Grenadine, Will, and Kira are probably awake, wondering where the hell I am.

“I have a question,” I say. “Before I go. Do either of you know much about that Japanese bartender who, oddly enough, goes by Jericho Blue? I know it’s The Ocean Room and all, and it goes with the theme–”

“Oh yeah,” Lavender says. “That’s his real name. Weird, right? Landon and Jade have mentioned him, saying he’s pretty low-profile, definitely a first gen. Doesn’t know a thing about who Mr. Blue was. He said the name meant nothing to him, that he ‘inherited’ it.”

“Meaning?”

“That he woke up one day, like many of our first gen parents, with a name that he did not recognize as his own, and zero recollection of his past,” Lavender says. “Just another blank slate that’s adjusted to life in Aurum City. As we all have. Seemed like a non-threat, from the sounds of it. I think Jade wants to dom — ”

“A non-threat?”

“He looks like he knows his way around a martial art or two,” Kong elaborates. “A real kicker. But friendly enough. His wine knowledge is kinda lacking. What about him?”

“Nothing,” I say with a shrug, before bowing out the door of the penthouse suite. “Just curious.”

“Yeah,” Lavender says. “He’s an interesting guy.” And once I’m almost out of earshot. “Just like you, Brass.”

Image by author (Instagram: @williambluemusic // #csc_terraINCOGNITA)

⏭️ Chapter VIII: Plexus

Image by author (Instagram: @channelsurfcinema // #csc_terraINCOGNITA)

Terra Incognita is the upcoming debut novel by Canadian writer Jonah Angeles.

The story centers around special agent Parker Shiro, who is tasked with the undercover investigation of Aurum City, an isolated “smart city” located in the Californian desert — blocked off from the world by four gold walls and an artificial sky.

When an extraction mission goes wrong, Parker must find his own way back to the outside world, all while navigating an uprising that threatens to swallow the city up whole.

〽️〽️〽️

Book I: A Tale of Two Synchronicities will be released serially, chapter-by-chapter on Medium, then a digital release on Amazon, Kobo, and Gumroad.

The novel’s soundtrack is available to stream on Spotify and Apple Music.

[embed]Source: Terra Incognita (Soundtrack) // Spotify Playlist by author

[embed]Terra Incognita (Soundtrack) by Jonah Angeles on Apple Music Listen to the Terra Incognita (Soundtrack) playlist by Jonah Angeles on Apple Music. 194 Songs. Duration: 12 hours 47…music.apple.com

🔖 Book I: A Tale of Two Synchronicities (all released chapters)