STRATEGIC-DOMINANCE
“… whatever it takes, ’cause I love how it feels when I break the chains …”
Atlantis, via Lanmaoa Indigo-Bellator, via Kayapo Brazil
20 Apr 2019. 2am UTC-3
…
..
.
There’s a lone vessel drifting in what seems to be the in-between of another endless ocean.
The little boat’s circle ripples send into motion tiny waves towards an outside space, crashing tsunamis against an imperceivable 360-degree horizon.
Inaudible. Rhythmic.
Cassandro lights his one match to the bidi in his mouth, sending a glow explosion across the area.
The entire sky is lit up momentarily, as if a flare went off.
He holds tight against the prow rail, his foot leans like a captain on starboard.
It’s an ambush incoming kind of quiet.
His heart races against a new bewildering unknown.
He takes a deep breath.
His smoky exhale whooshes like a hurricane breeze in all directions.
His chest-beats calms and slowers.
He squints and sees nothing.
Closes his eyes, and permits himself to be drawn to a speck of land faintly visible far far ahead.
This place is different.
Metaphysical.
Epistemological.
He vaguely recalls from somewhere,
that this is where he’s supposed to be.
He needs to be ready. The enemy never rests.
A fight can break at any moment.
Eyes open.
He sighs another breath of smoke.
Another ping.
Nothing. Listens for a hint, anything.
Nothing yet.
For what seems like a short forever.
Until.
A collection of female echos sing.
“Where are you now?”
He swears he recognizes them.
There’s a growing fog.
From nowhere, a strange woman’s echo seductively asks,
“Did you feel us?”
Cassandro walks around the outside rail of his boat, peers throughout the water.
Nothing’s there.
Another playful echo, sounds like a child.
“Wanna see us?… …alight?”
Cassandro continues to stealthily pace counter-clockwise.
Seeing nothing.
The echoes ask again.
“Where are you now?”
Cassandro smothers his bidi out against the mast.
Cuts the sails and kicks the anchor down.
The chain kept dropping but never stopped, it only slowed down to freeze frames.
He listens, patiently, as the ripples disappear and the water becomes serene.
He holds the aft-rail of the ship with all eight of his fingers.
Nothing.
Waits longer. Nothing.
He initiates communication.
He mutters out loud an old verse he practices with his avian family when he feels them watching but can’t see them.
“While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.”
A flutter storm of red crows burst out of port side.
The murder split into three groups and flew furiously in circles.
Then reunited into a bigger group, and flew south.
Without a caw between them.
Cassandro hears giggling coming from starboard side and investigates.
Floating gently above the water line are the two amused eyes of a giant boy’s head.
A school of pale yellow jellyfish light up around him, exposing an impossible anthropomorphic frame.
He has two immense wings that he gracefully uses to keep himself in place in the water.
Two aggressive looking swords are strapped to the outside of his chain link shorts like pocket protectors.
His arms float placidly around him.
His skin is blue, and eyes glitter with mischief.
Striking against Cassandro’s flint-faced awe, a female figure floats into view.
Made visible by the ghostly glow of purple jellyfish, the anthropomorphic woman is much larger than the boy.
She doesn’t have wings, carries a shield, and her dark celestial hair floats everywhere behind her atop the water.
Her hips are adorned by a chain link skirt.
Her knees and feet beat gently in the water as she hovers in place.
They both appear overwhelming in contrast to Cassandro’s insignificant boat.
The boy’s voice echoes and rings outwards and low.
<<< …his fantasy is like nemeny’s… >>>
The woman’s ethereal voice breathes inward and featherly.
>>> …Caution bebi, this one’s from a different story, another arch… <<<
She locks her gaze suspiciously at Cassandro
>>> …Never mind why, how are you here?… <<<
Cassandro struggles to remember, and the fog circle around them gets thicker.
He meditates for clarity, but finds nothing more.
He opts, instead, to analyze his surroundings.
Dreamy. Floaty. between an up and a down.
He’s looking for answers, questions burn inside him.
He thinks, Atlantis, under the sea?
No-
The atlas, the space between the brain and the spine.
Where the conscious subconscious and the body seam.
Is this the place, all his loved ones experienced as they died?
<<< Mami, how does he know without knowing? This one is very different >>>
The woman agrees.
>>> Look, his heart is dripping <<<
Cassandro catches that his thoughts are being hijacked by them, and tunes in.
*** Mic check one two, can you hear me? ***
The boy snorts and giggles and splashes a little,
<<< I can hear you loud and clear sir! >>>
The mother is not as amused. The purple jellyfish bulbs pulse and turn off.
The blue skinned giant woman goes invisible.
>>> You’re in our communication waves. We don’t know you <<<
The vessel experiences a sharp boat-quake.
Cassandro holds onto the starboard side.
Unbothered. Unmoved. Unshakeable.
*** Just a humble traveler.
Seeking help, for my side from yours.
The physical world is exhausted.
We need, a little more… …spectacle ***
The faded purple jellyfish light up again, and the woman reappears.
Working a chink in the tether behind her neck like a clasp, she is now wearing the boat’s anchor and chain like a necklace.
It hangs low between her chest, resting just under her solar plexus.
A thin salt-line appears in the near distance, the water after this division is wet obsidian.
The boat, a slug with no anchor, inches towards it.
The giant boy, concerned,
<<< Careful! If you pass, you’ll not return.
Out of so many billions and billions of end stories, only Nemeny has escaped >>>
Cassandro, familiar with timers, but unfamiliar with the unfamiliar, doesn’t know what to say next.
So he latches his curiosity onto the other party’s mention, in an angle to learn more.
*** What was Nemeny fishing for? ***
The boy, excited to communicate about the only friend he’s ever made, smiles <<< She showed me. I can show you >>>
In a moment of look what I can do, he blows the northern fog away.
An island appears, with people on it; towns, villages, and cities of them.
Living a peaceful day to day.
Cassandro gasps at the picturesque images that he’s been only able to describe in fragments to the willing few that would listen.
With even fewer that could understand.
Dumbfounded.
*** Heaven on earth…
…the paradise we were robbed of ***
As the boat inches closer, Cassandro gains a wave of omnipotence over all the inhabitants.
He is inside and around all of them at once.
What they see, hear, touch, smell, think, and over 30 other senses, he also experiences.
No one owes anyone, and haters check their insecurities.
As they build. And work together, he also is there amongst them.
They communicate from one side of the globe to the other.
Nobody’s scared nor alone. They are independent and prosocial.
In this communal spirit, he notes a difference in himself.
His whole lifetime, his curse was his power, he felt the world’s children’s pain.
In this world, suffering and evil was a scared whimper.
For the first time in his existence, he felt safe, and could let his guard down along with everyone else.
Trusting the neighbors’ involvement in a secure network.
As everyone pitched in and policed their environment from malice and sneaks.
The woman lightens up to Cassandro.
>>> We can’t help, we only swim in dreams, and observe stories <<<
The boy argues he’s ready to get out and be a doer, not a watcher.
That it can be done. He can do it, he can fight and create his own story.
The mother tells him it’s not worth the risk. That someone else will come.
Who else will come? If we don’t, why should anyone else should?!
It’s always the same. So much, dreams lost its sense and meaning.
So many nightmares are making him sick, he wants out.
There, he said it.
The mother soothes him and invites him to calm down.
Between them, the argument becomes inaction, safety, and conservation of what they have against; initiative, hope and transcendence to what could be.
One suffers for change, the other finds comfort with everything staying the same.
Cassandro whisper-thinks to himself, excited.
This is it, an answer.
The power of the collective conscious under an agreed narrative, if they can link all minds through the interconnected dream channel…
They must have substantial influence in this communication wave…
They must be ancient…
The mother’s afraid… …and the son can’t fly on his own.
They lack will power.
They stop bickering at each other.
No one has ever seen them for who they are before.
The mother holds the son’s hand.
>>> Wait and see bebi… …look. The fantasy is breaking.
The narrative of his world is coming apart. This is why I don’t like you seeing these channels of perspectives…
…Your father also obsessed like this before he was… <<<
Behind the island, something hidden was approaching.
Large shadow titans with tall thin legs walk over the lands as if on stilts.
Silently observing, mapping, and identifying the critical things humans value.
They plot and compete on how best to impose, and then teach, the concept of ownership of land, people and other things…
Oooooh, look at these. Labor. Beauty. Creativity. What’s this? Technology?
Share share, show us your best. Think of us as guests, it’s okay to be humble and nice to strangers and abusers.
No contracts? How do you know what’s yours from theirs?
Satisfied, they smile and agree with each other, and hide themselves within the populations.
Mingling. Waiting.
A whisper slowly morphs into something deafeningly louder.
…let the bodies hit the floor…
…let the bodies hit the floor…
…let the bodies hit the…
…
..
.
Two cymbals and lightning missiles rain down and blast the water dams, radios, and buildings.
We tried to shelter our children from the fire blasts but simply perished with them.
Survivors were mangled and tattered and jailed and slaughtered.
The birds fell quiet as the warplanes break sound barriers.
A child is separated from a parent because of an imaginary border.
Workers build things they will never own.
Soldiers are immune in executing arbitrary rules
Advertisements determine what happiness is.
Public shame and punishment commonplace for questioning the narrative.
Prayers. Votes. Hope. Obedience. Become synonymous.
Trees of cinnamon and con-fusion crystallize in minds from the wage slavery.
Blood, from the omnipresent violence, makes the grass grow.
They stopped asking where and how they get their food, clothing, meat, entertainment, and soma.
Mammon roars and laughs as jet planes, warships, drones and artilleries of poison continue to rain on illegal aliens and other enemy combatants.
They own the forecasts over the targets of their choosing.
They cement numbers into the psyche, and squeal loudly as they make believe that bleeding money actually hurts them.
Cassandro loses entire chunks of himself, and the curse he’s lived his whole life devours him again.
He collapses onto his knees. Cries. Defeated.
Exhausted as the curtain fogs close back up.
The shadows look at him and smile as they pull strings on people like puppets.
Domesticated. Employed. Educated. Helpless. Ignorant. Civil. Comfortable.
Echelons of bullies affording themselves limitless grotesque pleasures.
From the bodies of the people and children roughly slotted around and below them.
Silence returns.
The boat is closer to the line that should not be crossed.
Cassandro picks himself back up.
Wipes his tears away. Blows his nose into his Shemagh.
The boy is terrified, and the mother soothes him.
>>> We are safe here. Hidden. We are not a part of that world <<<
Cassandro chastises them.
Virtual space, dream space, imagination space, creative space, spiritual space, etcetera space…
It’s all on the menu, only thing stopping them is patience.
Cassandro puts another bidi in his mouth. Soothes himself from the fear he’s always known.
Realizing he’s not bound by physics, he lights the bidi with the phoenix like rage in his gut.
And looks down at the whales, as something inferior, but with potential.
They can read him analyzing them.
Judging. With his higher truths.
They have the capability of saving the world, but…
They are like children also.
<<< The woman can’t take his arrogance anymore.
Why do you think we’re children? We’re thousands of years old! >>>
Cassandro shakes his head.
*** A grown up is so good at taking care and protecting themselves, that they can extend that to others.
You can’t speak your way out of it. All pun intended, you’re both selfish ***
The water around the female whale starts to boil.
Cassandro takes another drag and interrupts her mood swing.
*** I get it. You want him safe, so do I.
But you don’t generate safety by hiding, you do it by creating a safe environment.
If you allow bad things to happen to mothers out there, then nothing can stop something bad happening to you and him in here…. ***
Cassandro calms down.
And allows himself to feel attracted to the whale mother’s protective spirit.
He softens his view of her.
Tries to broach.
*** Hey ***
The whale woman notices him noticing her and notices him for a moment.
*** I get it. It’s scary when you’re alone…
…I can relate… …I have so many stories, I bet you’re dying to hear where I’ve been, what I’ve done.
I’m confident I got some memorable moments to add to your collection… ***
Cassandro flirtingly winks at her.
The whale woman bites her lip, stories from protectors are her absolute favorite.
They break out of so many prisons. And they know how to build suspense.
Her cheeks and ears blush a little red.
From experience, she knows she has almost no time to talk to him.
She tries to be aggressive in getting his attention her way.
>>> There’s a cool hot spring nearby we could…. I mean, I give you permission to join me and tell me about it…
…about yourself if you’d like of course… …only if you want to, but you are invited…. …we can talk maybe <<<
Cassandro smiles warmly at her.
*** Help me help you protect everyone, so we can both be better beings.
What do you say we get to know each other a little better. Explore our strengths and… …weaknesses.
We can write our own adventure together, and get this little homebody youth to dry his wings and fly… ***
The whale woman remains quiet to his offer as his boat keeps moving forward.
The boy chimes in, welcoming of the idea of another figure in his life to take him further, but respecting his life.
>>> You’re at the line sir… …You should go now… <<<
The woman seduces.
<<< Or… …you could swim here with me. The seaweed here is so much more greener.
Step onto my hand, we’ll be immortal together >>>
She brings her massive hand in front of him as his boat keeps crossing over into blackwater.
Cassandro takes another draw.
blows smoke.
Looks her in the eyes.
Captivated. Tempted.
How nice it would be, to finally drop his guard, and rest.
But.
He wants a new world. Realizes their power. He needs them.
He appreciates her offer. Maybe some other time?
He shares with the whale boy.
*** Hey buddy. Did you hear about the fish? ***
>>> But sir, the line, you will– <<<
*** It’s alright kiddo. We’ll solve my death problem when we get to that chapter.
But first, I have to know. Did you hear?
An older fish was minding his own business in a super large, super wide fish tank.
And then, two younger fish were put in there with him. ***
<<< Fish tanks? Is that like, fish-jail? >>>
*** That’s right! It is. Did you wanna hear about it? ***
The boy nods. His yellow jellyfish blink. His swords shimmer.
Cassandro animates his story with his hands and 8 fingers.
*** So, get this. The two young fishes come across him and say, hey man, whatsup?
The old fish goes, Hey guys! How’s the water!?
The two young fishes say all’s well that ends well, slap his fin, agree to come by someday with some baklava, and then they swim away.
Eventually, one of the young fishies asks the other young fish, sincerely confused.
Hey bro, what in the bubbles is water? ***
Both the mother and child laugh, amused.
Cassandro’s boat has crossed the line.
The woman smiles wider.
Almost hungrily.
>>> There’s no escape… pepi… Won’t you stay here with us? We can light a campfire by some rocks <<<
She covers her bottom lip with her index, and giggles.
Cassandro smiles politely.
*** If only I could Memi girl…
But alas, I fkn can’t. Those prayers don’t answer themselves, and it seems you’re still unwilling to help so…
…throw this old dog a bone here, any ideas how I could get back? ***
They both shake their heads.
The boy tries his best
<<< Nemeny woke up because she had a special language to help her…
And other people wake up because they have to go to the bathroom, but…
…they never crossed the line before… >>>
Cassandro looks around him. Gravity is getting heavier.
No way he’s going to be able to decipher any of that right now.
Tosses his bidi onto the deck of his boat, and smothers it with his boot.
Smirks at the whales.
*** Guess maybe we’ll have to wake up the old fashioned way ***
>>> How!!!??? <<<<
*** Ah you know, just like in the real world.
Face the terror head on…
…And either wake up from this bad dream, or die trying ***
Cassandro opened back up his sails.
The boat tugs northbound in the muck-water, towards the fog.
He puffs out his chest with dramatic flair and the fog splits open.
The shadows are there, they’ve been waiting for him and they see the others.
The whale lady gasps and hurriedly pics up her shield and swims backwards with her son.
Afraid of being reached.
A barrage of missiles head towards Cassandros boat.
One massive enforcer shadow picks him up and tears him in half before the missiles blow his vessel out of existence.
From the pieces the enforces split him apart further and needle pick the meat off his bones.
Savagely. Making an example out of him. It’s personal.
Cassandro wakes up in a sweat. It’s still Gitmo. Still the 21st of November.
He’s still tied down to the table.
He’s uncomfortable in the urine drenching his shorts.
That mushroom trip from April still has him fkd up.
The watch says it’s almost midnight.
He’s preparing himself for the possibility that he’ll likely be dead in three days, left like this.
Not his preferred scenario of dying.
He looks around.
Coughs.
He recites an old line, what’s the worst that could happen?
“While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.”
4 and a half days later.
On the brink of dying from thirst, starving, still tied to the table.
He sits soiled and miserable.
Gas hisses around him and knocks him out.
He hears the voices of three females prepping to clean him and wash this cage.