ARCH 3.99
“…they were all my friends, and they died…”
4 Dec 2020, 4pm
Luxury Earthship safehouse
Phuket, Thailand
Many drinks later, as he faced in solitude the oncoming hellfire missiles from big money, Bander was to remember that distant afternoon when Emma cleaned the tamale batter off his hands and strong armed him into her life while squeezing his fingertips.
Bander was finishing up re-enforcing some joint welds on his 3d metal medium.
It’s almost done.
It’s a 4 meter wire and rebar statue of a woman on her knees, one arm holding herself up from the earth, her other hand holds the baby inside her belly as her head looks up for help and her hair hangs under tension and suspense.
Bander hasn’t slept, he has been working on what would be his last art project for 6 days straight, it had to be done.
He’s been crying and working on getting his thoughts off his chest.
{Any minute now it all ends… …gotta hurry and send this last communication to the world… …and through them, myself… …this is who i am, and this is my place in history}
As he spark welded fluently the joints, he worked through the salt in his eyes and thought back.
Smiling at the memories.
For a few months, EAB had rushed phone talks. Emma had excitedly been keeping him up to date on her work progress, and he was always amused to listen to her whacky encounters.
Emma had secret and quirky meetings with celebrities, gathering advanced support and buy in on the upcoming planned changes for humanity.
She spoke with Samuel Jackson. dolly parton. keeanu reeves. salma hayeck. eminem. lil wayne. taylor swift. dave chappell. justina valentine. childish gambeeno. Jim Carey. Billie Eilish. Terry Crews. jane fonda.
In just a few months she had met up to 24.
They were gearing up to finally see each other again, she needed to see one more superstar in Hawaii on her way to their earthship in Thailand.
{We were going to lay low for a few years and pull strings safely and remotely. Weather out this covid storm and evade them hater’s radars}
While he grinded some long bars to be smooth and shiny, he also laborously polished on some coconut oil to seal it against oxydation, and allow the metal to show off it’s true colors for as long as it’s protected.
He weeps and snots as he thinks back to 6 days ago, the last time he slept and was sober, the last time he had spoken to anyone; DJ ‘Nanda was his last visitor.
Before then he hadn’t heard from Emma in 2 weeks and was worried sick, she had called often to share her comical misadventures out there going to these concerts and parties and then speaking with these eccentric celebrities.
DJ ‘Nanda made him japanese fluffy pancakes using Emma’s once secret recipe.
She then shared the gravity of the reality of it all.
She was there to share an aftermath report.
In LA airport, Alejandro, Emma and hela were taken to the side by security.
There are sub basement levels in LAX.
Dj Fernanda tells him they were disappeared.
Bander’s souls sinks in worse than when cassandro psyche killed him in brazil.
His last conversation with emma, she couldn’t contain her surprise anymore and shared she was pregnant.
It was a girl, and we just had to come up with a perfect name for her… …we were supposed to brainstorm names and agree on one at our next call.
“Don’t be nice with me Nanda. I want to know everything… …it’s… …it’s okay to be mean”
Bander blows his nose in his Shemagh, tries to keep his eyes dry and his voice clear.
DJ ‘Narda sighs, grapples for a moment on whether or not to tell her crumpling friend the truth.
Herself dealing with her own shock and pain as well.
“We’ve confirmed that they were locked into a secured room and starved to death down there… …We are unable to interfere in getting their bodies, it looks like they were left there on purpose, like some kind of bait or trap… …or a message.”
She shared the fate of everyone else he knew as well.
He rejected support from DJ ‘Nanda when she was done speaking and begged her to leave and for him to be left alone then.
Back in the present.
Bander runs his fingers across his last expression of warrior art.
Feeling for any burrs and sharp points with his fingertips.
Files offending spots down by hand.
The expensive life or death phone is ringing in the background.
He stumbles his way back into the empty earthship kitchen for another drink, another line, another toke.
{I guess it’s that time then. This is what freedom looks like… …what it costs… …just doing my part i guess?
…i miss you lover girl… …and baby girl… …money did this to us… …i already knew this day was coming, that they take everything when you don’t play along and act your part in the money game… …of course i would know that}
Bander chuckles and weeps in extreme heartache.
He reads the emergency phone text.
>>Death Jets incoming. Hide in bunker. use escape tunnel. plan Delta on. Grab nothing. GO NOW NOW NOW!<<<
He clumsily downs another screwdriver, holds le nafta agreement in his hand, taps his head with it in frustratrion and helplessness, and holds it to his chin, then remembers and admires the memory of his friends.
{What the fk am i doing, this ends on my feet, not knees… …what would they all say?}
He lowers the gun and quietly wishes everyone well from his memories, the people who shaped him up to his last minutes alive.
He cry smiles in despair and resolve in the face of hopelessness, fear and loss.
Disctrict 9 had been attacked by brazilian police, and were able to survive and outmaneuver every violent wave sent at them. Soon after, brazilian police and even the military themselves were fighting against each other on their true warrior values and where they ultimately stood in history. Other conflicts throughout latin america were also occuring, and they were surviving, and winning.
The indication of a braver world incoming. The world was changing, fast. He made sure of it.
Mama ‘Berta and Pepe survived the initial attacks, Pagpag didn’t.
Ren and Mosa found baby.
They were backed up by a small army of kayapo, ghourka, chamorro, and latin american warriors in their rescue operation in Luxemberg.
Almost everyone was wiped out in a special forces interception by shadow money; Ren and the Ghourka son were confirmed captured then killed.
Mosa and baby were able to escape to an unknown safevillage by the Ghourka Youth women club in the Himalayas.
{Mosa found her baby, that was supposed to be impossible… ….we were intelligent enough to work together and solve the impossible… …we did the impossible}
Two jets planes flew over faster than sound overhead.
They could be seen arching a u turn in perfect coordination in the distance.
Coming back.
Modern economic doctrine demands martyrs and their spaces be destroyed; their memories and existence distorted and effaced.
Martydom evokes the will to fight, a feeling contrary to privilege divisions, job-slavery cities and other standard social stratification expectations and bureaucratic order.
Bander is considered illegal. A high level terrorist threat to the bread and circus authorities.
He aims defiantly at the incoming jets in the horizon.
He can feel the air in their wings just like when he was the one that ran the skies.
The angle and range was impossible for this shot, but you never know what might happen next.
Bander fires from the Le Nafta Disagreement a moment before his whole hilltop shelter and priceless art was blown off the face of the existance.
From the cockpit view above it all the communication continues and the show goes on over the black and tar smoke clouds below.
<<<Eagle eyes, this is superman-22. Eagle eyes, superman-22; confirm target out.>>>
>>>Eagle reach, Eagle eyes; target out target out; operation success, good job. Return to base for donuts and debrief<<<
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