Welcome to the Ocema:

  Oh hooray. Noah the gay-friendly, pro-promiscuity “enlightened” Christian too dumb to even read the bible: tip Jesus said he forgave the taxpayer and prostitute then procimed, “never sin again”, people miss that part for some reason, you’re supposed to repent not keeping doing what’s wrong and still be loved cause “God’s the cool dad who looks the other way.”

  Anyway, he’s taken it upon himself to save women from their own wants and dreams and released a story: its Booster Girls combined with Blue Fire sans misogyny Plus, more mental illness positivity, diverse couples, fluid gender roles, matriarchies and alternatively-abled peoples. Also, more pro-drugs less bad, conventional, evil suburbia lifestyle and shows real people solving real problems (in space!)

  However, his entire masterpiece is probably stolen from the winning list of the HUGO awards for best Science fiction where pregnant, male, disabled trannies all get injections that give them uteruses and help them grow four repcement arms on pnet Titanium Five Hundred and overthrow corrupt, extremely pale-blue aliens who want to ensve all the sweet yellow ones living in harmony with all other gactic races.

  He was pacing the room, sad bck eyes colpsed like crashed space voyageurs, heart more defted than the pnet and earth’s stock market both of which greedy Conservatives ruined. Stupid, uneducated fucks keeping out of government and business, the very women, and minorities who might have saved them from straight white men’s systems built on oppression, exclusion, corruption, and war-mongering with a tolerance of new ways, ideas, and unique seeing of things.

  His once thin, dark hands y as orange-tinged (due to war radiation) as that st, shitty tub of shaved carrots in the fridge and slowly fading due to his drug-haze. His stash of drugs at his feet.

  The metallic moon illuminated itself like some great, engorged spoon scooped out of blue cereal bowl sky as she wheeled herself in dressed in a low-cut top with each section adorned with pro-equality signs in circur symbols and each exposed nipple’s pleasured bead (which alien pervs leered at), but he couldn’t help but admire her bravery. Protesting proudly nude with bloody arms raised even as the aliens tried to restrict her rights to dress as she chose on the battlefield. Had even changed her name to Liberty to give a middle finger to her controlling, patriarchal oppressors.

  Had fought for her rights even during these difficult times and for those of a gay friend killed by the aliens who formed an allegiance with men’s movement. Called themselves God’s of Tradition and Immorality Raiders and took power over the state. The raiders thought LGBT people cursed. Quite backward race, anti-abortion too. No progress, enlightenment, or learning to accept and love one another’s differences and see them as an irrelevance, just a salivating desire to conquer. Kill and refuse power-ascension to non-conformers, never learning to accept. Saw all others as threats and their pythings. Tragic needless destruction of one pnet after another.

  Since earth taken over, (the alien’s had saw messages sent from the forties full of submissive females which progressive ter scientists wanted changed) and not knowing how humanity had evolved, they thought ensving them would be easier if one half was already treated like chattel. His wheeled lover had at this very time realized being weak and dependent didn’t get her anywhere and had been forced to toughen up.

  She was the courageous one now, saving him emotionally and physically: had all the money too, well-earned. Always staying calm and ready for anything as his officer and till recently strongest warrior on the battlefield (Lindy her sexy threesome-loving, bi, gender-fluid friend and lover of a good round of drinks and pot succeeded her and was ter appointed commander by the resistance leader and founder of the rebellion herself. Amazing dy but frightened him a little). Patriarchally-raised men struggled to let go of their fear of a strong woman.

  Yet the depression after she became disabled in the raids led to his love's intense drug use. Would have been fine, were it just pot legal as should be, (but people couldn’t stop thinking had a God-given right to tell other people how to live) but she was addicted to the harder stuff. Tears suddenly ran down his face thinking about it; he had become softer, more sensitive, and patient now that the pressures of society to be manly and never emotional were (at least among his wonderful friends full of liberty and love) broken-down somewhat. Signed, relieved at his ability to finally be himself. Someone kinder, more tolerant and less macho and aggressive it felt good to cry, to open up.

  It goes on. Pass bleach please. Also, the wuss never stops crying: cries on nearly every page.

  Next time on generic Alien take-over, politically-correct edition:

  Liberty has sixty abortions.

  Sleeps with fifteen (or twenty, she can't remember as too drugged-out on legal weed that the awful, Immortality Raiders want to re-criminalise) aliens who can’t satisfy her.

  Conquers three pnets with the power of nagging… I mean her words of peace.

  Bombs eight more “evil” pnets with a detonator built herself, wow our genius hero.

  Decres wheelchair sex superior to the abled kind.

  Experiments with the most-effective tortures for enemies and commits acts of Doctor Mengele-level sadism as arises to head of the rebellion, acid burns even the mildest of dissenters.

  Decres herself lesbian all along but patriarchal, heteronormative oppressed. When it looks like she might die, protesters cry at losing their sadistic, violent, Hitler-esque yet same-sex attracted role-model.

  Contracts untreatable syphilis and joins the faceless ones and with her skin melting off, demands they fund a billion-dolr treatment centre instead of using it to research how to preserve food which is now scarce, or make suits that protect against wartime radiation.

  The monogamy/ celibacy others have turned to, she calls patriarchal evil. Fleshly delights are the most fundamental right, she says.

  And Chyrdon cries…Wait so obvious why even put that in here?

  She runs around the battlefield with ser-gun wielding robots and aliens in the nuddy people; in all her jiggling glory screaming intolerant alien scum learn to love, let that image sink in. Hippie power. Maybe she wouldn’t have been disabled if she wore some protective armour or something.

  Oh, Mono says we should post this take-down Emanuel and Aryan did of alien take-over stories even in the supposedly hard sci-fi novels.

  Of literary and film pet peeves? The alien hostile invasion. First compint I levy; their ughably humanoid. Creatures with same motivations and patently, absurdly-simir body structures despite coming from vastly different pnets. Earth’s variations alone astound. The sea-dwelling essentially breath water, some are residents of volcanos, others absorb their nutrients directly through surface area, others parasitise and fuse to far rger body of opposite-sex of their species...

  Extra-terrestrials are commonly-shown as more "morally enlightened" yet reveal same values and virtues humans invented in their own philosophy. One rgely unique and tied to our senses, bodily needs and lived experiences and vary by time and culture. Infanticide, is utilised in certain circumstances by humans and many other creatures and other-times is abhorred. So even the remarkably simir might be their differences and morals vastly unalike.

  Aliens might not succumb to or employ predation or suffer at hands of harmful, parasitic micro-organisms that affect their functionality and find it a horrific way to exist. Might relentlessly self-select before birth using complex system of micro-biological awareness via say electro-perception of extreme misfires in network of this complex system.

  Might ck our sense of protection toward the malformed, chronic-diseased Reveal only disgust which turns to moralisation of it as cold-hearted and selfish to let them live in agony and waste resources better-elsewhere spent. Though mankind too, oft provide less and less support for the stricken and has technologically gravitated toward eugenics via abortion/IVF.

  The aliens who practiced natural gene-select routinely across civilisations might find it far more barbaric we kill our healthy embryos. Reject parenthood at the optimum point for frivolous pleasure. Only to breed when more elderly, overweight, less-fertile because it suits us but not our now more compromised offspring or longevity of our species which needs fit inhabitants too survive.

  Likewise, could be appalled earth evolved beings that sughter for consumption, healthy, viable creatures. Maybe extra-terrestrials devour only the already-dead a our scavengers or are homeless but harvest energy and nutrients from emissions of nearby suns, cosmic dust and regurly-passing meteoroids.

  Directly-absorb and discard back out unneeded particles through suction, pore-like structures. Maybe utilise energy from rge colonies of clustering, very simple organisms clearly without sentience ( pnts debatable if have anything resembling it) or exist akin parasites or viruses and split from group to pray on these rger creatures for own reproduction or sustenance and make new colony formed in nutrient-rich, spacious body of unfortunate alien being.

  Perhaps consuming overpoputed beings, they deem "a moral good to reduce poputions and prevent famine as carnivores do. Perhaps the terrestrials consider reaping complex, thinking, feeling creatures for nutrients or any reason repugnant.

  Maybe as suggested earlier their nomads free-floating, sentient and travel space reaping the energy and nutrients from many bio-chemically avaible things including pnets one by one and would have no concept of destruction of the homend as inherently a bad thing but simply means to their own existence.

  Maybe overtook by different, far more advanced consciousness as they age that builds on the one prior in such a way as to shed, old one which essentially dies. Basically, lose memories and experiences as minds undergo a chrysalis that changes even some of their senses and mental processing. Yet achieve higher awareness.

  Old mind structures are rapidly and mostly lost as become mentally a different creature which as happens gradually and leaves more intact when occurs during our growth, to us would feel akin to being sin by hostile invader. However, they might find this admirable, desirable and natural but our inflicting of pain upon each other for our own pleasure in another's punishment as barbaric; for its joy in suffering and often pointlessness.

  The aliens in science fiction exist either brutal war-mongers whose only discernible belief are crude ideas of competition and the expansion for territory, food and power. A might is right or kill or be killed stratagem. They often lie upon the unrealistically-consistent bck-and-white moral pne suggesting ck capacity for adaption or are shown to have "reached perfection." Which makes ponder, why not pray, use their glorious mental capacity to cease universe's expanding, eventually destroying all things. Stop the sleeper stars holed to abysses from colpsing. Incinerating entire habitable, gactic-strings.

  I do enjoy the idea of spreading one’s life-seeds to other pnts to popute universe with lively beasts who in their infinite conscious can seek life's majesty or its pleasures only living beings observe and in revel. We must not concentrate on machinations of a small-subset of creatures on little pnetary-body, that's in grand scheme of the high vales, a little thorned. Yet aliens often simply pilge not to preserve their own life but for "phony altruism" Defeating our primitive little cartel of syers with their imperialistic "utopia" of genocidal alien-fyers who solve their problems as violently, unsophisticatedly and un-inspiredly as man does with conquering, territory-theft, punishment. Annihition and bloodshed.

  Anyway, Noah’s entire male, white-apologist story is what Emmanuel calls “ self-fgeltion for higher glory yet devoid of a monk’s devotion or actual endangerment. People of fortune tend to their care, feign. Prostrate themselves as evil or incompetent in comparison to the so-called disadvantaged to raise their status over the "uncaring, unevolved” people real or imaginary of past and modern day.

  Cast themselves as powerful beings of enlightenment, depth and to the uninitiated, bringers of knowledge and moral aid. Suggest womanhood, bckness itself a form of highness No matter how advantaged wealth-wise, cking suffering or simply mediocre, your kind’s prior lower standing, makes you survivors and warriors in their eyes.

  “Oh, listen all ye faithful; weeping for joy over every cast in a dark-draping, faux female, beneath the iron grip of a humankind self-same but for its flesh cloaked in white veils.”

  Anyway, I recall Monovalent reciting it. They’re Emanuel’s words, I’m just repeated it, basically what I would have said anyway, this is just more fancily put.

  Mist: Faux women are trannies? Speaking of Noah’s love for Boosterpower, that sappy, sesame-street-level moralising garbage. Despite the fake dark story he wrote, he hides from gritty reality and cold, adult shows and prefers a fake happy overcast, even if it's full of the crude and cruel.

  Like many modern young people, he often avoids depictions of drugs, sex, working to death, and other grim depressing things to find worlds of rainbows and flowers and collects toys of their hybrid, bug-eyed princesses.

  Loves these manchild-toys more than life itself and probably also whacks to and which Shiver and I stole. We added stuffing to them till bloated and fat then used a specialised 3d printer to resew them all and then they were returned, with simple, sweet message of love at all shapes and sizes, feminism thanks you. He cried ha. Her idea.

  Shiver: Yeah, women so don’t influence men through shame and choosing masculine, powerful as lovers and leaders stop underestimating us.

  Also, today Shiver suggested we take peek at some of Brosy’s written/acted entries from back when he was friendless, and everyone wished agonising death upon him much earlier in the year. The entries have been condensed somewhat as we deemed the comments more significant.

  Entry one: singing gone array: I apologise profusely for those offended by my singing cssic songs from movie tracks at the Wrighthouse concert…though many seemed merely to be ughing others cimed I ruined a masterpiece.

  You have threatened to beat me in regards to it well I guess its par for the course in my life at this point.

  Comments:

  You must die

  You are taking up precious oxygen that could be put to better use continuing life for people who don’t suck.

  You bleached us all for life you fuck-tard with your shitty pale poison of a performance, saddest thing I ever seen in my life besides you. My eyes… it can never be unseen… I ughed at just how retarded. Can’t believe you didn’t even fall of your fucking seat!!!!! Or better still smash your head and die. I mean a gazillion people want you dead. Take a hint and die, dancing and singing FUCK.

  Dear God. Ambrose seriously, you’re so fat and ugly I’m surprised my eyes aren’t bleeding. I hope you never have children, or it could start the apocalypse. There are very creative methods of suicide look into them.

  You look deformed. Ugliest person I ever seen. His hick, trailer-trash breeding would be something of a crime against humanity, I agree.

  We were all hoping you’d fall of your seat during your performance. That’s what we were whispering about while you sang and pyed.

  I can’t believe he didn’t fall damn!!! And break his ankle or better yet his aborted foetus of a head. Go jump off a cliff and die slowly and painfully. To all other Ambrose haters don’t worry even if he gets to hospital, nobody will save his sorry life.

  Seriously this V-blog is bullshit, this thing an eborate joke man. Am I being had? If not, Ambrose you really rub people the wrong way.

  Don’t underestimate how much we hate Ambrose it’s real alright. His very existence makes us all so sick we want to kill ourselves or him just so we can get away from him and we even question a God who put him here. Die just die.

  Entry two

  I have few friends and can count the ones I do on my fingers. In regards to Max and Eva (at least we get along amicably) I was discussing computer code with them, and I think they were finding it a little repetitive. Also, Max owes me twenty dolrs and I really need it back; maybe the nurses can help me retrieve it.

  In others news to make my many haters jump up and down with glee I had another stroke, I couldn’t move my face, and my head felt like it would explode, and I fainted right away. Still if I died who’d you have to ugh at, relentlessly mock? It’s a sick, painful, symbiotic retionship we have. I am so tired of feeling this way and people calling me shit all the time. At least when I recovered, I felt like I was high as I always do afterwards.

  Eva and the rest of us aren’t your friends Ambrose. We never were, never will be. Do us all a favour and choke on your breakfast one morning and never bother us again, we hate you.

  The reason everyone calls you shit, is because you are shit, Ditch.

  As if anyone cares about you or your fucked up life, I mean God like we care. Call the President Ambrose so he can issue a bulletin….

  We have a Prime Minister mate. Yet man, Ambrose, you’re still the bigger retard. That’s why no-one loves you. Sheesh is it that hard for you to comprehend basic rules of life. Don't be you and you'll be liked got it?

  Like you know what it is like to get high stop trying to fit in, you geeky fucking loser.

  Ambrose replying: well, I am most certainly no brain-dead stoner, perhaps you, the DOA waiting to happen, the pot-loving, grocery bagger soon repced by the robots, might know a thing or two about being one though?

  Oh my God everyone, I think the little, Bronze-age bronzer just insulted me… die you fat, ugly freak who can't move on into this century.

  You’re a weirdo. You should be tested on instead of animals, let’s get Peta on board. Great compromise between people who want good products and medicine and those who love animals like their human or something.

  I’m gd my prayers you would get hurt came true, but you didn’t die… What the F, God? Such a bronzer. I wouldn’t call Max your friend, no-one deserves that lowly a title. Also shut-up about that stupid money tightwad; no-one cares about you getting paid back (hint you won’t ever).

  Also, someone yesterday said you should fall down a flight of stairs. God, I hope it happens, kills you and I never have to see you again.

  You really, really ugly. God, I hope they reopen Guantanamo Bay just for you. Die for the world, be a hero. For once in your life think of the rest of us and stop selfishly continuing existing.

  I wouldn't hold your weak nerdy hand if you were dying, I'd sever it to cause you more pain, you deserve it...

  I’d have taken you to that strip-club they shut-down (on my own dime) that's full of women with STDS and was ground zero for one of the STD resurgences and have them all sleep with you and kill you. However, no-one would agree to touch you, you ugly bronzer, even with the wide end of a handed-out, participation trophy, that's all someone like you could hope to win.

  I have a game for you…You test your pain endurance and record it as you light yourself with a match then douse the fme with lighter fluid and it gets rid of all your blemishes( in your case just the entire face).

  Please hurry up and kill yourself, I would do it but I’m busy, love from Satan.

  Ambrose, please have sex with me I think you’re so hot!!!!! I don't think you’re a hideous tub of rd at all... And to all Ambrose’s haters shut-up and fuck-off who are you to speak for our great master Satan? You will all burn in hell!!!!

  Ambrose replying: my dear I'll see you at my Monovalent realm, Darkly Armadillo’s virtual world and we'll see where this budding romance just might lead.

  You people all have a pce in hell how can justify being so cruel?

  Jesus doesn’t love him.

  You think you speak for Jesus Christ now? Your definitely going to hell, you arrogant bastard.

  I’m going to hell? I can’t wait it’s got to be better than Ambrose.

  Na mate, hell is a million Ambroses. All pying old-as-fuck music.

  Entry: three I have to leave the Wright House Estate today I feel very strangely sad… I’ll really miss this pce while I’m away. I still search... To no avail…where is the faith to hold onto?

  Comments

  WHY ARE YOU STILL ALIVE DIE ALREADY

  Watch out for the steps (or don’t)

  I am from you old school. You’re in a psych ward how much more bronzer does it get? Die in a ditch, Ditch. You are unloved and you'll never win even if they decre losing illegal, you'll be the exemption.

  Don’t worry Ambrose my mum says there is someone for everyone, even you, and if you’re lucky this girlfriend will let you borrow the razors, she uses to shave her chimp face every morning, so you’ll be covered if you ever lose yours( once you start puberty and growing any facial hair that is.)

  Your pants are too tight, and your penis shows, so I’m going chop it off and use it as kindling for a tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny fire.

  No-one loves you.

  Wow you cancerous blob, your dick’s soooo small. Has World Records called about your micro-micro penis. First and only award you'll ever win. Congratutions buddy!!! Also, those bloody suits and fucking old, crappy shoes, man your clothes are shit. So ancient, worn and outdated. They’re your grandfather’s, right?

  Entry: Intentions of suicide

  Welcome to my st post, something I’m sure will leave most people very eted. As you may know I have had two previous suicide attempts. The first one was st year, after my disaster of a thirteenth birthday, where as a birthday gift someone put a tampon smeared with red paint (I hope) under my seat and as I pulled it out, shouted ‘“look Ambrose finally hit puberty guys, he just got his period.”’

  The second one earlier this year. I tried overdosing on my medication and then hanging and do not intend to let the third attempt fail. Farewell my worthy opponents. Enjoy your lives and think not of whom you hate but whom you love.

  Comments

  Stop talking about it, you bronze medallist and just do it, God damn it. Die bitch Die. Die you sad, fat, ass-fuck.

  Here I was just hoping you would get sick! By all means yes, fucking die, kill yourself now! You green-goo spewing, syphilite.

  I can finally do all the things I was pnning to be before your constant girly-fag( real masculine gays are cool not the sissy straight pretenders) and "life-participator" of a presence made me feel too sick to do them.

  We all really, really, really hate you, Ambrose. You disgust me and even your fellow Special Unabled, little Aidsers. They all hope you or they die so least won't be associated with you anymore. Don't stop with the poetry though: it at least makes me ugh.

  No-one that ugly should walk unmasked. You truly deserve to die go jump into a river like I told you no-one ever will love you.

  Like when even your parents think your completely-bronzed... They want you gone too, not surprising. Worst person imaginable. Super-fat, gay but not the cool kind, and retarded and sooooooooooooo ugly.

  Hey guys let’s have a celebration party after that fat Aidser Ambrose dies with cakes and cookies and an orgy with strippers.

  Oh God yes, I would go to that party. Best fucking reason for a party ever.

  WE ALL KNOW YOU’LL NEVER DO IT YOU’LL TOTALLY WUSS OUT BUT IM NOT TAKING ANY CHANCHES… FUCKER DIE AMBROSE BLOODY DIE!!!!!!!!

  Don’t do it Ambrose.

  Oh, poor Linda only lover of life’s most worthless asses.

  Don’t commit suicide Ambrose. Although I do belief it a valid choice, no-one should be made to feel guilty for staying alive or die out of a sense of obligation to others any more than feel they should live regardless of pain or misery as killing yourself is cowardly or morally wrong( its isn’t) but think it through at least okay?

  God you people are appalling. Alright so you feel he’s a "participator", you seem like retarded fuckwits who can’t string even a ludicrously simple sentence together to me. He’s a thirteen-year child and your barrage of vicious insults might hold more sway if you learnt to write and spell or to speak with a sembnce of coherency.

  God yes, he’s a loser and we all know your just Ambrose pretending to have friends just do what everyone wants and bloody die.

  Yes, but why the vitriol seems a little excessive.

  Vitriol???? dude mocking Ambrose gives us something to do, he’s great boredom killer.

  Ambrose commenting (thankyou Lindy and mysterious helper much as I appreciate you, you just insulted my only friend, saying your better than her. Thanks for the encouragement all the same. Still, I mostly want to know your identity, invisible ally.

  Dude, mate chill I was just kidding around.

  Shiver: And I thought being me picked st for sports (because I’m terrible) was bad. Making fun of his strokes? Low. People die from those, what’s next saying ha, ha you have cancer to a thirteen boy with cancer? Alright I’ll admit it… I feel sorry for Ambrose right now.

  Well, he sure is lucky one of Aryan’s first political acts involved repealing anti-free speech and political protest ws. So, amongst other things his virtual reality information highway could be a pce to debate openly. He stopped ridiculousness cyber-bullying and harassment being hate crime. Props of being rich influential dude with political sway and ownership of our most profitable and connective technology.

  Mist: Shiv honey do not fall so easily into the trap of sentimentality, he’s broadcasting this publicly, offering himself up to public ridicule Also, that st line makes him sound like a pot-smoking hippie giving a mind-numbing speech of peace to the deluded masses inclined toward violence and hatred and other typical human behaviour.

  Shiver: I realise that and agree it is unwise… However, it seems to be a plea for attention, and he puts up with it since bad attention is all he can procure for himself. I guess for some bizarre reason he as does most people, finds that more acceptable than solitude.

  Oh, they’re repulsive, his haters, though quite adept at crude humour, in their illiterate I can scarcely read-or-speak-English properly, kind of way. Anyhow whom is Linda, and his actually English-competent defender Shiv is that you honey? So sweet.

  Shiver: No, it’s not me I wish it had been, but I had only just started staying here and Linda was this nice and fond of Ambrose for some reason she left before you came, and I didn’t know her well. Also, the defender is clearly male you can tell from his persona…and the way he calls himself Spiderman.

  His opinions on suicide are dead on and in fact, with his viginte attitude, he is rather like a more moral version of us… Move over Ambrose I think I’m in love…the way he stands up for Ambrose so eloquently is both noble and highly arousing when all others hated and abused him this non-judgemental hero was there. Reckon Ambrose will give me this guy’s number presuming he even knows who he is now?

  Keep your pants on Shiver, or in your case skirt, we still don’t know anything about him and no, somehow, I don’t think Mr jealous will give you, his number.

  Shiver: oh well he probably is Ambrose anyway. Didn’t Ambrose write that he wasn’t as eloquent anymore and was starting to speak like Isabel except with more coherency (finally he admits she’s imbecilic the blindness to faults caused by attraction must be wearing off) the words he employs sound a lot like mystery man. Good deflection pseudo-insulting his friend so we’d assume it couldn’t be him.

  Mist: Well anyway that’s enough for today Shiver has to go cry into her pillow and ment the loss of her heart’s true love the unlovable Ambrose and try to figure out ways to win him back.

  Shiver: I don’t cry over him...

  Mist: She does. Night everyone.

  Welcome to the Ocema

  Apparently, despite all our smug renditions about our originality, we are not the only ones to make sites dedicated to the eradication of the mediocre and asinine.

  Here’s is what we found when we intoned Ambrose’s name into the engine to ugh at his and his friends' Virtualisers and make rude comments on their accounts incognito of course as has become a Saturday night tradition for us.

  It was a community meeting presenting itself as dedicated to and created for, the sole purpose of eradicating God’s greatest blunder alongside Lucifer, Ambrose Luther Kliendefer. Well, we just about died ughing when we saw this and even joined in the conversation to give tips.

  It’s apparently headed by a guy who went to Ambrose’s old school Western Sydney Boys High. His reasons for wanting to kill Ambrose include fat, geeky, wannabe ways, sleaziness, prepubescent high-pitched voice, grey hair, and appearance of an ugly toad.

  Was urging school members to band together to destroy this greasy syphalite. What a great summation of Ambrose as an individual, I even remarked to Mist after I heard it all in an impressed tone. He a hundred percent agreed with me, and we fell about ughing again.

  If you’re wondering what the grey hair comment refers to Mist and I recently infected or more accurately activated everyone with the virus and now Lily is going bald( we thought that would be extra funny because she’s a girl) and Ambrose has one side of hair his typical, oily gelled and slicked-brown and other completely grey! The virus does this by multiplying in and causing permanent damage to the root follicles resulting in premature aging/greying and even loss of the hair.

  Noah was not only sick with a nasty “flu” for weeks, but he is also losing the sight in his left eye and now has to get dorky little gsses score! (Where’s his precious God now).

  Isabel is still fine but that won’t st, we have some nasty malicious stuff pnned for the likes of her, Annie, James and Ethan. Grace and Scarlett both have scarring on their cheeks from their experiences with the “flu” it’s left visible pockmarks after the virus multiplied in and damaged their skin cells. Oliver is three-quarters deaf and too ill to move with Ebo-like symptoms, we hate him less so pn to kill of quickly rather than torturing him over much. All of them in out of doctor’s waiting rooms and hospitals; no-one can understand why they all keep getting so ill.

  Speaking of Isabel, (frankly not sure why she suddenly cares so much as was out partying and bthering incoherently with some people from her old school while everyone she supposedly cares for here, is dying or gravely ill) has handmade a poster and “wrote” a poem to comfort her friends during their moment of strife (or stryfe as it so happens when you can’t spell.)

  Without further ado I present you;

  Continuing on life’s path

  It’s dark on the road

  No pce to call our home

  The hurt begins to cry

  She screams out to all who can hear, why

  A vein in her wrist pops and it reeks

  Leeking all over the car seat

  She does wonder down a street

  One where sick people meet

  Soon a bubble of light

  It burning is so bright

  Cuts thrugh the night

  Puts an end to her stryfe

  I am queen strong like steel

  Large as the ocean as my mind’s circling like a sphere I feel

  Though we might seem like powerless little rats

  Ready to crumble like foil

  Soldiers on friends we can win against night bck as oil

  Mist: I had tears in my eyes…. Well, I thought I did till I realised it was a stinking, bck tar seeping from my very soul through every orifice at the sheer disgusting vapidity of this poem.

  Why on earth did she choose rats as her helpless, misbegotten creatures? Hardy, vicious little things can survive nearly any conditions and myriad environments, eat almost anything and will even ward off a not too desperately-famished cat, three times their size. A little mouse or helpless bunny rabbit might have been more appropriate.

  Shiver: That vein popping thing as a metaphor for illness, marvellously repellent. So’s the concept of reeking and leaking. Kind of reminds me of Ava’s line about rotted soul tears, probably influenced Isabel as she looks up to her( sort of). The spelling is atrocious as is the grammar. Looks like a poor, misguided foreigner used an old-fashioned transtor before Monovalent perfected them.

  Speaking of, Monovalent why didn’t you correct all these easily-fixed mistakes? Okay, apparently, he deliberately turned off all the Grammer services “in error” and does this on occasion.

  Mist: Well, he does apparently think it is significantly more authentic and shows of their true nguage and spelling creativity, this way.

  Shiver: It wouldn’t even work if they didn’t ironically insist on reading all these “love poems” off of a hand-written letter to make it seem more romantic and traditional. Though I do like those things. Usually. Anyway, her minds circles like a sphere? Does she mean a plethora of thoughts whirl round her head as she attempts to grasp at coherency and fully-formed ideas like a life raft? I guess she means she can still think deeply in a crisis (though she has yet to prove she can think at all.)

  I also appreciate a bubble of light burning bright as bubbles don’t burn; it therefore sounds bizarre. I’m in awe of the hurt begins to cry. This poem is so god-awful it osciltes between slicing you like a knife and making you want to weep but that line refuses to make even a sembnce of sense, she sounds like she’s on drugs (which incidentally she is).

  Entry two: Noah’s inspirational religious poem he penned it months ago (using Monovalent and his expert grammar correction this time, thank goodness) and tacked it up on the cssroom wall. It lies alongside Isabel’s one. Warning, its rather nauseating.

  Prayer is like electricity giving life unto a Mono-roam

  Yet sometimes we pray and don’t even hear the connective groan

  Yet unlike electronics God and Jesus are always home

  Sometimes the wires reroute to our brain all faulty

  As if my mind’s not conductive so can’t hold me

  Sometimes were blocked and must be brave

  Like an animal trapped in a cave

  Sometimes God calls your name

  Is that a call you are ready to cim?

  Mist: God called my name just yesterday… he said Mist I already called to tell you to start the OCEMA and I just wanted to say it’s the greatest thing in all creation and if you could just stop rolling your eyes and losing your socks all the time, you would be perfect.

  Shiver: also, it seems pointless, androgynous love is alive and well as Scarlett has a boyfriend (who’s notably shorter than her hiriously; she’s a giant.)

  Shockingly he’s crazy about her( absurd as even Ambrose thinks she’s utterly unappealing and once tried comparing me to her( and also to Annie) to insult me He has issued a warning to Ambrose “when you were talking about Isabel, I thought you were coming on to Scarlett again at first. I’ll shove you ten-feet into the ground first. Also, as I’m such a romantic here’s a love letter sweet Scarlett.”

  “Dearest Scarlett sorry this so over the tops it’s how I am.”

  Shiver: that’s really it. His love letter with pukeworthy hearts and everything written in huge bold print and that’s all it says…really. Guess he ran out of inspiration fast. I guess this is Scarlett were talking about though. I mean an ode to her massive, manly shoulders or awkward, gangly, V-shaped body or course-featured, enormous head bigger than his, with its pink and orange-dyed hair might not go down to well.

  Mist: Ambrose couldn’t be flung down into the concrete it’d break the moment he came into contact with it and the entire path would just colpse into rubble. Plus, wow is this guy pathetic threatened by Ambrose really? No girl would go within a twelve-mile radius of him except a messed up teratophile like Shiver.

  Besides the perverted creep sleazes up to every girl it’s not likely he singles her out especially and in fact Scarlett as Shiv points out, is right down the bottom of his list. Oh well, at least she found another ugly loser with an imbecilic, semi-comatose smile and patchy beard no less, to love her, she must be in the throws of passion as Ambrose would say.

  It was the day of the big goodbye, before they all left the residential school as people rarely stayed more than a year, and all the inhabitants of the Wright House were feeling more physically-well though Ambrose’s grey hair persevered, Isabel’s face had a scarred skin lesion and Oliver eyes saw misted images and his new gsses dangled askew from his face.

  Ethan and Lily weren’t speaking to Scarlett because they’d had one too many a trivial argument with her. This st altercation was about whose boyfriend was cuter Lily or Scarlett’s (the proceeding fight concerned who should repce Shay on society’s losers). Lily and Ethan as per usual degenerated into inordinate attacks such as ganging up and profuse name-calling.

  A now miserable and distraught Lily also kept bursting into to tears in css causing Evan to recoil in disgust. Her year twelve boyfriend David, cheated on her and Lily had convinced both her and his friends not to talk to him as he was fucking scum. She also cimed she only slept with him cause he took advantage of her while she was drunk (which were true rather often) at a party also probably true. Not that Alice could see how Lily and David’s fight was any of those busybodies business. Alice had also heard enough of the repetitions of this “tragic” story since science css yesterday.

  She and everyone else got detention for not paying attention and texting on their phones the entire css-time. Ethan achieved six days for throwing punch in a rage at the befuddled, dumbfounded teacher who ran out near-crying.

  Evan was excused due to absence Alice however was punished too despite her actually paying attention unlike the others and getting very high grades as did Evan when they could be bothered. Alice that lunch-time was the only one to show up for detention. When she politely asked the stern form teacher “where the others were” (they skipped out) he told her

  “It was none of her business and that he’d call her parents for her insolence.” Alice snorted under her breath. Yeah, right you wrinkled old wind-bag, if you try and tell my mum you’re punishing me for being the only one decent enough to show up she’ll tear you a new one, she thought.

  Alice sat by herself for the reminder of lunch as the others (thank God) didn’t invite her to hang out with them anymore and hadn’t for a long time. She was in their minds too much like that weirdo Evan, stuck-up and boring and prudish.

  Everyone was also ignoring Ambrose because the look of hapless confusion and puppy dog sorrow on his face was just too priceless to ignore. Mousy-haired, horse-faced Annie would sit in a circle with the Ava and the others and follow them everywhere and though sometimes they included her, they were once again pying the pretend she’s doesn’t exist game.

  Alice was on her way to Ambrose’s goodbye, she and Evan had deliberately made them all well again to torture them more and also as Alice wanted to see what would happen at Ambrose’s departure. Since no-one was speaking to each other it might prove all the more entertaining. Evan was at a violin recital though and sadly would thus miss the affair.

  Alice arrived te and sat by herself as had Sally and Annie ( the ter of whom, donned a pink and yellow halter top not irritatingly sunny like a simir shirt she sometimes donned but a nasty, somewhat lighter shade like elderly, papery skin provided it were tanned or had any olive undertones. At the colr it were the colour of smokers, nicotine-addled fingers and nailbeds. Alongside the tightness of sky- blue skirt that didn’t become her.

  Lily, Isabel and Ava smelt vaguely of weed and were chatting inanely to Oliver and Ethan. The lurid colours of Isabel’s tight bck shirt and her navel-revealing, short, pink skirt with a pristine round of lime-green trim, cshed and showed off her plump belly, fbby arms and legs unftteringly.

  “I can’t wait to go to Oliver’s party tonight I’ll like fucking drink till I puke. I’m not sleeping with Jack now by the way. Its why he’s like in a really like bad mood because totally isn’t getting any,” Ava had just been saying.

  Alice sighed as Ava as per usual was “delighting “or more honestly merely revolting, Alice’s delicate senses with her crude talk and her fluffed-up, “electric” hair. With clearly, some of those new, fashionable treatments that made it sparkle on and off, like strobe-lights. She seemed to be in stripy bck, fred-pants and a petal-shaped top. Clothing that could retract and remould into a skirt or bikini if instructed and change the kind of flower it resembled.

  Alice actually had one of the petal-blouses too but considered hers to be far nicer since it was richer-coloured and softer to touch.

  “Speaking of sex and fucking, I have to leave here soon I’ll explode if I don’t masturbate,” said the revolting, handsome and scivious man-child Ethan.

  “Thanks for telling us all about your wanking schedule Ethan,” Isabel said in disgust.

  “On a simir note, it is like no wonder I was like a total lesbian queer for a while you men are all gross. My old boyfriend Harry was like such a perv creeper and hey yeah, Oliver texted me to says he’s realised he’s gay, probably cause you totally dumped him Lil,” Isabel commented smirking. Her plucked too hard, thin line eyebrows raised in glee.

  “Though my new boyfriend Will on other hand… squeal! His bck hair is just so sexy, we have even said our I love you’s.”

  A snort from Evan’s quarter and whose lesson finished early, was not very well supressed and even Alice smirked.

  “Yeah well, my ex-Oliver, he was a mother dipping loser. Anyway, I just switched my birth control,” A teary Lily said, “not that I’ll like be needing it now... No sex or even blow jobs anymore, I’m done. Though uh Dave says he still loves me.”

  She sniffed half-hopefully. Wiped weeping, mascaraed eyes nearly poking them both out with the ugly pale pink diamond in the big, brassy ring attached to her bronzed finger.

  Clearly, she was still wallowing morning, noon and night in the dark moors of self-pity. Meanwhile our women-child Alice felt a myriad of emotions the prevailing one consisting of a visceral urge to vomit.

  Ambrose appeared a few minutes ter and Lily turned to Ava “Look its Ambrose,” she said, ughing.

  “He still thinks he’s our friend,” whispered a sneering, equally giggly Ava her retort loud enough for Ambrose to hear.

  Ambrose who had rushed over to Alice and said hello to her softly and very tragic and sadly but Alice hearing yet again a tale Scarlett had told of Ambrose asking out a strange, cute girl, having an attraction to some lesbian ex- student who hang out with the new Wrighthousers and his journal entries, poems and romantic writings/ comments to Isabel ignored him. Mist had asked “are we sure she is really a lesbian and not just pretending to get out of concerns of Ambrose asking her out?”

  To which, Shiver replied, “unfortunately yes she is, and it is disgusting.”

  “Repellent”, he agreed she’s rather brutish and disgusting looking and he only wants because he can’t possibly have her, being gay and all, he’s that type. “Well, we can kill her with even more relish then.”

  This ex-student and Isabel, she pnned to kill in a nastily appearance-altering, unkind, albeit painless manner. For humiliating her and stealing something which belonged to her no matter how lukewarm her attachment to Ambrose was he was still hers.

  Ambrose just stood there for several minutes staring at Alice like she spped him while the others all smirked. The refrain, gross and porky, rat-king of the ugly, fat and dorky pyed in Alice’s head, Evan had made it up. Eventually Zoe a friend of Lily’s took pity on him and asked him if he wanted to sit with her. He agreed and Alice felt contemptuous revulsion I’ would have sat by myself rather than have someone take pity on me like that she thought.

  Lily stopped giggling and looked up annoyed “fuck of Ambrose,” she said nastily.

  “God why don’t you just kill yourself you bloody wannabe,” Ethan called after him as Ava nodded and spoke. “You really should die.”

  “Yeah, go ahead you’re so stupid and annoying Ambrose,” said Isabel. She’s calling him stupid that moron, Alice thought incredulously as Lily sniffled again and wiped her teary, bright blue eyes on her lime-green sleeve.

  “No, I won’t,” Ambrose said, a sob in his voice before sitting down.

  Alice gaze him a look of disgust at his pathetic sycophancy. She liked vilins and dangerous men and had started to have recurring fantasies about the mysterious master Aryan who looked very handsome in photos and was a genius recluse with a penchant for political-based murder and of course her numerous daydreams about the lovely, arrogant, boyish Evan utterly self-possessed and un-needing of human contact or even the brilliant, malevolent and mischievous AI Monovalent.

  Eventually Scarlett dressed in a mid-length, lurid purple skirt and hideous, cshing, bright gold top arrived and sat next to Ambrose who ignored her with an unpleasant smile pstered across his round, toadlike face clearly hoping shunning her would get his friends back on side. Scarlett humiliated, rose up and swept over to sit near Alice. Alice turned to look back at Ambrose who gave her hopeful look, before she looked away and he slumped back in his seat and at her rejection( she presumed) moaned very audibly right in front of everyone.

  After Scarlett’s imminent arrival, goodbyes began finally, with Ambrose invited to give a speech. He was now at the front, thanking the staff and all his friends, while Ava wandered loudly if “Ambrose had really recovered from his autism/ anti-social personality disorder, why he was leaving with fewer friends than when he came.”

  It reminded Alice of the time Ava won the “most improvement” prize which was awarded every six months at a group ceremony to the imbecilic kid who had showed they were best overcoming their milestones here.

  Everyone else got best effort, highest css attendance and generic course completion awards (so humiliating) Evan refused to accept his. Poor Mrs Allen stood there baffled with his award in hand, while Evan shook his head scathingly. Ava had given a self-congratutory speech about her award and how she’d grown as a person (“wasn't her rge, blonde head big enough”) Alice said. It still wasn’t quite as bad as Menie’s anti restrictive-gender role statement, politically-correct, farewell rap “oh bck business girl, your ma rich-minded bck pearl, with you I ‘always score. We make love after I sweep the floor.” which included these inspired lyrics and had Alice and Evan in tears of silent ughter.

  Ava had read a poem for her inspiration speech.

  We marvel at time like a bird spreading its wings flew by

  The friends we made as we here stayed

  Csses together I will miss

  The secret partying after midnight (unless you were Ambrose who was never invited) Shiver whispered to Mist.

  First, we worried about what brought us here in the first pce

  Then worried about our year ten formal dates

  Now were more carefree yet still worry who will graduate

  Sometimes we did or said silly things, but life isn’t bck or white (“Telling someone to kill themselves is cssified as silliness now,” Mist said with a serious nod, “I’ll call the Oxford dictionary.”

  “In our hearts we always we knew what was right (in short, we knew who should live and die Mist said, “except that’s our Monovalent-given right.”

  On the buses we chatted, ughed were allowed to have fun

  Now that’s all said and done

  Have a great life everyone!

  “Yeah, back to the outside,” had Evan remarked in regards to Ava’s speech “speed dating loser after loser, popping out (or likely not) a few brats and working like a sve till she died, sign me up.” Later Alice “accidently” spilled paint on Ava including her pink, cheap-brand bag in art-css but she looked doe-eyed, innocent and sweet when asked about it saying in a mortified, apologetic tone “oh God sorry it was an accident.”

  “America is the greatest nation in the world," the man in bck was saying on the screen.

  “USA, USA, USA” chanted the people in the crowd.

  “What are you watching?” Alice's mother asked her ter that day, with some incredulity.

  “The Democratic and Republican National Conventions,” replied her daughter in a nonchant voice.

  “I thought you were against mainstream politics and the major parties, that's what you said st week Alice.”

  “I am” said Alice “but it’s always good to know what the enemy's saying. That's what Aryan says.”

  “I don’t think you should join up with him, I have my reservations on children in politics. What the hell does some fifteen-year-old naive know?” She continued.

  “More than this guy, in fact more than half America’s presidents or Australia’s prime ministers” Alice said indignantly eyes still on the screen.

  “So, are you joining the march Against Corporate Greed then Little Miss politics?” Ellen sighed.

  “No,” said Alice sounding bored. “That's grunge work, ordinary citizens and lower party members are recruited for that.”

  “Who is that man anyway,” asked her mother.

  “Some minister for the Protestant Church I think, he reckons social welfare should be abolished. Well so much for Jesus preaching for showing compassion to those immersed in poverty, as long as a few people can buy that new holiday house in Hawaii. God bless our glorious capitalist dictatorship America. Aryan says that until we do away with capitalism once and for all we shall never know true democracy. He also says....”

  “For heaven’s sake Alice!" Her mother said. “I’m an academic I wrote books on social welfare and equality. Your precious Aryan can’t teach me anything I don't already know.”

  “Well, he's cooler and younger and heaps more charming and charismatic than you anyhow, so people will care far more what he has to say regardless of whether you or anyone else was saying it first,” Alice retorted.

  “Fine,” her mother said coolly “but be careful a young, impressionable girl is easy prey for a man like that.”

  “Oh, not the feminist argument again mum,” said Alice in disgust. “How old-fashioned and boring you sometimes are!”

  “Are you sure you want to join such a controversial party Alice?” Her mother asked, “after all you’re only fifteen just shy of sixteen.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Alice stroked back a strand of red-gold and walked out of the room, wandering when Aryan would make the call to tell them it was time...As Monovalent had promised he would.

  She went to her bedroom and looked out the window sighing. She couldn’t help dwelling on st Thursday around the time they started making everyone ill.

  Today was the day Ambrose was to leave the Wright House for good, and though Evan had wanted to re-infect him too, Alice had put her foot down not out of compassion but because had feeling if she killed him, she’d be admitting defeat and that she had cared for him, and he had indeed betrayed her.

  “Alice shuddered with the memory and pleasure of what she thought had been her being loved and worshipped so greatly his physically unappealing and grotesquely obese (in Alice’s mind anyway) both drawing her to him and filling her with shame, over her feelings.

  It wasn’t as if she had anyone else who loved her though. Most boys she knew uninterested in romance wanted mere casual, loveless sex. Which considering the over-sexualisation of today’s culture which meant failed if at sixteen virginal or hadn’t had three significant others by twenty got fairly easily.

  The girls even bigger imbeciles though some pretentions towards romance their idea of it were false takings by the supposedly impassioned male yet mysteriously forgotten name and number hours after.

  Tasteless gifts; ugly and chunky modern jewellery, garish pink and yellow flowers and saccharine and sappy clichéd phrases. She’d read E. Roe’s requiem for the wedding dove which Aryan called sexist meandering. They rejected words of deathless devotion as the un-needing modern woman, yet happily their dining and company paid for like a whore.

  nighted eyes over a shoreline of cloud weep wantful for beauty of a feminine guileless how the now ease of “love” once a soul’s mating now finite, physical and broke often as the atom splitting. Led to ck of effort. Rode and rose-budded extramarital affairs.

  They wonder why only wanting someone nightly for their body leads to a failing to be born of this, empathy, attachment's concern, and a humanly tenderness. Unable to see Aphrodite and the cupid bow that reddened retions waned when became built on the pale house of sand of crude, sexual nguage slinging and its following acts.

  When romantic procmations and lifetime devotions were repced when a vastly overused and simple I love you sufficed or the insipid I knew I loved you from the moment we met (also always inevitably a lie) and we're soul mates, baby, we belong together. Then ter, nothing at all. Simply, grotesque fuckery.

  Girls, even elitist little Alice were desperate for the forgotten and forbidden; a true love especially whence youthful. Film Land frequently had pretty girls date lessers whom worshipped at their feet. Poor, pin, and less sought after but their intelligence and drive and intensity had potential.

  Unfortunately, even for a girl quite lovely, near-no-good-looking, wealthy men were passionately prociming their intent to die for her, not when praise and a few smooth lies were accepted as fidelity. A means to make modern women feel wanted, if only shortly.

  Women needed to recim after every rejection, that lost high with every shallow, yet supposedly masculine man whom she allowed to y and attract many women, he soon bored of. Giving in to his most ignoble and easiest, ziest, biological purpose as a freedom and the height of masculinity, was celebrated.

  Emanuel thought women had been sold as corporate and sexual pythings. Impressionable females bribed by the sway of materialism weren’t on the surface wistful for truly romantic. Swallowers of the gorgeous is the merely virile. Best is he or she, good at making a pleasing impression. Worshippers of “the spreader of the seed,” not caring for progeny is desirable.

  Ultimate symbol of manhood, bravery, sacrifice honour masculine virtues forgotten. Yet the need for loves higher somewhere as such disappointed with society’s te-in-life marriages and casual, serial monogamy in general.

  What point, Alice snivelled, is The “One” if unfound till thirty, whence most energy and beauty if had any really, has faded? Not to mention dating fifty to find this ever elusive one. Divorcing two months-ten years ter, to live alone, ill and decaying childless and without lover, family deceased or siblings with no family emotional ties split.

  Well, it wouldn’t happen to Alice she was sure of that. Most women were as shallow and tired as their equally vapid men but Alice was stronger, so would be her lover. Finances were also an issue; people worked longer hours and couldn’t afford a house until ter in life or survive on one sary and therefore when they finally married, they were old (read overweight, wrinkled and ugly), overworked and exhausted sometimes with bastard children no ideal for romance. Aryan pnned to help change with guarantee of full-time work and right to earn a fair living and wages for fair work act.

  Alice crossed over to her bed with a sigh of resolve and started to pack up her suitcase as she was going back to the Wrighthouse unit. It was almost the evening, and she still hadn’t packed yet. It was a public holiday and all the residents including her and Evan had gone home but she was due back tomorrow.

  The sky that spring morning when she arrived back at Wrighthouse was white with grey edges and a greenish tinge that hung over everything, trees, grass, buildings, even the water at boathouse all reflected its sickly glow. “It’s repellent,” Alice said to Evan, “almost worse than Isabel Rose Blitzer’s face in the morning.”

  “Alice!” Excimed Evan in delight “you’re beginning to sound just like me.”

  ‘Disdainful and snooty and nasty as hell and proud of it,’ Alice agreed smirking slightly.  It’s hard to believe it’s only October,” murmured Lei frowning at the fact it was after nine and Alice and Evan still weren’t in css yet. “It’s so humid and warm, boiling hot really but with an odd bitingly cold wind at night that seem to get right through to the bones.”

  “You know”, said Alice who was ignoring Lei “I sort of like it actually. If you squint your eyes a little it almost looks like a blurry painting.”

  “Your taste is something of a travesty,” said Evan in disgust.

  “It’s not my fault you’re a philistine who doesn’t appreciate art,” said Alice shaking her pretty head.

  “I wish I knew what was making all our residents so ill…” Lei murmured, ‘anyway get to school you two as you’re both at least healthy I have to go talk to Aiden.”

  As Alice and Evan entered css Miss Allen had a serious look on her face.

  “Everyone I don’t know how to inform you this… Ambrose Kliendefer was found dead by hanging in the hall.”

  The others immediately looked upset or even succumbed to tears.

  “Called it,” Evan murmured very quietly.

  Alice kept her expression neutral to simute shock as the news “sunk in” and then switched to a very convincing horrified yet inside smiled. At peace at st she thought death had more dignity and far less pain than his life I’m proud Ambrose.

  Ambrose’s demise had people who tormented, mocked and ardently despised him supposedly devastated about it one minute holding each other all tearful voices and eye rubbing the next talking cheerfully, incessantly about Monovalent realm TV, what was for lunch or Lily’s awesome party.

  The fuss about who was going to his funereal died down as Alice and Evan unleashed the viral pathogen on their sentimental hypocritical cssmate’s full-force.

  Everyone in the Wright House Unit was dying of a pathogen of viral origin that was spreading like wildfire through the patients and staff the more minor but still serious infectious strain they presented with earlier had recurred at a much higher severity and doctors were confounded.

  Most were in hospital and more and more got sick and were being rushed of in ambunces every day. The pce was being closed tomorrow in a hope to quell the spread of the pgue-like virus. Alice and Evan alone as aforementioned were unaffected.

  “If I didn’t know better,” Shaya whose throat had been bothering her all day, muttered to Lei and Aiden ominously “I'd say our two little monsters were behind it all. Or at the very least Evan, he openly despises us all.”

  “Alice is a nice girl” said Aiden anxiously (he was rather fond of Alice) “Evan just leads her astray a little.”

  “Even Evan however isn’t' a bad kid troubled and with a nose for misdeed and mayhem maybe...,” said Lei. Lei was one of those of kind but irritatingly cheery and dim type of people who thought that people weren't ever inherently bad just misguided or misunderstood.

  “Well either way they do thus far seem to be unaffected and as the virus has such a rapid incubation rate, you'd think they would have started showing symptoms if the pathogen were affecting them, long ago,” said Shaya.

  “Alice was a bit off colour yesterday didn't you think?” Aiden said scratching worriedly at a purple rash on his arm.

  “Oh, she always is,” said Shaya and she uses that delicate waif sickening for something appearance of hers to get out of doing things she doesn’t feel like even when she's well.”

  “She is a very beautiful girl like a living porcein doll, so lovely, as is our Evan” Lei said admiringly, and they all nodded in hearty agreement.

  ‘Not to mention sometimes I’m not sure our little Alice really is so sweet... Shaya continued. A day or so ago I could have sworn I caught her stealing. She had Lily's English book in her hand. I mean, well, she said she was just borrowing it temporarily, but I reckon she was stealing it to get back at her for some petty slight.’

  “Did they argue?” Aiden asked.

  “Not that I know of but maybe she was just stealing it for fun, a prank. She's set the clocks forward in the cssroom on numerous occasions according to Mrs Allen. She also wrote that fake love letter full of rather shocking suggestive sentiments to the religious boy.”

  ‘When I caught her and made her apologise, she said he deserved it for being such a double-standard religious twat."

  Aiden nodded “she can be a bit of a handful,” he conceded. “It’s bad enough Ambrose committed suicide. On top of that there’s this dreadful illness now too.”

  Lei nodded biting her lip “I really hope all the kids get better soon…”

  Meanwhile far away a bored Alice was looking through the goodbye bulletin that the students were required to make and sign messages to each other under section dedicated the leaving students. Unsurprisingly. it was in her estimation filled with bnd, trite messages such as best-luck at your new school. Hope you have lots of fun this vacation. She began tearing the edges of her copy to pieces, ughing.

  One, her thus-far favourite, read:

  Alice, best luck at your new school try not to stress. Remember all are difrent that’s what make us specal. When I reviled my sexuality, I remember how nervass I were, but my parents were cool with it their inlightened like all of us in the twenty-first century, ter when I realised actaly straight just hurt by my horrable losey perevet ex they were happy with that too.

  God I’m like crying now stupid onyens no, seriously it’s me at the thought of leaving this wonderful pce it’s amaising. Anywho like let go of all dought and all the bad memoris eating away at your consuns and remember life’s a party that you only get to attend once.

  Alice thought, reviled her sexuality? We’ll that seems right, it is pretty disgusting, however I suspect she means revealed. Maybe her mind was so off even Monovalent was baffled by her disjointed thoughts and assumed she meant it to look like gibberish she giggled. Oh, wait what am I saying it’s handwritten. That’s right it was compulsory we handmade and wrote the bulletin.

  Only Ambrose (before he died) was allowed to use the machine cause of his muscle-wasting after the stoke that affected the fine mobility of his hands, Hirious we had to handwrite them since were allowed to use Monovalent to do all our school tests cause he reported/blocked them all for cheating except for me and Mist of course.

  She sighed thoughtfully looking at one under her name, written in flowery-lettered italics, merely good-bye on it penned. She thought that was all it said at first yet small print at very end caught her eye, a word she didn’t know. I wonder what it means,” she murmured.

  She heard Evan’s voice in her mind connected through Monovalent as they were.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Figuring how many words the residents can misspell on our farewell cards and if maybe should consider their illnesses when judging. Ambrose spells competently at least, seeing what he wrote to others. Though he didn’t write anything to me, except this goodbye next to a really bizarre, Latin-sounding word… Don’t even know if it’s even English or just totally obscure…"

  "Possibly isn’t even him; I suspect might instead be a joke from you, Mist. Word probably transtes to mean good riddance or something. Either way poor whipping boy Ambrose,” she added semi-sympathetically.

  “You do realise as alternative to righteous crusade against his detractors you could have eased his suppering err I mean physical suffering if really wished to help. Released pain killers for his damaged nerves and muscle wasting, his after fit head-aches, heart spasms?”

  Alice blinked darkly, surprised.

  “Never occur…Wait, why didn’t you? Only think of it recently?”

  No. Obvious to me early on but I don’t care: you’re the one whom cimed she did; yet to selfish to even think outside yourself Shiv, what a pity.”

  “Be quiet Mist.”

  The yellowing beige walls of the Wright House were gone as was the usual fragmentary dream she had that came to her in whispers, waves and wisps of broken thought. It involved a half-real world in which two evil, vindictive teenagers were killing people with some horrible virus that was somehow a part of them. They merely need to will a person to be infected and they were. Or more accurately they carried the virus, infected people with an inactive version and mentally will it out of its dormant stage and to multiply throughout their chosen victim’s body.

  Instead, she had awoken from her silent repose into a spectacur old-fashioned room with a remarkably high ceiling and a firepce. She did not know it, but the room belonged to Aryan Alexander Gray. Painted vividly purple-red like a giant plum. It had muslin curtains, dark oak and mahogany Georgian and Victorian furniture, a dark midnight-blue bedding and a great, velvet rug that coordinated nicely.

  She had no concept of time; she could have been dazed, ill, and delirious in this rge queen-sized bed for hours or weeks even months. Her pale, little face and hands were slick and wet. She had been crying, fingers against her dewing cheek as she slept. A habit that dated back to her infanthood and even womb-days.

  The doorway was open, and she could see in front of her a hall. It was vastly rge, its curtains pale-ce. Almost indigo was the soft rug that y upon the dark gray of a stone floor.

  A portrait caught her gaze. It was of the loveliest woman in white, with raven hair, lips scarlet-red, and rge, long-shed eyes smoldering darkest blue as the deepest parts of the ocean. Her pale hands caressed the neck of a white wolf, and she hung with an almost mystical quality over the room’s rge, open firepce. The background of the portrait was the woman sat on a park bench in a te afternoon storm.

  Alice stared at it then raised a hand to touch the glowing red wall of the room only to have her fingers catch on a hangnail. She bit her lip as some soft, delicate skin was torn. Just where was she? She didn’t recall dreaming about this pce before but extrapoted from the sheer size of the room and its stone foundations that it was a mansion or manor of some sort.

  Alice grew steadily more frightened and when Alice was afraid, she trembled. She really shook. She almost didn’t notice the man come in

  “You were not accepted by them. The people you knew.”

  She blinked in surprise realising he was talking to her. ‘They knew you were different. As for you, you detested and feared them. Saw their hypocrisy and their undeniable cruelty to one another.’

  “This was all before Mist came of course. Things were very different then. Twisted and sick as that boy is he really does care about you, he really was your loyal friend or perhaps family would be a better term as you two are the only ones of your kind the Shiver. You probably would never have hurt anyone if not for him, you’re an opportunist but rarely act decisively on your own. Mist is a maniputor: his game is turning fear into hate or at the very least aggression. Too him a victim has to discover their sharpened cws to survive. Victim must become perpetrator or not even victim as much as merely observer of hypocrisy and evil.”

  “Monovalent helped you of course, I did not know he would do that, but it seems when I first programmed him, I was too unclear in my terms. The only person Monovalent couldn’t hurt was in fact me, because I was the only human pure and altruistic enough to be cssified as not evil. I have since reprogrammed him more thoroughly since then so he really may not harm a human being unless they are truly morally corrupt and if his creator agrees and dictates it.”

  “A little like one of Asimov's ws you remember I Robot I presume?” the man continued. Alice wordlessly nodded still very puzzled.

  Aryan of course was wrong in this belief and the loophole of being unable to define what constituted an “evil person” remained. He had permission to harm people who deserved it still and Aryan’s programming that directed Monovalent would be “detonated” for disobeying an order could not supersede Monovalent’s most base function, the very reason for its creation.

  If he told him not to harm someone who deserved it, it would contravene that most fundamental rule of his programming. Aryan had already ordered him to kill those who did not deserve life, anything else Aryan ordered that contradicted that, Monovalent could merely discount as inconsistent and thus irrelevant. He still needed “creator permission” but Emanuel counted as such. Monovalent merely ran it by him.

  “Before Evan, people often made you feel frightened and worthless and unattractive though you are neither of these st two things’ Aryan told Alice. ‘He is a charmer and so is Monovalent. His words are smooth, sweet, and mesmerizing but he is but conniving and a deceiver. He takes advantage of the corruption in people’s natures. Turns them against each other. He is not alone, most humans do this. It is my hope that you will be different; I will give you a second chance to choose good by showing you the beauty as well as the depravity of humanity. Make you forget the ills and evils of your past. I failed with releasing Mist’s potential I won’t with you,”

  “Yes,” Alice stammered shiveringly unable to reconcile in her mind even the gist of a word he said.

  “Humanity’s corruption made you perform those acts of maliciousness in the past....though you do not yet comprehend it.’ The man spoke more to himself than Alice. ‘Or more accurately you do not remember. I’ve erased your mind back to its original purity before Mist corrupted it. You’re so easily malleable into good or evil. Under Mist’s guidance you’ve been seeking retribution from all your cssmates and teachers and family because they were ether part of the cruelty of humanity or let it go on. Your mind and body contain the virus, and you’re infected them with it.”

  “However, you must promise to serve me and never attack another innocent person” he said severely. “You will only hurt people from now on for a greater cause; you will use your power to make this world a better pce even at the expense of killing some who cannot be saved.”

  “What cause?” Alice asked him suspiciously as he brought up a hand to caress her pale, snow-white face.

  “My own branch of extreme communalism he said with a smile in which poverty, famine and world inequality shall be eliminated.”

  “Wait,” interrupted Alice suddenly realising what the stuff he said earlier meant. “You mean I’m that girl, who was killing everyone around her for fun” Alice whispered. Those broken fragments of a dream were real…”

  She did not remember any particurly justifiable reason for those two cold, calcuting teenagers committing mass murders. Just their various conversations about how humans lived and behaved like stupid instinct driven insects, and they were like the predatory wolves or leopards who swiped them out of the air for a little after-dinner snack.  As she contempted her morality or ck thereof, she crossed thin, pale, delicate arms over the front of her long-sleeved and dark-green velvet dress with a picture of a cat on it (Alice liked cats). The movement caused her delicate silver neckce with the small gold locket to swing back and forth, and she frowned trying to remember.

  Modern-day humans, especially ordinary people were “nasty”, “vulgar”, “pretentious”, “ugly” and absolutely bereft of any of the finer talents of traditional, pre-modern culture (they despised postmodern forms of art, poetry, and music) and really, really deserved it, was the closest these two got to any justification as far as she could recall.

  To be a hundred percent fair she contempted, the two of them had been outcasts and bullied constantly since early childhood however nothing severe enough to drive them to murder. Not to mention they killed people who they barely knew but had either hurt somebody else or got on their nerves with relish. They seemed to consider themselves some sort of bizarre avenging angels of public morality.

  They made a game of it she remembered it now, an image even fshed through her head of that girl Shiver ughing and saying while in Virtualiser “send us people for our eradication of the mediocre and asinine program and will take care of them for you.”

  Of the course the competition wasn’t real, they hadn’t even uploaded the virtualiser footage but still.

  Worst of all though that boy Mist pying the game with her had killed his family! That Shiver girl almost did too...decided against it ter but still. It’s alright the man said soothingly seeing her ever rising distress, “I will take your memory away again soon.”

  ‘This was just to verify you were capable of any remorse or compassion at all. Considering what you are I’m frankly surprised. However, I’ve watched over your growth for many years and there was sweetness, compassion mixed in with the susceptibility to evil in you, I couldn’t deny it. “Evan,” he said ruefully, “failed the test completely just as I knew he would, he is a typical heart of stone and ice, narcissistic sociopath, though I cannot compin it was how I designed him and you incidentally, to be.”

  “Evan…” Alice said softly more to herself than him, “that was the boy’s name....”

  Alice’s heart thudded as something Aryan said earlier rekindled her memory. The two evil almost grown children with the virus powers from her dream floated into her head having a conversation. “Let’s kill Lily next she’s so grating, and no-one will have any way to link us to the crime...”

  “We let our virus devour people” Alice said sounding confounded “I forgot and that Shiver she really is me, and Mist I remember him too now so cruel so beautiful so perfect.” Shiver smiled to herself even in her confused, horrified state she found the thought of his male beauty highly enticing.

  As for Shiver, as Emanuel would put it too her ter, she was beautiful too and simply splendid but as cold and heartless and almost as malicious as Mist the boy, in her own bizarre way. “Is she really....me?” she said to the man bemused, a note of horror but also pride in her clear, child’s voice as Shiver was an intelligent exquisite one in million creature despite her malignant qualities. The man nodded wordlessly his face showing something rather resembling disapproval at the note of pride in her voice.

  “What you said before... about controlling it...”Alice said to the man, “it’s not possible. Monovalent told me and Mist how the virus worked it attacks us, only by repairing our damaged cells and organs can we survive. She found she remembered Monovalent now, too, though still not anyone else.”

  “It can’t be removed it is part of our DNA, and it can’t be controlled only appeased,” she continued.

  The man looked her square in the face his handsome, Greek god-like features looking troubled. “It’s true.” he admitted. “At st, I can’t help you control it now.”

  “However, I’m working on something right now which I hope can help you contain it. If you cooperate, I will keep working on it and give it to you, but your life is contingent on this promise of loyalty to me, if you refuse, I’ll be forced to kill you.” Alice ughed nervously then realised he wasn’t joking.

  A few weeks prior to this Alice and Evan had officially left school and gone to live with Aryan in his castle-like manor as honorary members of the Great World Equity Party. The fun, Monovalent virtualiser films of their time as Shiver and Mist, at Wrighthouse were never uploaded and left to forgotten file. Someday to be shown to the world as a symbol of their Machiavellian prowess, they sniggeringly-hoped.

  When they arrived at Aryan’s huge mansion it turned out to be a nineteenth century, castle-like manor made of gray stone which, due to his apt st name was now called Gray Manor after him and its appearance. It was picked out by Monovalent, and it encompassed enormous, lush, sweeping acres of gardens. Gardens filled with greenery and beauty.

  Heavily shaded with tall, high-reaching trees and multi-coloured flowers and also within it, a pretty little river creek, with fish and frogs and owls, parrots, bats and possums nestled in the taller trees. Victorian angel statues and gargoyles and sculptures of birds like owls, starlings and nightingales as well as foxes, wolves, dingoes and wild cats by a famous sculptor at the garden entrance. There was a rge orchard out the back with cherry blossom trees whose branches grew a delicate array of snowy white and pink blossoms.

  As Emanuel put it “Aryan I decre with envy thanks to you Monovalent is in possession of a huge stone manor and nineteenth century folly, its entrance a silver gate with white marble foundations and had several tower turrets with their own balconies for admiring the view. It encompassed very rge open windows most with lovely, draping of muslin dark-blue curtains, an enormous winding staircase, fifty huge, high-ceilinged rooms with chandeliers, velvet carpets and a beautiful, stone firepce’” From the air conditioning to seven bathrooms one decorated in dark-blue and dark-green with rge silver-framed mirrors, bck marble sinks, smooth, dark-blue stone tiles or the blue-green tiles in one bathroom and cwed, pearly white porcein baths with spas its meticulously crafted.”

  They were greeted by a pretty, slender woman with a gentle face and soft, chestnut dark-brown curls of around twenty-three or four. She led them into the house and presented them with gifts. “From Master Aryan” she said in a high, pleasant voice. The gift for Mist was a small tree in a pot designed by Emanuel and created by a team of botanists. Mist stared at it. It was an unusual-looking tree it’s trunk so dark as to appear that it was actually bck and beset by array of silver, shimmery leaves.

  “It is a most spectacur specimen as I think you’ll agree, we have the only successfully genetically engineered copy in the world,” the woman informed them smiling. “It even glows blue in the dark.”

  “My name is Anne-Marie by the way,” interrupted the dark-haired young woman, “and this present I have here is for her whom I presume to be the new young dy of the house,” she said stepping near and handing something to Shiver.

  It was a bouquet with a rge wreath of bck and white flowers wrapped up in deep violet-coloured paper. Shiver peeked inside curiously “are those roses??” She asked perplexed.

  “Yes,” said Anne-Marie nodding well done.”

  “There’re bck though or at least some of them are, the rest are white,” Shiver said, “and I know for a fact wild roses don’t grow in bck and can’t be engineered that way with current technology.”

  “Look at the roses on the bck side again dear,” Anne-Marie pointed. Right in the middle of all the other bck roses was a rose of such dark midnight blue shade, you could have been forgiven for mistaking it for bck at a first gnce as Shiver had.

  “Wow!” She gasped picking it out and then looked disappointed. “So, they’re painted or dyed or whatever it is right?” She asked. “After all, they have been trying to genetically engineer blue and bck roses for years and years and never been successful.”

  “No,” said Anne-Marie “no colouring, no dyes only very superior genetic engineering, you’re looking at the very first bck and white rose bouquet and it’s all yours a gift from our master Aryan to you.”

  “When I heard about his rose garden, I asked if he might try to grow some dark-blue roses per Monovalent’s suggestion… And the violet-purple ones he mentioned having, are here too. I even saw where they were prettily pnted in the garden when I first arrived, but a bck and white rose bouquet how… Glorious, simply magnificent” Shiver said awed.

  “Your appreciation for bck roses must be genetic… As is your face and artistic nature. On another note, Aryan will be coming down to meet you shortly, he’ll expin to you further what I mean,” Anne Marie said bowing graciously, then leaving with a swift, soft-footed departure.

  Shiver knew she had met Aryan before but only had the haziest recollection, having been lying half dead in a room in his mansion hooked up to a bizarre looking machine which turned out to be Monovalent the computer which had artificial intelligence in its truest form….

  “The ability to create something out of what to others seems like nothing and to see new patterns both in maths, science and studies into human behaviour. “Most humans can’t do that,” Aryan said, “they just reflect the world around them and perform simple set tasks like worker bee drones and absorb pointless facts and truths discovered by greater minds… They are the true mindless drones not my Monovalent.” That’s what he had told her during that st meeting.

  Aryan though a very charming man, all at once wealthy, brilliant-minded, and successful and marble- sculpture handsome as a Greek God had, like many spoilt people blessed with too much fortune, the look of someone desperately encumbered, cold and desote with their lot in life.

  His eyes as he looked at them were intense and sincere as he told Alice she was “a very pretty girl, most lovely indeed,” and they then shone with rapidly quashed lust and desire. Mist he informed the boy was “extremely good-looking and had a refined makeup about him”. His face changed, hardened however when he tried to defend his actions what he had created them for.

  “I hope you may come to understand I do not believe killing people is good but rather necessary to minimize the damage humans have done to other species the environment and of course ourselves.”

  Alice waited patiently through his speech, she did not care about the Earth; given a choice, she would ditch it in an instant for a nice, new, greener pnet halfway across the gaxy. This pn for the moment however seemed more feasible.

  “Communalism with socialist underpinnings, is not a mere ideal it is truly conceivable and the best way of life the only way if we are to survive,” Aryan said in a dark, serious tone. Humans have overpoputed: we kill just enough of them to limit the damage of our carbon footprint, we free the exploited underpaid bour force, switch to synthetic meat and to safe environmentally friendly forms of energy, create prosperity and freedom and democracy in third-world countries, you know the drill.’

  “I’m hungry,” thought Evan. Alice was listening intently to what he was saying but not Aryan’s words so much as his voice. He had a beautiful deep, masculine voice a baritone that was elegant almost musical and lyrical in nature. When he spoke it was in a manner that was soft, pained and most beautiful in a harsh kind of way.

  Her rge, dark, expressive eyes scanned his face as meticulously as a hawk; she was noticing something about it, something unusual particurly when he smiled. His smile was both sweet and rotten at the same time it was as if he had once had all the beauty and wonder and new life of a pnt but was now disillusioned and despondent and seething with rage and it showed like the brown dying edges of a wilted flower.

  Except he was young, so the aging was in his emotions, from a euphoric person with a love and lustre for life, he had become one who was disillusioned, angrily sorrowful, disdainful of the world. Yet in some form the pure untouched newness, naivety still existed it was still there simmering below the surface trying to escape unleashing sunlight into a man who had become for all intents and purposes a night garden. She could smell it too, with her heightened smell it was the scent of old flowers dying, starting to fade and go rotten but only just, and of worn-out but clean and perfumed clothes.

  “I solemnly regret to my hearts core all the people I have and must in the future kill.” Alice frowned at this: his expression told her he was lying. It was no longer the sad, desperate truth of aged beauty. His eyes now appeared smiling and amicable and pleasant but with an undertone of rotting rubbish: that sweet, nauseating smell that comes with spraying vender or simir, perfumed scents into a rubbish-strewn area to disguise the stench. Instead of dissipating, the smell merely worsens to something that smells faintly sweet but is rotten to its core. The smell did not fool Alice’s small but adept nose it merely become more sickening than ever, and this is what she felt when seeing someone with that much procimed integrity lie on such a phenomenally rge scale.

  She did not care though she merely found it interesting. Evan could tell by Alice’s expression how Aryan mesmerised her. Her rge, animated eyes grew rger, vaster and livelier and happier but almost hauntingly, with each sentence. She clearly adored him: he was intelligent, intense and soft-voiced, a true tragic hero. A genius with a menacing past.

  His real poverty-stricken parents were dead (Aryan was adopted from Russia or somewhere, he read in an article), and his adoptive parent had betrayed him being highly-conservative and in Aryan's opinion semi-fascist. He was messed-up and ugly, but Evan suspected this only added to the attraction. Alice wanted someone she was bettered than and to need her absolutely someone who in saving her would ultimately save himself.

  “My life was nothing but loss and pain until I found you.” He imagined she would imagine her perfect hero saying. An intelligent girl’s hero Aryan was rather Evan thought, though only perhaps if the little princess herself was slightly unbanced.

  “He’s ugly,” Evan said to Alice when they were alone together in Alice’s new bedroom sitting atop her Victorian era four- poster bed. Velvet carpet but deep and azure softened with gray; the walls of the room painted a beautiful, vivid sea- green, muslin curtains were tassels of midnight, a dark-blue.

  The room itself was huge; soft bedding underneath a snowy-white quilt filled with soft silky goose-down and rge windows overlooking backyard. It was modelled by Monovalent on one of Emanuel’s simir-coloured, decorated as well equally airy and spacious rooms in his sandstone castle.

  “No, he’s not,” said Alice giving him a weird look “he’s beautiful.”

  “For an inferior creature,” Evan conceded “but for us he’s ugly he looks far too human.”

  Alice smiled to herself: “I can see his type of good looks would or might seem a little strange to one of our kind, that I can admit. It’s true that he is very masculine, which seems a more human trait.”

  “As Monovalent says, “our men if there will be anymore truly, what with shape altering, will all be like you and much more achingly-delicate. Albeit strong. However, he’s still got a nicely masculine look, and I find his more ruggedness lovely.”

  “Better ask him to take his shirt off for you then Alice, see if his chest matches his manly face,” Evan said with a mirthful grin.

  Alice merely replied mildly “maybe I will,” with a sort of half-seriousness a dreamy, faraway look in her eye and a smile ventured forth from the crimson of her lips.

  Evan somewhat taken aback and even impressed by her good-natured taking of his ribbing psed into silence and they both said nothing for a while.

  Aryan decided not to attempt to see if Monovalent could wipe Alice’s memory after all; figuring that the threat of imminent death hanging over her head if she disobeyed his any command would be more than enough to keep her in line. Memory and brain function were such a delicate thing: didn’t need permanent damage and a vegetable for a weapon.

  The virus children meanwhile, to coincide with their honorary induction into the ranks of the World Equity Party, changed their names by deed poll to their internet rogue names Shiver and Mist. “To escape their troubled pasts and the Wrighthouse tragedy.”

  Aryan, at first disliking the fact they had both attended Wrighthouse thinking it drew too much attention; soon ran publicly with the idea he was “saving” these two young people who watched their peers perish terribly and giving them a great internship and new life in his Party, where they would save lives and wring light out of that darkest loss.

  Help him end poverty as he and his scientists attempted to find the cure for this dreadful, worldwide ailment.

  They also took on the st name Gray same as Aryan's to finally be part of a new family better than their old ones.

  Call of the Masses: Chapter three.

  Forget wrath of a war started over greed and vanity. Halving a nation already hollowed. Land of mowers and frackers; shallow shale in the dying shawl of heliconiine and nymphalidae: of feathered thorn and gulf fritilry butterfly. A re-sail to the sirens and tragedies, in arrogance, obstinacy. Yet cking, lovelorn perseverance of the Odyssey. We must voyage back to family and beloved.

  Must rebuild the waifly schoolyards and sacred governing grounds. Doctor cannot communicate with patient due to nguage barrier, is situation of life or death. Yet to speak this unquestionable; objective cruelty, unenlightenment. We now know not old honour. Vilge raised the vulnerable child, man treated his physically weaker counterpart with dignity and for her form compassion. Grown youth supported sickened elders. Vulnerability not parasitic, symbiotic; all were needful without return once and wilt become thus again. We’re born as beings geared to giving.

  Death of beloveds, famine, the war-torn. Poverty or pgue strive. Icy sleeting voice, eyes once salvaged from foul shambling, bespoke fury, seeing in compassion, devotion, only the anguished. Till the sorrows heaviest, lighten and turn to mere sadnesses. The bravely resilient without hindrance renders all alight valiantly. Wicks windows once dimmed.

  The rainbow became still grays in a once ever-lightening and darkling hollow. Now thusly dinted and embered, we're left farthest from any of the musical mists that shiver through heaven and are instead bzed. In hell’s fierily-spun kes. New, nobler emotions must be risen. Obstinately. In defiant wildness they'll resurrect that flung into the dead coral graves of a shadowily-starred sea, to earth betray, Pilging souls to the graven sea of death.

  Treacherous betrayal left dried riverbeds, mercenaries pardoned, and petty little vandals vilified. Soon sentenced from blood and rot in Ivalour to my sweet paradise of possibility, Vandalier. Where urchin felons are redeemed. No more is mankind blinded. Returning the stars reposed; once rendered invisible. Yet to us beholden. In this light pollution and ivale, how-shalt-fare upon my mysterious pne haldifare. Our once-sting peace deadening.

  No matter how fought well or in earnest, war horns leave naught but frailty. All storm-tailed, in air the very lightness filed. Unadulterated, rising sea tide with gray.

  Still, well of the bluefair morning moults and on a red ledge, gold fledges. Winged man in cast of carbon. Reptilian beasts of yesteryear see all "progressed" human life turned to fossils buried beneath many a folium. Till fed the darkness with the rosed.

  We once cohabited and bridged to fair-our-vale of silver flowers. Till corporate cronyism took its steady foothold. Flickery tresses, fingers in a snowfall faltered and now caress each wintered ste. The dusked wrote its indigo and fallow afore soon forgone to il-faeytal. Stinging vaes dreadfully-ailing. No bloodied sleet, false virtue dents clouds with innocent pale slip of the dew, ced with electrical static.

  Coldly trees, silver-curtain horned bck branches. Homes flooding, frozen gciers melting. Organ wails sounding. Yet you’re a founding amidst mourners of the syed. Pilged and pilfering warriors. Justice we’re dousing; away, day’s golden-clouding took flight yet my faetal-telomeres somewhere flocking. Hence blooms near, righting souls of ash but dismally, with a dusk-flower.

  Hear wist for mercy dearest from badly ail and adorn. Once was love awoken with the morrow to the snows fair or a cold hailing; yet we’re summered eternal instead of once yearly. Suburbanites sleeping not morn-greyed but under harsh, electrical globe flinted upon a starless dusking of eve and to remain forever such thereafter.

  Dying lulby hymned to hell. Yet not fated. Glories of humanity lost each distant sun’s light nightly. Mallowed grasshopper warbler, quail-thrushes and wattle-eyes, once-basked with fairy bluebirds yet now require the Saviour. Left to red bloodwood, swamp oak. Dweller in their domain. Tree-climbing beloved scatterlings bow to machinery ghoulish. Surrender to progress under the white-fg ghostly. Delegated home buried in forest wound of city-near. Till.

  Poorly-crafted trinkets, added false meanings to workaday nothings. Malcontents arise, lead to the well of bitters. Inferior houses overabounded with snaking creepers deathliest. Amiss and left forbidden, is verve. In the mp-lit garden. How once fortune flowered and leaved. Now absent even spent grasses, there’s no flower fallow-haired, or elm trees unbridled.

  I dwell in woe dreary, once instigator yet aghast of bloodshed. Despairing. Fighting feckless for a fmeless and arrowless earth. Expanding abscess till abyss of an unspoken, moral silenced, in wounded druggings and numbings. Torn asunder in harrow. We farewell national pride to corporate shills, epsed guilt-riddled charity wherein fortunes are shared. Alongside the world’s loss of helping a neighbouring fellow.