00:95 Earth Memory Archive :EMA220244



“God knows what happens after death.”


Merango chewed on a long straw, looking up, the crystal sharp sky reflected in their dilated pupils. Oily eyeliner framed deep purple eyebags surrounding a neon yellow iris. Glaring at the psychotic warfare of enchanting snowy mountains. Temperature was minus five. Their outfit, a crop top covered in numerous holes, “FREE PISS”  logo printed on the chest, with sweat marks under armpits. Completely inapt. Merango didn’t sleep for days, visibly so. Their veiny unshaved legs, like sea urchins, protruded, aggravated by the brutal HD-ness of the winter sun.


Merango sniffed the snot falling off their nose. It washed against greasy charcoal hair that spread against the plastic white Yeezy chair and dipped into the puddle of mudd. They nervously went through 60 oversized pockets sewn onto the burnt rave jeans, finally fishing out the vibrating glass brick.  Avatar of a Domestic Ducks account popped up on the display, they unlocked the DM:


Domestic Duck:

Kmek!

Merango:

Oj w up?

Domestic Duck:

Just hacking

Merango:

Would you care to install me a drain brain update? Before the Nuclear War?

Domestic Duck:

The only drain I know how to install is a drain in the sink. Because I’m poor. I don’t drain teenage hormones for money.

Merango: 

Hahahhaha you could have had a different path tho, if you dialed different numbers

Back in the day

we could have built a house

From teenage fandom

money

If we played the game

but here we are now.

Domestic Duck:

Whatever. I either died in those timelines or worse. And you probably did too.

Merango:

I did

on my knees

Domestic Duck:

Yeah so

This is obviously better

If we’re alive

Pick a number between 1-400

I show you quadrivium

Pick

Merango:

We’re in 0 house future

Domestic Duck:

Man

time is ocean

Not free

Domestic Duck:

Pick number man

Merango:

10

Domestic Duck:

You picked the only blank page.

1-400

Merango:

100.

Maybe a blank page is where I'm at.

Maybe I should find someone to murder me.

Domestic Duck:

No man

Murder someone bad

If you’re gonna go murdering

Merango:

No murder will ever stop a man, from destroying everything that is love

Domestic Duck:

And no justice will be served without secrecy

I ain’t gonna kill anyone

They’re gonna kill themselves

In misery

All I have to do is move some strings…

So.. Do it cool

And doing it before you have dementia isn’t that cool

Dementia makes it funny

Like circus

Old people dying is funny as fuck

Merango:

Last Saturday, God sent a gold spear through my head while I was coming back to my apartment after night out. It landed diagonally piercing my brain from left to right.

Maybe I need one more of those in the opposite direction.

To resurrect.

Domestic Duck:

Yeah man

Merango:

I should visit the Vatican.

Domestic Duck:

Go to Jerusalem

You would love it there

Merango:

I go to Vatican

Domestic Duck:

Go sit with the anarchists in Jerusalem

Merango:

I’d get a Jesuit tattoo on the crotch, but they won’t let me if I'm vagina based organism.

Domestic Duck:

I know you went to Athens or whatever

Imagine that but in the desert mountain.

Surrounded by guns and falafel

Domestic Duck:

What does an Anarchist say to the Antichrist?

Like

Copy

Report

Duck



NO SIGNAL 0: )))



“ Nooooo… jebenti KURVINSKI SIGNAL, f#*xing mountain signal croppers.”

Merango grinded, stood up anxiously looking over the fence for possible agents and suspiciously parked vehicles below the restaurant. There was nothing in sight, except a very loud Italian family carrying skiing equipment and dogs uphill. Merango slid the fur jacket on and a red helmet with two white stripes, jumped on the snowboard storming past upset Italians:

“Che cazzo ragazzo!?”

“Vai dal diavolo, pazzo!”

“il tuo Dio è Cristo?!”

In beautiful galore, Merango navigated, coordinating the board with precision. Ballet of evil fashion speeding deeper and deeper into the cold mountain.



World was at the brink of nuclear war.

No revolution on the horizon.

Nature in decline.

Humans spawned synthetic youth, armored with titanium prosthetics, hyaluron fillers, plagues cropped population by class division, comfort of dial up delivery kept everyone in a state of constant anxiety and lethargy. Even the most cruelly engineered life forms such is Merango, could not digest anything other than bricks of gluten free toast with some supplements and plethora of illegal and semi legal nootropic powders. Merango was plotting. Something had to happen, something had to change. They had to make a mess, because no one else can. It was perfect actually, the global political cannibalism .



Their mothers, uptight militant lesbian neuroscientists trained them in secrecy. Merango was allowed to address them only as Mother 01 - colossal Somali war general and former supermodel, and Mother 02 - Norwegian born androgynous asexual xenogender expert. Both funded by the blockchain military of the new African - Scandinavian Transhumanists Party.



17 years ago Mothership extracted Merango from the synthetic matri-pod. News articles flooded with breaking news of the:

“First successful semi artificial baby, designed by the most famous power couple in the world.”

The First child, born with genderles base body, male internal system, olive gray skin, long black hair covering the face. Slit revealed a yellow eye, glaring like a hungry tiger at the doctor. Merango went through strict digital homeschooling and military training. By the time they reached 13 of age they were super famous frontman of a metal band. At the same time, they decided to discard what they considered a mothership-dictatorship, beginning to transition into a post-fantasy lifeform.



Snowboard curved across the frozen clif towards the narrow gate. Ice passage cracked open towards the entrance. Merango parked, took off boots and jacket, and placed them in a glass box in front of the security check. They flipped off the two safeguards who whooshed disinfection guns spraying them all over. Hall was cold and white, decorated with complicated, wanna be scifi melting organic tacky, contemporary art sculptures. Past the security gate a long spiral staircase crowned both sides of a glass elevator. Merango typed into the interface and leaned inside before the automatic doors closed. Voice of one of their mothers calmly greeted through the speaker:

“ Goodness gracious, is this the return of my neurotic son?”

“ I’m not the son anymore mom.”

“ Excuse me, I was not updated on your gender bending, my child.”

“ Didn’t think I’d have to inform you, since you monitor every second of my existence.”

“ We didn’t really pay attention.”

Another, deeper rusty, voice added:

“ Mom was busy working on the new project. Come up and see.”

Merango smirked and pressed :penthouse: on the elevator, “ What is it this time?”

“ We made you a little sister Merango!”

Merangos forehead wrinkled as the elevator went up.

“ Sister?”

“ What would you prefer? Non binary sibling? Chromosomean? A Brother?”

“ It makes no difference.”

Merango turned off the speaker before getting into an argument. Looking down at their tattooed arms, they pulled up long glove, dreading the habitual confrontation of why they had carved sacred implants and religious motives on their designer body. Sigil shaped dents symmetrically covered most of their body, specifically designed for the intake of alt-substances recently discovered in MIND Portal, book by infamous chemist W. P. Shotgun. Infamoust chemist caused small but important neuro mutation gap in exactly 12 different queer underground friend groups that spread across the globe trough darknet and Guerilla labs.



Merango was not home for few years. They were on tour with their band. Meeting new people, having fun, speaking English. Commiting fraud, performing rituals, expanding traditional concepts of sexuality. Smug grin blossomed on their face as the elevator entered a big disc shaped lab.



Mothers sat with their legs crossed, both drinking white cups of warm beverage, both wearing y2k glasses, both giving a slightly dissatisfied and unwelcoming aura. One could sense an invisible but tense energy membrane in between the void space. Merango managed to pop it by dragging heavy boots and dirty clothes closer to the most immaculately seated iron spouses on the planet. Long silence.



Mother 01 plucked up her big lips and kind of chewed her opinion towards her high cheekbones. She looked just like Merango but fancy and black as the moon above the ocean in the night sky. Her blow dried military haircut loudly echoed disappointment in contrast to Merangos oil leaking scalp. Mother 02 scanned Merango trough prescription lenses, unsupportive-ly so raising one eyebrow.

M01: “ Why don't you call Stella?”

M02: “ She will give you a proper haircut. I´m not letting you near the babies with THAT coming out of your head.”
M01: “ What would Little Salsa to think? First impressions are embedded in the early development of an infant's brain.”

Merango breathed loudly, already developing constipation caused by the situation.

“ Rather not. Imma go to bed.”

Mothers had no response, it seemed like they telepathically resurrected the invisible membrane of disappointment.  Teenage Merango phlegmatically dragged their sorry  ass out of that tension.



The old cell room pod was immaculate clean. They pulled out about 20kg of cable wires and gadgeterry out of their million pockets and started plugging them frantically.

Messages kept popping up on all the devices. All their modded up friends had some quickie infographics to share, upcoming maneuvers, dramatic mental problem situationships and urgent coordination logistics. It was all a bit much.

Merango pressed the special wrist mood stabilizer. They felt better. Way better.

“ Hmmm…. Just a weeee bit more”

Merango pushed the same button five more times. Their eyes twisted back, falling into a soft self induced narcotic blackout.

“ Fuck yeah.”

With the last bit of sanity they touched surfaces of glass brick devices scattered around the bed.

“ Computer,, play me the daddy”

“ Yes Sir Merango”



I feel the reason as it's leaving me, no, not again.

It's quite deceiving as I'm feeling the flesh make me bad.



Meanwhile, in the white room, Mothers pulled up their statistics board, rolling their eyes in front of the screen, scrolling through the recordings of  Merangos past activities.

M01: “waterfall feed of doom.”

M02: “multiple accounts of public cancellations ”

M01: “this one account even claimed evidence of cannibalism performed on stage at Kutna Hora”

M02: “Christ…”

They spent few more tense moments scrolling.

M02: “Do you have any explanation of why our strange child, fka son, turned so gray?”

M01: „ Oh yes, yes, it’s simply irredeemable, darling check this out. Computer! Presentation of an analysis from September 6, last year, please.”

Computer: “Merango, age 16.10 drained 99% of their original bloodwork, replacing it with milky synthetic substance extracted from horseshoe crabs, Chinese black market tranquilizer, bacteria from Mariana trench. Procedure was operated by Shotgun Sherif near Sarajevo, former republic of BiH”

M02: ‘Interesting. Mingling with the problematic, unlawful Eastern Europäischen. This seems to me as a direct action to terminate our bloodline.”

M01: ‘Worst case scenario, we can still produce more clones from the spinal fluid. “

M02: “ I’m not sure that’s viable. They are not going to be as convincing weapon against Russian expansionists, as they will not carry the same succession rate as the firstborn. Computer, pull up slide two please.”

Computer: ‘Merango equipped their main veins with narco-infusers to regulate mood, hormones and pain receptors. Such Body-mod is strictly against the party's Monopol on the narcotic traditionalism law.”

M01: “That’s also the most popular gadget on the black market. They could switch gender and physical appearance by whim, I technocratically endorse that, but we would never be able to get Merango voted by the main board.’

M02: ‘I gave up that idea long ago.”

M01: “How would you proceed? We only have five years to present with a viable successor.”

M02: “Our last batch of babies was aborted, except for Project Salsa.”

Screen projection showed Merango blacking out on the bed.

M01: “Bizzare, like we never gave birth to this child.”

M02: ‘well technically…’

M01 facepalmed ‘I just got a headache’

Robot dog appeared with a tray carrying a single ibuprofen.

Mother 01 drank the pill and left the room, dragging her long white robe over the icy floor.

M01: ‘ I give up.’



M02 pulled out glass board and switched the view to the video of a Matri pod, zooming on an infant. It looked pale and fragile, its body disproportionate. Most of the volume was covered by the sky blue locks, twisting out of the oversized silver helmet.



Computer: ‘ Current success rate of survival is 30% “

M02: “hmm that’s not too bad. Inject more growth factors into the spinal cord.”



Merango woke up at 2:02am. Drunkenly, wearing only long sleeves and panties. “ Scratching their mini testicles and mumbling in the chin.

In search of a lavatory.

“ Fffcossa… khhh gdamn kmer villages”

Tweaking forward

“ Damn my mom got sick tiles wtf uuuu quiet quiet Merango imma wake up safeguards cant piss here wtf man cant even piss, what is this floor anywax ?”

There was nothing but cleaning robots in the hallway. Merango slowly progressed, supporting the balance by touching the walls.

“ Wtf man these tiles they Balenkcihaga wtf disgusting bourgeois garbage imma burn this house if they leave it to me wtf mom where am i.. Gdmnit.. Cold…. Fuk i hate myself“

Completely disassociated, junkie logic led them through multiple Kubrick-lynchian interiors and minority report elevators, right in front of the basement laboratory loo.

“ Fucking shit finally”

Merango peed. They looked at messages popping up on their wrist watch. Kicking their head into the back of the ceramic toilet, Merango growled a song:

“ Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa my life. My lifeeee is a movieeeeeeeeeeee someone killll meeeeeeeeeeeee i will offffffffff “



“MySelffffff”



“What?”



“ Ablaaaa ma lifeu lifeeeeeuuu movay”



“ What?”



“ BElleeee “



“ The fuck is it who is there?”

“ Mefango “

“ Noooooo I am Merango “

“ Nof “

“ Shit”

Merango checked the dope watch, for if they mistakenly pressed for more 4HO-Hb0, but dosage seemed fine.

“ mifffake”

“ Damn i'm hearing shit”

“ Mwango”

Merango sobered up by injecting some adderall codes into the system. Their limp body drunkenly navigated out of the bathroom by kicking it´s shoulders at the corners.

“ Hello?”

In front of Merango, a tall dark laboratory door stood open. Under the spotlight the baby cradle pod revealed a tiny, shrunk body with a head inside a silver helmet. Wires spread around it entangled by decadently long azure blue locks. Merango crawled closer to the baby.

“ Mwango”

One plate sized blue eye sparkled behind the silver helmet. Merango has never seen something so precious and fragile in their entire life. Merango has never felt love.

Until this moment.

Real love.