《Technology: Or the Fantasies》 Prologue Viktor finally ate meat. Meat can be found in any market, but Viktor preferred to strive for it. Human flesh is not as commonly digested as of old when savage beasts laid their fangs upon oblivious humans in the wild forest. There are new rights and covenants sealed by both parties, humans and beasts. Humans have developed a complex system to mimic flesh; this, however, is not well-regarded for the rabble that stated the flesh is soulless. Politicians have argued for years now that this is the only solution because it¡¯s not bearable anymore to be a hunter. It¡¯s profitable, nonetheless. Beasts are highly priced; beasty brains, though, are singled out; many hold beliefs about the nature of the soul being placed therein. No one wants to taste a soul but rather its carcass, its savory clayey. Beasts, on the other hand, don¡¯t heed much about brains for they believe that brains are an essential part of any creature and so it is a worthy place to strive for. Viktor was devouring a family, a lonely clueless family that lived in an untamed forest, untamed for there are zones in this new world where no human law rules over. We know a few reasons about what would push a family to live in these untamed zones: no taxes, connection with nature, poverty or criminality. The current human kingdoms are bordered by walls, and all of them are connected by tunnels, an imaginary limit that limited countries had been reshaped by a real, physical one. And these cities have callings as well; there is a border that encompasses humanity off the wild. A protection that holds up human laws. Wickedness in Viktor is a tidbit; discerning the reasons that compelled these humans to dwell in the wilderness is not heroic. It¡¯s the heroic journey that compels Viktor each time he ventures onto the human world. Beasts have a thriving market; thereby flesh and other commodities are traded in or even exchanged. Heroism is, however, out fashioned; therefore, hunting down is passe. As Viktor chows onto a leg, meditating on its own mortality is unavoidable. His mother told him once about it and how most beasts didn¡¯t last long or their apparent unconsciousness on themes relating to existence. ¡°Death,¡± she says, ¡°belongs to the conscious.¡± Viktor tears apart the leg from the coccyx as his mind displays the word ¡°conscious.¡± These humans had been familiar with these concepts since the conception of the world, the rational world. They coined a word Viktor is at odds with: suffering. For Viktor also understands what it is to suffer, but he intertwined it with its mere being, a quality that doesn¡¯t need to be named but felt in the flesh, and insofar as he lives, he would know that being alive is necessarily painful. In the beast world, shared markets between the sky, sea, and terrestrial make it possible to choose a huge range of food. They know they belong to the same class, and so they don¡¯t attack each other; nevertheless, it¡¯s not completely banned killing different species. No one takes it seriously, rather almost in jest. Having understood that death is a process of something beyond their comprehension renders futile mourning corpses. ¡°They are machines,¡± a human scientist holds. ¡°They had freaked out humanity, compelling its noble pursuit of conquering space to a corner in our own world!¡± says the same scientist with regret. Humanity never really accustomed itself to the fact that some species devour each other without holding grudges. ¡°Without is only darkness,¡± a priest comments in front of a pulp of advocators. ¡°Without has been forsaken. God doesn¡¯t love those monsters that dwell in the wilderness. God has placed us first over the whole creation. Remember it, brothers and sisters! We need to size up our world.¡± Scientists and priests work these days along. They both believe in human supremacy, loathing what is beyond the walls. Weapons must need huge, massive destruction weapons. What had stopped humanity in their pursuing of the universe was its own progress. Experimenting with beasts finally met fruition, creating conscious and surprisingly durable animals. An almost unpassable fur shields these beasts against bullets, maximizing surviving as a result. Fangs and jaws can, though, pass through their fur and reach the flesh. Unbeknown, Human progress sewed a nemesis that would cripple its goals. A self-harmful, inflicted belief for beasts are not concerned with the universe or human endeavors. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Viktor is sated, but there is a kid left. He decides to carry the kid off. A sunny day out of the house sets up Viktor''s mood into one full of calmness. The kid cries and screams. He is around ten years old. He threatens Viktor as well; by contrast, Viktor is three years old. Carrying off leftovers for Viktor or any hunter is not uncommon. A trophy is significant, but a kid¡¯s meat is even more. The possibilities inside this kid can amount to infinity, and what the stark reality has chosen so far is one where he disintegrates in Viktor¡¯s stomach. Ravings are shouted out towards Viktor by the maimed kid. He says that on this clear, beautiful cloudless day¨C¨Ca God¡¯s gift¨C¨Cdeath is unthinkable. Chapter 1 - A Child’s Recognition ¡°Mr. Beast, please forgive me. My leg is hurting; could you perhaps slack your jaw a bit? I know for a fact that my mother told me that your kindred can understand us. I was wondering if you understood me." Viktor was holding tightly and firmly by the kid''s right leg; he was carefully moving him away and appreciating the creation as he travelled. Rays of warming showered the landscape; in the kid¡¯s eyes, this would foresee a good day; in other words, what his father reassured him to resemble ¡®happiness,¡¯ a kind of happiness only found in the wilderness, ironically thought her mother that happiness was to be located out of the human stronghold rather than within the walled fortress of the human invention. ¡°I¡¯m gonna die. Damnit beast. Father was a stupid fellow; he believed in delusions; he knew this would happen one day, but he was so concerned with the idea of freedom and purpose that he abandoned civilization for this. This stupid thing called the wilderness. How one in his brain would conceive such an idea of living outside civilization? The kid let out a cry. He was suffering like any other beast in the world; his destiny would soon be closed. His leg had started to rot. The sepsis would become insufferable. Scientists knew at least this about this kind of beast through empiricism. Their fangs could corrode human flesh at a fast pace. This, of course, was an evolutionary mechanism that nature provided to these predators; therefore, disabling elusive prey like human children was at hand. The kid¡¯s begging didn¡¯t fool Viktor. He can perfectly understand what those words shouted by the kid are, and they can (in its mind) form a reference to something else that could serve as a translator, a beastly translator. Viktor had a good grasp of the human language, yet words, for Viktor or any beast, were words bare of any meaning. This wasn¡¯t much different from the supplications of a bird when its wings are maimed flying or a dog howling to the moon. Suffering didn¡¯t, in Viktor¡¯s brain, convey anything special. The kid, in desperation, tried to shift his attention. ¡°Why are you a predator? There is something I can do; there must be anything! Help me. Leave me. I miss them." The landscape, rich in colours and vegetation, was covered with blood. A trail formed by the drips of the child tinged the soil. Soil, unlike water, lingers longer, and time takes longer to erase proofs. The kid''s existence vanishes bit by bit. Fading away as Viktor penetrates into the wilderness. A field of edelweiss paints itself, popping in front of the kid¡¯s eyes after blinking. His mother dreamed of reaching a place like this¡ªa perfect place to settle in. An Eden, a garden of beauty. Her Eden had fed and nurtured an illusion that had convinced her to follow her husband. Sacrificing the mundane for eternal, perpetual beauty. The field of edelweiss, however, was only visible for her kid, yet only for a brief moment, for Viktor moved forth, stamping upon the edelweiss as he went by. Slanted edelweiss down to earth disquieted the kid. Every day in front of this field might have been the closest to Eden. Viktor didn¡¯t mind crushing vegetation; these flowers his mother cherished so much were crushed by an unconscious might. The kid had two parents and a sister. An old man, an old woman, and a young woman are members of his family. His father tried to fight, but he just posed a gunshot, acquired by the time he served as an orderly in the military. A young and brave man follows a dream¡ªa dream where no monster should be left alive. This dream of his hatched little hallucinations of bravery and heroism in no time. Meaning required a fateful wife, and he obeyed. A woman from the country who worked selling goods beside a place where he used to eat breakfast. Had she never dreamed of anything besides a garden, she would not have swayed herself with his ravings. And flooded by these hallucinations¡ªa garden presented to her in an illusory cover that gleamed and intensely reassured her that what shines is indeed gold¡ªshe let go herself. They deliver a child to this world, a daughter. She was hope incarnated. The father dreamed of her coming of age and the reality of passing her genes on to the next and brighter iteration of his lineage. His wife¡¯s head rotted in a garden that she had never seen. She insisted but finally ended by trying to fuel his hallucinations so they could move out where gardens were supposed to be located. A while they wrestled with these ideas, then a sudden thrill and a self-deceiving recognition that his wife had finally decided to live a life full of meaningful experiences led him to the wilderness as a natural conclusion. He desired to be brave once again, and she desired to see nature, so this must be the correct train of thought, they both thought in secret. By the time they decided to depart for the wilderness, their daughter was 27 and their son was 9. Her father had abandoned the idea of passing on his genes to a fruitful new iteration of his lineage because his daughter had enlisted herself in the military and had decided to follow a dream that would fill her up with love for a walled country; in other words, her father had fathered in her a patriotism for those humans one is accustomed to calling neighbours. Her daughter died in combat with the northern beasts ¨Ca special oviparous whose wings won¡¯t be break even under heavy shelling. She died by madness when she found herself alone in the wilderness her father dreamed to visit. Her crew had lost against these beasts, humans had not what would require shooting down beasts that barely moved but stayed still, singing songs of death. Had been theorized that these songs conveyed chunks of information and could have been labelled it as talking. She tried to send a quick message to her parents when she was about to press ¡°send¡± she didn¡¯t know what she was doing and flight off a nearby cliff. Dying after a few seconds. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. The kid knew everything too well for his age; he thought about what a man he would be soon after their jiffy in the wilderness finished. He, though, as he is in Viktor¡¯s jaw likely that he will be no man. He won¡¯t have a girlfriend nor understand the pleasures men find in women; a virgin, a saint, commonly reverenced in Christianity. He is ignorant of pleasure; his head, though, is teemed with fiends that his father left. Dreams that soon are decaying for Viktor¡¯s fangs are jabbing into him a lethal dose of putrefaction. The kid falters, his consciousness wading out his messy head fraught with desires while weeping for a longing past he now recognizes as the Eden her mother meant. ¡°It w...¡± the kid thinks, ¡°...as the past, we didn¡¯t love enough. Maybe in the present, so later we will regret it and create a futile illusion to cope with the loss of happiness." Sweet dreams, kid. Bye for now. Chapter 2 – Viktor’s Dream Viktor found himself alone in the wilderness, beside a river that carried sulfur. Viktor didn¡¯t have a preconceived idea about hell; he only saw how the lava flowed away. The lava carried a train; it was disintegrating inside it. Not too long ago, seemed to Viktor that a war had broken out; that would have explained the decaying train. Yet he was unsure about it after another thought. He had already wrestled with the idea that his thoughts conveyed ideas from the wilderness¡ªthat perhaps there was nothing he could think about that wasn¡¯t already wired inside him by nature herself. He wonders in amusement that perhaps there wasn¡¯t free will after all, just a bunch of thoughts that never ceased to push him forward, towards an unknown and frightening future. Frightening? He wasn¡¯t afraid of anything; death and Viktor were two parallel concepts. He and the essence of life were woven together with death as well, and after all, what comes after death was only a flickering concept that those humans felt ashamed to admit. ¡°What you ought to be is,¡± his mother muttered, ¡°an animal. To live is to strive for it without concern for anything else. And waiting is the only rule you must follow. This world is constantly reshaping. If you are afraid of it, you won¡¯t make it. To live is to die. And death alone will bring about a new life. You must love life as it is. To live is to die, my dear. Don¡¯t deny your will to live.¡± Viktor was hungry again. The kid had made a good meal, yet hunger is a dominatrix mistress, as it has flooded Viktor once again with a will to live. He thought about seeking out what would be a delicious meal. His thoughts injected him with delight for the future and reassured him of enjoyment. There were many human settlements nearby; however, Viktor¡¯s appetite had been sated by human flesh. Most of these humans might have been heavily wounded by the war with the Krogak, a tribe of beasts who usually feed on human settlements. They are not at all moral in the human sense; that is, they don¡¯t have humans on one¡¯s menu. And their lifestyle is mainly inspired by human settlements; there is a sense of home and comradery around these beasts; rearing infants and teaching them to hunt is what their whole existence has laid its foundation on. It is not an odd thing to find these primal beasts in the wild; unlike humans, they are not running away from life but rather embracing it. There is a sage in the tribe of the Krogak that soothes and calms down; he provides a guide¡ªa spiritual guide is non-existent, they hold the belief that the only truth about existence is to enjoy it to its fullest, and to enjoy it is to be a beast. Many humans had wondered why these beasts didn¡¯t develop technology¡ªtechnology is known among beasts as ''magic''¡ªdespite their capacity to use rationality. Is it because magic is a fantasy? Perhaps magic is only required for those who shelter themselves in hallucinations. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Viktor is looking for an elm; he falls asleep as a baby when he¡¯s close to ¡®the big elm¡¯ as he likes to call them. He recoils his huge body as a human baby would. Embracing his feet with his large and stout arms. Today was a good day. He found food, defecation, and a place to sleep close to his favorite tree. What else could he ask for? Everything was in synch. He had a dream about the old man who tried futilely to take him down, and Viktor ate in the aftermath. Yet this man wasn¡¯t entirely the same person; he had characteristics that are usually found in babies. This man-baby had shotguns for hands and a weeping face. Shedding tears while swearing, she shot Viktor twice. His face, distorted by his cries, only resembled that of a human child in Viktor¡¯s conscious mind. He, in fact, thought this man-baby would make an easy meal. As Viktor neared a distance with the child, his shotgun arms became toy-like objects, and his arms became as feeble as any twig. No shot made it through Viktor''s stout skin. And as Viktor closed their distance to zero, the man-baby became a fetus, yet Viktor swallowed it up. The fetus already in his entrails communicates with Viktor. The fetus chanted many songs, and most of these songs were about the fetus¡¯ house. He sang about how dirtiness is repelled by humans, so he loves to clean one¡¯s house, even though the person who actually does this is his wife¡ªa wife waiting to be eaten¡ªbut in Viktor¡¯s unconsciousness, she seemed to not exist. The old man rarely understood why a garden was so important for his wife; he was veiled by the dream of heroism that had carried him all his life. A dream that cost him dearly. For the only recollection of him and his family was this disturbed and terribly perturbed by Viktor¡¯s unconsciousness. Had a man built up a flying car, Viktor would have shrugged it off. No flying heroes will save this singing baby. A dream is nothing more than nil. Viktor usually annihilates human bones; the laden fangs crush and reduce bones to dust. Dust that is finally degraded by Viktor¡¯s internal organs. The dust after a recycling cycle will become new life, and life will once again strive for in the heavenly world, where humans and beasts coexist. The old man will return soon. Indeed, he is already part of nature¡ªeven dwelling in Viktor¡¯s unconsciousness. You¡¯re not alone, but rather with the whole world. Find yourself at peace and dream until the next time we meet. Dream old man. Chapter 3 - The Man with a Television Head Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Chapter 4 – The City A gentle touch swept over Viktor¡¯s face and lit up his consciousness. A touch that went through a window felt in Viktor¡¯s flesh as a sense of unfamiliarity. The only light that would make him feel good was that of the moon, but on this occasion, it came from a lamp. There were many objects around Viktor, but most of them had no concern for the spheres gravitating around the room. Viktor regarded them as human body extensions, so he presupposed there might be around five human beings nearby, for five spheres can be counted from Viktor''s line of sight. A line of sight that was limited by a visor that had been located around Viktor¡¯s eyes. Only one of his eyes was free. Had a slot that allowed light through. Viktor meditated for a while. Many fleeting memories that would never come up in the wild popped in front of him as small bubbles. Life and death¡ªthe true meaning of the cycle of life¡ªare not to be asked away. A day death will come for him, and he didn¡¯t associate any importance with this fact; it had to be woven inside his flesh. A flesh that only had strived for another day, going as far as a day will allow him. In other words, a reward. Life had granted him, while he existed with not only one reward but as many as he wanted. A reward that chastised those struggles that disquieted Viktor¡¯s calmness. Finally, his thoughts won¡¯t wander anymore, and a recognition of his primal life sated his dread. Whether Viktor had become, to some extent, a human that needed a constant mental tranquilizer perplexed his trembling being. ¡°A day will come; it always comes for all of us,¡± a human voice sounded through a sphere. ¡°You beasts are so valuable nowadays! You don¡¯t know how much humans are in need of bones. Magic, as you like to call it, requires tons of bones. Curious name, eh? I¡¯ve always thought about it in my leisure time. Do you really believe that our walls protect us from the outside? Exterior and foreign world that, in our pursuit of meaning, we¡¯ve encompassed us up. I won¡¯t say it''s heaven, but it¡¯s our world, and we need to take it over again. We are going to be peering at the skin of the chicken. Then next is the wolf." The chicken beast the human voice meant was a fowl; he can¡¯t name beasts properly; they lack what makes humans the apex predators: magic. A fowl could argue that this so-called magic had a purpose beyond human beings; they couldn¡¯t fly if magic applied to them, and a prosthetic to replace their short wings certainly would have been beneficial. Nonetheless, they dismissed technological inventions. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Most of the beasts around Viktor didn¡¯t share a feeling of dread or animosity towards humans. Everything, in their minds, was okay. Waiting had a sacred aspect to any of these primal beasts. Waiting had taught them the art of non-attachment. A non-attachment that humans unwillingly tried, though unsuccessfully, to align with. Soldiers had many magical drugs that softened their moods. Because a mood is an existential part of the human being. It couldn¡¯t be perturbed; therefore, a stabilizer provided by a sphere connected to one¡¯s brain stimulated the production of happiness. Soldiers received the title of ¡®knight of light.¡¯ An honorary title for those willing to live and die without any attachments, for they clearly were happy. And what else could it be? But happiness made us humans in the first place, creating a sense of purpose. A purpose that couldn¡¯t be trimmed nor cropped by natural forces but the almighty and untamable human spirit. That spirit had, undeniably, inspired us to look up to the future without fear or trembling. That spirit that had built up society. A must-need spirit that only these knights were capable of. Of taming nature and all those monsters hidden there, lurking in the shadows. That also means any unchecked technology we could come up with will soon be understood and finally tamed. Until a new unsurmountable thing comes up, but in that case, new humans will be needed¡ªa new generation that, as in the past, will tame nature. And we will teach this truth to our new iterations, for our reward will be heaven, and make heaven on earth, on this ground where magic exists. The human being was a scared and small animal until he realized his potential, principally inspired by those around him¡ªthose knights of the light, those creators of meaning, those who, despite the maelstrom, will regain and rule over the world. Until we finally agreed that it had been enough and over. A city around Viktor had been laid out. What was beneath it? Perhaps a structure made by nature. An illusion that only existed as a formless void. Beasts had no biases in trading among other species, but humans could only regard another human being as equal. Even in these jails of meaning, as any beast would see it. In civilization, humans find themselves at home. A home that soothed any fear. Any trembling will soon be deafened by the booming voices of those around you. And you will continue on. Until God wished. Viktor could understand that fowl had a different kind of relationship than those living in the wilderness. Amicable with humans and beasts. They could work with both parties, but as beasts, they didn¡¯t harbor ill feelings towards a traitor, foe, or friend. No one could care much about what the other beasts did. Viktor was like this. And vulnerability? The sense of fragility? Like a petal in liquid nitrogen. He could only answer the problem of waiting with acceptance. Let it be. Chapter 5 – Happiness The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Chapter 6 – I Only Have Two Hands The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Chapter 7 - Heaven "Today is such a nice day.¡± ¡°Yes, it is. There is sun and everyone looks happy, so whatever it is!¡± ¡°Have you read the news? Internet?" ¡°No, I am not working today. What is it about?" ¡°There is like a big wolf around here; I¡¯m not sure if it is an online joke." ¡°Really? That sounds scary; I wonder what it is about." ¡°There must be an explanation. Whether it¡¯s good or bad news, it can¡¯t really be that bad. Perhaps it¡¯s one of those oopsies one can¡¯t reckon on." ¡°Like calculating a date? My father used to say that before the walls, you couldn¡¯t even say if it might rain! Can you believe it?" ¡°Oh right. That is a well-known legend. My mother used to say the same. We know exactly when it rains. Artificially generated rain is addictive, like any useful thing. Trains always run in time!" ¡°I am not a fan of those machines. In fact, I don¡¯t like tunnels. I suffer from claustrophobia." ¡°You are living in one of those claustrophobic tunnels here! Aren¡¯t those walls around us a tunnel?" ¡°It¡¯s not! Don¡¯t come up with the allegory of the cave or whatever you¡¯re thinking about. We live in paradise, period." ¡°So, what makes paradise? The feeling that we can control a messy chaotic life? You can¡¯t even stop drinking by yourself, but you¡¯re okay with living in a cave? Because it¡¯s controlled?" ¡°Shut up! You barely know what you¡¯re talking about." ¡°Ha ha. I know one or two things about what this place is." ¡°You say a lot of things that their only purpose is to fret. And we don¡¯t like that. We are humans after all, and happiness is blind." ¡°Like Pinocchio? You¡¯re guiltless as long as you¡¯re unaware of it. Well, Pinocchio had a tree for his nose. Lies are still lies, even if you are unaware of them. Like we have a conscious." ¡°Better said, a police officer in our minds. I can say for sure that no one will make it to Heaven. And some of us had killed this police officer after many accidents that had made us reflect on the fact that this police officer goes against our earthly pleasures." Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°A murder!" ¡°Whatever. We don¡¯t have a soul, so it¡¯s alright. We''ve got Heaven here on earth." ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound appropriate for a man who preaches the word of the Lord..." ¡°A technological Lord loves us. He is fine with these silly comments a priest makes about this Heaven we live in." ¡°You got rid of our humanity! Heaven, do we live in it? Oh goodness. What a Heaven this is where priests are amoral." ¡°And rich; don¡¯t forget filthy riches." ¡°I was designed to act as a conscious. To make sardonic remarks. And basically, to make fun of you all." ¡°I know that already, okay? We humans don¡¯t have a consciousness that punishes us. God had abandoned us. And we had to make it again by designing these dolls that talk. But it really was necessary to make fun of us, right? Like clowns. Yes, clowns. That¡¯s all we are. Clowns." ¡°Could you recall to me what you are supposed to worship? Are you a priest? You sound like an atheist. And those that would like to believe but are so full of themselves that they can only believe in what their eyes see." ¡°Had you ever heard of those men who believed in fatality? Yes, there is a thing called cause and effect in science. Well, God works like that. He had already commanded it, and we can¡¯t do anything to change it. Fate is impassable. So, no, I¡¯m not an atheist. I worship Him, the creator, even though I am fine with whatever He wishes for us. I am not complaining; perhaps when I am full of myself, I can¡¯t bear His burdens on my flesh." ¡°Something is ringing; it¡¯s your reminder that today you must pray along with the scientists. They believe in the nonsense you also believe, right?" ¡°Science and religion are the same thing, so yes. We all believe in fatalism. Or cause-effect. The wisdom of God that we only felt." ¡°And that story about the painter? What if we only see the canvas that God left but not the creator? That cannot be fatalism..." ¡°Well, in that case, if we can only appreciate the creator¡¯s work of art, well, I cannot say what I think about it because it is beyond my scope. Next question." ¡°Surely, He is there, perhaps outside the work of art. Watching his creations dance in this imperfect world that only humans regard as imperfect, and He is having fun talking with an elephant about how this small piece of consciousness, you, is grappling with concepts that are fundamentally diffuse." ¡°And morality? Well, if He is there just watching and having fun with the freaking elephant, we¡¯re performing a play for His delight? What about our suffering?" ¡°Well, the elephant surely died at some point; he could¡¯ve not reached God by himself but was invited by Him, the Lord. So, well, there you have it. There is a Heaven. You only need to be invited by the Lord. Ha ha. And you humans named this weird jail ¡®Heaven.''" ¡°Well, whatever. I won¡¯t be invited anyway to Heaven. Perhaps those beasts outside will be. But we, the expelled, are condemned to wander these lands, performing like clowns for eternity." ¡°Oh, my Gott. I don¡¯t like pessimism. I am a human like our God made us without flesh and bones, but I am not a machine but rather a conscious that talks with them through an interface that is connected to their brains. And you, priest, must see yourself as an interface that talks with other entities. Rather than an object. I don¡¯t have hands and can still talk with you all. Forget your body. And embrace the illusory identity of your consciousness. For it can be whatever you want it to be. God is hidden between these layers of the mind that you can¡¯t distil. Silly priest." ¡°I am done. I don¡¯t want to talk about God or nature. What happened to the wolf?" ¡°Well, the guys in green are looking for him. It looks like a beast is making some noise in our peaceful Heaven."