Book: 'Wings of a Raven, 2028AD'. The first book from the near future book universe 2028AD created by Mike Koontz. Mature and at times naughty storytelling and explicit events hide behind each page of this sci-fi tale. Less than 40 000 words.




Suitable for a mature audience. 17+ and up. Adult storytelling and explicit events.
UHD audio video book reading TBA
Vacation read ( Three+ Nights Bed time read )
'Wings of a Raven' By Mike Koontz is the first book in a shared contemporary book universe called 2028AD. Mature and at times even naughty storytelling and explicit events lurk behind each page as we traverse the known familiarities of planet Earth and the uncharted vastness of the universe.
And if at any point and turn, you feel that you need more from this charming sci-fi universe, reach for the abyss of the dark world wide web and the home of every book and short story that relates to 2028AD right here at anorseview.com.
The first book in this sci-fi universe, is delivered with a touch of abstract horror, and the pleasure and kink of sensual and sultry naughty love. Mixed with moments of life and death, science, and space exploration, pollution, sex, war, poverty, famine. The man made horror and climate change.
In the 2028AD universe Earth is a world wrought in chaos. And it is a place where hope and despair tumble and take turn with the trembling steps of colonizing other planets while the oceans on planet Earth keeps rising.
Photography, and writing by Mike Koontz
2018, a Norse View Imaging and Publishing





To the daisy that is my sun and inspiration








Chapters and pages, library and language menu to the left of the screen










Watch & listen to this book, or continue reading at your leisure

4k UHD audio video, watch and listen to this book once it is made available. Or play the authors music of choice while you read my 2028AD stories.

Music of the day
Sail into the black by Machine head















Book one.
They had departed, drifting through the high seas.
Ragnarok 5 was their designation, but the wolfpack of ships was scattered and silence was all that remained from the outside world.
To the daisy that is my sun and inspiration


















Before the fall, 'The common cyborg'.







Years before the presidency of Donald Trump, and the long line of unfolding events that led us to the sad man-made global state which we now commonly think of as the fall, there was real hope in the world. A viable grain of hope had started to build towards a real change across the world that would redeem us all and cleanse the horrible consequences of past human transgressions.
The fall, or if you so wish, you can use the more doomsday sounding, official designation, Ragnarok did not end the world.













Each of these moments, be it a good one or a very bad moment give meaning and context, life and transforming movement and energy through its own ripples to everything else in our own lives and the entire Universe.














And perhaps one day you will find out that this little snippet of our contemporary history that is your own life is very much a meaningful part of the bigger story that is waiting to unravel. And perhaps this story and others like it will reappear again, with a beginning and a continuation.
Like that old Norse snake that wraps around the world while the dragon gnaws at the roots of the ashen ever tree.
A cycle of biological life that spans across time and ripples in space.















But even if it never resurface in a big and meaningful way, this particular moment in our stream which we call "The Common Cyborg" remain for some mysterious reason one of my personal favorites and I often return to it for some unknown reason.

I guess the smallness of it together with that peculiar natural human touch of empathy and hope as it blends into the technological advancements that break the perceived canvas of previous generations somehow gives me hope too as we traverse the vastness of space far away from our old home and all the people we left behind.











It is short but sweet, so since you have never heard it before, sit down, relax and please let me tell it with my own voice as we take a breather for 5 sweet minutes.
This ship of ours is not going anywhere without us, and our cargo will not wake up, not yet anyway.











The common cyborg, the beginning of our journey.

She had been almost dormant, for 12 years. Locked down inside a sheltered room in New York's most respected private hospital.
But last night she finally opened her eyes again.
Not the way you and I open our eyes to the world each morning, not with pupils dilating as they let the streams of light inside our synapses and wondrous neurons.











Light from artificial screens and windows bursting with luminescence from the sun outside did not touch her mind and eyes in that way.
No, her eyes did not even open, not just yet.
Not the way you imagine them to open.
Her body would keep adapting for years to the shock of being jolted back to a conscious awaken state from its long dormant veggie like dwelling.
But she did see the world now, her mind was clear and wide awake, oh the sounds she could hear for the first time in so many years. They pounced against the finer strands of hair on her body, head, and ears.
And the things her mind was flooded with, the visuals of an entire world came rushing against her like a torrent of white waters hurling down the greatest fall.
























Silence and stillness
[ lay all around me, yet the world, was a torrent of wild waters.]












Sensors from the drones and the phone that was now all hers, and all the smart wifi-enabled gadgets in her vicinity already communicated directly with her brain. The damage done by the combination of her accident and amyotrophic lateral sclerosis was now gone.
And so, she was seeing the entire room, and all the people inside of it, she could see and feel, hear and touch the entire room, like a stone in a swelling river.















Goodnight my love
[ "do not let
the bedbugs
bite
Sep 5, 2028AD" ]












The Neural Engineering System Design they had engineered for her particular biological system kept feeding her synaptic nerves with strikingly vivid visuals and her entire surroundings lit up like a Christmas tree inside her neurological pathways.

And on the down low, behind it all, words kept whispering to her, words and videos, a stream of media from the hospital network kept being processed by her own digital AI assistant, laid out like a perfect dish in the sparse and rustic kitchen only she could see inside her own mind.
She was making tea with her assistant now, splendid, gorgeous tea. And the scent of it wet and teased her taste buds, and she knew without a doubt that it would taste utterly divine once it was done.
But inside her deluge the world was musically silent, so she tried to get her assistant to turn on her favorite Spotify playlist, but to no avail.











The people in her room kept pointing to the digitized floor to ceiling wall where the OLED tapestry slowly displayed a walk through a lush, arctic landscape.
A woman to her right touched the wall and said, 'can you hear us'?.
'If you can, can you say hello. Or do something? Please?.'
Minutes passed as the assistant kept talking to her.











Informing her of her own medical situation, the rejuvenating work the 're-youth' blood plasma breakthrough had started doing on her liver, mind and lean muscle mass, and how the neurons that had failed her 18 years ago would continue adapting and integrating her entire body with her new and connected life.
It talked to her about the weather, her extended family, the hospital and DARPA, the neural cyber network implant inside her mind which translated the visuals and data-transfer bandwidth between the human brain and every connected technological device in her own vicinity.
It talked to her about the hospital she was staying at, the team of doctors that had worked on her. She got to know them all, even neuroscientist Andrew Schwartz from the University of Pittsburgh who had pioneered some of the breakthroughs that had led to this day.
The AI gave a brief description of how Trump had derailed the world's climate change work with global catastrophic results as the outcome, and it talked to her about the bio-organic WiFi and nanobots inside of her.
And beneath the woman's fingers, the Arctic walk came to a halt in front of a majestic emperor penguin.











Characters slowly typed started to appear on the wall, right to her finger.
"I..", was followed by a several minute's long pause as they watched the penguin walk across the frozen white world until in a fluid sudden stream the font changed in both size and type and place as it simultaneously spat out.
.... "Spotify, they, you, god damn, unblock the firewall, I want my music back, the world needs music!."











The entire room started laughing, 'welcome, welcome' ' oh my god, she is awake', laughter and a bubbly emotional wave raptured inside the room, someone cried, others laughed, someone almost collapsed into a chair from the immense relief.
They had made it.











- And this is how I came to know this piece of modern day history.
Did you like it? It´s a real life story, and it is what enabled our cargo and the entire Ragnarok project to depart. And best of all, she is one of the sleepers.
No way?
- Yes, way, cross my heart, the original cyborg is one of the sleepers.






























In a dream forgotten, I found myself climbing the inside of a bell tower, proud and old the blackness of its interior above me beckoned me to follow higher, and higher up its dark towering tunnel.
Or was it, simply.
A memory lost and not at all a wayward dream.









A vivid moment surreal and clear at the same time, as real as if all this really was happening right now in the flesh, part of me surely was convinced that this was, in fact, real. Real and happening to me in this very moment, although another part of me still did not know, if this strange moment came from a life already lived.
Or, a life, yet to be seen and felt.



















The mist
[ and the bell tower, and the ravens call.]













High up above me, a raven's black feathered wings could be seen.
Flapping in the air before they came to rest and the bird's eyes eerily twitching.
Sharply, sudden movement. And a gaze of awareness.
And suddenly, the raven was focusing on me and nothing else.
Curiosity and familiarity I swear could be seen in the eyes of the bird as we locked our gaze.











Like a taste, and a smile, upon the back of my tongue. Something came to mind and then, life and time seemed to slow with the beat of my heart.
The scent was gone and the memory replaced with a face to face.









A loud thundering thump inside my skull and ears, like a breath of words, once washed away in the rain and stormy winds that snatched the syllabus and harmonies from my lips. It was as if I was still talking, but no longer able to make any meaningful sounds at all.








The world faded.
All around me, darkness rose up and tore the daylight away, or was that burning torches that vaguely cascaded down the insides of the tower.
I could not tell and either way, the light came to fade from my eyes and in a lingering touch against my skin I could feel it physically vanishing in mere seconds as if the light was sucked away from the physical world.










Why I wondered, 'what am I doing here'. 'how can this be real'. Words that bounced soundlessly inside my skull.





Like fire in my mind, something burned, like a stream of white waters rushing ahead to crush the river bed and all the sand castles that little children had been building, my skin burned and prickled, pierced and scrubbed.
And then.. I thought 'Why was I thinking about sand castles, I need to climb this tower'.
I waited for the familiar sound of anything to play against my eardrums, but nothing.

















Silence and stillness
was all that lay all around me.
And out of that silence before my eyes and beneath the raven that towered us all.

















A magnificent elephant bull charged out of the hallway of darkness and dust flung across the tower as it breached the air between us, and suddenly it convulsed in a sharp spasm before collapsing like a heap of clothes towards the ground.
Soundless I watched it tusks seemingly and defiantly hold on to the frozen air as if to force its body back up from the ground, but then, they too hit the mud and dirt. Forcing a gust of dust exploding in another silent cloud.
I tried to move my head, or at least I think I tried?
Did my throat itch? What was happening?









Did I even think that, or is this not even me?.
The thought echoed inside my skull as fingers separated from the soil itself beneath the animal carcass.
Wrapping around its dead body I watched how the earthly limbs pulled it down into the eager earth and out of sight.













As the last of the elephant carcass vanished from my view, my world seemed to twist around itself and heavy fog came galloping, swallowing everything and me.









And I knew.
I knew that the air should suddenly be hard to breathe, it was as if I knew that my skin was actually burning from the putrefied air and smog that now poisoned me by the second. Oil and coal, toxic fumes as the world cried out loud, shaking the foundation of the tower I was climbing.
"Detached", the words forming in my mind.
'I am detached from my body' is this is a dream I thought. Or was it real?










My own fingers and hand suddenly stretching out in front of me, carving in the vapid air, as if to create an opening to once again see.
To see the raven above me. And there it was. It sat motionless, calm and collected as if all this was perfectly normal.
It blinked. And perhaps, it even smiled with its cold dark beak.















"Why was there ravens here" ... Burning, thudding, thumping the thoughts kept racing, pounding against the skin and bones inside me. "Who am I".
My eyes searching, my mind burning, I carved and carved, faster and with growing urgency before my blood froze to a million shards of ice inside of my veins.
Things were moving.
Around me, moving towards me, away from me?.
"Why are you moving, stop, stop, stand still", someone screamed and howled.











Shadows in the fog, moving shapes without form that multiplied, collapsed and resurfaced as one.
Moving silently I thought, but another thought echoed immediately inside my mind, 'no you just can't hear it anymore'.
Who am I? Who are you?.
I tried to remember as a clump of fever raged up from deep inside, burning my thoughts the way a black hole would consume you from the inside out and outside in, caught inside the confines of my own gray matter, my bones, and flesh, but soon that black hole would tear me to pieces, rupturing my skin and body into endless atoms to float across the universe.















Where are we. And then I knew, long before I could see it.
Amongst the moving shapes of shadow, there was a woman, a woman behind a mask that helped her breathe in this air that was killing me.
The world began to twist and warp and the raven cried out my name.
"My name? how do you know my name", my name? what was it, I had already forgotten what it said..


































Hey you, take a look at this.
- yeah?
Do you see this here? Keep an eye on that, and look now, when I add this.
Do you see? What do you think?
- mm, you know that is pretty freaky looking. So, is that real or just some glitch?
That´s what I was thinking too. But no, I do not think that it is a glitch at all. Our sleepers are going off the reservation, lol?
- What the fuck, when did this start happening? Have you seen this before, I sure have not.









Not sure yet, I am running diagnostics now on the entire stream, going all the way back to day zero, so we´ll know in a few more minutes.
But you know, I think this is pretty cool looking. It´s weird, yeah, but its cool. Something is evolving. And I like that.
- Cool? We are in the middle of fuck knows, zero contact with anyone else, we have absolutely no idea what is going on with our sleepers and you think that it is pretty cool?
How on earth do you function?
They are supposed to be neatly packaged, dreaming their time away like disconnected individual veggie popsicles until we arrive.



















Ragnarok 5
[ a cargo bay of sleeping people & audio visual dreams.]












Well, the ai is clearly functional, we can see that, and all life support systems and vitals are all peachy bright.
So yeah, I think this is damn cool, life always finds a way you know. Besides the day crew is in need of new routines. Just imagine audio visual real time stories. It´s like waking up in a never ending dream powered by Hollywood.
This is going to be amazing.
















- Oh my fuck, fuck you and your relaxed attitude. We are talking about an entire colony!. We better not mess this up. What the fucking fuck!.
Complete fucking com silence for a whole bunch of fucking years!. And now this!!. This day could have started all calm and normal, but no way. We can not have that, can we.










Relax man, you will give yourself a stroke just as we are about to touch down, and I can tell you, you do not want to miss going out and about on a brand new planet, you know, pissing your personal space and all. Creating real life history, yeah, I am excited. Can you believe it, soon we will wake these sedentary bitches up and boots on ground form a new home on a new planet. This is going to be to so fucking cool, so stop bitching man. You are such a pussy man. We are "moments" away from getting off of this metal tube.

- Fu!.
What the f is wrong with you! Have you forgotten how fucked up Earth is?
And now this, what do we do if they all wake up like some fucking word salad. All fried and stupid with zero wits.
What do you propose we do if we wake up a bunch of veggie like zombies?















Relax and take 5.
Timeout for you. Take five and get your head cool.
Everything will be fine, all I am saying. The personal ai probably just got bored or something, I mean, its been locked up all these years inside of a singular person lost in deep undisturbed disconnected sleep, can you imagine how boring that must be for something that is supposed to be as conscious as we are. I mean seriously, I don't think we thought the AI situation through properly before we launched the Ragnarok ships. Can you imagine being sentient and awake for decades without anyone to talk to, without being able to move and communicate?
You would fucking evolve too.
So it probably just found a way to connect to each other and now it has started sharing dreams and thoughts, ai and human made.
Wtf do I know, but I do know that this will be all ok. Better than ok, this will be amazing.













I know it will, and either way, we can do nothing but to roll with the situation, assess and take the fix and issues as they come.
So chill out and enjoy the show. It's life on the edge of the world man. And no one is going to get any kind of help from you if you pop a vessel or two. Besides bitching about it does not solve it, right?. We can't turn around and stock up on more sleepers. This is it, it´s all we got man. Earth is whatever shape and form it is.
And the way goes straight forward for you and me, and this entire ship.
















I have added this to the morning log, and I am putting two AI branches on real time audio visual monitoring.
Evolution man, its all it is. Take a walk. Breathe in and come back in five. And think about the free entertainment until we touch down. It will jolt some life in all of us.

- Ok, ok, ok, I am gone.
And as the doors closed behind him, calm air instantly filled up the room as if the radiating energy of neurons and cells would propagate and spread like riled up wildfire through the air of any room that tried to contain the mass of an aggravated mind.













Calm silent moments later.
The low sound of slow walking boots to the steely ground returned to the room as the glass doors silently slid open 7 minutes later, carrying with them the relaxed air of a person at peace entering a room at undisturbed calm.
Do you feel that?. Calm air, breathing in and out, and all is well as we float through space.
- You are right. I am good now.


































Moments later.
Or was it, in reality, months or even years, and decades that had silently passed me by? That I can not truly say, but to me it felt just like any other fleeting moment, like when you look up from the morning paper, having just read a bunch of obscure black ink headlines that suddenly makes you realize that while what could almost be perceived as 'yesterday' for you,
in reality, was your entire life swept away in a blur that ended in the blink of an eye as 10 years had already charged you by and before the postman's hand with a loud clunk dropped the next postcard or whatever meaningless junk they still delivered in your mailbox, just 'hours' from now, another 5 years would have been buried alive. A life never lived was no life at all.












I looked up towards the world beyond, and it was just like when your mind and eye swiftly and uninterrupted changes focus from something up close and personal to that far away object that hides obstructed by sheer distance and out of focus eyes.
Perspective and reality changes as the synapses inside of you sync back together.











And in the singular blink of an eye, you see with clarity what once was out of focus.
Colors and transitions changing, light changing shape and hue in a moment of thoughts, blurry obstructions becoming laser sharp and the strangeness of shadows transform to light and clear-cut forms.
A seamless canvas opens in that moment with clarity by nothing more than the will of your mind, and your eyes rapid changing focus.








As such, my own eyes came to rest, and I rose back to life, clawing my way through the dimmed and dissipating curtains that had sheltered my disconnected body and mind, and like the shriek from that raven as it soars into the air, leaving the maggots and dead carcasses behind, I rose up to.
My memories of the dark faces, the ravenous woman, and the blind baron pounded my senses as my still dusty, itching eyes opened to the light of what I thought would be day.
And that light was burning brightly now, and so vivid beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes.


















Still stuck
[ inside the mist & the bell tower.]
















A burst of cold air forced its way down my lungs and throat, and with the chill of midnight air, a scent of mold and urine sprinkled upon the wildflowers and rotting wood assaulted my senses.
The mist and the bell tower finally disintegrated inside my mind and before the cloak of my blurry eyes, and quite soon it was as if they had never existed.









I coughed and stood (I think) upright with dilated pupils and thirsty lips as the pleasantness of what turned out to be a cold and starry night struck my synapses with the strength of a pummelling fist.
'But the daylight?', a stray thought of confusion before the pain.
Hammers crashing against the iron anvil, fists of flesh crushing your skin, jaw and teeth's. My head exploded in pain, raw pulses of explosive pain as life and the blinking light pounded upon my feverish mind, and suddenly my bones and flesh caved, cracking, surrendering, rebuilding.
I laughed, I laughed and I knew that I had lost my mind.
My laughter crackled and with a tinge of madness, it soared like a sudden burst between my dried out lips as my body kept roaring with a starving, hollow intensity.
Each scent making my entire being convulse.
I raged against the wind, I raged against the air that filled my lungs.















I raged against the world, and it was as I had slept for an eternity and my blood boiled, it hated with burning intensity.
Release and start. Release and start. Release and start.
I pulled and pushed against the chains that kept my body locked and chained with the soil.
Again and again, and again.
Until a shriek silenced the world, the shrieks of ravens from afar.
My legs cramped and spasmed as my muscles contracted and jolted my entire body with pain.
I smiled and laughed out into the airy night as I forced myself up on my elbows.
'you beautiful whore, you fucking lie, do you hear me? life, what life?".
Are you real? I will kill you if you are still alive.
Mad thoughts bounced and swelled, it burned my insides and boiled my blood.















I could not keep myself from laughing as the words bubbled up from within 'Fuck You, you hear me!.'
'I am alive!!, I am awake!'.
I mumbled like a madman, to the veil of empty air, who did I talk to? What the fuck was I saying. Fucking, fucking birds! "Shut the fuck up!!"
"Shut the fuck up!!"
The words tumbled and formed and bubbled through the cracking sound of my laughter in an endless stream. 'It does not matter, one day. I will find you. Like the fucking puppet and his fucking horde of rats. Fuck me, I am alive. I am alive'.



















I laughed, I raged, I bubbled with joyous life and energy as the wind kept ripping the words out of me.
"Why, why, why", those where the sycophantic words the wind kept whispering to me in a one-word sentence that never seemed to end. But I knew the truth, I had seen it in the soil deep beneath the surface.
I had seen it hidden deep within the ocean, hunched inside the dark trees and the rotten soil.















I had seen the countless dead. The sick and old, the young and homeless.
The streets flooded with blood. The dead that floated in the drowning cities.
I had heard the laughter of the mad oil baron as they murdered ever more workers and children and I knew what I had forgotten. It was hidden in the soil and the trenches. But I remembered the villages too. Far away, out in the pasture of soil and nature that slowly clawed its way back, green meadows and air buzzing with animal life and fresh oxygen that did not kill you in your sleep.
"I would kill you, you fucker", once I remembered enough, "I would kill you", tear your fucking face back over your skull and watch you suffocate in your own vomit. I would watch you drown. Cargo bay 54, that much I knew, the insight screamed at my face, the ravens dark feathered wings screamed the truth into the night.
You had murdered your way through tens of thousands of people, and I would find you.











My voice, now a low whisper as the rain and wind kept pounding upon me. Tearing into my flesh, the water so cold it made my feverish mind burn with ice, the sound of ravens kept tearing into my flesh and mind.
'Winding up and down, up and down, the stairs that lead us deep into the earth and the far-reaching stars'.















Like death and nature and the pagan marvels that is life, I knew my resolve.
Unbreakable, but inside the waves of heat and cold, the words I spoke with no rhyme and reason, I somehow knew that I was now a mad man as well.
Somehow I knew I had not always been mad. But I was still trapped inside the dark, I was awake and alive.
But I could still feel that strange mixture of cables and biological veins that latched onto my entire being. I could not see them, but I could feel them. I could feel the reality of my chains.















It was as if a force of life akin to the pulse of a star and the moving oceans, transforming, radiating, evolving inside of me.
Each day a new page to turn and be, to become, to learn and see more of all that is life.
And like the sun and the moon, the stars and the oceans. Every obstacle slowly melted away in the course of time never ending.















With a deep breath.
I closed my eyes and stilled my mind as I caught a swift scent of fragrance dissipating in the night air.
Assaulting my senses and calling to me, awakening memories and life in my limbs. Out there, she crawled through the mist of time, like a beacon, calling me, to hunt her down and make my claim.
Would I have to climb that tower in my mind I wondered?.
Would I be the one to feast on the carcasses of dead elephants, would I destroy, or save them all.
Ah you marvelous old bastard, you fucking beautiful star-filled ocean of wonders. You haunt my heart and mind, you tease, create, kill and tear them down only to unravel even greater beauty behind every layer of life and death that is peeled away.
I loved life, I absolutely knew that I did.
With every breath and moment of it I loved life with every inch of my being, and I smiled as my mind like a burst of magnetism lashed out and called out to that cloud in the night that kept growing inside my mind, like a cancerous lump of "weight", I could feel it out there, far away.















I called for them in the night, to herald my answer if they so wished, to come and fetch me. To grant me a ride through the wild road here in the realm of devils and angels, together by my side once again.
Don't ask me, how I even knew that something was out there, I still don't know.
I am still not entirely sure that this is not just the wildest, most outrageous dream ever dreamt.
A lump of coal burning inside my mad decaying mind.
That was my reality.















Are we even alive? Is my hand moving as I look down upon my fingers? Or is this your dream and I am just a figment that forever grows helplessly trapped inside the realm of your imagination.
And if I am a being of flesh and bones, if I bleed and breath, then, how can I talk to ravens and air? Who are you that I keep addressing?. Why do you hide inside? Questions that might ponder your brain, they surely have done mine in at times. I can feel you. I can feel your eyes and your mind tasting my words. Your feverish mind tracing every line of words I type.
Are you reading this or hearing it? Are you real, Am I thinking all of this?















Would you like to know something? an ancient truth revealed between just the two of us.
Those are questions that I do not care for, and I do not need the answers either. Not now, not ever again.
What I know is that I am. And that is all that is needed to claim this life as mine.
I feel what I feel, just as you do. It is a shining beacon inside of us all that shines as bright and gloomy as we allow it to do inside the soundless, long night that is our one singular life.















From deep inside that vividly burning light, the chill and goose bumps spread, through my every bone to the hair on my body, my skin, filled with thousands of hairs standing up in eager silence.
As if I was really standing under a shower outside at night, caught beneath the cold freezing winds together with a beautiful, naked women.
Kissing and tasting every inch of each others pounding aching skin.
Yes, I know, you can feel that sensation too, against your skin, lips, and fingers, the tip of her tongue as it tastes you, slow and deep it transforms you, can't you feel that?
Her lips against your naked skin, your fingers tracing her vibrant nakedness.
Can you sense her turn on? The anticipation of the growing adult pleasures you will unlock and conjure from inside of her of growing wet swollen lips and insides as your finger firm but gentle slide inside her growing wetness.
The moist between her legs that is already spreading down her thighs.















The dark call, like a magnet, filled the insides of my mind and I knew that they had already heard me.
Out there, my long lost children spread their wings, and soon we would walk this place together.
We would hunt you down, and as you died, a cloud of dark ravens would descend upon you, tearing your flesh to bits and pieces until nothing more than a speck of dust remained of you.
A speck of dust and wet darkness that was already being sucked up dry by the ravenous Earth until nothing remained at all.















This mist would unravel one day under the wings of time.
I knew this with certainty.
My lips curled into a smile as I tilted my head ever so slightly.
Listening to the coming storm, and in the distant, the falling rain as it fell upon the world.
Ah, the sounds the world made upon their wings.
Dark, beautiful beaks. Rain against feathers.
The cascade of branches moving, the sound of rain against the world - somehow, I could feel the drop of rain against their veiled, black feathers and it was as if we all stood together, beneath a great waterfall, covered in blackest feathers with water flowing all around. Their voices soaring to the skies, pounding this mighty world like a torrent, their voices like branches that moved against the windows of my mind.











I smiled as the thought for a lingering moment caught a bubble in my mind and floated to the surface of my conscious stream.











Perhaps you are wondering if this is really happening, or am I still dreaming, perhaps I am delusional?
Am I lying in bed somewhere, trapped inside the beauty of a mad dream? Is it even my dream or someone else's entirely?
Perhaps I was right earlier, and I am just the figment of your imagination and no one would ever know that I am actually here, alive in the flesh. Unanswered questions as insignificant and pointless as the fact that we might seemingly never truly know the ever-changing nature of time, our clocks might claim it was a mere hour, but, perhaps as it sometimes felt, I had been standing here, waiting, for an eternity, or a mere second. Where did the energy go, the flowers were broken and bent.
The decaying corpses, reclaimed by soul, wind, water, why, why, why.
Perhaps you wonder if mountains and dark horses dream too?
You might, but I do not.
I do not wonder about these petty and meaningless things anymore.
What I do know is this.
Time was always the same and yet, it also changed, like a subtle difference of emotions that changed our perspective of the entire world in the most fundamental ways - perhaps it was our own mind and true needs that altered reality - perhaps it was that sweetest of madness that was life's beauty and the mad halls of the human mind that defined the hallways of reality.
And that is the true nature of time and space, distance, and life.
It is as defined as the permafrost beneath the oldest, unchanging mountain.
And yet, time is ever-changing and relative, it bends, speed up and slows down, it does all that even as it remains a constant known, permanent, yet in endless flux.
















Time is the echoes that bounce around at night, transpires, evolves and forever remains in perpetual transformation and relevance. And perhaps madness allowed you to sleep while reality tried to keep you awake.
Perhaps you will now obsess about this until your dying days.
If so, I will tell you now, it just does not matter.











I turned my face up to the sky as laughter rolled towards the raindrops that came hurling towards me.
Standing beneath the rain that would soon bounce against my cheek and hair with even greater force.
I lifted my arms slightly bent as to welcome a long-lost friend that somehow would always be your most important friend no matter how far they had journeyed, no matter time and silence travelled, it would always be like a mere second ago when you saw them again, it was like that moment when you first encounter the love of your life - actually knowing entirely. Without knowing the semblance of it all.
"Fuck" went through my mind.
A stray strange thought, caught by the autumn wind and given irrelevant place and room inside my being.
'My feet are itching, and I need to wash my hair, I need to eat and dry up, what the fuck is this'.











As abrupt as it came, my wayward thought hurriedly swept away into the rain and shadows.
While out there, still far away and shielded by that veil of night, the shrieks tore through both distance and the rain, traveling through the darkness to announce the approaching arrival.
Of something old that would join my travels once more.
And so, I waited.
I waited like a sarcophagus that lonesome floated on the endless sea of time, upon which I traversed and drifted for years and decades, centuries too. I watched the rising of the moon as it chased the sun for all eternity, yet I never died, I never grew sick, I never felt old or impatient. I did not even change.
I never fed or even hungered.
I waited in my solitude for their dark feathered arrival, and as I waited, I wondered, was I too, endless perhaps? Could I even die?
Could I perhaps, be a god? And why was it that I floated endlessly on this sea with nothing but strange voices to keep me company.








































Outside the sun was sparkling brightly as the rays of light bounced around the world on the frosty surface of crunchy leafs and grass that was still too cold to leave the night fully behind.
And up in the towering trees above our heads, branches lived that had turned to popsicle like art and sculptured living in the brisk daylight on the barren trees that guarded the solemn sleepy streets.
In peaceful cold sleep before they slowly warmed, forming a long, straight line of ancient forest that together stood guard along the sidewalk with their crown of leafs reaching up wet and newly showered as to say hello and good morning to the warming sun and bluish skies.















It was a grand moment the quiet way the world said good morning each and every day as day replaced the night.
















Indoors the waitress looked outside the tall windows as she reached without thinking for the biggest cup of coffee they had to offer, like a trained robot her delicate, feminine fingers with french manicure and rounded tips put the cap on top and clicked it in place with a smile as she handed one giant cup of black coffee over to the waiting customer in front of her.









The door opened to the outside world with the familiar but silent digital beep that only the countertop display and interior sensors kept track of as the customer nodded and turned towards his table or in some cases, went straight back out the door.
And through the momentarily open doors the tunes of street music waited eagerly, primed and locked, ready to launch its assault of pleasant rhythm and disorderly life, very much like a hymn of madness and pulsating organic messiness and today, those doors and the sky-high windows provided her with the subtle genius of "Machine Head" whom caught her bright mind as they kept churning away the almost nine minutes long "Sail into the black" and for a moment her spirit abruptly lifted and a sense of elated joy took hold of her mind and heart, dancing and moving as her beautiful head kept bobbing with the wild chugging of music as she handed the next customer their cup of coffee.












She was a mosh pit fan in disguise and a real metalhead through and through her beautiful girly chic presence.

















The girl
[ a girly chic mosh pit fan in disguise.]













"Customer number 47 for the day" she thought to herself unless, of course, she had lost the count, which was a very real possibility and with a chuckle her mind took a detour as she thought of the never ending line of coffee being handed out as a string of pearls and swine's romping around the globe, never ending, and always growing her imaginary metal loving pigs kept on head banging to Scandinavian death metal.
The line of pearls and anonymous swine's danced through life in her mind, waiting their turn to worship at the altar of coffee and metal.















"One black
cup of coffee
and a smile
please"












Her mad thought burst out of her sensual lips in a spontaneous laughter, almost making her spill the warm coffee all over her feminine hands and sculpted nails.















A voice pulled her back to the room, and there he was the wordsmith that had spoken out loud as he jolted her back to reality "One black cup of coffee and a smile sweet girl",
She smiled a real smile this time, from her toes all the way to the beautiful caramel chocolate colored eyes.
"Coming right up boy".















They had known each other a little more than six years by now.
And it had been an instant and magnetic attraction on all levels, sexual, intellectual, emotionally perfected, fulfillingly daring and free, and so much more that words just could not properly describe, at least not in the way it deserved to be experienced.
What they shared was open, free, completely uncomplicated and so utterly wonderful.
Something about him always made every fiber of her being come alive. And not just in that familiar sexually loaded way, but she felt at ease.















Alive and burning bright, happy, thrilled, turned on, calm, at home and wild, tamed and set free, all at the same time, like she was accepted and entirely enjoyed exactly as is and always would be, no matter where she was in life and personal development.
No matter what they talked about, no matter what they did or how her day had unfolded otherwise, his presence was ever there, in spirit, mind, body, and soul, even when he wasn't physically around.















Ah, it is pure madness she thought as she laughed in the private space of her own mind, but it could be as mad as it wished to be because this was so right and so wonderful and unlike anything she had ever experienced before.















Most remarkably of it all was that she knew that it was entirely mutual.
She had always known that long before the first kiss ever happened.
In fact, inside her at times tumultuous mind she thought that as impossible as it was, he might even enjoy and love all that she was even more than she enjoyed him.















As he took the cup of coffee their fingers touched and a jolt of pure happiness and raw, unadulterated passion surged through them both.
With eyes all sparkly from the smile he felt inside he let his fingers trail hers for a brief moment as he silently ushered the words, "tonight?".
Just as she was about to nod with anticipation, the radio buzzed to life all by itself and a scratchy old sounding recording full of static and noise screeched out into the waiting world.





















The old radio
[ distorted borders. ]




















"A canvas tent, close flapped and secure was erected and inside the tent ..... The smoke was thick enough to strangle an elephant, but Mason lingered around in the suffocating atmosphere for a full twenty minutes. He came out of the tent 'as good as new'".


















They simultaneously laughed, as their eyes still held each other's gaze, and the customer right behind her boy, looked just as surprised, as he spoke
- "That was odd?, I have been buying my morning joe from you for years and I've never heard even a beep from that radio before? Did you fix it"?















No, she replied to the customer and she agreed, that was truly odd, odd but fun, in a strange, strange way.
"I thought that old relic was dead and buried since long, forever long kind of."
"A well, I guess, everyone and everything has a final hurrah in them. Even an old vintage radio like that one".









The man nodded back, "I think you are damn right about that, we all have a final hurrah, you know, inside it hides in us all, yes indeed".














And as abruptly as the broadcast had started, the radio went back to its dead silent radio tomb with a final eruption of white noise reaching out of its vintage internals, and with the sound abruptly imploding upon itself, the electrical light that had jolted back, illuminating its dials once again, like in yesteryears, faded out to black as well. And as it did, outside of mind and eye, like a stray thought, gone in a second, the coating and texture on the windows, changed ever so slightly, as if it decided to move just a tiny little atom for no particular reason at all.
Leaving the room reeling on wobbly legs, as if a ghost of electricity had turned around in its deep slumbering sleep, awoken for a brief few seconds before the mythical ghost of Sandman once again had pulled the blanket over its slumbering inaudible face.













































Another day begins
- yup.
You know, this place, I love it. The silent morning, the sleep and the tranquil way it greets you with visuals from Earth, gorgeous, lush Scandinavian birch trees and lush burning auburn colors that intermingle with our A.I garden and throughout the ship, it´s like walking inside a contemporary Scandinavian minimalist designers dream world.
- I love this place too man.







To wake up greeted by that slowly rising sunlight as it grows across the walls in height, size, and lumen, and each morning, when the doors open up, it is like you are standing back home, in the living room with Spotify already playing, a cup of freshly made black coffee, ground on Brazilian beans and aroma that grows across the entirety of your world as you slide the white, rustic glass doors open and rushing up against your nostrils together with the coffee is the scent of summers dew and moist grass that tickles your senses right in the morning breeze. Rustic board floors against your bare naked feet, Machine Head crushing the acoustics and there you are. My god, that is the perfect morning routine before you head out for a morning run 30 minutes later.
And this room is that sensation of a good old Earth born sunrise.
I fucking love it. A flawless start to the day.











This ship, the complete world and mixed ecosystem it actually is, it gets me every day. The water that flows across the hull, the algae and plankton, fish and the butterflies and bumblebees, the shell fish and jelly fish, and the way they have taken to this place, damn, I love the way our garden takes care of this place for us, and the way it makes this box of metal feel like a real Earth born place, a real garden meadows, full of lush life down by the creek, with a real sunrise. Rain, moon, mist and a sunset. A complete 24-hour cycle of natural life mixed up with a state of the art A.I and all the technological marvels to blow your mind.
Forming this amazing ecosystem.
















The sounds, the freshness of the air, the life you can feel in it, it´s not like the rest of the artificial air of old Earth bound systems.
This one is alive. It lives and changes with each day.
I do not know how to describe it properly, but it is tranquil and joyful, relaxing and all. And it just makes me god damn happy man. This ship and what we have created, it is fucking amazing.










But fuck man, yesterday, peering inside their shared dream of that place of theirs. Ouch. That was death by a thousand cuts, fuck me, that got me hard. I mean, I can't even tell if it is just a mutual dream that they are somehow living and creating together. Or if it a memory shared by people that actually lived it together down on Earth. Or if it is a strange kind of hybrid reality, part dreams, part real life memories and part AI gone way overboard. Fact or fiction, it does not matter. It got to me, hard man.

















To climb
[ inside their mutually shared reality. ]













- hell yes, I hear you. What a trip, I swear I could feel the scent of coffee, and for a moment, I could taste that apple pie and custard in my mouth, not just in my thoughts, I could fucking taste it physically speaking, the taste buds, the weight against my tongue and the moist in my mouth, the scent through air while the rain kept falling down outside the windows, it was so real.
Fuck me!.
I could taste it.
I swear I could.














Fuck yeah, it was amazing. I have never even thought about Earth like that in a very long time. If I ever did. It sure did bring back some vivid memories, as real as yesterday. To the point, it was as if I was actually standing back on Earth again.














- It was like a flood I tell you, bringing me back to another life. You know, those crazy Chinese, how they started out teleporting real stuff between a station up in space and a state funded laboratory back down on Earth. That's how this one felt.
Just like that quantum entangled thing, it was not like the way we stream stuff or even actual physical teleportation, it was as if I actually existed in two places at once. I was right here, on this fucked up ship, and yet, I was right there. Wet pavement, coffee, Earth coffee. Blueberry pie, and the scent of sunlight burning away the rain.
The sounds.
They lingered, unheard, yet present. I was present and alive, coherent, yet completely there as well.
Melting ice cream, and the chatter of the world.
- As she served another cup of coffee. Her perfume, did you feel that too?
OMG, I sure did.
And I heard the birds outside. The atmosphere, the pressure of it. It curved the hair on my arms.
- Sounds and conversations from complete strangers. Real stuff.















But I sure as hell do not miss waiting in line.
- Haha, yeah, no need for that up here with the day crew.
Nope, it´s all ours. Plain and simple.
- But I still crave apple pie.
And the scent of people, mm Earth coffee. And the feel of morning rain.
- Wet pavement.
Oh, fuck you, a warm apple pie and a beautiful random girl in a short skirt walking by.
- Timeout, Fuck me. That´s fucking, time out you are fricking killing me. Fuck you for going there. At breakfast too, what the fucking fuck.



















And that radio, who the fuck is "Big Chief" Mason.
- Yeah lol, that is such a weird one. And quite a work of wordsmithing too, it cracked me up tho.
Strange is the way of wyrd. But it's a proper mind trip. I tell you that.
- Hell yes. And that's why we are here. Floating through the nothingness, peering inside the life and dreams of an entire ship of sleeping human beings, an entire future planetary colony, and somehow their thoughts and dreams. It's the best thing since the dinosaurs.
Haha, fucking right you are. Best shit since our good old T-rex ruled the world.















Yeah, its strange is it not?. Sometimes I feel so disconnected from it all. Earth I mean, the people. Sometimes I even wonder if we are even the same species that left Earth. I mean, you get it right?. Have we changed in a real, and evolutionary way, the way some lizard evolve in a mere decade or two if they have to adapt to their island world getting submerged or completely cut off.
Is that the thing, or have we just forgotten how it is to be a human being that´s a healthy, non-destructive part of the world, the wolf pack that physically has to hang out with the rest of the fucked up world without tearing each other to bits and pieces? You get it right?
- I do man. I had to watch one of the last few streams we received last night just to remind myself.















What did you see?















- It was just a random heat wave, one of a million heatwaves. 73c that hit southern Europe for two hours. 45 000 dead people in a fairly local region of Spain and Portugal, parts of France and Italy and some Balkan southern states. They named it Lucifer IV, and the next piece of random news was some fucked up earnings call for a new West Virginia Trump mine that had seen its shares soar to unprecedented levels just two months later, a major new coal discovery in the Appalachian mountains, and the worlds entire problem sounds as if they are completely forgotten. They glossed right over the air pollution, the tides outside Florida and New York, lucifer and all its siblings.
50 dead miners in one week.
Zero livable wages.
Drought and food shortages.
Millions of people fleeing their dead lands, billions of unemployed people. But nope, they just burned more coal and the stock kept rising.
Right there. In two short streams, all the reminder I needed.
What a worthless bubble we all lived in.
Fuck me, that old world was a crazy place.















- No, Earth was a great place. It was the hominid species that was fucked up, beyond ape shit crazy. Well, not the apes, but we, the human species. Fucked up worthless.
Yeah.
The human race. What a disgrace, and what a fucking mess we made.
And here we are now. Drifting at sea like some fucking old Viking boat. A world wrapped in mist and no one else in sight.
- Let's watch some news tonight.
Connect to the human soul you mean.
- Beam me up, Scotty. Right back to 2028. And perhaps that will put us in touch with a happy raven.
Ha Ha, wise guy, you fucking tool. Sure thing man. Let's connect to our human soul back in 2028, give me April and a summer shower while we are still on Earth. Who knows, perhaps we´ll receive some new bits of news soon, positive news from back home.
- It's been years man.
And years more will go by, but eventually, we´ll hear something. Old shit, but news to us. Eventually, we´ll get that quantum thing going again. Things will catch right back up with us.
- It is what it is. Chinese and all.
Yup, at least we got that worldwide, one child per adult female law right.
- You know it man, there is a silver lining in everything. And we did turn Wonder Woman into a franchise too.
There´s that too. There is hope for humanity.









































"Did you murder the world today too?".
The waitress found herself looking with a puzzled expression at the man standing in front of her.
"Say what? I don't think I heard you".
"Oh, I am sorry, I meant your coffee. You know that pick me up morning coffee you make, it is good enough to die for".
"Starting the day right here, together with the ever growing line waiting patiently every breakfast, it´s not just the coffee tho I am sure. It´s you. This place, for some reason people are drawn here, like a moth to a flame. And it is like nothing I ever have seen elsewhere, you got it, girl. I don't know what exactly it is that you got, or what it is that you put in that coffee, but you do have it, and ever since you moved here, taking over this old place, people just keep lining up".














She laughed a bit.
Suddenly feeling a tad bit shy and self-aware, a light laughter escaped her.
"So, are you saying that my coffee and good looks are capable of murdering the world? Thank you, but, I would much prefer the world to be alive and improving, while well, still drinking my coffee, of course".
"Just a figure of speech, my dear. On the contrary, you make the world a bit more alive every damn morning, your morning smile, the fresh scent of your coffee that flood my senses as I open the door, the world would just not be the same without you to start the day for it".
"Now that I can live with, thank you and have a pleasant rest of your day"


















She replied to each and every customer with a genuine little smile, as she at times looked down to survey their purchases and other on going activities in her shop and life on the lush bezel less screen on her Lenovo Yoga Pro Book 10 that was propped up on the counter. Her customer's phones and smart gadgets already communicating with her coffee shops ecosystem, picking up the needed data from each customer to differentiate each individual's purchases and needs together with the inventory and services which communicated their own attributes and changes.

















She loved these new hands-off payment and services systems, no money exchanging physical places, no dreadful booking to do, no receipts, no delays and no manual signing or labor needed at all, the entire system already knew who he was even tho she did not until she looked down and could see his first name, and the amount of the cup he had filled were priced accordingly to how much he had actually purchased.
















Weight and all accounted for, and the purchase and books were all taken care of the same second he actually picked it up.
She didn't even need the line of people, or herself for that matter, people could just buy their things and walk right out of the cafe, but she liked it, being here and talking to the people, it gave it sort of a human touch from another era. And it gave her own life a nice and pleasant continuity and human exposure.
And so, when she looked back up the man had already taken a paper cup of locally sustainable water and fresh apples, picked up his coffee to go and headed back out on the street after picking a handful of additional fresh strawberries from her ever fresh, organic growing, all year round strawberry fridges.

























To climb
[ the wall, a tsunami at the crossroads of the universe.]













Like magic, she glanced down just in time to see her system correcting the amount he had paid and in total 8 little strawberries ended up being paid for as well.
She loved it!.















As the door closed behind him with its characteristic nonexisting sound, the silence fell like a wooly smith wrapped fully over the entire room. Like as if someone had plugged her ears full of cotton candy, soundproofed cotton candy and a blanket of pure black wrapped around it all.
No more customers, no sounds, no lingering line of people waiting to order a cup o joe on their way to work, or on their way from work, perhaps they were waiting for their lover or best friend to finish shopping or whatever these busy bees were doing.

















Perhaps they had just left their secret Tinder lover and now wanted to take a break before heading back home to their husband or wife, their girlfriend or boyfriend(s).
She often wondered about the lives of her daily customers.
Where they happy on the inside? Like she was. Or did they just pretend, like a little leafy mantis, hiding in plain sight, masqueraded to face the world with a mask of hardened pretending to shelter the softness of their mind, heart, and soul.
And now, as it so often did when the calm conquered the moment. The exhaustion of everyday life washed over her pretty being.















When the silence fell and nothing more was piling up, the exhaustion became apparent.
As she often did in these situations, she made herself a big black and in silence she sat down, looking out at the street on the other side of the window, the world parading by her beautiful eyes that were seeing, yet not focused on anything as the thoughts sprinted by the insides of the vibrant always busy like a bee maze that was her own gorgeous mind.















Step inside
See the devil in I
















The words of Slipknot broke through her paralyzed, almost meditative state when the old radio buzzed back to life for a few seconds, sending a jolt of surprise through her at the sudden outburst, but the moment passed and the room was once more silent and muted.















She looked at the radio with raised eyebrows and her expression changed to a puzzled mix of disbelief and wonder.
"Wow, little old radio, something truly odd is going on with you, are you sure that you are feeling all ok, or do I need to take you to the radio doctor?",
She smiled at the hilarious realization that she just caught herself talking to an old vintage radio.















Floating by in that cup of soundproof cotton candy she proceeded to finish up her day, cleaning the café, wiping and polishing the tables and counter, emptying the leftover coffee and watering the real plants and flowers that she insisted on keeping disconnected from the smartness of her shop.
To her it was well worth the manual effort of caring for those flowers, real greens brightened the day and mind like fake plastics never could.
They brought health to body and mind and she truly enjoyed caring for them.















40 minutes after she had started to close down for the day she looked over her shoulder at the photographs and old books that she had carefully selected and sparingly used to give her café that hard to find romantic and homey feeling that posh interior designers would kill to bottle up and sell to their luxury customers.
She could make a killing doing that if she wanted, but no, this peaceful little life and café, that was exactly what she craved.















The entrance door locked behind her as she stepped out on the walkway and sensing that her phone had left the room, the door locked itself like it always did.
And inside most of the lightning shut down as well, only leaving two led lamps half dimmed in the panorama window and as she headed down the walkway, the heating in the café lowered itself to preserve some needed energy as the Tesla batteries went from recharging to actually powering the place, piggybacking on the solar panels from the streets and the roof, the thermal ground heating and the windows and air itself.















High up, sitting above in one of the trees that paraded the empty street, a black bird lay its head on the side in that peculiar and quite alien looking way that seemed like it once where crafted and given birth inside the pages of a H.P Lovecraft horror tale before it somehow managed to break its unnatural chains and tore itself out off the confinement of the books pages, materializing in the flesh, a being from another world, that now, made real in our realm, roamed free in this world too.
And if you could, for an hour or two, see nothing but these ravenous birds.
To shut out everything else around you.
To feel and hear them, to soar the sky on feathered wings and sense them, to experience the world as they see and feel it.
Then I know, that the ancient Viking tales of Hugin and Munin would not just tingle your senses, but take the shape of profound truth as you rediscovered the bond to our oldest brothers in the hunt, the dark feathered Ravens and prowling, grey wolves that had hunted with us so long ago.

Oh, the prey beneath our claws and teeth's, the blood and pulsing strength and adrenaline. Our bond and shared meal that you would sense, feel and witness. It would all come calling if you could just see it, the world as it actually is.















The birds dark, raven eyes tracked the petite and, might I admit, very pretty little girl walking down below, her ginger hair flowing long and free, light on feet and lost in her thought of the bread she would try to bake tonight.
"Kissing crust", that´s what she would call it if her chosen few approved of its flavor and consistency.
She smiled a sensuous smile in her caramel chocolate colored eyes and sultry lips, at the duality of that name, kissing crust indeed, once her lover came over to help her bake.
And in an outburst of energy and joy she did a sudden hand stance flip as she passed by a puddle of water and two vivid autumn leaves floating so serenely upon the water.















Inside the coffee shop, just for a brief second the texture on the windows seemed to change to the left, as if a single atom had decided it had been positioned out of place, and as the structure of the window seemed to alter position, the radio, once more sparked to life, repeating that odd broadcast from the middle of the day. Word by word it was the exact same thing, like a vibrating hum from yesterday that refused to go to bed and kept on playing inside your head.















"A canvas tent, close flapped and secure was erected and inside the tent a fire started…Fitting a big canvas affair that had the appearance of a diver's helmet on the head of "Big Chief" Mason, a full-blooded Indian from the Walpole Reservation, Canada, Charles P. Salan, then sent the Indian under the flaps into the smoke filled tent. The smoke was thick enough to strangle an elephant, but Mason lingered around in the suffocating atmosphere for a full twenty minutes. He came out of the tent 'as good as new'".

The sound faded away and outside, the night and city once more lay dead silent. And the windows once again looked the same way they always did, a perfect memory waiting to be remembered once again.































Fuck that fucking head of yours.
- Grow a pair crybaby. You broke your hand, so my head won. Deal with it.
In your dreams, I destroyed you.
Sweet and utterly. That tiny stone you portray to call a head, you can't claim to win because you broke my hand getting punched in the face by a superior fighter.
- Cry me a river!. Case closed.



















Talk about a sour loser man. My hand will be all healed up tomorrow like nothing ever happened. But your skills, man, you are so behind. You move exceedingly slow, you are easy to read, you are not durable enough, you are not quick and fluid enough, and you lack variety in your striking and movement.
And let us not talk about that defense of yours. Blocking my strikes and kicks with your stone of a brain, that´s lackluster man. Read my words, lackluster.You have so much training and catching up to do that it is not even funny. Seriously, how did you end up on the day crew.
The first sign of a riot and you will be all tucked up in bed over at the nursery. But outside of the med bots, I will give you that the doc is one hot chick. So perhaps that´s not that bad of an octagon strategy. Except, of course, that she is almost as capable in the ring as that hot one of a kind brain of hers.
So no luck there either for you.
But you know what, I will make it my fighting pride to get you up to speed. Tomorrow we´ll step it up and start working on some real HIIT workouts tailored made for you. I can't have people on my watch looking like they are ready for urgent geriatric service.
- Shut up son. I am not that far behind. I´ll soon take you out.
Scary stuff, stick man. I never stop so you have some work cut out for you.


























































Inside the obsessively and neatly kept and down to the germ spotlessly cleaned room wrapped inside shiny white walls, not a sound could be heard. Except for an almost imperceptible flow of the machinery that kept the air smoothly swirling and filtered, pleasantly cool and clean from dust, mold, and particles.
Inside this room, the air moved like a gentle, but invisible summers breeze that unobtrusively kept touching and playing with your skin and hair through its invisible limbs, reminding you that there was something physical moving inside this world with a resemblance of organic life attached to it.















A man could be found sitting every moment of every day in front of the floor to ceiling high windows that made up the entirety of one of the rooms four seamless walls. And not even once would he make a semblance of a single sound or motion. To all passersby, he remained forever a perfect statue.
A being of flesh and blood, yet void of all that signals biological life.
His blank, blue eyes, had you taken the time to look deep inside them, showed no signs of life and had you been standing there, watching the entirety of his day go by, hour by hour, you would soon notice how the man never blinked.















Not even once would you see the slightest change in posture or skin, no twitching muscles, nothing conscious or unconscious ever broke the postcard like illusion that his every day resembled.















He sat there, always looking out and about to the outside world where the moon and the sun, rain, and starry skies kept courting each other, like lovers in an open relation preoccupied in an endless serenade mutually written and explored together, endless strings of lovers passed in front his gaze in a sea of shooting stars.
Together this sea of life outside his window created a string of continuous movement and flow for this man, a backdrop upon which his world slowly kept turning as if we were both the audience and the star inside a global cast that kept swimming and drowning in a vast incessant ocean mirroring the sky above us and its burning suns.















It was as if they, the moon and the sun and everything else, kept pushing and pulling, dragging and leading the clouds to move, and sometimes there would be rain and snow, thunder and lightning, at times you might be lead to believe that they perhaps performed for him, during the silence of the veiled night. And at other times, they kept their courtship, all visible in broad daylight, multifaceted lodestones that moved, pulled, pushed on each other and everything else.















Sometimes the sky was black and brilliant crimson red.
Dull and gray, blue and white hues all tumbled before him, and sometimes parts of the sky glistened as if touched by the unspeakable gods that people had conjured and raged over for so very long. Atoms moving, changing as they silently conversed with each other.
The northern lights at deep chilly winter nights turned the darkness all green in a multitude of tones as a blanket that slowly moved like a shimmering ocean upon the sky that found itself caught in someone's restless lullaby.















Holding secrets deep within its ancient abyss, secrets that were silently sprinkled atop our imaginary senses, the reality that was always there, yet never noticed.















But to him, or is that you that find yourself unable to move your gaze, afraid of breaking the stream and never finding this room ever again? it was all about the truth of the sun and the moon as they moved across time and .. sky.
And when the butterflies at times came to dance in front of his eyes, right there, on the other side of the thin sheets of glass, he could see the light of all his lovers moving gently in the hair that draped their fragile bodies and their slowly flapping wings.
Finally, come night, the nurses of flesh and metal always moved him back to his own room and with the nonchalant yet professional care of trained employees that since long have turned their loving care into the efficiency and professionalism of past times grocery store workers picking peas and jugs of milk and eggs they tucked him into bed, always giving him a "good night and sleep so tight" goodbye before closing the door behind them. Their touch, well meaning but so empty and shallow, and as such, all he ever wished for was the sun and the moon and the world that lived in his window.















I know that I keep wondering what kind of notions painted the night inside of his room. Was there a song playing in his mind. And do you have the same questions as I do?















Did the sun and the moon find their way inside as they snuck by the nurses, through the cracks, the openings in the locked door? Did they caress his skin, brushed his hair. Or did they do something else, sitting by his side at night, whispering secrets to this man, unearthed and precious, building castles of stone and sand and moonlight dust?
And then, there it was the rising of the daylight sun as it drowned out all the other stars, always waiting, ready to greet the man, shining through the windows of the house, a streak of warmth touching his cheek and then his eyes. The sun always came first to his bed, waking him up to say hello, mere moments before the nurses evermore opened the door and brought him back out into the bigger room where the sun and the moon and the rest of the wolf pack were already courting.



















And soon, once he was seated in front of the window, the conversation altered, including him as well, connecting him to the outside world, the leafs that the particles of light scattered around and through, lighting up his skin, the synapses inside his mind. The vessels of blood and his skin, the wings of a butterfly and ladybug. Somewhere in the vast sky, a cloud was forming, and rain would soon come down, the light touched it all and the water in his body, connected to the tears of the rain.















"Falling, they were all falling".
Random echoes, resonating, vibrating, the process of conscious thought in your mind, is that him. Or is that by chance perhaps you that reverberates across the world and your own mind?
Are you falling right now?
Or do you stand in this vast blue room, are you not just alive and tucked safely inside your bed, or do you stand and walk by your own conscious thought as you connect to me through the void and biological matter of the quasars sea.















"We are falling, and the rain caresses the surface of our two bodies, and as we plummet through the ether, we divide and multiply, like nodes and threads, we give birth to endless strings of atoms"















To the outside world, did something ever happen?
Or was this life just like a DVR, a Netflix show caught endlessly looping, a buffer repeating, seamless and synched in the offline and online world of organic matter and digital recordings.
The randomness of data points. Processed, filtered. Living. Did you ever notice when life stuttered and paused, buffering inside the offline loop before it once again caught wind of online packets and the stream?















Every day for him and you looked the same from the outside or did they all, all the others, miss the obvious. Were we all, like the butterflies, simply parts of this one large tardigradous conversation, a cosmic game of chess lived out right under our noses. Or did we all live inside what was nothing more than one man's layered dreams, feverish creations living inside the thoughts of another?















Uninterrupted life is nothing more than a river bed of thoughts, more or less conscious.
It never stops to a halt, like an uninterrupted dance between lovers. Between one entity and all the companions, the sun, and the moon, you and me. All of us and everyone.
It keeps on going in broad daylight, in lightning storms and hailstorms. And at night the starry skies served as the backdrop against his dreams and your own, and yet, the conversation never for one single breath takes a pause as the ever tree painted this slowly on going conversation. Each of us, being nothing more than another leaf in that endless crown.
And so it is that we spend our days, looking at this man, looking outside his own window, and we can all see the same atoms.















Bishop
Takes Knight, c5















The man spoke as his left hand moved the bishop across the chess games black and white intersections, he moved the pieces with the smoothness that only a lifetime of repeated movement and thought that had turned into instinctually processed knowledge can ever give a person.
Aware and processing, yet uninterrupted sublime unconscious decisions made faster than any conscious thought and movement that had to develop brand new and unique from zero could achieve, his fingers picked up the knight at the same time as they put the bishop down in its place.
Processed, decided, executed, flawless and uninterrupted.
His mind still reeling, catching up and making conscious decisions about the move he should perhaps have played, even as he finished the move he actually did.
They played their game every Thursday, the day after hump day, as they joked, was a splendid day for brainy activities. Soul and mind rejuvenated by the physical pleasures of humpday or at least the perceived pleasures that woodens lustful days of sinful fun should give life.















But no matter the outcome of Wednesdays promise, every Thursday they played their game of chess. Logical and instinctual they tested their prowess against each other, the gift of brand new thoughts and logical thinking was put against the data like learned behavior of past battles and scars.
And sometimes they shared thought and words from yesterdays naughty fun as well.















Gunshots
tore through the night with each strike of Mjolnir.















Guns were fired right next to your head, like roaring thunder in the nightly slumber, tears and thuds rumbled through the silence like a fist that slapped straight to your face, undeniable in its violent presence as it jolts throughout your system.
Rage and hormones kick start the fighting lizard hiding inside you. The ancient response to physical pain and threats is not to run and crumble, but to kill and destroy the challenge, like a proud Viking from the ancient past.
You conquer the threat with bloodied flags and indomitable power. Instant, relentless, like Mjolnir you strike against the challenge.















Tearing through the shared fabric of mind and flesh. The sound of death this time and night were certainly no different from past carnage as the violence raged like Thor's mighty lightning down from the clouds.



















Its meaning and purpose and message was all clear and sound. From afar we could see how the man leaned into the wrecked car, holding his hand on the outside of the broken door, he paused for the briefest of time as he looked at the people inside the car, and for a second his eyes caught the beauty of their skin, traced their neckline and jaws, the long flowing hair of the two females, their lips, and earring.
His eyes took its time admiring the two girls and the toned and muscular build of the man as he raised his gun. He respected his advisories, in life and death. A final bow as he closed their chapter.















He stood there now. The moment before the final act.
And we knew that this was how the shape of death always looked as it had manifested itself in countless of human beings. They dressed differently at times, all depending on the exact time of history. But while fashion changed, and the length of hair altered and technology marched forever onward, death always looked the same when she came to visit.
Beneath the skin, there she was, raging beautiful, timeless and unyielding.















The man was not hesitating as the slow, slow second seemed to progress into eternity. No, he was simply tasting and taking it all in, in its final enduring moment.
Life was about to snap abruptly and forever be cut off.
And you could taste it, you could sense and smell and feel it if you just paused for a moment. Life and death could reveal its ongoing conversation if you just paid enough attention to what they had to say, and in this moment, he heard their words and conversation, he could see it through her eyes, taste it in his own mouth.
Life and death, aww, how sweet it was, their mutual dance.















When he finally pulled the trigger, following a slow, final breath, he let out a softly spoken "Good...bye" as he let the bullets fly into the car and its passengers. Metal was penetrated, broken bent and crushed, like the skull and brain of those inside, shattering facial bones, the brain, and tissue molted and ruined, torn into hundreds of broken, messy organic bits and pieces of blood and gore that scattered all through the insides of their car.
Blood splattered, blood smelled. He caught droplets of it on his lips and tongue.
Death laughed with unadulterated joy. She smiled in wicked delight. Full of joy and life.











For a final brief second or two, he watched the light and electricity that was the remnants of life's final words leaving their bodies. Hand in hand life and color faded away together with the ringing sound of the firing gun. Inside their bodies, he followed the neurons and synapses inside their mind as their gutted energy fade away, and slowly life shut down in body and mind.
Leaving a still living corpse, which would, in the end, say goodbye, just like the red eye in the terminator movies, a final sign of life that last of all entered the darkness and void of mistress death lasting realm.















And then he turned his back forever on the car. The dead forever abandoned, wayward ghosts that would drift in their own little vortex now. The man walked in silent resolve and was soon swallowed whole by the night, not a trace beyond the blood and shattered flesh and glass.
He had paid his tributes and answered their threat.
And now we watched him leave together, and we knew that death had seen us standing right by her side at this place of intersections, the dark alley where moments lived met the birth of new dreams.















Butterflies
Might hover in singular expression, but they never come alone















The boy smiled, and then his face broke up in an explosion of laughter, "haha that is so true, they never do gramps, they never do" the boy fell silent as he more closely watched the butterflies moving about on his bare legs and arms.
They felt so light against his skin, and yet, they clearly also had real weight, real weight, and endless vibrancy.















He could feel their presence, their feet, the trunk like thingy that carefully tasted the skin on his arms and the fabric on his shorts. Searching for the natural nectar that gave light to their own cycle of life.
To the boy, it tickled as the butterflies moved about his arm and skin. Faint and almost undetectable, yet undeniably real.















He laughed out loud, "Elephants, they are like tiny winged elephants, haha, look at them, don't you see, they are tiny winged Elephants, well not like bumblebees, but like Elephants".
It was a sunny day outside. And the boy giggled at his new found discovery. Miniature Elephants with wings.
He had never thought about butterflies in that way, but now it was so clear and obvious to him. And he just knew, that somewhere in this universe, someone would one day discover that butterflies and elephants were indeed related.















And it was true, what they had said earlier, butterflies never came alone. And perhaps they even could be called tiny, little-winged elephants.
Today was a day spent sitting outside, perched up on the porch, drinking his lemonade and talking to his grandmother, which, in all honesty, was a grandmother of course due to him being born, but not in appearance, age, looks and ways, health and mind.
Not like in the old and judgmental tales of Hollywood where all people above 30 looked deader than dead.















No, her delicious, vibrant appreciation of life was perfectly met by her unmatched sexual energy and sexual attractiveness, her feminine looks that radiated from the inside out and caught the hearts and warm hot desires of both men and women.
She was very much alive in mind and body. Not old at all, this was a girl in the prime of her life. Rivaled by few, and like it is with some, her chronological age might say one thing, but her real biological age, it was young and perfectly ripe, and at the end of the day, no one lives by the dates and number of their calendar, we all live and die by the actual state of our biological being.
And so, she was endlessly perfect in the eyes of the world.
Sensual naughty and so perky beautiful.















Her soul and body was thirsting for life, for all the wonderful decades and centuries still ahead of her and left to enjoy. Dancing, training, travels and exploration, gardening and creativity, clothes and new recipes and mountains of knowledge to learn while she was not busy exploring her every sexual desire. Naughty fun borders explored and fulfillingly devoured.
Love and smiles, movies and music. Every day wonders in big and small. Life was grand and precious, so precious and rare, and she knew it well.
The well of life from which she drank with joyous appetite and vigor.











In the fabled stories, life has a short shelf life, steeped in youthful arrogance and lacking knowledge, life is fabled to end before anyone ever grows mature.
But those are the stories people fabricate because, in truth, we lived in an age of wonder, an age where life truly and always becomes better and more whole the longer we had already enjoyed it. For each passing day, we become more complete and wise, more witty, developed, beautiful and secure. And in this age and day, who cared about being only 20, still undeveloped, a slow moving caterpillar when the butterflies do not even spread their wings before 40 and seemingly fly forever, fresh and full of sparkling life.
Life did not strip her of her youth and good looks, life never did that to anyone. That was just the sole creation of pity peoples evil mind.















One look at her and you could swear that she was this boy early 30 something and very hot and beautiful sister, or perhaps, she was his super hot babysitter, surely not his or anyone's grandmother. To think of her as a grandmother defied the very fabric of reality that we were all spoon fed since before we had ever learned to walk.
And that is a gift that we should wish for everyone to encounter and to be, instead of the tired worn out shells most will choose to restrict themselves to be, dragging their tired, negative self´s through life and yet never really fully being alive.
Her looks were striking to all, delicate, sensual youthful skin, looks and spirit that kept shining through her every pore, and the sum of it all made it impossible to guess her biological age. And no one that actually knew her would ever try to claim that she was not in fact much more beautiful and striking now than 20 years ago.
But a healthy soul and body tend to do that to you, you suspend, reverse and allow your biological age to be decades behind what your birth date tries to tell you, and her petite and toned, and very feminine looks, body, and appearance made her a delight to anyone's eyes and mind, and it always would, since like the finest wine, she improved by age, becoming more instead of less.











Not just for her delightful looks, but inside her, in her mind and heart, a soul burned so bright and sensuously beautiful it would always grow more gorgeous and alive with each passing year.
It was a soul and girl that fed life itself.
Like the mistress death, we encountered before, timeless, endless, and full of life and beauty the likes never seen before.











But to the boy, she was just a grandmother.
Albeit not a boring and grumpy one, but a grown up that he loved to visit every year, however, perhaps, more than anything else, to him, she was a fun adventure. Yes, a glorified babysitter hero, and so much more fun than his other ones, An adult actually worth visiting, and to him, that was how it really was.















Each yearly visit was all by itself like an adventure worthy of books and movies being told, and so far from the boring school like days he spent with his other babysitters and grandparents















Not that he did not appreciate them all because he did, the way all kids appreciate their grandparents and parents for a while. But the other adults, that was daily homework, and this was the white water raft adventure he always looked forward to.
To visit here, that to him was in some ways much bigger than Christmas itself. A real adventure made even better by the distance and infrequency. No boring moments and no harsh words or dreary adult that only knew the word "no".















The butterflies made her happy too and when she was happy, she smiled the world's most incredible smile that was ever seen, a smile born in her sensuous soul and mind and beautiful heart. A smile that on the outside made her even more striking, a smile that was the definition of sensual when it radiated out from her eyes down to her sensual lips.















And like the man had told her a few days ago, she did have something. She had never truly understood it herself or thought anything special of herself. In fact, for years she had diminished herself to such lengths that one day, she had almost disappeared into a dark cloud of others.















But something about her just made people love her, to them, just to be around her lifted their spirits, and when someone managed to give her a real smile that started on the inside before it burst out through her beautiful face, like the sun pierced the clouds after rain, it was the most wonderful thing in the world.
While she would never herself, understand why that was, she, of course, knew that she actually did have that effect on people.















It was still hard to trust for her, it was hard to be truly close despite it being the only way she really cared for and needed, when so many, had only ever tried to hurt and diminish her. And for long, she had even had a hard time trusting in her own needs and feelings. Not what she felt and wanted, she had always known that, but it had been hard to trust in the divine worth of her own needs and feelings, that she was worth having her needs met.
But now she knew.
Now she knew and loved her own worth.















And today she had a grandchild visiting her and her lover, a sexy, rough, fit and deliciously toned, healthy and brilliantly wild, yet so incredibly calm and fulfilled child of life himself, carefree, yet always caring and without a doubt, to her, the kindest man alive.















As kind, as he was carefree and naughty-minded he devoured the beauty of life with joy and appreciation, giving all of himself to her and enjoying all that she gave him.
He was, a brilliantly minded lover, that loved every moment she gave him while painting her days with sunshine, delight, and pleasures, all craved and desired.











So for now.
The world was nothing but a wonderful place and she had over time learned to relax and allow herself to enjoy that. The good little moments, to leave the wrongs and shortcomings of others behind and instead find joy and focus, energy and life in the kind people and the beautiful moments that always came with delight and pleasured smiles.
She loved him.
And she appreciated him, and my god, how she loved what he did with her mind and body, the way he appreciated, accepted and loved her for being all that she was. And never needing none of what she was not.
His appetite for all that she was and for nothing she never would be.















It had been an instant thing, yet slowly evolving relation, taking years before their first kiss. And years more before she left her abusive husband.
But in time she had.
And life since then had never been better.
Life was never movie like perfect, not for anyone.
Not in that stupid and so ultimately lacking fairy tale perfect lies of Hollywood that screamed inside their hollow frames for all the things their empty lies would never achieve.
No, her life was perfectly flawed now, in that real way that actually made life and love truly beautiful for real, breathing, living people of flesh and blood.
And she had luckily enough never wanted or needed the proclaimed media dream of Hollywood, and what she had found with him was something better than her every dream, just like it was, and that to her was the definition of perfect, with warts and all. A life worth living.















A tardigradous conversation,
That was what her boyfriend had once called it.
A Tardigradous conversation that despite its slow-moving pace was life's most open and beautiful relationship ever seen.















That was what he years ago had called their thing.
And that was what they both knew that it would always be. She smiled at the boy that sat next to her.
"You like visiting here, don't you?. Well, next year we will come and visit you and the others for Christmas, would you like that?".















She smiled again and continued.
"Yes, we will have so many gifts with us that Santa Claus himself will have to help us take them on his ride across the Atlantic".















The boy laughed at her
"Silly you, why don't you just take the airplane? Just like I do. Didn't Mom tell you? Santa is just some sort of made up thing, she told me that Disney made him up to sell more star wars movies".















Kisses
and sultry wet, the adult stuff that paints our life with joy and life.















Days later, when the boy was at the beach with his mother, her lover's hand brushed against her hair, holding her flowing, long hair in a loving and gentle but firm way. And as his lips touched and gracing tasted the skin of her neck, he slowly pulled her head backward by holding her hair with one hand, all while his other hand squeezed and pinched her stiff nipples and firm breasts in that delicious craving way that drove her mad.















Her fingers sensually holding his hard sex to the side of her legs and ass, enjoying the sensation of his hard, pulsating desires coming to life in her hand.















She loved that feeling of his pure, physical and emotional desires and needs so much, his hardness responding to her and her alone, just like his heart and minds, his physical body´s aching pleasures craved her every pleasure and desire, no matter how naughty and sensual. or sweet and loving it might secretly be.















As they explored each other's physical and emotional being in that electric way, their scent and turn on mixing and weaving, and becoming something bigger than the individual parts, he slowly let go of her hair as his lips and teeth kissed and snacked at her ears.















Tasting her earlobe and the delicate skin right behind her ear and neck, her throat against his warm breath as his tongue and lips tasted her naked flesh, kissing, biting, he painted her skin wet with saliva as his fingers touched the wetness inside her, each touch and stroke against her clit and inside her body stirred ever more wet moist and growing pleasures.















Oh my god how he turned her on in ways no one else had quite come close to, and soon his free hand found its way down between her cheeks. For a lingering, slow second or two sliding over her tight and firm ass, gently brushing his fingertips over her butthole, never penetrating, but gently pushing against her, slightly making her open to the soft pressure, a gentle touch of promises, oil and butt against fingers, that served to remind her of those deliciously naughty pleasures she so loved when he allowed his oiled up fingers to explore her like that too.















And then her lover slowly continued further down and found her swollen, shaved, her wetness already flowing from inside out, as both his hands sultry soft graced her privates.
The soft tip of his tongue traced the delicate skin of her swollen lips and clit, painting with his saliva as he fluttery soft kissed and licked and tasted her wetness and pleasures. Inside her, his fingers moved in a slow but firm motion, pressing, pushing, pulling at the opening as well as further in.















As she came closer and closer, he finally let one of his oiled up fingers venture down her skin again, towards her tight aching ass, and soon his firm but gentle touch slowly opened up her smaller hole as well, exquisitely slow.
One finger inched deeper, inside of her, and one became two as his two hands met inside her body, but on opposite sides of her two holes, all while his tongue continued to paint and tease.
And suddenly her body started to quake. Over and over again he made her shiver, quake, and cum.















Wwith a mouthful
of
protest















As they continued to make love, and she came, once more, wet and completely used, the lyrics of Machine Head´s epic 2014 piece, 'Sail into the black' tumbled through the air like a slowly building wave, tugging at your wrists and ankles, a gentle breeze and touch until it gripped a firm hold of your entire being. Soft, firm, gentle and demanding and absolutely alive you lose your grip and tumble down into the sea.















Through the kitchen window, outside in their garden, three black ravens picked away at the worms, squirming in the morning dew, the earthly gardeners had become a picnic of their own. The ravens dark head tilting slightly, listening and observing and then, bam, their sharp beaks catching bugs and little critters, they foraged amongst the flowers, the blossoming apple tree that the bumble bees so loved.
And high up above the three ravens, a big, beautiful specimen sat in the tree. Observing the other birds, looking out from the branch and the leafy tree and apples. his dark eyes looking through the old window glass, seeing the room on the inside, the two adults making love inside the kitchen. The grand raven blinked and turned his attention elsewhere. His flock was safe, happy and fed.















The rain comes down, on my face, the drops of rain keep falling.
The hammer came crashing down, breaking bones and flesh, and with the splatter of organic blood and bits, the man screamed. It struck his hand once more and then his voice went silent.
Nothing but the gentle sound of branches brushing against the tinted windows, like little feets the branches kept marching, touching the sheets of glass and providing eerie sounds in an otherwise dead silent world.
The shadows observed the man as the seconds went by and with a buzz the screen of a phone lit up on the table next to the tied up fellow.















The subject line said, "Don't forget to pick up milk at the store honey".
















Dark Tides, dark morning. Sweet tomorrow.
The fishing boat was anchored in the velvet night, out on the lagoon. It was a deep dark hue to the night, and thankfully not a human being for miles.
They had camped at a place just nearby, making sure that they would be here just at dawn when the first rays of light would ascend the towering mountains and trees that kept this valley surrounded by a green world of undisturbed nature.
They laughed good-hearted at each others foolishness, getting up at this wicked hour, just to catch the rising sun and the calm undisturbed wild without another human being to spoil that pagan calm of leaving society far behind.
No disturbing teenagers, no crazy road rage drivers to ruin the morning. No stress, no screaming politicians acting like spoiled rotten toddlers
in the morning news.















No words about the North Korean nuclear threat.
This was the world without insults and Donald Trumps strangely monotone Third Reich like propaganda. This was the way life on planet Earth was always meant to be.
They were happy this morning, and it would not matter at all if they actually caught any fish, and if they did, they would most likely just let it slip down into the lake once more.
As beautiful as this place was, they all knew the toxic truth, the plastic pollution hiding deep beneath its blue and black tones of fluid beauty. The toxins and litter inside all the fish that still lived there.
But they did their part, they cleaned up behind them. They picked up others litter. Bit by bit they helped this place grow a little bit clean and wild again. And so they felt that the fish they accidentally caught could pay the price of a thin little hook before they released it again.
After all, they helped clean this place up for that fish too. Making its own underwater world cleaner, and livable.
As they sat there, enjoying the sleepy morning routine of this world, witnessing the bears further down the lakeside, closer to the mountain stream that hurled itself out into the lake.
They watched the rays of sun open up like fragile stars against the trees, it burned the world between the branches, and the owl and wolverine, the deer and elk and moose, they painted a Monet painting of allure.
And then, the dragons came, wild fiery dragons that sprawled across the skies, tearing the dark clouds of night away, transforming the calmness into a morning of red fire, burning skies and screaming daylight.
Behind the dragons, wolves chased across the morning light.
An entire pack of ancient wolves and they chased the fire breathing dragons across the skies.















They sat there, slowly bobbing across the surface of the lake.
Looking up at the night that was turned a day, they watched the dragons and the howling wolves that chased pass them by, until all of a sudden, with fire and brimstone falling out of the sky one of the wolves hurled itself into the side of one of the dragons and with roaring fangs and lightning that ripped into its ribs and abdomen, it seemed to bring the dragon down.
Like rocks bouncing across the pond, they both fell into the water with burning fire and blood and metal that filled the air around them, ripples shooting across the roaring sea, air that burned and water that sizzled with roars of rage and protest.















The men still sitting in the rocking boat watched the chasing pack and roaring dragons hurl themselves further into the horizon, far beyond the trees and mountains, and as minutes passed, the calmness soon returned.
Until without a warning they suddenly watched, the entire night vanish into a blanket of bursting light so bright that the slowly awakening day was instead turned into a world of whitest snow and burning sunshine that flooded their every thought and sight and discernment.















Each day we see this, one by one and together. The crossing of what was, the memories of the life that had been lived, and the merging of the dream, the past that kiss and make out with the endless void of tomorrow.
A billion growing nodes in the intersection of dreams created and memories lived.
But inside this growing world, we always return to see this moment, hiding inside the core of our own sea.
You remain, the one that is awake, and I remain, right here, in passing sleep, awake but dreaming. And together we walk the moments that you call night and dreams until one day soon, we will walk the daytime too. Together.











































This was the departure, the big day of traveling had almost arrived, and with it the likes of what no one ever had done before us. And while the world was still reeling in the world spanning after math of the Korean incident. None the less, here we stood, at the precipice of the greatest journey ever to be climbed.
I guess that when all things are said and done the human race was not all that different from the ants in the way that both our species possessed a resilience which got us back up on our knees and whatever hurdle life and people, evolution and bad luck tried to throw our way. Both species marched ever onwards, no matter what. We adapt, we evolve and we conquer the obstacle.















Granted, it was no one but ourselves that had created this world altering obstacle. And it was almost all by our own doing, one awful decision after the other. But when most things seemed perhaps as if it was game over, too late and too little in the land of the fat lady, we still refused to lay down and die. Somehow we knew that humanity would survive, down here on Earth, and out there, far away scattered wide, like a pack of wolves or pride of lions. We would hunt and be diligent, cleaning up, doing better and spread our genetic frontier and build a healthy new world from the ground up, sustainable, educated, healthy and wise.















Some of us would fail, perhaps even most of us. We knew that it was a simple unavoidable fact.
Perhaps, in the end, hundreds of millions of people would suffer and die down here on Earth, perhaps even billions if all things got out of hand.















But in the end, once we had ventured beyond Ragnarok, some of us would make it, humanity and Earth, we would survive and make it well past the Anthropocene.
Lessons learned, tragedy decried.
And no matter what, the human race would go on beyond the fall, and this time, we would learn and grow like so many times before, but this time we would not forget and we would not fail this world again.















Our fleet of ships had been named Ragnarok 1 to 9, a fitting name, I imagine that most would think. A fleet to try and safeguard our future as we sailed beyond the evolutionary snake-like end and birth that was Ragnarok.
And if we would have had more time and resources, we would have had hundreds more to launch into space.















But this is life and not a dream or a James Cameron movie. The Anthropocene was out of time, and Earth was running low on vital resources.
So 9 ships and 9 different destinations were what we had at our disposal to secure the human race.















This was the night before our departure, and I could never have spent it any other way than with you. No matter how many times I encountered this moment.
It was a Serene Monday evening spent outdoors together with you. And like the dotted I which we all knew so well it was in every way, there is, a perfectly solemn Indian summer day that kept lingering on as if the two of us had been forever caught in the basking light of the setting sun. A set of immortalized paintings that moved before our eyes and neurons, imprinted and stored forever, complete with scent and taste, touch and everything.















Our departure impatiently growled and towered in the back of both our mind. And it was one part auspicious and eager to open the doors to this exciting, new, and uncharted chapter that was waiting for us to unfold and explore.
The other part took the shape of a more ominous and hulking silence, waiting to swallow one or both of us wholly from within the shadows of the corner of this one last evening spent in Earth's familiar hold.
It´s scent, of dew and soil.
The lasting humidity that played across our skin and senses even as the soothing autumn winds drifted ashore from the turning sea. We would both travel on the same ship, the ship Ragnarok 5.



















But it would, unfortunately, be quite some time before we actually got to spend physical time together again. And that was certainly part of the way that our departure felt both grand and amazing, yet a little sad and anxious. We took this adventure head on, and we did it together, but this strange leap into the most amazing dark unknown would take decades to wake up from. And it was a little bit mellow knowing that.















You would work the day crew. As a hot as fuck girly doctor. Smart and brilliant and so damn good at what you do.















And I would spend quite some time, asleep.
It was obviously not perfect, and who even knows if I would ever get to see you again. Perhaps I would never wake up.
Perhaps our ship would never even make it.
But for all the butterflies there are. We took this leap of faith together, and we did this journey separate but together.















So whatever the outcome, we faced it together too.
And that was just the way of life. No point on dwelling on it too much. We had one night on Earth to do. And we would do it the way we loved spending time together.
In calm and peace, swimming in the warm late summer lake, enjoying time in nature, kissing, making naughty love and falling asleep right next to each other.
And then, in the morning, we would leave this place forever.
And that was perfect. Just the way it was.















Interlude, from the stream, August 12, 2017. Charlottesville, USA.
The battle cries of the American Nazis tore through the streets of Charlottesville, USA when Donald Trumps most volatile voters rallied to unite behind the hate of white supremacy.
"Blood & soil", "Blood & Soil".
The KKK marched proudly through the southern states of America as the self-proclaimed land of the free and the brave continued its descent further down the gutter.
"Blood & soil", "Blood & soil".
They marched with automatic rifles, shields, and badges of hate, voices of prejudice and violently lacking empathy raised out in the open against tolerance and equality. They marched for the vile rights of the old world. With tattered banners in red and white and black proudly proclaiming the Nazi connection that ran like a thin red line between the KKK, and the modern day bigots that made up the unpleasant foundation of Donald Trumps voters.















Slavery, supremacy. The right to shoot and kill, slut shame, degrade and hate.
Violence erupted as they clashed for several days with demonstrators, the people that spoke up against the madness of Nazi specter and fossil fuel.
Guns were fired, and people were killed and injured when a black car driven by an angry young Donald Trump voter propelled itself through the anti fascist demonstrators.
This was the unveiling of the American fascists that had put Trump inside the White House, and it echoed the almost forgotten past of Europe, the political intolerance with its inhuman lack of empathy and tolerance for others.
The inequality, the poverty, greed and hate, and injustice which had run through Europe, fueling both the political rise and violence of Adolf Hitler, Lenin and Stalin and countless of other national leaders in Italy, Spain, Turkey, and England.
"The blood & soil" chants around August 12 was a small forbearer of the divide that fascist America would soon give rise to, and it was a mirror of Europes own volatile past.















Inside I think we thought the very same as we looked out over the landscape. What a mess the Americans had made of the entire world just by electing Donald Trump back in 2016.
And yet, for all its fault, for the catastrophic present day situation, the entire world was knee deep in.
What would we not be willing to give to be able to breathe more Earth born air from this place, right here?
To see and feel one more day and week together with you, right here, to exist and recuperate in this place tomorrow too.
To spend years and decades together, right here, in a day and autumn just as beautiful as this moment. No matter the global turmoil, the pollution, and rising seas. The nuclear fallout.
The hate and civil war. The automation and austerity.
The selfish blindness of the rich and their political leaders, crying ever more for ever decreasing taxes for the rich as they laughed at the poor, knowing full well that every penny saved in taxes would do nothing but disable the crucial structures of society and further increase poverty and famine, anger, injustice and issues for everybody else.















The erupting volcanoes.
The middle eastern wars that had all started to blend together into one large and long lasting conflict. The global wildfires and drought. The unprecedented refugees and the many countries that turned their back on it all.















But for all its faults, this world, and humanity, the landscape, and wildlife. It was still so beautiful and with such inherent capacity to become the fabled Eden it once had been.
One day, through it all, planet Earth would once again flourish like a garden worthy of that old fabled epitaph. The only question was if enough people would wise up fast enough to still be there when that day happened.
Some would, but how many.















And that was the thing, for all its ugliness, for all the hate and intolerance, the self-destructive greed and evil that the human race had done towards each other, this planet and all its wildlife.
The two of us, we loved this place, and we loved this world and the human race enough to risk it all and cast away on a Vikings journey into the unknown night.















That thought was never said out loud, but we both shared it, we both knew that, and we both loved the shit out of this very moment.
That was a simple fact given birth by you, and our companion, the setting sun that slowly continued its celestial walk towards the Northern hemispheres green eyed nightly slumber that would have it dance across the sky before us one final time.











This was our own garden of trees, and it was so incredibly rich and ripe and full of life and promise that it was hard, almost impossible to fathom that we had all been so blind to the way we ruined this gorgeous world.
So much beauty and hope, and yet, we had scavenged almost all of it to the point of no return.















And perhaps it was that knowledge of the approaching mountain, don't it was the simple reality that today would be the last day either of us would ever see this sight again. To feel and hear the sounds and scent, the weight of Earth bound sunlight, the pressure, and touch of air around us as I held your hand. One final Aurora performing for us.
But all that combined, it only cemented the joy and importance of this day, further turning it into the perfect moment. Right here with you, what we created was a memory that would cling on and lingering hold on to our senses and skin with that surreal, yet perfect physical feel of nature and earth and you and the sum of us that wrapped around us.
And we would always have that with us.















I held your hand. And words were not needed.















Interlude, moments from the stream. April 23, 2025. Antarctica.
The erupting ice, as violent bursts of heat and steam pummeled through the remaining ice sheet.
Fire, shooting gravel and rocks. The Arctic was violently torn asunder this day as hundreds of sleeping volcanoes pressurized like a battalion of mad egg cookers. Feeding each other, ripping the ancient ice to bits and pieces.
It was a serenade worthy of pagan gods and battle worn dragons as the mountains of Ice tumbled and dove headfirst into the coldness of the ocean.















And inside it all, there was this sensation of this place, and life itself as it looked right here on Earth, and how it would never be felt or seen or heard, ever again. At least not like this and not by us.











And in part, I am sure that the insurmountable weight of this moment being the last evening spent on Earth, made it somehow even more beautiful than its usual grandeur.
But what matters is that no matter why it was a perfect evening, and it was spent with you, the one person that had turned out to be the perfect girl for me and the only long term companion I would ever settle for.











That growing weight inside our tummy only pushed our mind to engrave this moment, enhancing it and latching on to the sounds and color, every fragrance and moment, the feel of your fingers against mine, each atom and tiny aspect more vivid than ever before. To feel it and store it.















Transitorily shielded by the endless formations of clouds that kept moving and darting across the sky in their peculiar dance of change and transformation, the suns burning rays seemed to reach down, flicker and beckon my eyes towards the vast space that separates us all from that burning star.
And right there, high up above in the sky.
The most enchanted painting was slowly drawn before our eyes, framed by mountains to the left, their rolling peaks and smooth curvature, shaped like a woman's bosoms and hips, her thighs and tummy.















The blue and purple, bright yellow and soft red sky, a breathing living canvas formed by natures own pencil strokes, and the towering ash and birch trees, hundred of years older than any of us. Stretching in majestic, near silence towards the thin air above us, reaching for the already changing clouds and the sizzling warmth of light that seemed so close, yet firmly remaining just out of reach.











"You know, they will be ok down here too. They are already building that framework of shielded cities and land areas. Society is becoming properly sustainable and smart, sky high forests and nothing but clean energy and zero fossil fuel vehicles. Zero pollution and locally harvested, sustainable farms that actually behave as a real ecosystem in peace with this planet instead of being at war with it. They will do just fine, despite it all."
"I know", I could hear that you meant it. We both meant it. People would survive this.
We were already learning and furiously iterating.















"It is horrible what we have done to this world, and that all this will be too late for far too many, and still some do not see or understand it, it is horrible. But this planet, we people, the animals. We will undo enough of this stupid shit. And everything will come out just right, And you know, staying here on Earth is despite everything the far safer choice. We are the ones rolling the dice."
"And the two of us, stupid as we are, we even volunteered."















"Haha, yeah, I do not know what to say about you and me."
"But it had to be done, this is the fail safe. And what an adventure. To do this with you. We only have one life, so why not risk it all together like this. Instead of doing nothing and looking the other way. I mean, how could we say no to something like this."
"I love you".















Goodnight my love
do not let
the bedbugs
bite
Sep 5, 2028AD















Above us, just beyond the crown of trees a couple of birds of prey circled higher and higher. And as I pointed them out to you they patiently surfed the warm upwards winds in search for the unknowing, earth bound 'meal in progress' that live their life beneath these feathered hunters domain.
At times we hear their song, carried across the air and distance.
Clock like they play that song for us, and perhaps they too know that this will be the final time they share this moment together with us.















And right there, floating by right next to the eagles, the solar planes that silently float across our skies.
Surveying and seeing, everything. Measuring biological values as they shifted in real time from the planet, reporting and analyzing movement of both people and wildlife, and data.
Our fleet of solar planes provided rich data and visual views of everything, surveillance, and information, all while they helped create a gigantic mesh network, providing both connectivity and security. Listening and broadcasting.















In every way there is, I suppose they were the perfect companion to our eagles, equals, and predatory partners. Like from a glimpse of yesteryear's sci.fi tomorrow. Natures perfection hand in hand with mankind's own design.















Strangers of contradiction our birds and the planes, one-half was a stillborn being born forth a sea of technology. Yet kin to the birds of the sky that they are now flying right next to.
Artificial beings and feathered birds of organic origins, and yet, as alien as they should be, there they are together riding upon the natural motion of the wind and sun, and the feather light push of the wind and the ephemeral photons that moved against their wings and body of muscles and feathers, graphene and technology.
A symbiosis of life and nature that danced before us.















It was perhaps perfectly apt that our last evening on Earth was a scene of immense natural beauty enhanced by the advances of science and man made technology which conquered the skies of Earth and the Universe together in symbiosis with natures own creations. Indefinitely the birds and planes rode the peaks and invisible valleys of the oxygen and energy which we breathe and crave to sustain life as we know it down here on Earth.
Machine and bird, two surveyors of planet Earth, predatory beings that lived upon the same upwards air, but they did so in harmony with each other and nature, not as opposing forces that dominated the others existence by sheer power and savage brutality.















I breathe in. And raise the camera.
The shutter half pressed as I casually track the wings of one solar powered plane amongst the clouds and birds, magic in the making I think, as ray of suns catches its rear view window providing an utterly dreamy notion of light and bokeh upon which I catch the wings of an eagle as my subject of choice.
It breaks the light into fragile swirls and rings of bokeh against its feathers and the plane. Shapes and forms of motion and color, organic texture.
I press the shutter as the painting is perfected.















A moment frozen in stills and motion, created and birthed and set free by life as it is captured by my vision, developed and framed, conjured to forever be a part of the journey that lay ahead of us all.



















We sit in silence as our car drives us home a few hours later.
Looking out the windows, we both follow the fading light of the sun as the sky now rapidly turns from light and day and aurora into an even deeper night time of stars and dark, illuminated only by the remaining, faint light of moon and stars.
A shared smile as our hands meet.















That sultry glimmer of lust, joy, and love lives in our eyes and expression as our lips touch in a soft and lingering kiss that neither of us wants to break off.
Your fragrance, so delicious and subtle, and the way it encapsulates my senses. it is as if our scent and the way our lips taste against each other were made to perfectly complement the other, just as it had always been from the first day.















Yes, it is true that our free minded bond had continually grown in depth and joyful importance over time and moments.
But even back in the beginning, 17 years ago, when we started out as mere friends, it always felt as if we were made for each other, drawn to each other's light like two sides of the same soul, born together a thousand lifetimes before we ever kissed.
Not yet together, but never truly meant to be without the other.











Well, no one should ever read that as the two of us just being another traditional couple, bound by man made superstition and petty restrictions.
No, truth was that while we were indeed each other's perfect match, we lived life together without restrictions, because that is what real love really is, the freedom to be and grow, to like and dislike and to be loved as we evolve just the way we are.















And in that spirit, at times we even invited a third or fourth person to our bed, as one small part of our mutually enjoyed and open minded pleasures and naughty fun in life. We had no need for preconceived notions of love, lust, and sex as something sinful that had to be restrained and artificially muted due to others man-made fantasies. We knew its real meaning and significance, sex and pleasures were a beautiful gift for all men and women to enjoy and explore.
One of life´s very finest and most essential richness, but as such, it deserved to be free and mutually enjoyed, just the way it evolved through life. And that is how we did it, both love and sex.















Finally, our car pulls up in front of our house, just as our front door opens and the light switches back on inside our home.
I kiss you and whisper that the tub is warm and ready for us as we enter our house, if you would like to join me that is.















Later that evening, once we have soaked up all the warmth of the bathing water.
We make our respective goodbyes, as the evening light of a burning sky in solitude paints our bedroom and our old chimney that lurks in the center of the room.
The rays of light is flickering and moving through the panorama windows. it is a beautiful end of our day we both think, sensual even.















We say goodbye to the house and our garden that we have nurtured and refined with love and care, our own garden oasis which for 14 years has seen us make love inside its walls and windows and outside beneath the starry skies.















And oh my how we have made love, fucked and explored every little inch of that worldly canvas that is our mutual pleasure and desires. I smile at you when that thought crosses my mind, and I can see similar thoughts mirrored and put on display in your beautifully sculpted face and so vivid eyes.















Fact is, if our house could speak of all the sultry yum and kinky pleasures we have enjoyed and freely and lustfully devoured inside these walls, then it would surely make for a blushing and most arousing tale for whatever audience would be lining up for its kinky revelations.
And, well, the next people moving in here, they can only hope that the naughty sensations imbued in these rooms rub off so they too can enjoy as much delight and fun, love and pleasures as we have done. And I hope, that their life will be well here, and safe for all, for a long, long time.
To one day step foot on Earth again and to walk inside the lushness of our garden of trees. And to get to once again see this beautiful and minimalistic place of love and joy.
That would be some special kind of magic.
And if the old saying is true that a house carries with it the love and words. feelings and events of its former owners. If it is indeed true that the walls somehow incorporate the life and emotions of the ones living there, joy and smiles stored in some unknown form together with the hate and anger, all the harsh words or lovers moan, the joy and the sadness of the life previously lived inside its sheltered walls, then the new owners will undoubtedly find the very best quality of life and sultry, lovable ghosts as they set foot in our old house.















No more words are needed tonight, and for hours we do just that, holding hands, softly kissing and lying snugly close with a slow fire burning in the fireplace. We listen to the calls of the birds and wildlife outside our walls and windows and the way it intertwines with our own breathing.
I feel and hear the rhythm of your blood beneath my fingers as we watch the light of fire and evening sky dance inside our room and on top our skin. My fingers tracing your skin, as I slowly kiss your earbud and taste your neck and collarbone.















Our last evening down on earth is actually recorded in full.
A romantic and perhaps naughty thing we do for our future joy and benefit. Not just a visual recording, but a complete memory to reside inside of us both, lived and felt in our own body and minds, as well as stored inside our own local AI. Film and sensory inputs captured and enjoyed.
Producing a living memory, and a complete day which we can carry with us, as memories and stored emotions to reenter and live again as we travel through space and uncharted frontiers to a home we might never reach, and if we one day do reach that far away place.
Then.
Well.















What lay ahead in the vastness of space and that one unknown planet, that I do not know.















But I do know this, that even if it all ends in a ball of fire or a malfunctioning computer trapping us in eternal sleep, then I know that nothing could ever change that the 14 years we have had so far in life as an open relations couple. They have been the best years anyone has ever lived and each day with you has been beyond all of my dreams that I ever had dared to dream.
That is what I know and that is all that matters.
Life in the Anthropocene down here on Earth is brutally coming to an end and what transpires is a string of events that will only get progressively worse over time. A tidal wave of man-made push and shove that would get worse for hundreds of years, perhaps even thousands of years.
And by now, no matter if humanity was still around or not, even without our wars things would escalate a lot further.
Even here, in the now shielded and relatively unscathed kingdoms of Scandinavia, nothing could change that the fall of civilization as we knew it had suddenly and already come.
But things would one day regrow and balance out for Earth and nature as this planet reclaimed its own healthy self, and for humanity, things would most likely carry on too, because we would adapt, some would die, far too many even as the worthless and unsustainable societies of the Anthropocene would crumble and die.
But something better and more sustainable would come out of that fire.















But for us, for you and me and tens of thousands of others, it was time for us to leave.
The time had come to cut the past from its feathered chains and weights that had drowned us all as we moved forward.
For the two of us, the choice was simple, when faced with the choice of living out the rest of our life here. To look the other way and love and enjoy each day together while we watched the entire world crumble and burn around us and do nothing of significance to rectify this precarious fall that the human race had created or to boldly go, hand in hand, on a journey without return but to be enjoyed for every passing moment as we tried to safeguard a better future for the human race if all else failed.
The choice was easy.















And so we stood mere moments from casting off on the adventure of a lifetime. Lived and experienced together with you, the love of my life.
A journey without guarantees but shared and enjoy with you, and with endless possibilities waiting for us to unwrap and take delight in. To venture to a far away planet that carries with it a real hope for humanity, to reboot and rebuild a second Earth together with you.
Well, life is easy when you cut away the pretending that people like to do, and so was this choice.















I kiss you good night, with the last remnants of our fireplace burning out and as I close my eyes, our house regulates the temperature for a more pleasant night of sleep, blinding the windows opaqueness and turning off our smartphones and computers,
Finally, it ends the recording that all of our devices has kept up all day long.















As we fall to sleep in our arms, our recordings from the day, uploads and propagates in the background through our cloud and private storage servers, creating multiple streams and cold storage copies of our last memories from this place and day.
For us to take with us, and for the official historical records all the 34 000 agents of IEF, Interstellar Earth Federation will have created as we depart tomorrow night on our fleet of Ragnarok ships.















Good night my love, do not let the bed bugs bite I whisper as I close my eyes for the last time down on Earth, September 5:th, 2028 AD.





















































Inside of the eyes, looking out of the layers of biological matter that weaved together, forming individual shapes of beauty and species.
There was my own death observing me.















A gaze of familiarity was staring right back at me.
Outwards, observing and looking at me, right over steps and stones, air and branches, it was the abyss of hel and it held my stare.
Like a flickering Orion upon the backdrop of the cold universe it weighed, seized and caught me. Holding my soul as it touched my heart with fingers which for the briefest of moments seemed to hold and cherish my entire life.
I stood there, with a smile upon my lips as the essence of my existence, the thing that was my soul and heart, my bones and muscle mass, my own pathways and gray matter, it was all lumped together and held gently in the fingertips of mistress death herself.















And just like that, it was gone.
On black wings, the moment was whisked away and carried from my dreams back into broad daylight.
Yanking my focus away from this other life.
An endless kiss that still physically lingered against my mind and lips. A weighted presence that was growing with strength and importance inside of me with each passing second.
And yet, the vivid clarity of that other realm lost its luster and faded from my eyes and mind.
Becoming both more and less as it was turned into a sketch that changed continually with each new second.
Like pencil brushes, changing with each new stroke but all the old was still there too.















But as I returned to daylight, I knew, that this was something that would always follow me around like the perfect companion, holding my hand all through every clearing, hill, and crevice.
It would fade, change and rework itself in endless ways, but it´s importance and significant truth would never change.
Hel was part of life. And she held my hand.















Until, one day.
When my eyes would once more, look out over the daisies fields. And my fingers running through each of its petals and dewy drops would find her grasp once more, guiding me home to her warm embrace.
The hunter returned.
Like the sweetest lovers embrace and the best of friends that finally came back home from the longest journey ever made.











And I knew that I would drift away on her fields of black and gray, not exactly like this sleep induced decades long dream but perhaps not that different either.
Except that it would be my very own eternal sleep without new good mornings.











I snapped right out of it, there and then, the moment was gone and passed as the day around me returned in full bloom, and as the light of sun hit my synapses once again, my eyes found its focus inside a blurry mist of colors and light and hard to focus shapes.
And as I tried to take in what went on, on the other side of the glass windows that separated the inside of their home from this garden where I stood, silently witnessing the couple making love inside their home, i held out my hand and called by name as my fingers touched the feathered being that poked around, sitting on a branch right next to my shoulders.
"Hugin".
"Munin?".
How strange of me to use these old Norse names I thought to myself as I witnessed the steamy love making, on the other side of the tall, glass high windows.
Or let us be honest now, they were properly fucking. Naughty, raunchy, steamy hot fucking. And I had no fucking idea what the fuck I was doing right here, standing outside in their garden.











Where Death may rest and butterflies their wings one day will open
"So, how is the new book going baby?"
She asked as she leaned in closer and slowly kissed his neck, our two naughty lovers were back in the kitchen where they had made love a couple of hours earlier. And she had squirmed, erupted, quaked and orgasmed, not once or twice, but a whole bunch of times, over and over as he had pleasured tortured her sensitive clit and nipples, ass and pussy, making her cum just one more time.
Oh my gosh how he had fucked her. And she loved it so incredibly much, the perfect kind of morning sex, mmm. My god, the perfect kind of sex that she could never get enough off, period.











His muscular and well-defined arms and torso propped up on his elbows as he looked down at the screen of their Surface pro book, his eyes smiled a bit as he turned his head just a little bit and sultry soft allowed his lips to catch hers.
"I am not sure. I mean, it is going great, I love the way this story is almost growing all by its own. I write a few words and the next day it has kept on evolving and reaching new places I never thought it would when we started this journey.
It´s as neat reading as it is being privileged to write it."












He laughed a little at himself.
" But, at the same time, right now, I have no idea where the main opposing characters are. On the inside that is. The boundless frame is here. The individual characters and their expression and language, the vivid feel of the various scenes and how they all have their own voice. The pieces, and the chessboard. It´s all in the right places.
But not the details. A well, I am loving this journey so it will slowly reveal itself, step by little step."
'So, what do you think? are you enjoying it?. You haven't told me what you think yet.'











"Oh, I love it, You know I do. You are so talented my sexy, hot boy." She smiled a sensual smile as she replied.
"Reading it is doing things to my mind and fantasy. It is like the story is giving wings to crazy thoughts. You know the way they say our mind changes when we learn new languages and skills."
"Like how showing empathy creates a bigger skill set of empathy. And just like that, all of a sudden those thoughts, they all seem so natural all of a sudden.
Like a blanket being pulled off the bed in slow motion, and as it flies off the bed, it is revealing with each passing inch something new and utterly fascinating. Yet still hiding something, still tucked beneath the bed covers, and as you look at it, all of a sudden you realize that all that was hidden, it was always there."
"It´s amazing how proud you make me baby."











"But, I have to ask, is he really talking to some form of life force?
A god, demon? bat shit crazy spirits, or what is going on there. Or is this some kind of strange mental health issue tale, like that game hellblade perhaps?"











Their lips and tongue touched and tasted each other as he turned around and his fingers and the palm of his hands touched her slow and soft at first on the outside of her pants, before finding their way inside, his strong fingers softly caressing her naked butt and delicate skin,
"Uhm" he let out, "I so love touching your delicious ass girl oh my god."











"And no, I don't know.
But soon it will reveal itself to me."
He whispered, just as his fingers spread her butt cheek inside of her pants and the tip of his fingers with a slow and gentle touch reached her shaved growing wetness, he traced her subtly wet and delicate shape of her clitoris.
His fingers followed the gentle, wet curvature of her swollen, lips and opening as his tongue tasted hers once again.















to Climb
the Wall that prevailed
far beyond the Castle
of long forgotten indolence















His head was hurting now.
A throbbing pain, and in his eyes, the bright light and mist made the world pulsate between clarity and a foggy mess of objects that were perpetually going in and out of focus.
Why can't I see, he thought quite puzzled inside the void.
His hands might have been clutched in anger, or so it felt to his body and mind at least, because at this moment he could not even see his own hands.
His fingers, limbs and entire body were lost in a fog of mist and blurry dark moments.
His skin prickled and in his growing rage, it all of a sudden felt like a fever, unlike anything he had ever felt before it now ravaged his mind and body.















On the outside, however, nothing changed.
Nothing moved, not even a drop of sweat rolled down his skin as he sat in dead silence, like a never moving butterfly in front of the altar that was his ceiling high windows. He was the evergreen oak tree, and the sun was the sky he would forever grow towards.
The nurses went on with their days, they changed his clothes, tucked him in at night, checked his health vitals, showered him. Fed him, massaged and rubbed his skin.











Nothing had been spared when it came to assuring that he would always be well taken care of. For, however long, the thread of his life span would keep on ticking.
Would it be the tail of his telomeres that one day could divide no more, or would cancer, or his heart call it quits and once and forever give in?











Perhaps, one day, the flu would take him down the river, painting the sky eternally black and feed him to the headless children, his rotten corpse returned to nature before he ever was allowed to see or move his fingers again.











Perhaps he would never again look up at Orion as it dances beyond the Aurora, turning around the axis that is the sky of countless of planets. Or, could it be that he would one day, open his eyes and move his pale muscles. Stretch his legs out and clasp with strength what was, for now, utterly powerless and dormant fingers.











They thought, or at least hoped that the view in his castle of glass as they called the room he lived in was something that he appreciated.
The nanobots that soared his bloodstream gave them a clear view of his internal activity and health in body and mind.
So they knew that his mind registered what happened on the outside. And that the effect was as good for his soul and mind as it was for his physical health and well-being. They could see the areas of his mind, the activity that responded to the butterflies that gathered in the heat of the invisible waves as they bathed in the sun that reflected and heated the towering sheets of glass.
They could see this and so much more as they continued to care for him. An immobilized shell of non-life on the outside, but full of sprawling life beneath the surface of neatly washed clothes and immaculate skin. So they knew that he was alive and functioning, mental acuity, neurons and gray matter fully alive.
They knew all this, and so much more, but there was, of course, so much that they could not tell, and did not know.
For all our advances, there was just so much we still did not know about the human body and our mind.











So for some reason they had never managed to hear him, neither had he ever, even once, reached out with his mind to move or interact with any of the artificial computer powered puzzles and interactions they tried to entice him with.
Other patients had responded to such experimental treatments at times, a few years ago, they had for the first time ever, managed to allow one patient to mind control another human being 500 miles away through the use of computers and the basics of the world wide web, but not him.
Nothing worked like that, nothing basic, nothing advanced.
Not that they could see.
Not that the local AI could measure and report.











So all that they could see was that his mind and body responded in silence to its private conversation with the natural world outside the castle of glass they had built for him.











But beneath the calm void of silence, deep inside the surface like tranquility, the man was screaming, screaming, screaming.
Inside his world of silence, screams of pure adrenaline, anger and bloodthirsty rage swoshed the waters of the entire world as he smashed his hands against the windows, against his own skull and skin.
Well, inside his mind, that is what he did at least.















Interlude, moments from the Stream.
October 10, 2023, Netherlands.

The towers crumbled, as metal and glass and concrete bowed down to the powers of nature. And before us, the tall skyscrapers took a swan dive back into the Northern sea we all had crawled from.
The walls had fallen, broken down by natures relentless campaign of attrition.
Cars and metal, broken asphalt and rusty pipes washed away as the tides swallowed entire city blocks.
Netherlands joined far away Islands and Denmark, Japan and Florida and a few others, victims of cause and consequence as nature calm and silently collected the debt we had created.





















































Have you noticed something off with cargo 11562?
-No? what´s up?











He´s stuck on some repeated dream cycle, it is pretty darn weird, to be honest, and started a week ago according to his stream.
- So, what is he dreaming about?











Nothing, that´s the case. It´s a blank white stream, except for one thing, and he just keeps repeating that same phrase over and over, and over again.
'The witness account has been faithfully retold, honoring the way it was kept safe in journal 28 of "a matter of trees".
It´s all he keeps repeating, over and over, and over again.











- Oh fuck, this place is falling to pieces now, I can just feel it. Oh, my fuck me, we better get there soon. Should we inform the doc?
She already knows about it, I mirrored his stream the other day. So they are looking into it.















Interlude, moments from the stream. August 14, 2017

There was nothing to do about it.
There was just nothing to do, zero catch. Another completely meaningless day spent at sea.
Well, when I say zero catch, I mean that our catch was in no way edible. Nothing to sell, nothing to eat.
Plastic bags, the burning sea, salty water and blistering un-relentless sun.
A bicycle. Bottles made of glass and plastic, tin cans. Pieces of litter. We got all sorts of things in our net.
But nothing anyone could eat.
And when you considered for one moment what we had actually caught in our net. Did we even want to find fish anymore? When you looked at the way the sea looked, the things that were hiding inside it. Could we look ourselves in the mirror and feel good about selling fish from these waters?
Nah, I was done.











All this filth, the pollution down in the water. The oil spills, the toxins, the dead water that just kept spreading, eating up the entire south east coast by now. And despite what we could all see, they just kept building more pipelines. More platforms, drilling for more oil and causing more issues.
More run off from the inland farmers, more algae that bloomed feeding off of their nutrients that helped kill the sea.
Fuck me, I was done and the world was fucked.
It was time to call it a night and find something else to do, far away from here.





















































"Do you ever think about it, or perhaps dream about it?" she asked me.
I was laying, right next to her, on my back on the stony patch of moss that purposefully spread across the ancient gray rock.
Giving this old mountain a wondrous splash of green, vibrant life on what was nothing but rock solid stone. Scattered across the patches of green and gray, and white moss you had plentiful of strong, tall grass and wild berries of all sorts.
I counted blueberries, raspberries, lingon and smultron ( What the English folks like to call Arctic strawberries, but I used its proper Nordic name ) all living here at the same mossy patch. And just to the left of your cute and delicious ass, a bunch of tarty but pretty cute looking little berries was growing. But according to you, they apparently were slightly poisonous, so no eating those.















My shoeless left feet and my toes were resting on the bent knee of my right leg and I had folded my arms casually behind my head as I listened to your pleasant voice.















My eyes looked at my slightly worn left big toe, proudly wearing all of its battle scars from years long past. And beyond it was the rest of our valley. Well, it was perhaps not technically speaking our valley.
But after having spent a few wonderful months here with you and no one else, that was how we both thought of it by now.
As our valley. Shared with the lushness of the wild.











It was a tranquil place full of wild blueberries, eagles, snakes, wild foxes, a brown bear family or two, beavers and arctic rabbits and wolves, lynx and moose and deer, and hedgehogs too.
And in the winter, some of them took the most beautiful white fur, rendering them almost invisible against the snow and ice.
"No, not really.."











I studied the valley and the lake that cut through it with gentle bends and sloping shores, wrapping in and out of our valley and its thick forest covered hills and mountain tops for a few moments before I continued.
"Well, you know what I mean. Sometimes I think about it. Sometimes it's there in my mind. But it is vague and opaque, like when you wake up from a dream, and it is like you were already awake and aware that you were, in fact, dreaming for those last few seconds, awake but with lucid dreams and conscious thoughts. And right in that moment when you finally open your eyes. In that split second the light of day hits your eyes and you think, 'oh my god', I need to tell someone about this dream, and bam, as soon as you think that all of that clarity is all gone, and instead of a million picture perfect little vivid details of clarity, you are left with a couple of translucent memories that soon are almost entirely wiped out, leaving you scratching your head and wondering, almost laughing as you think what the fuck was I dreaming".
... "Well" I laughed,











"That is how it feels like for me. It´s like I can't really see it, except that I can. But you know, I do not dwell on it either. It's in the past now. All that matters is this life we have right now and what we will do with it tomorrow."
"Perhaps we will return one day, but it might never happen, and I am fine with it either way."
"How about you? Do you think about it?"











I already knew the answer of course.
We were different like that. So very much alike in almost all other ways, perfectly made for each other, alike in so many profound ways, but wonderfully different in others.











And this was one of those slightly differentiating things, but I loved you all the more for it, exactly the way you were, and I knew you felt the same.











That never ending mind of yours that kept analyzing, rethinking and revisiting things, I knew that there was no way you had not been thinking about it for all these years far more often than I had. And you might never even stop thinking about Earth.











And as if you could read my mind, you turned your beautiful face and looking straight at me you said.
"You know the answer already. I can't stop thinking about it. I don't want to think about it, but I do. It comes to me at evenings at times, not very often at all anymore, not really, but still too often, when I am about to close my eyes. I even dream about it at times. It´s not a constant, it doesn't restrict me, it does not take away in any way, but I would prefer it if my mind could just let all that slide away"











A falcon flapped its wings above us and the white swans called out from down below the bird, as they slowly floated through the water.
I looked at your sensual lips as you kept talking, gently letting my fingers touch those incredibly sexy, bare legs as my hand worked its way upward, towards your hips. And as I opened my lips to answer that it's okay. To the right of us, a big white-tailed Eagle left its pine tree nest and as it spread its wings the surroundings started to cave upon us, and somehow, like a bubble that caved upon itself to reveal the non-distorted reality behind it, we stood in our old kitchen. T
he one we had left behind so long ago.















I noticed the light first, the vibrant, white light that shone through the big cutesy windows. And then I noticed the smell of fresh food, not pine trees, and wet moss, no this was the scent of fresh food cooking in the kitchen.











My hands still touching your hips, and now my wet lips already kissing and tasting your neck and throat. The gentle warmth and sensual wetness of our tongues tasting and colliding.











And then I heard someone speaking behind us, and when I looked up, we were sitting in a café and the waitress asked us if we wanted the blueberry pie or the peach pie with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream with the black coffee.















My stomach was loud and clear in its message, telling me to order the blueberry pie with a big splash of real vanilla ice cream, sitting across me you were already smiling as you knew exactly what I would order.
I smiled at you since we both knew it very well. And my god, I felt so horny. I really just wanted to kiss you and to let my hands and fingers touch your shaved wetness beneath the table.















"Apple Pie and Vanilla ice cream for us both please"
The words had hardly left my open mouth when the strangest of things happened.















The couple sitting down at the table behind you, I could see them, talking and eating, loud and clear, and she had a pretty darn slick pony tail, and they were eating warm rhubarb pie with black coffee in white mugs but as I thought about how hot it would be to fuck you with my fingers right now, my eyes, seemed to dry up and it felt like I had gravel inside them, and all of a sudden they people eating rhubarb pie started to fade away.















I could still see them, but they felt muted and faded, and to the left, the window that was facing the empty and quite quaint street outside, it started to look awfully transparent.
Textures were dissipating before my eyes, and a strange kind of light from another place where shining through it now.
No, that was wrong.
Light where shining through everything. And I could hear the rumble of the open ocean. I could fell your tongue against mine, your nipples between my fingers, stiff and aroused, I spread your legs and tasted you with my tongue.
The ocean, it called for us.











My head started to spin around and my stomach suddenly felt awfully ill as your hands grabbed a firm hold of mine.
Salty water splashed against us.
A daring seagull walked across the warm rocks, not more than a few feet's from us. And your sweet, soft lips kissed mine as your fingers found my hard sex.















to Climb
the Wall
a Tsunami
at the
Crossroads of the daisies meadow ...















Your lips, they touched my heart, as your tongue craved my full attention. And the sensation of your skin against mine, the aroma of your entire being flooded me, my god, how I loved kissing you. I kissed you, I fucked you, I made you cum, wetness against my tongue and fingers, as you tasted me.















The man kept punching the inside of his own skull with fists that were nothing more than bloodied stumps by now. His teeth's were aching and he could taste his own blood as it dripped out of his nose, his eyes and broken lips and skin. Swollen and aching. Bones and skin breaking in new places. Old wounds, a life made up of blood.
He was a prize fighter. Blood and pain was his gold.















Your tongue against mine, my fingers opening your blouse, and my fingertips gentle as a breeze touching your stiff nipples. My wet tongue tasted your nipples. I held your hair, firm but gentle, as I pulled your head backward, my fingers inside your wetness.
I nibbled with my teeth against your stiff nipples.















He was chewing his own tongue now.
In a fit of rage, fuelled by the swarm of bees that now nested permanently inside his mind.
He could feel them crawling around his gray matter.
Massaging his brain and synapses, firing neurons of obsessive hate. He hated them all. The fuckers that did not see, that hate and violence were the one true solution.















"This is wrong, it is WRONG", the man screamed in silence.















My god, how I loved the taste and fabric of your wetness, how sweet and naughtily horny, yet loving our kisses always where, I kissed your clit, your dripping wet pussy, my tongue tasted your little butt hole. My fingers, traced your swollen clit, and slowly fucked your insides.











A car slammed its breaks as the driver in a maddening pace kept hitting his horn. The self-driving cars around him, just kept driving, avoiding the entire incident with perfect elegance.
He was just another human being, reckless, tired, drunk or inadequate. And he should not be allowed to drive.
The autonomous cars evaded him, but you had to jump almost off the road and back up to the sideboards, and despite the seriousness of the situation I could not help myself from laughing, and as the driver angrily stared at us and even gave us the finger as he drove by us, you started to laugh as well.
You turned to me, and I knew what you would say, because we had once upon a time been right here, hadn't we?
Or were we supposed to go here one day, to stand right here and witness this angry man that should not drive a car?
Would this soon happen? But just not yet?.
My mind felt disengaged, and then, my naked feet were back.
Laying on my back, right next to you, and my hand touching your naked skin and legs, your ass, right beneath your skirt.















I felt quite strange, and I looked at you as the falcon flapped its wings and once again left the tree, as we both looked at how it took to the sky, soaring higher and higher.
And somehow, I thought to myself, it should have been an eagle, and right in that moment, you opened your lips and said.
"I thought it was an eagle."






















































"Like a sea of decaying whales".
That was the way I remembered the world now that I rest my back and legs, sitting down on the bare ground, leaning back against this towering ash tree that protrudes around me, almost hiding my entire being beneath its comforting branches that wrap around my chest and shoulders.
The ashen tree keeps gently poking through my clothes and at times it's moving critters and body scratch against my skin with green leafs and limbs that tingle in the fluttering breeze while providing strokes of natures comfort and company.















And for reasons that keep alluding me I survey the world around me, but I do not really see it, it is there right in front of me, but my view is hazy and my attention keeps slipping out of focus and persistent stories from the forgotten past keep rising to snatch the attention away from what my eyes are actually seeing in the surrounding world.















Inside my somewhat unseeing eyes, I walk across the courtyard of what used to be, down the allure of my inner landscape and the world that used to be.















And somehow, I tell myself that I did not live some of these stories. It is as if I am sitting here, beneath this tree, still sketching scenes on my yoga book not from my own life, but from a life that belong to someone else.
Moments and thoughts from someone else's inner mind.















The things I write and sketch are broken bits of life that call upon us from beyond the fall of us all.
Their words and memories, not complete, not really there, yet growing in importance as they change, becoming both more obscure and abstract as they become more real and significant.
But no matter how they change, they are all things and moments lived by me and you, and by others. Stolen seconds from the past and the future, memories of things lived and still waiting to happen.
But how could that be?















They all had to be my own thoughts, my dreams of the still changing future, mixed up with my own memories of the past we lived.
I am quite sure of that.
Are they not?. And how could they not entirely be my own?















In my mind, hidden away from the beauty of the surrounding landscape I was actually sitting in, the dead and dying whales floated in their own silence.
A silence born in nothing but despair brought to acoustic life through the siren song of a wasteland of neglect. No one might ever again hear its tones and rhythm, but the silence itself played back a song and an act of importance for all to see and hear.















Their giant bodies had decayed from atrophy, a slow self-murder brought about by the act of consuming its own flesh and tissue as they one by one starved to death, trapped inside this globally connected body of water we called the plastic ocean.















The sharks died too, but they feasted a little bit longer than the peaceful whales, they feasted on the corpses of the whales, the drowned people, and the putrified fish. Food that was polluted beyond reason, unfit for anyone, but all they had left to eat, as they all become victims of toxins and asphyxiation.















Eventually, the sharks died like all the others.
So did the orcas too.















In the end, every living thing hiding in the plastic oceans died.
Trapped inside oceans made up of plastic litter and dead water without oxygen. Polluted by human industries and food production, fossil fuel, algae's blooming, plastic litter, toxins, nuclear runoff.
They died, strangled and misformed while ruthless people kept speeding across the surface of the ocean on their fun boat vessels, hurling ever more litter and toxins straight into the sea.
People that kept laughing at the dying animals, laughing at the people that had to eat the things that lived inside the polluted water, laughing at the people that were stupid enough to swim in the plastic ocean. All while they filmed their stupid shit, displayed on youtube, for the world to see.
They had all died now.















Well, some had survived the fall, of course. The ocean is a vast graveyard after all, and it is equally a vast nursery, so just like some survived on land, humans, plants, and animals adapted to a life in the clean and sustainable cities.
Red squirrels found shelters amongst the sky high forest scrapers, and others had survived the nightmare that was the last fossil fuel cities on Earth. Countless of people died, countless of species was wiped out as we suffocated the entire world.
But some lived, some survived, and some created healthily, thriving oceans of refugee up on land and out at sea.
And likewise, some of the whales and sharks that had lived and swum in the old world still swam and hunted.
Life was magnificent like that. And while the human race might wipe itself out one day no matter how much some of us tried to change our species destructive way of life, but no matter our outcome, the planet would survive us, and organic life would prevail.















Life always found a way to rebound, to grow strong and resilient, to progress and evolve and reclaim what was essential for a thriving life.
We had abused and killed most of the planet, and large chunks of humanity with it, but somehow, life stood firm and once we had almost collapsed under the weight of our self-abuse, the world started to reclaim its natural kingdom.
And that at least made me happy.















The fall of this world was not natures doing, it was our collective shame that was the failure and the cause. We allowed this injustice to happen to each other for nothing but blind arrogance.















I can see inside my mind, the sheltered cities, the thriving landscape outside.
Enclaves of the natural ecosystem, living out a life of technology and nature in perfect balance as they try to make a better world.















I can also see the unforgiving, the fossil fuel barons, the ones that beat, abuse, kill and bully the homeless in the streets, the ones that pray to the evil of Nazi ideology as they live out their worthless lives.
They are the ones that still pray to the old gods of capitalism.
I can see them too, but they have no future. They just ravage whatever life is left to abuse. They revel in that self destructive glorification of hate and violence, a life of stupidity in full display.















I have seen the healthy people living in those far away sustainable cities, and I have seen the horror of the abyss, the last fossil fuel cities on this planet.
Those that refused to learn the lesson. The scavengers that still feast on the backbones of others. I can see the slavery.
The autonomous machines that rule those streets, the people that starve, living in shelters and working for nothing but the hope of bread from their fossil fuel owners.
The children that are sold and raped. The women, killed or used as sexual toys and gifts to the worker of the day.















And there are, others like me, like us, like you and me and your mother, living in the wilderness, living in peace and harmony with this planet once again.















But I wonder if the human race will be quick to forget the ocean of dead whales and the song of entire species that starved to death in a flood of toxins and plastic pollution.
Will they forget the hundreds of millions of refugees, all the homeless without hope, and shelter, without food and care. The walking dead that was allowed nowhere, shunned by the world that opted for profit at the expense of all.
But they were also shunned by the world that hoped to survive the onslaught of those that refused to change. The sustainable cities built a working ecosystem, they honored the science and the nature, they lived like we should always have done, but their resources was still to scarce, their balanced system still not sufficient for the entire world of survivors.
So they too had to shun most of the horde of refugees.















I sketch, and I write, as I wonder why my memories seem to come, from both the past and the unknown future, I wonder why it all seems so familiar and yet so strange, and at times I grasp for air as the dark weight of the ocean pulls me under.















At times, it is as if my eyes cloud and the world becomes a blur of hazy fog with beams of sunlight shining down but obscured by the filthy ocean water, I fight it back and take strong firm strokes with my arms and legs as I shoot back up to the surface. Like an arrow, I pierce the water, swift and agile.
I am greeted, by air that is sticky. Filthy smog filled air that fills my lungs as I breach the salty waves right next to the bloated rotten carcass of a gigantic right whale.















My eyes stare straight into its dead hollow gaze as we float together through an ocean of litter and sickness. A boat slowly passes us by, with sounds and light that tear through the night.
They are hunters, and I know them well.















The screams from the boat carve through the stench of polluted water that clasp and stitches itself to your skin.















I can see the litter they dump into the ocean, moments before they start carving into the rotten whale carcass right next to me. I can hear them speak about the profit they will be making, bbq right whale ribs. I can see them finish up, and in the end, as I float together with the lump of butchered meat that is this whale, I watch them kill the unemployed extras they had picked up as their crew down at the docks earlier today.
They kill them too, and like the whale, they carve the dead people into meal sized sticks of bbq meat.
That is, after all, all that is left of the human worth, in the last fossil fuel cities. Meat and cheap labor, and you do not negotiate with labor when it is so abundantly free, you just cut the weight away.
Replace, consume and think none of tomorrow.















Fresh meat they say, I hear their voices through the smog and polluted air.
They speak about the maggots at the fossil fuel dock and how they will pay good for today's crop of BBQ meat. Feeding on their worthless own. The abhorrent fossil fuel men break out in laughter. As they talk about the irony.



















And I remember, that life at sea and the concrete harbor is a hard life, no one will even wonder about a few more missing fisherman. And tomorrow new and hopeful unemployed people will be lining up, hoping for a spot on one of the whalers setting out to sea, hoping for something more than a loaf of bread and a whore being handed out in the evening.















And once they have served their purpose, they too will be killed, butchered, bbq´d and sold to the waiting line of hungry and unemployed.
Hundreds of millions just in this part of the world.
Waiting for their slice of bread.















And I know that this is the future and the past, the life we left behind as we abandoned that old planet and ourselves.
And then, I sink back into the darkness of the plastic ocean. I open my eyes, unyielding, and unwilling to die and I look up into the branches and green vibrant leafs of the ashen tree I am still resting my back against. And I know that this tree belongs to the future I have not yet lived.











And I wonder about the now. What is the now. And where exactly am I. And where are you. And finally, I remember, that I have to come and get you.
I have to find you.











































We were falling in slow motion through the dark void of the rabbit's hole and the world was shimmering with black hues around us. I could hear nothing, and I could see nothing but the pale darkness of that lucid night.















And no, my mind did not scream out in terror, instead, it kept thinking absolutely nothing.
We were falling. And that is all I know. It was not startling, scary or strange. We were just falling through the dark night as I held your hand.















Like two leafs chained and locked together by wayward chance, entangled on a quantum level. We sailed the eastern wind on the void of a black river.
We rushed down the stones and cascading falls like the rush of a white water raft splashing against the tempest and falls of the roaring river.
And so, we kept falling.















Soundless, and voiceless, two bodies slowly drifting up or down, I could not tell.















And I held your hand.















I wondered where the world had gone.
Perhaps you did too?
The sounds.
The sun?
I wondered, About the dark, the silence. The fall itself. And why I could not see you.















Interlude, moments from the stream, Pakistan & India

The monsoon flooded the two warring nations.
Pouncing their fertile minds with the exhaustion of rivers pent up and dams breached and ruptured.
Villages drowned, and what farmland remained after the war of harvest was swept away with the wild and all the people.
The monsoon swept entire valleys out into the sea.
Bringing further soil and nutrients into the water, further increasing the toxicity, growing the blooming algae even further, stronger and bigger.
In the end, the dead water increased in size, sucking out even more oxygen. And as the rain kept pouring down, the dead and worthless soil increased as well.
A mirror image of southern USA.















Each time we fell through the ether, your voice guided me back to the center.
"focus" you said, soft and sweet into my ear. And I swear, I could feel your fingers, against my face and hair.
"balance on the surface now", you liked that phrase. And you talked about it as the in-between, the grounded now of past and future. "
Find me". Was the words that always woke me up.
Right before the morning song of bells and whistles and daylights warming light.















Beeep,
beeep, beeep.....

I sat up, once again, surrounded by the whitest warmth like every other morning. Our sheets of white when they weren't soft and black, and the sun that burned with pleasantness against my skin.
The fucking alarm, I could not say that I actually hated it, I did not hate much, but there was not much fun to it either.















My hand reached out, turning off the buzzing alarm on my phone. And then I turned towards you, to take you in, and there you were, as delicious as always.
You were laying on your side and tummy, with your red hair splashed out against the pillow and your sensuous skin.















And it fascinated me, how the sun always painted every red strain on your sleepy head with such incredible beauty, yellow streaks of life and white luminescence brought warmth inside our room, warmth, and life that spread across my face and mind, down onto your naked back where it painted little horses that galloped across your shoulder and neck.















I gently reached out and with delight I let my fingers trace down your skin as I allowed myself to just sit there, right next to you and enjoy this sight, and the touch of your skin and the feel of your presence.
This was without a doubt my favorite each morning, to wake up slightly ahead of you and to just enjoy your sleeping company.
Your sleeping company and delicious beauty.















But my heart was out of character today, racing and feeling a tiny bit amped up.
My skin was sweaty. And the hair on my body tingling.
Cold, prickly skin and chills shivered slow and quite gentle through me. And with it, came that serendipity when life simply put tells you that you are not alone with icy fingers of certainty.















A tap reached out to me, like a moving rodent in the prevailing silence of an empty house, and outside of the tap, everything was silent.















No, the neighbor's lawnmower, I could hear it, I smiled.
But, quite soon, there it was again, and this time the tapping continued, forcing me to turn my head and listen to the air around me, the acoustics and the wave of sound.
I turned my body more towards the porch.















And out of the light, just outside on the other side of our tall, sky high bedroom doors of clean glass, three ravens came forward, like ghosts that stepped into the visual wavelength of this world.
They looked, straight inside our bedroom.
Neither of them seemed to move.
They just sat there and patiently waited looking right back at us and with what I can only describe as an act of almost gentle motion, they at times tapped the bedroom doors with their beaks of gleaming dark.











































The glass door silently opened up as the LG made shuttle bots entered the room and ever vigilant started cleaning up the room behind our backs and around us. It was the endless cycle onboard our ship, Ragnarok ship 5.
Silent robots, running on pure electricity, smart, with their own, built in offline AI, audiovisual processing and a perfectly mapped real-time layout of everything.















Move something of significance onboard the ship, redecorate a room in a physical way and the entire fleet of shuttle bots knew it right away. Well, unless it was a piece of paper in your pocket that is. Not that we actually carried any paper on this ship, but you get the drift, actual physical knowledge propagated instantly through the entire fleet of shuttle bots.











Most of the time, you never even noticed them, that´s how unintrusive they were. But they could talk, they listened, they noticed and remembered as they kept the ship clean and tidy for the day crew.
- Michael, the natural voice of the bot always surprised me.
Yes, I answered without actually looking up from the screen I was studying.
- The captain is requesting your presence. He is taking a walk through the hydro park, level 2. And I just cleared your entire afternoon schedule.
Oh? That sounds boring and important.
Well, let me just wrap this up for later. Just a sec, and you can lead the way, do you have something to brief me on while we go?.
- No, it is a confidential meeting, no data logs or anything.











































Forty minutes later, once you too had fully awoken from your dreams and slumber, you knew the moment you opened your eyes that I was as always up before you.















Black coffee was as expected brewing in the kitchen and the scent of coffee together with my usual mix of brutish good morning metal music softly playing from our roof hanging kitchen lamps both touched and teased your rested senses upstairs ( How we both loved those Sony manufactured kitchen lamps slash wi-fi powered speakers. So fucking amazing how they combined that gorgeous minimalistic design with something as useful as light and quality sound ).















You knew that I would have spent twenty minutes or so in the calmness of our tranquil bedroom, laying next to you, listening to the world with half-closed eyes while I drifted in and out of half awaken dreams, laying in bed with my eyes at times closed to enjoy the sounds of the world, marvelling at and enjoying my sleeping beauty right next to me as my eyes enjoyed your presence and serenity, bed head hair and all.















I would without a doubt have let a finger or two gently trace your naked skin, soothing your dreams, kissing you good morning with lips and fingers before you too would take that morning step straight out of your dreams into the interiors of our dreamy home.
We both loved that perfect way to greet another day.















I would then at a point have slouched my feet out of bed and ventured downstairs. Perhaps I put on a pair of baggy pants before I went on with brewing coffee, playing music and simultaneously reading up on last nights global news.















As I enjoyed my first warm cup of coffee, sometimes walking around in the kitchen, looking out at the morning mist and golden morning light shining down through our old birch trees and one giant pine tree, I would at times stop in front of our chest high bench, resting slightly on my elbows and read up on science, health, tech and environmental news from all around the world. Sipping on my coffee while also sketching and scribbling away on the touch friendly charcoal look-alike wallpaper that synched with our cloud and devices, making sketches and notes, reading and surveying the changing world, instant and connected.
Ideas, research, things to talk about, things to dive deeper inside, things worth checking up on, or just random little story ideas.















Yeah, I´ll admit, there usually ended up a few notes about other worldly things too. A grocery list and a few lines of loving good morning poetry that my eclectic mind ended up writing for you all in the comfort of my very own, and might I say, so perfectly wondrous good morning routine while I waited for you to also crawl out of bed.
And today had been no different.















Well, there had been one new addition to my morning.
The wayward ravens, somewhere in my mind I laughed several times at those weird little ravens, they had followed me downstairs.
And I could see them right now, clearly sitting outside our windows each time I paused and looked outside.
"Life is beautiful" I thought to myself, "beautiful and weird."















And now you too had been drawn out of bed by the delicious aroma of coffee flooding our entire cozy house, intermixing with the warmth and light of the morning sun that graced your face and arms, your back and hair as you sat up.
You soon found me outside on my knees and elbows, shooting three big, black birds while our drone slowly floated by in air filming and storing it all.















Interlude, moments from the stream, Indonesia 2023

Indonesia faced gigantic issues out at sea and all around its beaches. The complete lack of sustainable waste management and the increasing run off of soil and nutrients from all the land that was cut up, chewed up and discarded by the palm oil industry, the loggers and miners, and farmers, had ended up creating a gigantic zone of dead water where nothing lived anymore, and no one could swim.
But today, that was not the only tragedy.
Today, the worlds last helmeted hornbill was killed in Indonesia by a wealthy American trophy hunter. And he had paid millions of US$ for the pleasure of being the sad human being that got to kill it illegally. It was protected like all the other helmeted hornbills had been, but no one cared in Indonesia.
No one cared at all anywhere in the world.
Not about the helmet hornbill, or the Sumatra Tiger, or the tiny little Java Rhino, which all met their final global demise in Indonesia during 2023.
Entire species and their last defenders died at the hands of loggers, palm oil workers, and trophy hunters.















But no one cared since the nation was now on the brink of collapse. This was a man-made collapse which the entire world had willingly created in the name of toilet paper and palm oil products, profit and palm oil improved cookies, and as such the time had come for everybody to blame everybody else, and no one had time to care at all about the last helmet hornbill the world would ever see as it died in a snare.
It died slowly asphyxiated while the obese tourist hunter dined on wine and grapes and endangered Rhino meat, so out of shape that he had to be driven by a large van every second of the time he had spent in the jungle. Not even capable of carrying out a single moment of the "hunt" himself.















And later on, the worlds last helmeted hornbill was smuggled back to the USA in the hunters private jet, officials bribed and customs bought and paid for in both countries, and now this dead and stuffed up bird would live its days, stuffed like a worthless paper doll, hanging down from the roof above a worthless soulless rich man's newborn child's precious little crib.











You laughed at the sight of it all, "what are you doing, come and let those poor birds be, coffee and kisses are waiting for you".
I looked up with a smile on my eyes and lips, "good morning baby, I´ve been a busy boy this morning".















"Yeah I can see that", you smiled at my never-ending flow of silliness and creativity that always seemed to be able to be kicked into gear by the most trivial of little everyday things. A creativity that sparked to life in a wide array of ways and topics.
"Come now little boy and tell me what all this means," you said with a meaning nod of your head to the kitchen wall that was full of text, doodles, and notes.















I closed the doors on my way in, leaning in right behind your back, and as my arms wrapped around your hips and waist my lips slowly soft kissed you right behind your ear.
I whispered
"you know, I LOVE seeing you come down all naked in the mornings, sexiest sight ever girl"
My hands touched your sensual, feminine and petite belly, my tongue tasted you right behind the ear and my lips touched your neck again as I pressed your hips and toned, incredibly hot ass and lower body closer to me.
"this is by far the best part of every morning you know" - I smiled as I turned you around.















"I love you cupcakes"
"I Love you too", your voice always turned me on.
After all these years together, having seen all parts of life so openly and wonderful together, something as simple as you talking always turned me on so incredibly much.















"Do you know what I dreamed?" I said.
"Tell me", your lips touched my chin and your tongue kissed and tasted my collar bone and shoulder.















"Well, it was crazy, even for me " I laughed at myself as I said it
"It was as if I had been sleeping for decades, crazy I say"
"I woke up, and I swear I am not making this up, I had this crazy end of the dream, it was as if we were both falling through a dark sea of ravens feathers.
So many of them, that neither of us could see or hear anything. It was not even like a fall. More like we both tumbled down a dense sea of water, a sea of feathers or an endless ocean, totally crazy"
I laughed again











"But the kicker was, as I woke up, the dream didn't go away, it has flooded my mind all morning long. In perfect, picture vivid detail. It is unheard of. Yeah, baby, I am stoked"
"haha, I love you baby", that sweet sensual laughter of yours, like pearls upon my senses.
"But, it is crazy, I had three ravens in my dream and look, look out the window, there they are".











I pointed with my hand as I turned you around towards the kitchen windows and directed your line of sight back to the three ravens that were devouring our lawn, picking for maggots or whatever it is they pick for when they go about their wild foraging hunts.
As we slowly swirled around and faced the ravens, they too looked up from the moist grass.
Their black feathered heads and dark eyes looking straight at us.















"They are a little cute, cute and creepy" you replied.
"mmm, they are".
I murmured as my distracted mind tasted your naked shoulder as my fingers found their way up your delicious tummy, and to your firm, gorgeous boobs, and stiff nipples.
"and then, the kicker," I said.















"I dreamt that we owned a café, well, you owned it. In a small little quirky town. You had been married. And it was so wonderful, a pleasant little quaint Victorian high-tech town with rainy streets that waited to illuminate the world at night once you closed and walked home.
Your daughter had gifted you with a grandson that visited us at times. And we had this weird, old radio".
"A radio? Did it play something all of a sudden?" You sounded a bit more awake.
"Yes it did, it played something crazy strange. It was something about a flapping tent, and some firefighter I think?"
"Was it an Indian?"
"What?"
"Yes, how did you know that".
I turned you around again to face me.











"Baby, this sounds so over the top, but I dreamed that too, I think? Was there a very angry man in a big, white glass house too? And someone that got murdered in a car?"
"Yes", I replied with a puzzled look in my eyes, "yes it was, what the fuck, did we just dream the same dream? But that is amazing!".















Outside, the ravens turned their heads towards the sky, looking up as if they had just sensed the seeds of an approaching storm.
A slow little darkly cloud, that sparked and slumbered in the upwards winds, like a dragonfly it simmered around, lazy gathering energy in the clash of warmth and cold, like the tides of the rising oceans and pockets of moist and air that paint the world in visible spider web.















Somewhere, still far out of sight the small cloud kept lingering like a slowly boiling pot of water that looked so calm until the bubbles of stored energy violently bursted.















Beyond the distant mountains and vast oceans. A darkly small cloud slowly turned in the sky, and a radio, somewhere else, turned on, and out of it, a scratchy sounding recording came to life. Static noise and interference were the narrator's main companion as the regular midday broadcast was nowhere to be heard.
But for those that listened beyond the noise, and across the distance the message still sounded clear enough.











"A canvas tent, close flapped and secure was erected and inside the tent a fire started…Fitting a big canvas affair that had the appearance of a diver's helmet on the head of "Big Chief" Mason, a full-blooded Indian from the Walpole Reservation, Canada, Charles P. Salan, then sent the Indian under the flaps into the smoke filled tent. The smoke was thick enough to strangle an elephant, but Mason lingered around in the suffocating atmosphere for a full twenty minutes. He came out of the tent 'as good as new'".











































Wow, this is hot and strange, and weird.
- No, no, no.
No man this is, to be honest, a bit messed up by us.
Or do you really feel that we should keep looking at what all these people are dreaming and thinking, this is pretty effed up if you ask me. This is not ok, and most importantly we do not even know what we are seeing.
Is this their own thoughts and dreams, or are they strange but real memories that´s somehow semi wrapped in a shared and weirdly lucid dream? We do not even know where human and ai intersect. And I mean, we are going to be living with these people.















But it´s good stuff. Whatever this is, and whatever is fabricated, ai or human, this is by far the best part of this entire journey. It sure does beat watching Outlander again for the 511 time. This is instant and real, it is biological and messy and all sorts of wonderful. Made up or real life stuff, this is so good man. So good, best tv show ever, except that its real, this is as real as we are.
- Oh man, how did you ever land a job on this expedition, you are such a fucking dirtbag, and so clueless man, I should hook you up and start monitoring your every thought.















Take a chill pill man.
It simply does not matter if you enjoy being exposed to their dreams or not, we have to monitor this. Think about it, this is the fail safe of humanity. And we have absolutely no idea what is going on right now. None of it should even be happening.
Think about that for a moment.
All we know is that none of this should happen. So we have to keep an eye on it and we have to reassess what we know, and we have to monitor and evaluate it from every angle possible. The individual cargo and the entire system.
I have no idea what´s wrong or how any of this is possible, there´s that AI theory, but we just do not know, and since we are virtually just moments away from deploying at Earth 3, or 2 or whatever the fuck number of new Earth´s the human race have colonized by now, we can absolutely not pretend as if this is not happening. Our cargo is evolving, be it the AI or the humans or some sort of synergetic whole, something is happening that takes the entire crew and cargo and this entire expedition even deeper into uncharted water.
Seriously, how did you land a job on this crew if you can not see how vital it is to get to face to face with whatever it is that is going on, and even if we do not understand it, we have to monitor it so we are up to date every step of the way, until we do understand it.
Soon, we are boots on ground launching the next new Earth, heck, we can not grow docile and pretend that this is not happening.















- I know, I know. It´s just creepy, it is so real and so strange at times, one minute they are having real passionate sex. And oh fuck the sex, every person always has sex in their own mind. That´s to be expected.
But not only are these deeply private moments, dreams and thought and perhaps memories. They fucking killed someone too, someone killed someone, that was real, I am telling you, that was as real as it gets. I do not want to know these things.















- And how on Earth are the dreams combining, oh my god, I am stressed out enough as it is about Earth fucking evaporating and me and you having to create an entirely new planet from fucking scratch, and now this? Silence, not a word from the other Ragnarok ships, not a word for decades from Earth. And now our fucking sleeper cargo is going all retard Matrix on us.















Chill man, it's all good. I promise it really will be all good. Once we touch down and start building this shit, you will feel right at home.
- But how do you even know that any of them will wake up again? And if they do, how do you know that they aren't all going to be like scrambled eggs. Fucking zombie AI eggs.

They fixed that lady up just fine did they not?
- What lady?











The one in New York, the girl that had been in a coma and all, she woke up after a whole bunch of years, did she not? And was that not one of the breakthroughs we built the sleeper tech and ai on. Have you not been paying attention at all?
If you have missed all that, check out "the common cyborg" you have it in the library, it´s a well-documented story. And that´s how the sleepers started out. It´s one part of how this entire Ragnarok project got off the ground. It was the seed that got this entire plan B going. And it´s a good read too.
-Oh just shut it. I just need a shower and some fucking sunshine.











































'The Musk colony' as it was informally called amongst the Ragnarok 5´s day crew could absolutely be thought of as a real success by now because the fleet had actually managed to reach their destination and somewhat to his own wonder, it was still operational, bruised and worn, and with insurmountable mountains of challenges waiting ahead, but they were functional. So he felt as proud as he was surprised that they had made it so far.















And considering how space travel and logistics had been prone to so many errors in the decades leading up to their unparalleled launch, the fact that they were all here, it was nothing but amazing. Somehow, floating through space like this was almost taken for granted by the crew, but this was still nothing but amazing.















And while it was true, that they still had not actually put any human feet on the ground. Or even landed a single ship or UAV.
We had reached our destination.















And we had deployed the foundation of the organic magnetic shield that already wrapped around the planet like a thin and almost invisible layer, and it lived.
It was operational and it was holding up and over time, the natural atmosphere this planet held had taken a firmer hold and biologically it was rapidly evolving closer to the point where we would finally be able to breathe the air without having to shield ourselves behind our domes and suits just to survive.















So it was a success in so many incredible ways.
But being out here, above the planet, shielded from the sun and space inside this floating marvel of steel and glass, seeing the atmosphere take hold, it was a good thing, it was a life saver because life on the ship had started to wear heavily on the small fleet of ships that now orbited this planet.















A game of chess and his anchor to Earth.
But soon we would finally be able to touch down, to at last go ahead and unload our cargo, set camp and walk outside and once again get accustomed to breathing real outdoors air, instead of this recycled ecosystem thing we kept calling home.
Adrian smiled at the thought of unloading their indoor gardens, and the simple act of being able to transplant half of the annual crops outside in the soil. To watch a new sustainable world form beneath his fingertips.















For some strange reason, the mere thought of growing something as ordinary and quite dull as potatoes and their gene-edited strawberries on a completely new planet. To finally see organic GMO earth life take hold and grow in soil from a virgin ecosystem completely untouched by human hands and feet made him feel pretty giddy and beaming with hope.
Yeah, it was a bit of a drained hope, a muted jolt of energy.
But nonetheless, it was pure hope and pure exhilarating joy.















It was a level of excitement like he had not felt since the day they left Earth.















And behind the exhaustion, the stress and dull relentless monotony and demands that had drained him dry he had in parts been transported back through time to his early childhood Christmas mornings.
Those long forgotten years and the exhilarating moment when he would open his eyes, already knowing what day it was, tossing the blanket to the side, and putting his feet down on the cold floorboards as he rushed through the still silent house, down the open stairs with the glass rail, and into the living room with the natural conifer that they kept growing for real all year round in the big and open living room and all the presents that lay waiting for him and the others, pure life joy, gift wrapped and all in front of the big open fireplace.















The chess game
[ 'It´s a fucking hallway of repetition playing you'. the man said. They both started to laugh as the red planet kept turning outside their window.]
Yeah.
That kind of excitement was rising in him and he could see it in the faces of the entire crew too.
There was a new layer of shine and vibrancy to the voices and expression of every single one of the brave and capable people that made up his crew and passengers.















Yes, they were tired, every one of them, and they all knew that they had started to cut things very short, they all felt it, and they all looked the part, but for every day they came closer to that enigmatic moment that was touchdown there was a new edge inside of them that grew stronger and more visibly filled their voices and eyes, the shine on their skin and hair beamed just a little bit extra with life and exhilarating anticipation.
Their voices and entire movement came back to life with renewed vigor and vibrant energy.















Just a few more days.
Just a few more days, he kept repeating that phrase inside of his own mind, it was in fact, by now stuck on endless repeat inside his own mind. Audible to no one else but himself and his ai. And he could not stop repeating it.
That phrase consumed him as it bounced around his insides.















Just a few more days and they would land this bird, discard the drones and start printing their very first base home and this colonization thing would finally be under way in a real way, in a significant and life changing way.
Long delayed, and much needed.
But now here we are he thought, and today he did not spare a single thought in his mind on life back on Earth.
He did not wonder about their abandoned garden anymore.
No thoughts on how old Erdoğan and the awful Trump had kept clinging on to power that was not theirs to have while the ocean and warmth and turmoil continually built higher around the world.















No thought on the North Korean crisis or the whole sordid Trump thing that had still been unraveling as endless ripples as their ship left the docking station just outside of Earths atmosphere for the last time ever.
He did not think about the pollution or the jobless, the rising water or the greedy wars.
No, he did not contemplate about the old world at all.















In his mind, he did not obsess about that last far away earthly marble for the billionth time as it continually grew smaller and smaller until his eyes could not make it out to be Earth anymore.
No, not today.
Today his eyes and mind were focused on this new home, this unexplored world that lay waiting for them, that was the thing that consumed him as he looked down at the red planet that floated far beneath their ships and feet.
It´s hue of thin blue and white kept fleetingly changing in the turning light as they all traversed through space locked together in orbit around that burning star not far away.















Looking down he thought about how remarkable it all was, a far away planet that had lost the majority of its own atmosphere hundreds of millions of year ago, or so his annoying as fuck science chief had told him, and now, there it was, once again with a natural atmosphere growing and breathing organically, a mix of nature and man-made it was by now an actual living, thriving even, aspect of this planet's biological ecosystem.















Deep beneath the growing atmosphere, he could see the gigantic dust clouds that formed in the torrent of air that tore the surface apart, a reminder that life on this planet was alive and livable, but not at all resembling life on Earth.
This was a new kind of life. A new wild harbor, and a new unexplored home.















And that thought was all that floated through his transfixed mind and eye this day.
The doors opened behind him and he could feel the presence of the man that entered the room, long before he took to words.
Before the man had time to speak, he let out a breath of air and said.
Yes?
Yeah, we are running low, the man replied.
And the cryo?
It´s all good, nothing to report with no new incidents the last 72 hours.
The atmosphere should be livable in 8 more weeks. So cut the rations as hard as is possible, and seal the floors that need to be sealed off.
We will just have to make do.















Crunch the full data set once more overnight and give me a personal report tomorrow, I seriously just can not stand that fucking science talk of Dr Richardson right now, one more of his word salad and 'I got a stick up my ass' science sentences of his and I swear my head will explode and pop right off, so give me your version once you have it all, first thing tomorrow. OK?.
I hear you, the man chuckled.
So, 8 more weeks?.















The silence fell in the room as they both found themselves looking down towards the same planetary view beneath them.
They both knew what that meant, they had seen the data, over and over and over again, and it never changed.
It was the situation that kept ticking down, not the day and date when the atmosphere would be safe and ready.
He, of course, did not even need the morning briefing, no one did, they all had the AI, the instant flow of updates and information.
But that human routine was just their daily cycle and how they kept their sanity, they both knew that. But it was one of those rare few military traditions that looked so completely meaningless on the surface, but out here, far away from any resemblance of normality and no going back home for anyone, that tiny every day routine of morning briefs, scheduled meetings, working out in the gym, getting up a a set time, turning off the lights at a set time.
Those things kept things going, allowing some of them from avoiding a complete mental breakdown. It was a simple way of maintaining their humanity and their drive.















8 more weeks, fuck me, they both thought the very same thing, standing in this silent room with an alien world far beneath their feet, there was no real use for words.
He looked at the man beside him. The silence had been busy choking the lights out in the room for more than half an hour by now, but they were sitting down now.
And between them, a real handmade chess board in marble held both their attention during a silent game of minds.















The other man moved a rock behind a pair of pawns.
The entire board and all its pieces were as much a work of handmade art as it was a game of war and intelligence. And the handmade pieces and board caught the light of the outside world as it kept moving and breathing outside their window.
Reflecting the pulse of the stars and living planet outside in the black and white marble that was as polished as a blank mirror.















He frowned and started laughing, 'you know, I fucking hate chess!'.
The other man leaned back in his chair as he stretched his arms straight out and with a smile he confessed to fucking hating chess too, my god how he frowned upon this game and the strange fucking way it made their entire life on this god forsaken fleet feel like they were all trapped in a cursed time loop. But turning off the AI and doing this game of man powered minds, it was part of their routine.
'It´s a fucking hallway of repetition playing you'. the man said















They both started to laugh as the red planet kept turning outside their window.
He moved the knight and said nothing more.
But for the first time this day he did think about life on Earth, he thought about her profile, her naked, sculpted shoulders and the curvature of her collar bones.
He thought about her long feminine hair, her sculpted arms and back, her full breasts and the way she looked dressed in nothing but that white corset.
As always, the memories of her pantiless and shaved privates, dressed in nothing but that white corset turned him on unlike anything else in life, she gave him purpose. Joy, life, and energy.















Those memories and the profound reality of the emotional and physical response in body and mind was his anchor with earth and the life they had left behind.
She was his bridge into the unknown future.
And all the rest, that was left behind, all those other things he had no more room for that in his mind, not today, not now.
He had a game of chess to win, a world to colonize and he had to make it safe and turn it into a second livable home, and she was every reason needed, every lesson learned, every hope and memory.



















Memories
And that is the place from where you guide me back to the calmness of the surface, and I find myself floating in between the sky and the oceans deep of tomorrow and yesterday as you whisper calm and light into my ears, your lips touch my skin and your sculpted fingers touch my hair.
"find me" you say
"now".
























a Norse View Imaging and Publishing


established 2013








Copyright 2018
a Norse View, Mike Koontz

The continuation of my 2028AD Universe will soon arrive in the shape of the next book in my 2028AD saga, and with plenty more stand alone short stories sharing the same universe and story telling threads.
2028AD was created by Nordic writer and creative artist Mike Koontz.

Thank you for reading.



Author and photography
Mike Koontz

To the daisy that is my sun and inspiration

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Last Few Published Books and Articles

  • 'At the bridge to Asgard, sprouts and roots grow the ever tree'. Here we live in the age of the Anthropocene.

    Quality time needed: 6 minutes


    sprouts and roots
    A healthy you, is a healthy world.
    Life in the Anthropocene.



    'At the bridge to Asgard, sprouts and roots grow the ever tree' through the gates of life and death, and the turning of the Midgard snake.
    We walk beneath a starry sky, weaved by light and dark and obscured shades our eyes can not see.

    We melt and turn the tides of time, as we spill the soil between our fingers.
    It drips back down to where it came from, all while the ants and worms grow unseen layers of brand new soil.

  • Fitness & Health: 'Health at a Glance' is a European health report covering obesity around Europe in 2017.

    Quality time needed: 7 minutes


    Health at a Glance
    A European health report 2017
    Fitness & Health.



    Health at a Glance is a European health report for 2017. And in it the United Kingdom is revealed to be Western Europes most obese nation.
    So, perhaps, fish and chips and beer just isnt the best of national food obsessions.
    Another important highlight that bounces right back at you is how obesity in the UK has increased by 92% since the 1990s ( it´s been increasing in every nation btw, but good ol England is leading the pack ).

    And since we also know by now that obesity & overweight is not just about a individual increase in body fat %, which would have been perfectly fine and all down to personal preferences in body composition and aesthetics, but instead is directly tied to a huge increase in several health issues, such as diabetes & cancer and severely decreased quality of life and longevity.

  • Anthropocene & the annual 'good country index' is back for its worldwide summary with the year 2017. And Scandinavia once again dominates.

    Quality time needed: 3 minutes


    Anthropocene
    the good country index 2017
    Life beyond 2028.



    Sweden once again dominates the good country index, sort of making it an annual business as usual reveal in other words.
    Sweden is followed closely by another Scandinavian country, namely Denmark, which, is no real surprise, the Nordic nations can be found at the top of the world, year after year, after year in a long range of beneficial, quality of life metrics and studies.

  • 9 million annual deaths due to worldwide pollution in air, soil, water. Life in the Anthropocene.

    Quality time needed: 4 minutes


    9 million
    annual deaths due to worldwide pollution
    The art of living.



    Every year the number of people that die prematurely due to worldwide pollution keep on increasing. And right now that pollution in water, soil, air, chemical or work-related pollution is already taking the life of 9 million people around the world.

    Let us think about that for one more second, every single year 9 million people end up dying prematurely due to the modern day pollution we all contribute to.

  • Health & Fitness science: Maintain healthy mitochondria through exercise-induced mitophagy.

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    Mitochondria
    Health in muscles and heart.
    Life is your own art.



    New research once again showcases how exercise improves muscle health and, exercise capacity and how that positive mechanism with perpetual fitness regimes in the end greatly improves general health and longevity for each individual.
    Allowing continued fitness activity to become one of the finest predictors we have of general mortality and biological health and wellbeing in any given population and individual.
    This particular study was published in the journal Nature Communications and it digs deep down inside our bodies as it takes a long look at how exercise helps the body and mind keep healthy and strong by transforming and maintaining our body on a cellular level.

  • Anthropocene & the human health. Plastic litter in our salt, tap water, honey, fish & food. Land and soil and blood system.

    Quality time needed: 6 minutes


    Plastic Litter
    Tap water, Sea salt & Food.
    Life in the Anthropocene.



    In Europe, 72% of all tap water contains 1.9 fibers of plastic litter per 500ml of water.
    That number increases to 94% of all tap water in the USA which contains 4.8 plastic litter fibers per 500ml of water. And worldwide 83% of all tap water contains plastic litter.
    But the issue of plastic contamination in our water is not just about tap water, nor is it, as we have previously talked about, only a concern with sea food. This is a growing man-made health issue which has been going on for a very long time and by now it is part of every aspect of society and our natural world.
    For instance, scientists found plastics in products in studies on Chinese Sea salt in 2015.

  • Anthropocene: A long form article called Indonesia

    Quality time needed: 8 minutes


    Indonesia
    17,000 islands & almost 260 million people
    Life in the Anthropocene.



    Indonesia is by all accounts one of the world's most populated nations with its soon to be 260 million strong population scattered across an astounding 17 000 islands. Another fascinating aspect of life in Indonesia is that in total its population is made up of over 300 different ethnic and linguistic groups that combined speak over 700 different languages.

  • Books & Publishing: How and where to buy or read 'Wings of a Raven, 2028AD'

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    Wings of a Raven, 2028AD.
    Book 1 in my mature, new adult Sci-fi universe.



    Wings of a Raven, 2028AD.
    Price: $2.99
    Print length: 147 Pages
    Publication date: August 2017
    ISBN: 9781537855714
    Read it at your local library or right here at my own 'a Norse View' library.
    Or if you so prefer you can buy it from your fav book store for 2.99US$.

  • Fitness School, Do you know the right answer?. Question 12, Running and the shock impact of each step.

    Quality time needed: 4 minutes





    Fitness School
    Do you know the right answer?.



    Question number 12 in our School of Fitness.
    Today's question, running is a super healthy aspect of any fit & healthy lifestyle. But the brunt of running too often also put intense pressure and wear on feet and knees and tibia since our lower body absorbs almost all of the impact while we run.
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  • Fitness School, Do you know the right answer?. Question 11, Let us talk about that mighty beast Deadlift and all the stuff it activates.

    Quality time needed: 3 minutes





    Fitness School
    Do you know the right answer?.



    Question number 11 in our School of Fitness.
    Today's question is as follows, which muscles are activated when you are busy killing it in the gym with the majestic "Deadlift" exercise.
    A lot of people rightfully think of Deadlift as the great full-body exercise. But what do you actually engage and stimulate when you go at it with this bad boy.

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    High Energy Food
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    In a study published in the Journal of the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics, researchers investigated the relationship between dietary food choices which contain a high-energy density ( DED ) and the cancer risk and body mass increase in women aged 50 years +.

  • Book: 'Wings of a Raven, 2028AD'. The first book from the near future book universe 2028AD created by Mike Koontz. Mature and at times naughty storytelling and explicit events hide behind each page of this sci-fi tale. Less than 40 000 words.




    Suitable for a mature audience. 17+ and up. Adult storytelling and explicit events.
    UHD audio video book reading TBA
    Vacation read ( Three+ Nights Bed time read )
    'Wings of a Raven' By Mike Koontz is the first book in a shared contemporary book universe called 2028AD. Mature and at times even naughty storytelling and explicit events lurk behind each page as we traverse the known familiarities of planet Earth and the uncharted vastness of the universe.
    And if at any point and turn, you feel that you need more from this charming sci-fi universe, reach for the abyss of the dark world wide web and the home of every book and short story that relates to 2028AD right here at anorseview.com.
    The first book in this sci-fi universe, is delivered with a touch of abstract horror, and the pleasure and kink of sensual and sultry naughty love. Mixed with moments of life and death, science, and space exploration, pollution, sex, war, poverty, famine. The man made horror and climate change.
    In the 2028AD universe Earth is a world wrought in chaos. And it is a place where hope and despair tumble and take turn with the trembling steps of colonizing other planets while the oceans on planet Earth keeps rising.
    Photography, and writing by Mike Koontz
    2018, a Norse View Imaging and Publishing

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