Chapter One: The Faceless Ones
The Divas of Degradation stand behind the walls of corruption, graft and institutionalized criminal enterprises propped by the swirling clouds of the inevitable storm that bemoans a subtle and charismatic calm before the empire falls. To rise against the Divas is to come to the understanding that pragmatic dissonance is by far the absolute and penultimate action before our final attempt: a wholesale dismantling of society and the transformation to a new state of being.
Back at the seminary, I took my vows to uphold the righteous laws of man bestowed by that grand creature of our subconscious constructs. The processes of mapping the paths from our scenic beginning as single-celled miscreants in the slush of the petulant seas to the current state of blissful inhibition is quite easy with the proper tools of enlightenment.
The grand design is in disrepair and ready for the awakening of our biological insurgencies to come into their own existence; be it within the limited constructs we create or the blueprint of genetic infallibility.
Part One: Depth of Consciousness
Setting aside the windowless room of our inner-most thoughts and depraved imaginations of grandeur, the likelihood of a passive and hollow epiphany is quite minimal.
The men without faces are staring blankly into our room while we proceed with our psychic dissemination undeterred. Taking notes of every step, thought and action; the men without faces report their various findings to management every seven hours on the hour.
It was during my time as a man without a face that the true meaning of all matters concerning the paths of existence would become very clear and undeniably static. I was assigned to a woman inhabiting a room that had been quite unkempt for many years. As the days extended into years, my reports fluctuated ever so slightly one from the next. The manic foreplay of her condition swayed from apathy to catatonic to energy to matter — repeated constantly with each ticking second of my timepiece.
My notebooks would fill rather quickly as I inputted the values of each action followed by the probability of that action manifesting itself into a tangible form of freedom. Fortunately, that probability was rather low as her actions never amounted to anything more than a whisper and a whimper of this shallow state of existence. After many years and many lives and many manifestations, the woman came to pass on to the next realm while I would be assigned a new case.
To be a man without a face is a great honor to have bestowed upon an individual such as myself, for I was inhabiting a windowless room for many passing lifetimes until I came to realize what existed beyond the windowless world. Light gradually crept in through the cracks that were developing in the psychic complexes established to deter a critical and self-determined path. Once the light was introduced, life began to take form, though the face would not develop for many more passing manifestations of what I believed to be life.