or, my utopian-nightmare vision of Past-meets-Future,
featuring: lots of rAndom caPitalS.


It's the near future. Everyone is sick with Endtime Fever and has become prone to random bouts of Joy Ineffable.

The gods descend from Olympus or Sinai or wherever the hell, dropping from the sky to pay homage to human minds, setting up franchises for the Mysterious Something whose essence is sold at a Cornucopia Convenience Store chain, which has a host of other unnecessary products available anywhere, any time, always totally free.

People have mastered photosynthesis; houses are grown from seeds; to reproduce they bury fingernails, hair, other cells around the roots of trees and wait for spring -- or send private messages out to sea in skin-wrapped bottles, where they will be incubated in the depths, nurtured by the waves, eventually birthing new Ancient Masters. They surf into shore, shave their beards, and start walking backwards.

The antics of children are lauded, their speech imitated, and adults are conditioned for an eventual Immature Return which incorporates ludicrous applications of random laughter, drawing, gesture. . .

Young people lounge in parks all day, for which they are paid in Karmic Bonds, good throughout Eternity. There is only one church, that of the Spontaneous Whole which is celebrated by all people unconsciously through all times.

The swingset is the only mode of transportation.

Competitive sports consist of volitional entrance into temporal reality where contestants vie to be the most selfless in a mutual effort to attain the Beatific Elixir.

The Powers that Were clutch an elusive and petty influence over small disenfranchised populaces, but the vast majority were freed from tyranny by pure Liberated Ambivalence. The hypno-semantic power structure naturally collapsed after conceptual systems were blown open in a series of Poetic Terror attacks perpetrated against capitalist-fascist regimes during the last years of the Darker Ages.

The weekday was abolished, and Work became Play, by mass unofficial legislation by the combined efforts of Warm and Teeming Bodies after the Great Civil Peace of 2015.

The ecstatic motions of all peoples through illusory space is the primary source of energy, which is applied in large part to the Transient Vehicles, through the use of which individuals are freed from the primate pain of being individual.

Our hero is a young man on Pointless Journey, a popular alternative to applied effort in this world. He has collected all the remains of previous generations and burnt them up in his father's pipe which has been dubbed the World Bowl. His traveling marks the passage from Here to Here. He sits in the market square watching the remnants terrestrial anguish wrenched off the faces of the few remaining drug addicts and prostitutes, who are called prophets of Obsolete Emotion. The young man listens to their outdated conversations; the sorrow of Everyman becomes his sorrow. He ascends Make Believe Peak with his two best friends, the original man and primordial woman. . . they laugh, they toke, they stare out into the Technicolored Digital Expanse. . . too beautiful for words or pictures, they take off their Categorical Glasses, everything becomes real again. . . he smiles at them, says -- "Do not be sad. Remember what I have done here today. Go home and tell them." Then. . . glorious leaping from a full run out into nothingness he smiles and sails down down down, being arising out of non-being into the canyon. . . and he never hits the bottom.