The Modern Political Skeleton: A Digital Investigation

Kings and queens of digital debris are the predators of the new economy. Consider the resemblance to prestige: hoarding. Behind an impeccable exterior lurks a table of contents mottled by frayed contradictions, hidden porcelain inside of a fabricated scaffolding. Unfixed pedagogical relations, snared vertiginous, were twisted within a centerpiece resembling a wrench, not stylistic enough to evade crystallization by touch, gentle enough to be inviting. One aim: to metamorphose, into active agents of codification.

A generated voice crackled from an intercom. ‘Vanity is what keeps you mortal.’ it said. ‘To extract from the practical, an ability to criticize abstract filtration.’

Static wind sparked zippy electrical pockets. Lined porcupine between signal and transmission, opposing wide-angle cylinders, identical twins sat waiting for the cue against one another.

‘Soon it will be complete.’ the intercom buzzed, gargling out of key and settling to an excruciating radio silence.

Equipped with a bizarre sheath around their faces, expressions shackled to a cotton candy spindle shared a network tied to a loose mainframe, hovering still in a black globalocal stew. In the tunnel they were a hivemind piecemeal, bracing themselves for that all too familiar feeling of being pulled thread-bare out of the fontanelle by adrenalin and zipped out of the spirit. Imagining relief beyond attainment, briefly they shared a mask planted on a single coin. An old soul is a matter of failure, grief is the highest form of worship. Did they choose to keep returning, or did they not pass the seal?
           

THE RULES OF THE GAME:

Stay Hungry
No falter, no sway
Inversion is refraction


Swirling within foundational mortuaries is a skill, one which Zahra had familiarized herself with before she had any conception of structural explication. Counting gravestones was a hobby she loved to teach her friends. Pranks, for her, were not considered an innocent state of affairs. They were foundational to self-discovery, in that every strategic plan to sabotage had a unique ability to tear down barriers.

‘We have a plan’ said Lucas. He was an unrelatable figure, indiscernible but for a quotation mark. His interjections were a common occurrence among tessellating hinges.

‘We meet every month.’ he said

‘And how can you tell?’ asked Zahra

Harry clocked a turn around her, leaving behind an iridescent trail filled with a soft and bottomless glitter. ‘Rumours’ he said, and left the room.

She still couldn’t understand what relevance this had, let alone believe he understood what a month was. Collation is not a figurative substance.

ii

Mary could not be drawn nor executed. Stuck in an elliptical trance, her thin interior fluttered against an insoluble capsule. Radiation transmitted notions related to her previous life through slits, leaving the suspension of disbelief at the forefront of transition. Curves elated Mary, explaining the reasoning behind her decision to agree with competing against Zahra.

Contraptions grasped momentarily fell at the crux of a broad chain ledge stretched solid. A triad comprised of a dusty facade, spinning lights, and a sticky periscope, hung loose over a floating membrane. Without the imperative of intention, her knowledge of the technophilic spheres responsible for magnitude amounted to useless instrumentality. Immanent parallels encroached on nebulaic equilibriums, disturbing field certainty into a restless limbic chaos.

Howling whistles ribbon loops from velcro and velcro through a graphic field of convex schisms, like a rounded chess board that protrudes out of a conveyer belt and churns only fabricated emulation. Metastasised pink levers, classic Cronenberg, stumble and curl a rhythmic chemistry out of tune around the crown of a holographic Medusa. A majestic flow of patterns slithered velvet stitches across oily grout lines, braille for the lonely.

A stream of lugubrious bodies tumbled precariously, matching white noise with clapping elevator doors that were mouthing secrets from a dumpster truck. Feverish beatles climbed a foamy template, soft to the touch from the outside. Fear caved to a misshapen version of becoming.

Vishnu hauls up rusty baskets attached to paper scraps that erupt from inside of the middle. Drenched in blurry hieroglyphs that extend out past the edges of the paper scraps, pigments ooze from the weave to drip hot waxy figures down onto an undulating texture of forward-moving black and white squares.

Bottomless sludge swirls caught in a straw, tar-coated membranes fizzle holes into surfaces, centipedes tap incessantly waiting,

‘All in a days work.’ said Lucas

Disorientated, Zahra clung to a ring of abandoned vestiges that whirled stars around her limbs.

‘As you know,’ he said. ‘Figments are illegal here.’

He skid out of view.


iii

Mary fumbled to grasp her surroundings. Her focus was obstructed by re-calibration. Scrambling for unseen edges, footing perpetually a step away from her aim, spreading an instant web below the surface. A fly caught in a funnel.

‘Abandon all concern.’ said Lucas.

‘Right.’ said Mary ‘Stay hungry.’ she glanced at Zahrah, who was crackling.

Lucas shook his head ‘Prescriptions are only recommendations.’ he said, ducking to avoid a swerving camera bent exhausted by its own weight. Mary flinched, acutely aware that she could no longer trust her surroundings.

‘There is a better chance of winning if you follow the rules.’ said Mary.

Shielding themselves from a swarm of twinkling wings, fervent clicks suckled a lop-sided parchment out of reach from the mouth. Digital scalps crocheted to an effervescent root bobbed inconsistently through a thicket of emblematic stares.

Harry flicked a key, halting the plethora by translating himself enclosed.

iv


Zahrah was lost traversing ridges, her ability to contrive extension had been wounded in response to a flippant comment targeted at her sensibilities. Forced into compression by wave function, topology became increasingly less tolerable and substantially more flexible.

‘Describe the last time you saw her.’ said a voice, removed.

She angled her frame sideways, tilting the screen. Aren’t all solutions some form of transference?

‘It was in an alley. Her body was limp.’ said Zahrah, continuing to sweep the field.

‘Frozen?’ said the voice.

‘Confused.’ said Zahrah. ‘Being covetable is an art. Psychology is indispensable,’ she said. ‘I just have all of these impulses. Twist the wrench.’ said Zahrah. ‘It hasn’t stabilized.’

‘Stability is a function of belief’ said Lucas.

Blinking sequence into shape, Zahrah remembered it was her day off tomorrow. Undecided about which way to lean, both hemispheres erupted into a fractalized delineation. Clogging the network, a membrane caught split within two light spectrums fomented iridescence, interlacing with a pastel candy sky. Her pores receded to a fracture, lapsing with the main menu. Was there any sense to courage, when she could maintain her standard in projected images?

Acutely aware of being the poster child for inconsequential grease stains, her empty visions pervade the bounds and plains of mercy. To galvanize consciousness to a level only known outside of obscurity, one must face regret with grace. To chase or to turn around and leave behind? It would not be wise to blatantly ignore the answer until a decision has been made.


V - NO FALTER, NO SWAY


‘Being dragged is the ultimate bliss. Playing in the dust without feeling overwhelmed is achievable in the darkness. Your assignment is to show this to be true.’ said the intercom.

Their weary frames were covered in glass leaves.

M: You sound like you're trying to convince people that you know something, when you talk down to or over them. The walls of your cold echo chamber are propped up by vultures and wolves

Z: I don’t feel like I talk down or over people, I am a wry person in general. I haven’t been in this place long enough, to cultivate a gang worth my time is going to take a while. You know, it’s not that I want to convince people I know things, I genuinely want to provoke people into plumbing the depths of their knowledge. Communication as an avenue for expression is dissolving into a hodgepodge of misunderstanding facilitated by the rejection, misuse, and abuse of terminologies - I wish people would go back to focusing on etymology when in discussion

M: It's unpleasant to try to plumb anything in my mind when I have to first slog through several layers of conceptual obfuscation that might've been replaced explained more clearly in fewer words. If you genuinely want to draw people out, my strategy would be to use one or two words and concepts that might require explanation, not several. It quickly becomes tedious even to ppl who want to engage, and if it is received, often misinterpreted or pulled apart because it feels ostentatious. Some will want to tear you down for showing off while others will try to play lap dog to indicate they are equally as competent as you are. If you don't want to alienate sensitive people or create a following of narcissistic sycophants, you might consider directing your questions and insights in a way that mutually facilitates clearer communication rather than in a way that forces people to substantiate their level of knowledge of obscure concepts that have little to no relevance in everyday life. Why do you keep all those wolves around, waiting for their chance to jump on people who challenge your ideas to disguise that they can't keep up and/or have nothing to genuinely offer you? Aren't you afraid they'll turn on you when their ruse is played out? What is it that you want from all these expensive sounding words? Is it really understanding, yours or anyone else's? It looks like you want a medal, not a friend

Z: I like words. I find them beautiful. They are rich in texture

M: It's not elegant to crowd a plate with so many rich textures that none of them stands out

Z: I am not obsessed with elegance, I prefer density. I don't think it's fair to ostracize anyone on the basis that their style is not entertaining. This is pure classism. I keep those wolves around to keep people like you from denigrating me for enjoying myself the way I please. 'narcissistic sycophants' yes, and your brand of elitism isn't full of these either? Those who feel the same way as you do about me are always suggesting I find a different approach to my stylisation, whereas there are plenty of others who find my ability to conceal a point refreshing and alluring. What I want is to traverse meaning, I don't care for commonality in beauty because commonality in beauty is a fascistic concept. it is inextricable from power. I find it very ironic to be accused of obfuscation and not provided with an alternative translation of how I could have said a thing better 100% of the time

M: It's not that it isn't entertaining so much as it creates barriers to engagement, and that barrier feels like elitism to me. If I criticise you it is because I find it difficult to engage you. My intention isn't to denigrate but to challenge the mechanisms by which you seek to be understood, if understanding is what you desire. I speak for myself and to you not from a pedestal for the benefit of myopic navel gazers

Z: Understanding is unfortunately something you are forced to cultivate from the moment you are born

M: I appreciate when you do speak plainly because it feels more honest to me. I worship the simplicity of beauty, not the complexity of mechanisms, which is why I write poetry instead of dissertations. I don't see how you're interpreting my appreciation of simpler lines of reasoning as fascistic

Z: I know how to express myself the way I have trained myself to do so, I try and keep my range eclectic. So there you go, we have hit the fundamental point, you prefer x and I prefer z

M: t sounds like your feelings are hurt and if it's someone who triggered that, why is it to me that you are justifying your hurt? I don’t speak for anyone but myself

Z: The same way my wolves speak for me, to you

M I don't think they speak for you at all. I don't think they know what they're talking about like you do

Z: Well if they didn't, why would you keep mentioning them as integral to who I am?

M: I don't think they're integral, I think they're props

Z: Props to keep me up from fading into obscurity because otherwise no one would care or bother to try and understand me? Because this is where I am at. We are all outliers. Some tighter than others. I view concepts like a puzzle, that's all. Sometimes I strike a chord, other times I fall short. It's the same as any endeavor. Writing is a moving target. It's good to be critiqued nonetheless, we all need critique to grow.

‘M: Maybe a different quality of people would try to understand you if you didn't create a pedestal for yourself out of language that deters individuals who don't have the patience for navigating academic concepts. I don't think you really want to be understood. It seems like you want to be validated. Why not just get laid? Do you even like those people, or do you feel sorry for them?

Z: I feel it is dishonest to deny that validation is important for development. I don't look at people as though I like or dislike them. My position is simple. If you do not have a problem with me, I do not have a problem with you. I feel sorry for all of humanity. If I have been rude to you or feel I am being so, please point it out, my tone is always sardonic at the base. If I am rude, it is out of self-defence, so I apologize. Maybe I feel intimidated by my own inadequacies?

M: Everything else is fair critique as far as I'm concerned as long as we both respect each other. You're not inadequate though, and no one needs to feel ashamed of needing validation. I just think it's important to find a way to get the kind of validation you really want

Z: The key here is I have no idea what I really want, except being forced into prioritizing

M: just want people around that I actually like. If you actually like the people I've criticized then it doesn't matter

Z: I know you are convinced it is futile to try and heal the sick and wounded, but I hope with every consideration I try and portray that I may be influencing someone to be more or less a certain way.’ said Zahrah ‘I understand and respect that you have that kind of dignity, I really do, do you see why that makes me feel like your perspective is elitist? I prefer to keep my door open and if the flooding becomes too much, it is in priority that I will find my people

M: Personally I think it's elitist to keep people around you don't actually like if your purpose is to connect. It seems like you want these people to praise you for being opaque and that seems dishonest. Otherwise it is networking and not community building

Z: All communities are elitist. I never said I don't like those people, because I can't dislike them. Just because I like some people more than others, doesn't mean I dislike those people

I find myself for the most part incapable of disliking anyone who is kind to me, and I mean this sincerely

M: Anyway, I don't seek to be inspiring I seek to be relatable

Z: Inspiration is relation. For me, anyway, they are interchangeable. You find and lose yourself in others

M: I understand that, but many of your followers are not genuinely kind, they are sycophants seeking to appear worthy of the level of your pedestal, that is evident when they prove themselves incapable of engaging in a debate in good faith by hurling insults at people who challenge you

Z: People who challenge me are generally just hurling insults at me, though.‘Otherwise they generally fight among themselves, as I follow a more worthy thread. Or, if I feel like I need a laugh, I join in.

M: To be fair I insulted them first, not directly, but to point out that your discourse is running a hamster wheel of dialectic superiority complexes and while you think you may be shaping them and have them wrapped, you may find that they are not actually interested in you out of kindness but in the interest of self aggrandizement. I wasn't criticizing you for keeping them around for sport, but for believing they actually contribute anything of value to your discourse, or that they want, and therefore are capable of growing in the ways you desire to facilitate. I try to draw your attention to the ways in which it looks like you're playing yourself more than gently manipulating others into appreciating a broader perspective. If they weren't there showing their ass and making you look bad I'd have little reason to criticize your methods, but it seems like you don't care who praises you as long as you can all hide behind the intellectually obfuscating edifice of sarcasm.

Z: Oneness is fundamental to my worldview. From my lens, it appears that you and your posse are bullying me for the way in which I choose to express myself

M: I do think psychology is useless. Philosophy too. That's my opinion, not a criticism of yours

Z: I don’t think either of those things are useless, but I don’t attack you or denigrate you for the way your posse do so with me. It’s really ugly, to be honest.

M: It isn't bullying anymore than what your "posse" does Jesus girl get a grip. You really have no business dishing out shit if you can’t take it. Even if you're level headed in your approach your followers are not and that's what creates disdain towards your methods

Z: They are kinder to me than you are being right now, they come to my defence at the very least, otherwise I would have to change the way I emit content in order to feel as though I am a part of something. I shouldn’t feel obligated to because of disdain. If people judge me by my followers, they do not know me

M: You don't have to change your content if it makes you happy but I stand by my judgement that the majority of your regular commenters are trash and you facilitate that

Z: Good for you? I think that your elitism is trash. I don’t see human beings as trash. This is how you end up with capitalism

M: Please explain how I have been elitist?

Z: Uhhh you’re out here calling people you don’t like trash?

M: They are lol. Barely human.

Z: Cool, that’s an elitist attitude.. Yeah I don’t really think that’s how biology works. They are human

M: So is thinking people are imbecillic trash for not subscribing to your particular brand of intellectual judgement, come on!

Z: Yeah but Mary, I say those things to make fun of people like you, and the ironic thing is that those who understand nuance think it’s all the more hilarious when characters like your own feel offended by being unable to see themselves for what they really are. That’s why I am relatable

M: I'm not the one who constantly makes posts broadly rebelling against some imaginary threat of stupidity. I don't even disagree with the particular idea in question. I just thought, as many did, that it's a divisive and uncharitable way to express what otherwise would be a gentle and beautiful idea. You're not relatable you're a jungle gym. People don't engage with your posts they try to climb them. And your biological essentialism makes you sound identical to your insecure incel band of lost boys. Is this Jordan Peterson story time, Wendy?

Z: It’s not an imaginary threat of stupidity - the threat is very real, and it offends me the same way I offend you. Haha funny joke, you mentioned Jordan Peterson! I’m a vitalist for my own reasons. It has nothing to do with essentialism.

M: I'm not insulting you, these are relevant criticisms. I'm not telling you you're phony I'm telling you your friends are disingenuous But if you want to continue taking all of this personally this conversation is a hamster wheel.

Z: You made it personal by calling me as an individual elitist from the onset, and basing the foundation of your entire argument around that, and then discredited yourself by calling other human beings trash because you simply do not like them.

M: I said your language is elitist and it is

Z: My language who I am

M: No it isn't. It’s your wardrobe.

Z: I find myself in language. So you have a problem with biological essentialism, but not identifying with your language? Please.

Z: You asked for my opinion and I gave you my best shot at explaining what makes me uncomfortable about you. If you can't accept that, don't ask. Bitch I'm bored go talk to your parasites.

M: The way you frame your criticism is coloured by a metaphoric sarcasm, directly aimed at targeting my sensibilities. The bottom line is that you think I am elitist because I enjoy obfuscation (I glean pleasure from it actually, it brings me joy) and you have construed this as an attempt at exclusivity, and you think that the people who engage me are disingenuous because for you, they appear to be either competing with or sucking up to me. I think that you are an elitist because you perceive people who you deem as below you to be trash.

Z: Keeps me safe

The screen evaporated to a dim murmur. 4:00am on a Sunday morning, tomorrow was a public holiday for Zahrah at the very least. Symmetrical allegiance is for insecure losers. At least she had a job, a purpose.