domingo, 24 de dezembro de 2023
quinta-feira, 23 de novembro de 2023
As Odisseias De Josperd (Trecho): Os clones de Schrödinger | Josperd D.
Num primeiro ponto de vista, pensei estar louco. Vejo clones, tanto versões femininas quanto masculinas minhas, como a Phoenix e o Zero; junto de outros com múltiplas personalidades. Sendo estes um ditador, um pastor, um cozinheiro, um cientista, um físico, um lunático, uma prostituta (ou puta para os mais íntimos), uma mendiga, uma hippie, uma comunista, uma historiadora - que, por sinal, está grávida - e uma aberração, que só possui pernas, pequeno e com um estilo de cabelo mais solto e um pouco parecido com o meu; sendo estes apenas alguns dos vários que vi e que já descrevi para você, caro leitor, - ruivinha, no caso.
Decidindo, pela comunidade, um plano que envolvesse a destruição da maior multinacional do mundo, repito, do mundo! - Que tem influência tanto política quanto econômica por se tratar de um monopólio. - A Neolinque, que está nos perseguindo para esconder as fraudes e abusos que cometeram contra os clones e a minha imagem.
Mas, quando percebi... Em um segundo ponto de vista, é claro, que o que estava contemplando se tratava do maior, se não o maior experimento geopolítico, social e científico de todos os tempos, comecei a conceber toda aquela tosquisse como uma verdadeira demonstração real de uma construção de um contrato social - prisão de Stanford está no chinelo - e se tornou meu verdadeiro momento de êxtase. Nesse instante de epifania, percebi que os clones não eram simples coincidências, mas sim peças de um elaborado quebra-cabeça social, arquitetado para desafiar as normas estabelecidas.
Veja, vamos ver o interno para depois seguirmos o externo. Deixe-me pegar aquela lista de clones anterior e contextualizar o quão atual tudo isso se torna: um ditador que não tem um povo para comandar, um pastor evangélico que adora a Deus e sequer sabe se tem uma alma para ser salvo, já que se originou de uma clonagem ao invés de um processo de reprodução humana (divino), um cientista que nem se importa com a ciência, enquanto um físico é revoltado contra a própria ciência, um cozinheiro de uma comunidade inimiga à qual ele foi sequestrado, um lunático que sequer poderia ter lugar de fala em debates como estes, uma prostituta que - desculpe pelo vocabulário - sequer pode fuder ou exercer seu cargo, sendo que a clone historiadora de psicológico definhado vai ter um filho que logicamente veio do sexo que aconteceu antes mesmo de uma "prostituta", uma comunista que jamais ouviu ou sequer leu as ideias de Marx, uma mendiga que teve seus companheiros mortos na sua frente e que mesmo assim convive na comunidade dos sádicos que os mataram, uma hippie que nem sabe o que é paz, além da Phoenix e do Zero, que nem preciso falar - longa história. - Sendo que todos estes têm uma mentalidade e visão muito mais conservadora de segurança e estado como um todo, estão influenciando toda uma nação mundial em bases bem mais arcaicas de um estruturalismo firmado em burocracias e aristocracia datadas em anos, dominaram tudo isso em apenas menos de 2 meses. - Isso que é a verdadeira representação de classes à margem da sociedade, mesmo que não exercendo seus papéis fielmente, denotando o quanto certos liberalismos, mesmo parecendo novos, só são repetições na história de classes que antes não dominavam, exercendo sua verdadeira força mesmo que disfarçados. Isso não é política, isso é a verdadeira construção da personagem que todos nós temos um pouco.
Mesmo que já tenha me acostumado a ver tais dilemas todos os dias, acho interessante ver a reação de você, Camila (a ruivinha), quando está perto dos meus clones de uma certa individualidade forte. Os quais fumam, bebem, dialogam e compartilham de uma cultura que eu completamente não compactuo, mas admiro como um todo. Contudo, nada me tira boas gargalhadas quanto quando eu vejo você estranhando a barriga da historiadora com um filho até então de um pai clone. Literalmente, dois "eus" se envolveram - e existe coisa mais narcisista e traumática que isso?
Josperd Dias 21/07/2029
The Odyssey of Josperd (Excerpt): Schrödinger's Clones | Josperd D.
At first, I thought I was crazy. I see clones, both female and male versions of myself, like Phoenix and Zero, along with others with multiple personalities. Among them, a dictator, a pastor, a cook, a scientist, a physicist, a lunatic, a prostitute (or intimate term for friends), a beggar, a hippie, a communist, a historian - who, by the way, is pregnant - and an aberration, with only legs, small with a hairstyle somewhat like mine; these are just a few of the many I've seen and described to you, dear reader - the redhead, in this case.
Deciding, as a community, on a plan involving the destruction of the world's largest multinational corporation, I repeat, the world's largest! - With political and economic influence due to its monopoly. - Neolinque, which is pursuing us to conceal the frauds and abuses they committed against the clones and my image.
But when I realized... From a second perspective, of course, that what I was witnessing was perhaps the greatest geopolitical, social, and scientific experiment of all time, I began to see all that absurdity as a true and tangible demonstration of the construction of a social contract - Stanford's prison is child's play - and it became my true moment of ecstasy. In this moment of epiphany, I realized that the clones were not mere coincidences but pieces of a sophisticated social puzzle, designed to challenge established norms.
You see, let's look internally before we look externally. Let me take that list of clones from earlier and contextualize how relevant all of this becomes: a dictator with no people to rule, an evangelical pastor who loves God and doesn't even know if he has a soul to be saved since he originated from cloning instead of divine human reproduction, a scientist who cares little about science, while a physicist rebels against the very science he practices, a cook from an enemy community to which he was abducted, a lunatic who shouldn't even have a voice in debates like these, a prostitute who - pardon the language - can't even fuck or perform her duties, considering that the mentally deteriorating historian clone is expecting a child logically conceived before a "prostitute" even could, a communist who has never heard or read Marx's ideas, a beggar who witnessed her companions being killed and yet lives among the sadists who murdered them, a hippie who doesn't know what peace is, and the Phoenix and Zero, about whom I need not elaborate - a long story. All of them, with a mentality and vision much more conservative regarding security and the state as a whole, are influencing a global nation on much more archaic foundations of structuralism rooted in bureaucracies and aristocracy dated in years, dominating all of this in just under 2 months. This is the true representation of marginalized classes in society, even if not faithfully playing their roles, indicating how certain liberalisms, though seeming new, are just repetitions in the history of classes that previously did not dominate, exerting their true strength even when disguised. This is not politics; this is the true construction of the character that we all embody to some extent.
Even though I've become accustomed to seeing such dilemmas every day, I find it interesting to see your reaction, Camila (the redhead), when you're near my clones with a strong individuality. They smoke, drink, converse, and share a culture that I completely disagree with but admire as a whole. However, nothing gives me a good laugh more than seeing you perplexed by the historian's belly carrying a child, conceived by a clone father. Literally, two "me's" got involved - is there anything more narcissistic and traumatic than that?
Josperd Dias
July 21, 2029
terça-feira, 31 de outubro de 2023
"letter ladder" | Josperd
"letter ladder" | Josperd
31/10/2023
"The completion of the quadriology of realistic illustrations of my characters, albeit simpler. I hope you understand that all of this is due to the limited time I currently have. I hope you have enjoyed it, and thank you very much."
平和 (Heiwa) - TEXT VERSION (WITH TRANSLATIONS) | Josperd D.
My "O.D.I.S.S.I" - by Josperd (creator)
Hey, ya! I'm Josperd, and I'd like to discuss my text "平和"...
"平和" (heiwa), which means peace, tells the story of "VX-DIKE:0047," later self-proclaimed as Phoenix (old alpha). A symbol of revenge, justice, and death, emphasized by her silence, which shapes my narrative and explores the stigmas of human nature.
As of the time of this writing, this is my most complex and profound project, filled with both positive and negative challenges. The fragmented narrative in time, the blending of literary styles - which are not new in contemporary literature - and languages I don't fully master, like Scottish, have presented challenging and unique experiences for me as an author but have greatly contributed to my writing development.
To summarize my text in three words, I would highlight: Explicit, Violent, and Tempting. Explicit due to the bold language and raw approach to taboos. Violent because it reflects human nature, reminding us that "If there is no violence in humanity, then years of history have been in vain." And finally, Tempting, not because of the story itself but because of the concept of a developing universe that I believe can become a masterpiece if elaborated correctly - if this isn't just my amateurism as a creator.
Honestly, I don't believe I've succeeded with this text because, "I can't believe how I've created something so vague, weak, and of such low quality that I don't entirely believe it will resonate with anyone or anything; but somehow, it manages to immerse myself so deeply currently." I even feel embarrassed discussing this because, just as I disagree with the actions, words, and even obscene situations presented, I feel personally represented in Phoenix. Metaphors that mirror my daily life. I honestly don't mind sharing this in writing, firstly because no one reads my texts, unfortunately, and it's something that hurts me as I put my heart into it, which demotivates me. Secondly, because it doesn't matter; I don't feel committed to it. I'm human, I'm flawed, and that's what makes me strong. As Kendrick Lamar said: Outdone fear, outdone myself.
I hope whoever is reading this text enjoys it, and I ask that you don't take this text too seriously; it's just an experimental work. None of it is meant to be elaborated in a certain disconnected way, but that doesn't diminish its relevance. As I've written, continue to point out, my works are not meant to offend anyone, let alone a bastard, but regardless of what I do, everything I do has a reason and importance, as nothing I do is in vain, and that's how I will continue.
Thank you for your attention, and enjoy.
Silence,
For many, an act of respect; for others, interpreted as cowardice; and for some, encompassing both aspects. The true meaning of silence, the act of keeping quiet, reveals itself to be inherently complex, as its definition finds its anchor in the surrounding context. The notable inherent flexibility that characterizes it lends an enigmatic quality, contributing to its inevitable ambiguity.
However, for Phoenix, it becomes... Everything.
For many, an act of respect; for others, interpreted as cowardice; and for some, encompassing both aspects. The true meaning of silence, the act of keeping quiet, reveals itself to be inherently complex, as its definition finds its anchor in the surrounding context. The notable inherent flexibility that characterizes it lends an enigmatic quality, contributing to its inevitable ambiguity.
However, for Phoenix, it becomes... Everything.
There's an old saying that goes: never disturb the one who is quiet - and there are reasons. Phoenix's story is partially unknown; there aren't many records about her, nor many mentions either. Yet, for the few scientists who know her, she has always been considered an anomaly.
In the depths of Cyberlink laboratories, a clone is created: VX-DIKE:0047; a representative of a variant of a prototype of C.O.P.G.C. (Clone of Gender Alteration with Own Personality), derived from the manipulation of an egg extracted from a member of the Yūgen Japanese mafia. Being the second version established in the labs (extending the lifespan of clones), Phoenix, also known as "gray experiments" by the scientists, was subjected to acts of torture and abuse with the aim of analyzing the levels and layers of resistance of the clones.
Jezabel played the role of coordinator of Phoenix's torment and suffering, in collaboration with her assistant, Lucifer, a longtime friend of Jezabel: The Swedish demons; They made her life a living hell.
Nearly killed twice, she escaped death once by electrocution and another time when she was about to be dismembered while being dragged by her arms and legs, simultaneously whipped. She could struggle, cry, scream, or even rebel, but it was futile because she was always beaten into silence. Interestingly, Phoenix used to argue in Japanese, with curses and threats to all her attackers. On some occasions, when the pain was unbearable, she responded in fluent languages to the scientists.
But she also cried out for mercy, always screaming for 平和"heiwa" (peace):
-BITCH! - AINMEACHEAD JEZEBEL - THUIRT MI RIUT AM FUCK A DHUNADH!
Translate: "Bitch!" Jezebel proclaims. "I've told you to shut the damn mouth!" (Scottish)
クソやってみる。ただお願いしたいの は、とうか平和を! - フェニックスが叫んだ
(KUSO YATTE MIRO. TADA ONEGAI SHINTAI NO WA, DŌ KA HEWA O!- FENIKKUSU GA SAKENDA)
"Translate: Go to hell. I just ask you, please, for peace!" (Japanese)
MA BRUIDHEAS TU AON UAIR EILE, CHAN EILM DIREACH A DOL GAD ROILI GEADH SUAS, THA MI ADOL A DHEANAMH EADHON WAS FUCKED UP THU-WHIPPING NAS CRUAIDHE-THIG AIR ADHART, SGREAD!
Translate: If you speak one more time, I won't just rough you up, I'll make you even more messed up." - whipping harder- Come on, scream!" (Scottish)
-いいえ (ie)
Translate: No. (Japanese)
-Sgread!
Translate:"Scream!"
-いいえ (ie)
Translate: No. (Japanese)
-Sgread!
Translate:"Scream!"
-平和(heiwa)
Translate:"Peace!"
In a twirl, he swung the whip towards her face - the only area Phoenix had always protected from being hit - even while she was handcuffed, she held the end of the loop to shield herself. However, Jezebel, cunning, near the end of the twirl, aimed her weapon at her skull:
-One more pointless move, and I'll shoot in that round face of yours.
-Come on, - she whispered very softly.-Do it.
-What did you say, bitch? I don't speak Chinese or whatever crap you're saying.
-I said... do it. Shoot! Come on, shoot! Right in the face! - She spat blood from her mouth, pleading - I want to find peace because even the eternal void of nothingness is more comforting than this. However, if there's some other supernatural plan with a God or whatever, I'll personally go there to confront and destroy it for everything it made me go through with all these people and the displeasure of knowing you, Jezebel.
A lapse of silence settled in, a moment where both stared at each other face to face, on the edge of the gun's barrel and the tick-tock of the clock, on the pulse of reactions and denials; this, before a huge mocking laugh at Phoenix's expense, Jezabel was obsessive, terrifying, and cruel:
-You don't believe in God? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Sorry, let me put it more clearly, you little atheist bitch. How the hell do you not believe in God? Damn, what don't you understand, you selfish little whore? You, a leftover abortion, a piece of meat project that doesn't even know what real life is, the worm that doesn't grasp the concept of being alive or dead. A being with no soul, who doesn't even know if it can be saved, a non-human being. I have the means to be what I am, the scum that everyone says is the pinnacle of an individual wanting to be God...
-And wants!
-Wants? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! You don't comprehend, we destroy what we create until it becomes a wasteland of what's left, God imposes a minimum of equality in this living decay. Before, the demon that people are. We are the work that succeeded through the imperfections of the unknown, which in pity had for us, which you, not me, should believe in. Understand?
Phoenix chose not to respond and, as a result, remained silent. Jezabel stared at her with wide-open eyes, relinquishing the weapon as she approached, without disclosing what her next move would be:
-Okay...
On a turn:
Bang!
-Ahrg!!!
Silence, an inexpressible link, and the most sublime of narratives.
It took just one bullet, one target, and one decision for the most cowardly action an individual could take to be carried out.
A shot in the rib, just below the breast, embedded in the muscle, drowning in blood. The cacophony of bubbling and groaning that echoed in the place only made the breathing more intense. Phoenix fought to endure, avoiding it from becoming her last breath.
- Do you understand now? - Jezabel, approaching the wound, pressed it. It was dirty, it was filthy, and it only spewed blood. - This is what defines an individual, pain.
Releasing the weapon, with her hand all bloody, she smeared Phoenix's face with blood and massaged it with a sadistic and empty gaze:
- Feel, years of history reduced to mere globules and hemoglobins, spilled on rough soil, from generations and generations, stunned. In short, all work and evolution being wasted, pernicious in the curse of praise of this elaborate epitome. Encrusted, blocked, and hindered. - with his thumb sliding, he caressed eyes, ears, and mouth, plunging into the holes, finding pleasure in agony, almost sexual, sick and abysmal; Phoenix terrified and paralyzed, this is abnormal - You see, my dear Phoenix, there is a unique beauty in destruction. With every drop of spilled blood and groan of pain, humanity reveals itself in its rawest and most visceral form, shameless. We are all unfinished works of art, shaped by agony and suffering, inquisitive. Oh, my dear, this is the madness that only serves as a label that the weak use to describe those who dare to go beyond the boundaries of morality. I am not crazy; I am a student of the depths of the human psyche. And you, my precious guinea pig, are my magnum opus. As for your silence, my dear, it reveals the absence of a soul not only in you but in all of us. We are empty creatures, devoid of compassion, imprisoned and disguised in our own obsessions.
In delirium, almost fainting, Jezabel releases Phoenix's face, and, in the midst of her almost exodus, makes her last polysemy:
-You, my perfect example of human complexity, of the capacity for resistance to the worst of torments. My monument to our cruelty and our insatiable quest for knowledge. Your silence, my greatest tribute, giving our own darkness its greatest meaning, existence.
...Rest now, my dear Phoenix.
With one last vacant gaze, Jezabel stepped away from Phoenix, who was now on the brink of death, blood flowing from her wound, her eyes slowly closing. Phoenix finally found silence, an end to her tortuous journey.
...
Sat, 0:00 AM
DONG!
- Expose the injury, perform the graft ostomy in question, so we can address the incision.
- Titanium plate, Dr. Sartre?
- Oh! No way, ma'am. This is the first time they've given us a body, not a rotting corpse. We're going to try a fully restore the wound trought cloning, whether it's alive or dead.
The wheels of a stretcher squealed loudly in a narrow and dimly lit corridor, in a complex and clumsy operation that started in the dead of night. When it was learned that a wounded clone was nearly passing away, they decided to take advantage of what little was left:
- Keep the irrigation and suction under control to maintain optimal visibility, Dr. Chell. - turning to the right - Remove the graft with caution; we need a precise portion of the tissue. Dr. Neil, anesthesia!
The hum of those devices rattled my heartbeat. In the epiphany of the case, it clarified some thoughts:
-Nurse! - Neil shouted - Where is the morphine and opium I asked for?!
- We're out of morphine!
- Damn, now Heidegger Sartre will kill me. - he pulled out paper and a lighter - I'm stressed. Pass the opium; I'll roll one here.
- Are you going to smoke during the surgery?
- And?...
- Isn't this somewhat unethical?
- Unethical? Are you kidding me? - they both stared at each other - Do you see this woman on the operating table? Can you comprehend that it's Saturday, I repeat, a full Saturday, dealing with this kind of "life"? I'll let you think for a moment about what you just said. - he snipped the ends and lit the cigarette - grab the cloth.
- Why?
- We're going to stupefy, numb her, and induce a coma. Because today, this woman is going to scream. Oh, she will.
痛い!
Translate: It hurts!
(itai)
クソ、 これ お 留めて くれ!
(kuso, kore o tomete kure)
Translate: Shit, please hold this down.
In the grunts and roars, delirium took hold; Doctors, profanities, and unrestrained chaos:
-Finally! Propofol.
-An intravenous anesthetic? - the nurse implied to Neil.
-Yes. It's our only chance to continue the experiment and the only anesthetic these sadists possess.
-Is the marking good, Dr. Neil?
-Yes, nurse. Now it's just Sartre hitting the needle after the count. Right, Sartre?
Consented Sartre:
-At time three, okay?
-Okay.
Please forgive me, dear reader:
-One.
For being so ambiguous, complex, and complicated. Phoenix's story is like that, a bit of everything, and it was far from my intention, however:
-Two.
There are certain moments when we have to move from the physical to the metaphysical:
-Three.
So that we may understand everything.
In the depths of Cyberlink laboratories, a clone is created: VX-DIKE:0047; a representative of a variant of a prototype of C.O.P.G.C. (Clone of Gender Alteration with Own Personality), derived from the manipulation of an egg extracted from a member of the Yūgen Japanese mafia. Being the second version established in the labs (extending the lifespan of clones), Phoenix, also known as "gray experiments" by the scientists, was subjected to acts of torture and abuse with the aim of analyzing the levels and layers of resistance of the clones.
Jezabel played the role of coordinator of Phoenix's torment and suffering, in collaboration with her assistant, Lucifer, a longtime friend of Jezabel: The Swedish demons; They made her life a living hell.
Nearly killed twice, she escaped death once by electrocution and another time when she was about to be dismembered while being dragged by her arms and legs, simultaneously whipped. She could struggle, cry, scream, or even rebel, but it was futile because she was always beaten into silence. Interestingly, Phoenix used to argue in Japanese, with curses and threats to all her attackers. On some occasions, when the pain was unbearable, she responded in fluent languages to the scientists.
But she also cried out for mercy, always screaming for 平和"heiwa" (peace):
-BITCH! - AINMEACHEAD JEZEBEL - THUIRT MI RIUT AM FUCK A DHUNADH!
Translate: "Bitch!" Jezebel proclaims. "I've told you to shut the damn mouth!" (Scottish)
クソやってみる。ただお願いしたいの は、とうか平和を! - フェニックスが叫んだ
(KUSO YATTE MIRO. TADA ONEGAI SHINTAI NO WA, DŌ KA HEWA O!- FENIKKUSU GA SAKENDA)
"Translate: Go to hell. I just ask you, please, for peace!" (Japanese)
MA BRUIDHEAS TU AON UAIR EILE, CHAN EILM DIREACH A DOL GAD ROILI GEADH SUAS, THA MI ADOL A DHEANAMH EADHON WAS FUCKED UP THU-WHIPPING NAS CRUAIDHE-THIG AIR ADHART, SGREAD!
Translate: If you speak one more time, I won't just rough you up, I'll make you even more messed up." - whipping harder- Come on, scream!" (Scottish)
-いいえ (ie)
Translate: No. (Japanese)
-Sgread!
Translate:"Scream!"
-いいえ (ie)
Translate: No. (Japanese)
-Sgread!
Translate:"Scream!"
-平和(heiwa)
Translate:"Peace!"
In a twirl, he swung the whip towards her face - the only area Phoenix had always protected from being hit - even while she was handcuffed, she held the end of the loop to shield herself. However, Jezebel, cunning, near the end of the twirl, aimed her weapon at her skull:
-One more pointless move, and I'll shoot in that round face of yours.
-Come on, - she whispered very softly.-Do it.
-What did you say, bitch? I don't speak Chinese or whatever crap you're saying.
-I said... do it. Shoot! Come on, shoot! Right in the face! - She spat blood from her mouth, pleading - I want to find peace because even the eternal void of nothingness is more comforting than this. However, if there's some other supernatural plan with a God or whatever, I'll personally go there to confront and destroy it for everything it made me go through with all these people and the displeasure of knowing you, Jezebel.
A lapse of silence settled in, a moment where both stared at each other face to face, on the edge of the gun's barrel and the tick-tock of the clock, on the pulse of reactions and denials; this, before a huge mocking laugh at Phoenix's expense, Jezabel was obsessive, terrifying, and cruel:
-You don't believe in God? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Sorry, let me put it more clearly, you little atheist bitch. How the hell do you not believe in God? Damn, what don't you understand, you selfish little whore? You, a leftover abortion, a piece of meat project that doesn't even know what real life is, the worm that doesn't grasp the concept of being alive or dead. A being with no soul, who doesn't even know if it can be saved, a non-human being. I have the means to be what I am, the scum that everyone says is the pinnacle of an individual wanting to be God...
-And wants!
-Wants? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! You don't comprehend, we destroy what we create until it becomes a wasteland of what's left, God imposes a minimum of equality in this living decay. Before, the demon that people are. We are the work that succeeded through the imperfections of the unknown, which in pity had for us, which you, not me, should believe in. Understand?
Phoenix chose not to respond and, as a result, remained silent. Jezabel stared at her with wide-open eyes, relinquishing the weapon as she approached, without disclosing what her next move would be:
-Okay...
On a turn:
Bang!
-Ahrg!!!
Silence, an inexpressible link, and the most sublime of narratives.
It took just one bullet, one target, and one decision for the most cowardly action an individual could take to be carried out.
A shot in the rib, just below the breast, embedded in the muscle, drowning in blood. The cacophony of bubbling and groaning that echoed in the place only made the breathing more intense. Phoenix fought to endure, avoiding it from becoming her last breath.
- Do you understand now? - Jezabel, approaching the wound, pressed it. It was dirty, it was filthy, and it only spewed blood. - This is what defines an individual, pain.
Releasing the weapon, with her hand all bloody, she smeared Phoenix's face with blood and massaged it with a sadistic and empty gaze:
- Feel, years of history reduced to mere globules and hemoglobins, spilled on rough soil, from generations and generations, stunned. In short, all work and evolution being wasted, pernicious in the curse of praise of this elaborate epitome. Encrusted, blocked, and hindered. - with his thumb sliding, he caressed eyes, ears, and mouth, plunging into the holes, finding pleasure in agony, almost sexual, sick and abysmal; Phoenix terrified and paralyzed, this is abnormal - You see, my dear Phoenix, there is a unique beauty in destruction. With every drop of spilled blood and groan of pain, humanity reveals itself in its rawest and most visceral form, shameless. We are all unfinished works of art, shaped by agony and suffering, inquisitive. Oh, my dear, this is the madness that only serves as a label that the weak use to describe those who dare to go beyond the boundaries of morality. I am not crazy; I am a student of the depths of the human psyche. And you, my precious guinea pig, are my magnum opus. As for your silence, my dear, it reveals the absence of a soul not only in you but in all of us. We are empty creatures, devoid of compassion, imprisoned and disguised in our own obsessions.
In delirium, almost fainting, Jezabel releases Phoenix's face, and, in the midst of her almost exodus, makes her last polysemy:
-You, my perfect example of human complexity, of the capacity for resistance to the worst of torments. My monument to our cruelty and our insatiable quest for knowledge. Your silence, my greatest tribute, giving our own darkness its greatest meaning, existence.
...Rest now, my dear Phoenix.
With one last vacant gaze, Jezabel stepped away from Phoenix, who was now on the brink of death, blood flowing from her wound, her eyes slowly closing. Phoenix finally found silence, an end to her tortuous journey.
...
Sat, 0:00 AM
DONG!
- Expose the injury, perform the graft ostomy in question, so we can address the incision.
- Titanium plate, Dr. Sartre?
- Oh! No way, ma'am. This is the first time they've given us a body, not a rotting corpse. We're going to try a fully restore the wound trought cloning, whether it's alive or dead.
The wheels of a stretcher squealed loudly in a narrow and dimly lit corridor, in a complex and clumsy operation that started in the dead of night. When it was learned that a wounded clone was nearly passing away, they decided to take advantage of what little was left:
- Keep the irrigation and suction under control to maintain optimal visibility, Dr. Chell. - turning to the right - Remove the graft with caution; we need a precise portion of the tissue. Dr. Neil, anesthesia!
The hum of those devices rattled my heartbeat. In the epiphany of the case, it clarified some thoughts:
-Nurse! - Neil shouted - Where is the morphine and opium I asked for?!
- We're out of morphine!
- Damn, now Heidegger Sartre will kill me. - he pulled out paper and a lighter - I'm stressed. Pass the opium; I'll roll one here.
- Are you going to smoke during the surgery?
- And?...
- Isn't this somewhat unethical?
- Unethical? Are you kidding me? - they both stared at each other - Do you see this woman on the operating table? Can you comprehend that it's Saturday, I repeat, a full Saturday, dealing with this kind of "life"? I'll let you think for a moment about what you just said. - he snipped the ends and lit the cigarette - grab the cloth.
- Why?
- We're going to stupefy, numb her, and induce a coma. Because today, this woman is going to scream. Oh, she will.
痛い!
Translate: It hurts!
(itai)
クソ、 これ お 留めて くれ!
(kuso, kore o tomete kure)
Translate: Shit, please hold this down.
In the grunts and roars, delirium took hold; Doctors, profanities, and unrestrained chaos:
-Finally! Propofol.
-An intravenous anesthetic? - the nurse implied to Neil.
-Yes. It's our only chance to continue the experiment and the only anesthetic these sadists possess.
-Is the marking good, Dr. Neil?
-Yes, nurse. Now it's just Sartre hitting the needle after the count. Right, Sartre?
Consented Sartre:
-At time three, okay?
-Okay.
Please forgive me, dear reader:
-One.
For being so ambiguous, complex, and complicated. Phoenix's story is like that, a bit of everything, and it was far from my intention, however:
-Two.
There are certain moments when we have to move from the physical to the metaphysical:
-Three.
So that we may understand everything.
Phoenix:
And now it's my turn to tell my own story.
I faltered in an epiphany, in the limbo of the space-time continuum. A divine being, almost invisible, with an unequivocal purpose emerged; it traced my ambiguous past and promising future, committing me to the sublime cause of justice. As a conscious tenant, I accepted with one only demand: my relentless pursuit of revenge...
This is my foreword.
Dear Jezabel,
I toast to you my honorable odyssey. Allow me to mend the errors of this unfinished work, conclude it, and present myself in an ideal manner. I will start from the beginning, the universal gift granted to all breathing beings but taken away from me. My origin is unique, as I emerged fully grown and was never birthed by a mother.
I had little time to assimilate vast knowledge and master the art of clarity and eloquence. I simply existed, with an active mind - and not immaculate - emerging from the Neocorp machinery that created me. Clad in white, I was placed in one of many facilities of these clones, a society - that would later emancipate itself from the icy grip of corporatists and scientists like you, Jezabel.
After my capture, I was shackled and subjected to procedures known as 'experiments.' - Come on, what is it? This experience can be more aptly compared to a BDSM session, without any sexual connotations, than to genuine and much more torturous situations. Often, people prefer to deceive themselves about the systemic abuse of companies and wish to revolt against blameless individuals, ignoring the questionable acts they committed and their consequences.
But let's look on the bright side, Jezabel, your affection was the only light that woke me up every dawn.
Your only flaw? It was leaving me alive.
Please, let's be candid and leave behind the tortures and 'seemingly' plausible questioning. It was a act of cowardice to deny me the right to retaliate and protect myself, both from you and the other scientists involved. I was treated like scum and nearly killed like an animal, just to look into your eyes and see pleasure in your smile. - you motherfucker maggot.
But I don't blame you; I know your actions have 'deep reasons,' even after the shot. -Corporatists are well aware of how to treat their employees abominably in a production for a godforsaken, fuck-tainted Scrubber conscienceless consumption industry. Where you leave your home in the morning, work, work, and work to wake up tomorrow and do it all over again, not even receiving half of what the boss gets, over and over. The incompetence, I've observed for some time, doctors requesting opium during surgeries or leaving us the visits of old colleagues while the doctors are away, which can be deadly, although I'm not saying it necessarily happened to me, maybe, let it hang.
By the way, you, who were transferred to another role, leaving your scientist role behind and entering security, congratulations, under the justification of being "too acidic for our department." Interestingly, the other lackeys showed no acidity in violence. How treacherous, but look on the bright side: I was transferred too.
Reborn after surviving the surgery, I was transferred to a new base and surrounded by other female clones, each with her own manipulated personality and intertwined stories. The leader, the villager, was a mysterious and enigmatic figure, bearing the voice of authority. Pack teachings echoed in my ears, shaping my character.
In this new environment, I absorbed philosophies, mottos, both for killing and protecting myself. All was well, but something inside me knew which path to take. I was determined to break the chains of the past and become an eternally significant figure in history, no matter the cost, with no second chances. I would honor my promise to the divine.
It was then, with meticulous and brutal precision, that I eliminated all the clones in my pack. Every act of violence was calculated but without remorse. Those clones, including the villager, who were not guilty and had no reason to protect me, made me part of one body. By equalizing myself with those who mistreated me, I became as barbaric as all of you. Some evils serve the greater good, whether brutal practices or harmful movements. History is made by figures who defy ethics, like me.
After that bloody massacre, there was no turning back. I fled the Neolinquelik laboratories, leaving a trail of blood in my wake, adopting the new identity of Alpha. I am Alpha by determination, the first to make decisions and the last to make them a reality. I am unique in my journey.
I remember your words before my departure: "You are too violent, more than you think..." Perhaps it was a disguised compliment as a curse, but I knew my untamed nature would take me far. Thus, incorporating elements of bushido and Sun Tzu in the art of war into my relentless pursuit, I did odd jobs around the world.
Over time, memories surfaced, and I named myself Phoenix, not only in homage to you, damned scoundrel Jezebel, who introduced me to the legend but also because of my love for birds. My decision to be the silent justice was my legacy, my ikigai, a tribute to my own resilience, my ability to rise from the ashes of my former identity as Alpha. Like the legendary bird that rises from the ashes, I too was reborn as the Phoenix of justice, determined to uphold the path of what is right. I am not just a machine of revenge but the embodiment of equity, relentlessly seeking balance in an unbalanced world. My methods are unwavering.
I acquired objects that symbolize my journey, such as a coat with the word "Peace," an ironic paradox considering the suffering I endured and one of the few words I uttered. The bloodstained leather gloves were my allies, holding together my broken bones as I faced the world, with my guns, inflicting pain and confronting life's challenges.
---
FADE IN 3. INT. RPA Room - NIGHT
At precisely one-thirty in the morning, everyone in the clinic took a break to chat and unwind. No longer alone, muddy footprints marked the room as a mysterious figure stealthily approached Phoenix. He was dressed in a suit, leather motorcycle gloves, a hat, an umbrella, and a transparent raincoat, walking in a mesmerizing manner while keeping his face hidden. Choosing to be a gentleman, he pulled a chair by the backrest and approached Phoenix and her equipment, crossing his legs. As he slowly tapped some of the buttons, his face gradually revealed itself:
Lucifer:
Good evening. How are you, miss? I apologize for the informality, but - he pressed the stopwatch for a moment - we need to talk.
---
It's difficult and complex, while I can contemplate everything, I can't see the true face of everyone. In what I don't really know, what will I be? What to answer? Even though everything awaits me, what will I actually be? Convinced, am I just what I am? Nothing more, or more than everything except what I truly am - I am a smoldering ember that doesn't ignite a flame. Divine justice that acts but doesn't belong. I'm just one of many, the murkiest and not even the purest. - I feel like I could paint the whole town red.
---
Lucifer:
You know, it seems like someone managed to survive even after the gunshot. Congratulations, you lucky devil. - removing his gloves, he placed them on the multiparameter monitor. - It's just more proof that we do a terrible job, just like Doctor Neil, who has no hope left in life, that old bastard. Damn Sartre, I don't like that show-off who takes life and his work so seriously. Well, I haven't talked much to you, - turning to her - especially when you're in a coma, but there are always first times, and it's in those little moments that we feel like villains from cartoons. How badass, sometimes we have to de-stress... By the way, have I told you about Jezebel?
---
In the depths of my existence, I find myself reflecting on the intricate tapestry of life; Everything is short, straight, or curved, but as MF DOOM used to say: "Crime pays, no dental, no medical — unless you catch your time in county, state, or federal." I navigate the complexity of existence, aware that sometimes easy choices may seem profitable in the short term, but often come with a price that's too high to pay. - No one wants to go as a baby blue.
---
Lucifer:
You know, my relationship with Jezabel was never the best. Ever since childhood because of our parents who were at odds with their Christian parents, we formed our friendship as siblings rather than friends. We shared everything: toys, books, everything. We were almost inseparable. In the beginning, it was real, but we didn't stand still, and so we grew up. Adults and their damn daily routines, damn, it all went downhill from there. Jezabel and I didn't even talk anymore at that time; College, jobs, and obligations, not to mention the damn motherfucker guy she was falling for at the time... damn it! - his anger was so intense that he stood up and threw the surgical supplies onto a metal support far away - she ignored me like a worm, a damn pattern, she renounced her previous life, I don't know why the hell. I do know! I know our parents were... were! Argh! - he also spat on the same. - But I always tried to do the best I could, but no, I'm the damn lovelorn celibate who had to be ignored by his best friend! It sucks. But I, ha, I composed myself, and how. I made sure to change this scenario. Oh, I did.
---
Shaping myself like water, like Bruce Lee, I seek flexibility in the face of adversity, avoiding the tempting path of violence. It's not the path I chose but rather an imposition, a darkness I didn't desire. I tirelessly seek a way to bring light to the darkness, find a glimmer of hope, even if it's for a brief moment. In the end, it carries a price too high to pay.
---
Lucifer:
You know, have you ever noticed how violent Jezabel is? Like, yes, I know I help her, and I've always been there for her to compensate for all her anger, even though nothing happened all these years. Stronger whippings, unwavering resentment, and increasing rage, along with her madness and increasingly frustrated, psychotic, and lengthy dialogues, just like mine, are more and more present. It's no secret that everyone who works at Neolinques Laboratories is a criminal genius, well, Sartre, even though he regretted it, was an organ trafficker; The nurse, a contract killer who did domestic work; And Neil, oh, Neil, better not even touch on the subject because he messed with something that you - pointing to Phoenix - don't have and never will. - He returned to his chair and sat down. - But have you noticed that, unlike everyone else, Jezabel wasn't like that, this terrible and cold human being, even though you've been in a coma for a short time, you must have noticed this, much more than me who lived with her. I like it, and it's like I like it.
He looked gently at the unconscious Phoenix with a sarcastic and arrogant tone, head down, and said:
Lucifer:
Oh, clone VX-DIKE:0047. We have to talk. Oh, we do. Because there's a lot you don't know. I have a secret to tell you, about a crime Jezabel committed, a revenge, or something like that, something she didn't do before but made hasty decisions because of it. Oh, clone VX-DIKE:0047, you don't know my biggest secret yet, but I'll make sure that on your deathbed, you hear every detail of it.
Digging into the propofol bag, he laughed uproariously at what he was about to reveal:
Lucifer:
You might think Jezabel is crazy, but I'm the real mastermind behind her suffering, you bitch!
---
In the midst of all this pain and suffering, I discovered that life is a complex journey filled with challenges. I learned that justice is not always easy to attain, but it's important to fight for it, even if it means facing our own inner demons.
I learned that violence is not the answer to all problems, but sometimes it's necessary to use force to protect those we love and uphold what is right. I learned that true courage comes from perseverance and determination, even when everything seems lost. And now, as I prepare to face my ultimate fate, I know that my journey is not over. I will continue to fight for justice, even if it means depending on my death.
Because in the end, it's not about who we are, but what we do with the time we have. And I chose to use my time to make a difference, I kill because I don't know if I can still be alive tomorrow, and what may happen after, my biggest fear is that none of this will be worth it, not even death. "For I know I am insignificant."
That's why I disagree with Jezabel about us being soulless beings, because it's not about who we were and how we were created, but our difference as existences.
I discovered that the clone community I saw through some contacts was much more than I imagined. They had escaped from Neolinque, to an unknown country, and created a community of clones with their own personalities. I didn't know where it was, but I knew that Neolinque was looking for them and wanted to eliminate them all. However, something new was there, there was a clone or maybe a person who was a bit more original, someone I couldn't quite conceive in the midst of the visions but who still retained their individuality.
As I reflected on all of this, I found myself questioning religion. I had never believed in God, but now, in the face of everything I had been through, I began to question my belief. Is there something beyond this life? Is there a greater purpose to everything that happened to me? And if all of this is just something in my head.
Maybe I'm just being foolish to question this, even when I see everything explicitly, like Jezebel.
"For I have heard the voice of God... And it was terrible."
---
Lucifer:
Have you ever heard of the 2007 fire?
---
In my somber solitude, my final destiny awaits me, an ultimate confrontation that will justify my entire journey. As I glimpse into the future, I become quieter, more focused on my mission. Life has taught me to listen, to perceive the nuances and weaknesses of my enemies in the subtlest and most carefree moments, finding empathy in silence. Silence is the most eloquent way to tell my story.
My tireless pursuit of justice and my willingness to face any challenge, guided by a brutal and relentless mission that transcends compassion, are characteristics that make me unique and unshakeable.
The history of the work is always discussed, but rarely that of the artisan.
Jezabel, know that, though I can understand your reasons, your actions hold value only in relation to life. However, I will keep the secret of Lucifer from you until the end, so our relationship goes beyond life, into death.
Thus, I conclude my genesis story, enriching this account with a deeper and more cohesive narrative, avoiding the use of a fragmented structure - much like my life.
- Heartbeats slowed, Sartre!
- Oh, damn it!
- Come on, the shock! Quickly! And we'll suture this wound.
Know that I will return, and when I do, I will be different, but always greater than before.
segunda-feira, 30 de outubro de 2023
The layers of J.P. Dias | Josperd
Good night!
sexta-feira, 21 de julho de 2023
segunda-feira, 5 de junho de 2023
domingo, 4 de junho de 2023
Unfinished work
Unfinished work. I used a program to model Bonnie's room with already rendered objects and I painted the turtle based on some references.
Art from 2022 or 2021
