CUBOID
3RD AUG, 7.00PM PERFORMANCE
'DON'T FEAR THE FRINGE FUCKERS'
CHAPTER 1
THE YEAR IS 2130. THE CITY IS IN TURMOIL. NATURE HAS GONE WILD. THE CITY BELONGS TO THE STREET KID. FURIOUS CONFLICT TERRORISES THE OLD TOWN.
WE FIND OURSELVES IN A DARK BLACK UNDERGROUND RIVER. GUY DEBORD HAS LENT US ANOTHER GUN. IT IS MORE OF AN AIR-RIFLE. LOGAN KEEPS CALLING FOR BACK-UP. RADIO IS DOWN. COURTYARDS HAVE BECOME JUNGLES, AMASSED WITH SIDE PROJECTS AND WEEDS WHICH TOWER LIKE TREES. IN-BETWEEN THE TENEMENTS LURK WELL-DRESSED VIRUSSES AND DISEASED SALES EXECUTIVES SHIMMERING LIKE WET STONE. THE MEMORIES OF A CITY WHICH WAS ONCE A THRIVING TOURIST TRAP CLASH WITH THE REALITY OF THIS TOTAL ANARCHY. WHAT MAN HAD STARTED, NATURE HAS COMPLETED. NOW IS THE UTTER DESTRUCTION OF ORDER. NEO-MODERNISM HAS BEEN THOROUGHLY OBLITERATED. THE GARDEN NOW RULES. THE STREET KID IS KING.
WE CLIMB OUT OF THE RIVER AND TURN UP TO A CLEARING KNOWN AS 'ADVOCATES CLOSE', AN OLD URBAN TRIBUTARY WHICH ONCE FED THE WIDER STREETS. WE STUMBLE UPON A SHELTER, A SMALL, MODERN STRUCTURE COVERED IN A MOSSY VEGETATION. WE BEGIN TO UTILISE IT UNPACKING OUR REMAINING SUPPLIES AND FOUND OBJECTS. SUDDENLY, A LOUD RUMBLE RESOUNDS FROM THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE CLEARING. IT'S HARD TO REMEMBER THE LAST TIME I HAD HEARD AN ENGINE RUNNING. WE MOVED CLOSER AND TO OUR SURPRISE WE WATCHED AN OLD AUTOMOBILE CHOKE AND SPLUTTER WITH A DOZEN OR SO OF THE KING'S TRIBESMEN DANCING AROUND IT. THE OPERATOR, A MYSTERIOUS MAN DRESSED COMPLETELY IN SILVER CLIMBS OUT OF THE CAR AND SET EYES ON US. 'KILL THEM' HE CRIES.
KEITH WINTER
STEVE MYKIETYN
