Moneyless Society and a Spinning Didgeridoo


I am in a strange city. I enter a small, low, concrete building. It is the Gif Factory. Inside it is packed with people producing animated gifs using analog film slides. I want to join in, but the rooms are so full I cannot open the door enough to squeeze in.

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I decide to leave the city, and head to Birmingham. I am joined by a Devonshire bouncer, who warns me about leaving the city.
We approach a group of people. The bouncer warns me that they don’t use money, and don’t buy anything. In his eyes this is a terrible thing. As we get closer I see that it is like a festival, with individuals and small groups creating unique things.
I walk to the centre and climb onto a vehicle. I pick up a piece of furry cloth and spin it around my head while blowing into the end. It becomes a furry, spinning didgeridoo. (Freud would love this!)
The natives are impressed. They’ve never seen or heard such a thing.
We walk on, back into my world. The bouncer is happy. I tell him people here have money and buy things. Each house is lit up with neon advertising. The streets are packed with vehicles. I am both glad to be back, and sad that everything revolves around money.
I am at work. I have to complete a basic skills assessment. I’m worried that I can’t remember how to do long division. It’s been years since I did it manually.
I awake, and briefly, my field of vision is filled with a rainbow hued flattened cerebellum.
๐ŸŒˆ๐Ÿ’ท๐Ÿ’ฐ๐Ÿ’ด๐Ÿ’ต๐Ÿ’ถ๐Ÿ’ณ๐Ÿ’ธ๐Ÿ‘ฃ๐Ÿ’ญ

Flight of the Crocs & Future Technology


I am trying to escape from a city. I have disguised myself in translucent blue plastic trousers, they make my legs sweaty. Crossing a square, men in suits try to apprehend me. I escape by inserting glowing green pager sized devices into my crocs. The crocs turn from black to glowing green and I levitate into the sky. The men in suits rush to nearby buildings, scaling them in the hope of catching me. I drift past, uphill nod out of reach. At a bridge, I descend into a river valley. It is beautiful but at both ends re massive tunnels.

What’s the point in being able to fly, if you limit yourself to flying in tunnels?

I drift up and on, discovering, in the process, my ability to levitate and move other things and people.

At an airport at Christmas Eve, an old man is disappointed that his plane is delayed, and his grandson will not get his present on Christmas Day. I want to help him, but he vanishes into the crowds before I have a chance.

I am in the future, at a festival, trying to sneak in to a screening of an old school augmented reality movie. I don’t have any money, but I’m able to pay by pressing on some text and holding my breath for two heartbeats. The device analyses pulse and ECG data to verify my identity.

In the arena, three huge screens play video. A fight breaks out between skinheads in the audience. Security guards jump on them and fall through. The skinheads are part of the augmented reality experience. Everyone laughs at this old fashioned form of entertainment.

I wonder what this future holds.

๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ

Horseshoe Bat Pirates and the Coffin Room


I am walking across a field. Large bats fly by, with horses heads and hooves. They are horseshoe bats. They fly in formation. Hovering in the shadows of leaves, I see that the leader has a torch.

They are obviously intelligent.

They land, and transform into pirates. I say hello, and invite them to a nearby pub. I don’t let on that I know their secret.

In the pub I tell them about a story I wrote about the pub being haunted. The very building was the ghost. They like this. I buy them beer but they will only let me drink water. They are worried about my health. I tell them about my next story, about horse headed bats that turn into pirates, and that its too fantastical, no one would believe it. The leader winks at me. He knows I know, but that’s ok.

A bigoted man in a captains hat is voicing his racist and small minded opinions. I unleash a verbal tirade of ad hominem abuse like you wouldn’t believe. I keep going until a crowd has gathered. I feel slightly guilty, like a pro boxer fighting a man with no arms.

I look for the toilets. Underground I find them. There’s a door to an adjoining room. The sign says ‘Coffin Room’, through the window, I can see what appears to be white tumble dryers. I am afraid to go in.

โš“โš“โš“โš“โš“โš“โš“โš“๐Ÿ’€๐Ÿ’€๐Ÿ’€๐Ÿ’€๐Ÿ’€

Dangerous Darkness and Fancy Dress Dogs


I am in a dark house with two friends. We know that in the dark are dangerous, evil crawling things, like giant zombie spiders. We listen to the radio; a warning to stay indoors, and keep the lights on.

The evil things have disabled our power, we survive with a single torch and send one of us out for candles. Outside Blackhawk helicopters manoeuvre around our building, shooting any of the creatures they can see.

We panic and move outside. Here we are even more vulnerable. The sky is dark. Evil is everywhere.

The sun rises, and I follow a crowd to a river crossing. Not a ferry, but a slow moving rotating bridge. At the base of the bridge is a lion. I say hello, and realise its just a friendly, hot, dog in a costume. I blow on his face to cool him down.

My boss jogs by in perfect health, and I get onto a minibus to some where.

At home, my things are in a cardboard Wendy house, a duvet and some toys. One gadget is fascinating, it can be transformed into anything. I annoy everyone in the house by transforming it into a swearing cockney box.

๐Ÿš๐Ÿš๐Ÿš๐Ÿš๐Ÿš๐Ÿš๐Ÿš๐Ÿš

The Treasure of Psychogeography


I am in a muddy garden, digging. My spade bends as I hit metal. There’s a box of treasure underground. I dig it out. The box is recyclable cardboard. I open it up. Inside are several sets of cards wrapped in clear plastic with psychogeographic instructions to progress in various directions and carry out different actions according to the contents of the treasure box, what can be experienced at each place, and the result of previous actions.

I go into a low, dark building. My boss is in there preparing for a storm to hit. I help him prepare by powering down some sections and checking the plumbing. Others are leaving. I don’t think I can make it home and back before the storm hits. I stay.

I get some breakfast from a cafeteria. While queuing I discuss the merits and details of the power consumption of the display units. It is both boring and fascinating.

Tommy C serves me breakfast, and recommends some books, “Sailing with My Kidneys” and “Allegorical Tales”. I choose the latter. I don’t have my library card, but he lets me take it anyway.

โ˜”โ˜”โ˜”โ˜”โ˜”

The Alchemical Wedding


I am in a corridor at the University of Plymouth. It is blocked by a flimsy barricade. I push it over. The corridor is busy, full of ‘cool’ people, roughly divided into hippies with dreads and douchebags with popped collars. I have no time for them and barge my way through. People move out of my way. The corridor becomes an outdoor path through the grounds, black Tarmac glinting in the low sun. I race against Spanish speaking students. At a junction, I take the steep path to the right. As I climb it, I am looking down at my feet as though through a wide angle lens. My feet move incredibly slowly, but take great strides.

I find myself at a large stately home. It is my brothers house. He is getting married. I enter and try to find my room. I am sweating and exhausted. My brother Ken is in our room, relatives’ coats are piled on a bed. I try to sleep, but can’t. All I can think is that I have to collect my dog from my ex girlfriends. I determine to go. Some of my brothers follow me. We will miss the wedding.

We zig zag down an alleyway that takes us to a rooftop. We bounce down into the cafe below. Outside it is night, and raining. I talk to a black and white character about how wages have fallen, in real terms, since the 1930s. I explain that this is mostly due to automation, and that this will eventually doom the middle class.

We walk until dawn. My brothers are concerned. Finally, we reach a derelict house. On the outside is a crude logo and the word ‘macdraw’. I laugh at my minds ability to create a resolution.

I enter. Inside is a goth woman. She’s waiting for me. We go through to another room. There I read some sacred texts and am bathed as I prepare myself for an alchemical marriage. My friend Jai wants to read the texts, and another hand reaches from behind me. I tell them to wait, that the text is dangerous if you try to read it before you are ready. The text protects itself. It cannot be moved or read apart from by me. I pick up a sheet and lay it on Jai’s arm. It glows and sinks into his skin.

I begin the ritual. I wake before it ends.

๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ

Insert: meeting polish woman with deformed baby who is a kit Kat loving ping pong bat. He plays against his father, who is a tennis racket. I think. ” she has sex with a tennis racket, how weird”.

๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ