or conscious thought.
Most revolting of all, however, are the pig humans. Artificially fattened through genetic engineering, growth hormone injections, force-feeding, and a lifetime of mandatory inactivity, these obscenely obese creatures may weigh over 1600 pounds. Scarcely human in appearance—their faces are masses of flaccid flesh that wobble in every direction— these shapeless monsters are considered unfit for eating, but their large skins are used to make leather and parchment, and their huge fat deposits are used to make soap, lubricants, and salves.
Manufacturing Horrors
Adjacent to the science complex—near a huge salt lake traversed by steel bridges—is the industrial district of Dis. Inside hellish factories—geometrically shaped buildings that are several square miles in size—lobotomized and castrated human slaves produce a variety of manufactured goods.
The soulless factories resemble huge Stalinist work camps. Thousands of workers—swarming like rodents—perform their labor in a mindless and methodical way.
Of all the industrial plants, the most infamous is the soap factory. Here, human fats and oils are heated with potash to produce a soft, dark, harsh, and evil-smelling soap. The work is carefully supervised—adding too much fat to the product produces a soap that turns rancid in days, and mixing too much potash produces a soap that can peel skin from the body—and incompetent workers themselves become ingredients in the vats.
In all the factories, conditions for the workers are horrific. Confined to small cubicles and chained to their machinery, the factory slaves live a life without sunshine, fresh air, or freedom. They are deliberately malnourished and routinely brutalized.
All factory slaves suffer from symptoms which resemble radiation sickness. Exposed to toxic waste and noxious chemicals—often moving cauldrons of poison with the gangrenous chunks of dead, blackened flesh that used to be their fingers—the slaves suffer from fatigue, nausea, vomiting, loss of teeth and hair, decrease in red and white blood cells, and internal bleeding.
The factory slaves work until they are too injured, too weak, too old, or too deranged to continue.
Then, their tumors and malignant sores are cut off and devoured. (Because cancer tissue is ageless, ingesting tumors has a rejuvenating effect.) Finally, the exhausted and mutilated slaves are eaten alive.
Epilogue:
‘I am a living animal, tied to a dying soul.’
Philip Dick (1928-1982)
‘Men will go about like swine eating the acorns found amidst the putrefaction of their dead.’
Giovanni Battista Vico (1668-1674)
‘Evil is older and will prevail.’
Occult Proverb
My Flight From The Homeless Shelter
Holding my precious manuscript, I stealthily left the homeless shelter. Exiting from a window, I fled in the dead of night.
As I dropped to the wet earth, I saw a dog vomiting dirt and grass. The dog—a lean and filthy creature—began to growl.
I picked up a large stick and threw it at the mongrel. Like any dog, he reacted by biting the stick that hit him, not the person that threw it.
Humans are like dogs, I thought. They never attack the real source of their misery.
My Life As A Fugitive
My destiny is bleak. I am indifferent to death—I have no dread of hell and no expectation of paradise—but I do fear the monsters. Every night—I know—may be my last.
For the moment I am free, but I can no longer live a normal life. A homeless nomad, manoeuvering between death and madness, I can never rest in peace.
Since the monsters track, ambush, and ensnare by night, I move only by day. To cover my scent, I usually travel only when it rains.
Solitary and aggressive—a fugitive in my own world—I live like a scorpion. Trusting no one, I abide in constant fear. Paranoia, as they say, is heightened awareness.
To support myself—to pay for food, clothing, and shelter—I have become a prostitute, the second oldest profession. Covering
Most revolting of all, however, are the pig humans. Artificially fattened through genetic engineering, growth hormone injections, force-feeding, and a lifetime of mandatory inactivity, these obscenely obese creatures may weigh over 1600 pounds. Scarcely human in appearance—their faces are masses of flaccid flesh that wobble in every direction— these shapeless monsters are considered unfit for eating, but their large skins are used to make leather and parchment, and their huge fat deposits are used to make soap, lubricants, and salves.
Manufacturing Horrors
Adjacent to the science complex—near a huge salt lake traversed by steel bridges—is the industrial district of Dis. Inside hellish factories—geometrically shaped buildings that are several square miles in size—lobotomized and castrated human slaves produce a variety of manufactured goods.
The soulless factories resemble huge Stalinist work camps. Thousands of workers—swarming like rodents—perform their labor in a mindless and methodical way.
Of all the industrial plants, the most infamous is the soap factory. Here, human fats and oils are heated with potash to produce a soft, dark, harsh, and evil-smelling soap. The work is carefully supervised—adding too much fat to the product produces a soap that turns rancid in days, and mixing too much potash produces a soap that can peel skin from the body—and incompetent workers themselves become ingredients in the vats.
In all the factories, conditions for the workers are horrific. Confined to small cubicles and chained to their machinery, the factory slaves live a life without sunshine, fresh air, or freedom. They are deliberately malnourished and routinely brutalized.
All factory slaves suffer from symptoms which resemble radiation sickness. Exposed to toxic waste and noxious chemicals—often moving cauldrons of poison with the gangrenous chunks of dead, blackened flesh that used to be their fingers—the slaves suffer from fatigue, nausea, vomiting, loss of teeth and hair, decrease in red and white blood cells, and internal bleeding.
The factory slaves work until they are too injured, too weak, too old, or too deranged to continue.
Then, their tumors and malignant sores are cut off and devoured. (Because cancer tissue is ageless, ingesting tumors has a rejuvenating effect.) Finally, the exhausted and mutilated slaves are eaten alive.
Epilogue:
‘I am a living animal, tied to a dying soul.’
Philip Dick (1928-1982)
‘Men will go about like swine eating the acorns found amidst the putrefaction of their dead.’
Giovanni Battista Vico (1668-1674)
‘Evil is older and will prevail.’
Occult Proverb
My Flight From The Homeless Shelter
Holding my precious manuscript, I stealthily left the homeless shelter. Exiting from a window, I fled in the dead of night.
As I dropped to the wet earth, I saw a dog vomiting dirt and grass. The dog—a lean and filthy creature—began to growl.
I picked up a large stick and threw it at the mongrel. Like any dog, he reacted by biting the stick that hit him, not the person that threw it.
Humans are like dogs, I thought. They never attack the real source of their misery.
My Life As A Fugitive
My destiny is bleak. I am indifferent to death—I have no dread of hell and no expectation of paradise—but I do fear the monsters. Every night—I know—may be my last.
For the moment I am free, but I can no longer live a normal life. A homeless nomad, manoeuvering between death and madness, I can never rest in peace.
Since the monsters track, ambush, and ensnare by night, I move only by day. To cover my scent, I usually travel only when it rains.
Solitary and aggressive—a fugitive in my own world—I live like a scorpion. Trusting no one, I abide in constant fear. Paranoia, as they say, is heightened awareness.
To support myself—to pay for food, clothing, and shelter—I have become a prostitute, the second oldest profession. Covering
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