Project Icarus

The one percent, of the few atop this hierarchy, wanted her gone.

They warned the resistance that if they did not turn the sisters over to The Eyes, they would all be marked.

For years the memory of a city that never slept reminded us that we could climb the highest heights, the tallest ladders and that was all the mattered in our minds, while these broken walls and ruined dreams left an arch that no one could find save for one. This was a very different world and a very different city. It was called New York City--although we dont have a memory of how it came to exist it expands over the ruins of our past that believed in the coming ages a gifted prophet would appear.

Sarah, she is your sister.

Molly began to seize, and then just as rapidly as it had begun she was somewhere else and telling an entirely different story.

Citi is the capital of the world's known universe, and that’s all we recall after the war of false peace. When the world was reset, New York became forever to be known as Citibank the capital of the world. Despite Citi’s  mechanical fumes from the robot armies, and waste reservoirs, this place is hallmarked as a safe haven for Dreamers. However, only the deceptive can be a dreamer anymore-I once lived there, in an almost surreal zone of consciousness, where the decapitated remains of our machinated memories have performed their daily tasks, machines we’d created for only us.

We were expected to participate, cooperate, doing only what was necessary to survive. Citi is compared to an elephant graveyard of our foundation, and from the stench of toxic gas could one smell the rotting corpses of a future’s memories spiraling backwards.

There was once a time once when we had more opportunities to change the world we lived in.

It was before Beast Inc. had taken over all the farmland and put us to work in robot warehouses, had we not surrendered our hopes as we had yet trembled before its all-seeing enigmatic Machine codes.? There was once a time where humanity was capable of peaceful dissent. And if you think about it, it is truly beautiful compared to the quietude of the violent dreams they prescribe. We could think our own thoughts, and didn’t have to slave away just to live for the evangelical prayers we hear on the satellite stations.

Here, the words that have survived all wars in all but their meager and fragmentary form will be analyzed and reorganized. These were our secrets. Secrets, mingled with accumulated myths and legends of the beginning of AI. Only now through electronic records can we decipher all that once had been of the mysterious Citi which appeared at the center of the star and hollowed out the world.

In these, the remnant graffiti of our ancestors, we can learn more than the elite would allow. Many digital books contain all that can be derived from references in coded seraphim, the collective, and a ship named Icarus. There’s nothing left of our future, only the past remains in a form we are forced to disconnect dissect and eventually erase for eternity. As we march on towards total mindless oblivion, centuries of human progress are being fed to our matrix machines. Did human joy ever exist or was happiness merely a historical projection as the scientists have said.

Only with these bitter recollections that we gather, through our willpower and constant speculations, do we have the chance to ever reveal the truth. As we collect and piece together bits of information, we are drawing ever closer to the ultimate truth about Project Oblivion. Will it ever be passed under the scrutiny of our future scholars? This is something that we all have hoped for. History still remains the same. And only through this compiling and filing can one briefly know what may have happened in the 21st century. What was The prophesy of twenty-one?

There were patterns in the sky, there were silent moments that caused anxiety, there were divisive leaders that were paid to perpetuate division and destroy all hopes of real freedom and a future peace. And although the dreamers sang and danced and chanted, the voices were not strong enough to shake the walls of their falling foundations, they were just loud enough to wake the world.

“The others must be exterminated. We need to be safe. They aren't wearing masks, they aren't paying their fair share, they are spreading lies" People wanted to know what would be done about the pandemic, and it could not be kept a secret for much longer as the source of the super-virus was the elite themselves.

A sudden rage of rebellion threatened popular leaders’ who had projected their agendas to an empty silent theater. All eyes were upon them now. And they had a democrat in charge. Had Democracy had failed at last? Now, all our secret information would be gathered through common trade. We collected memory sticks from friends with common interests through the underground network. Not all remained silent.

A movement was in place. It was a group of people just like you and me, who would not be kept quiet and so together, formed a massive world-resistance, and called it Project Icarus. I had once worked for the people who sought to destroy every dream ever created, the elites. Yet, my mission as a historian had not always been to erase the truth. from history I was once a part of a system that was specifically brought about to educate the people about their past. Things have changed since then.

Now, truth matters to everyone--but we are no longer sacrificed for lying or exaggeration. Because the eternal soul of humanity is lit, and one day will consume us in its warm ascending grace. All of us deserve light, life, innocence--but mere imperfections do not mark you. The markers of evil are the makers of lies yes, but imagination and illusion of control cannot steal the soul. Fear can compel the weak and the strong alike.

I will return not with revenge for being given over to be marked for an impossible truth, and my truth will be more beautiful and perfect than before, for things of love crafted that not even I yet understand. And perhaps in the future, I will be a truth-teller once more, and not escape this cycle of life and death by machine. For the elite’s grip on reality is so firmly held, it seems there is no escape from all targets of any sort of operations. They know all, and we tell them.

I would like this story not to end on a bad note, just as I would hope the world never ended with an explosive lie. So here is a golden nugget, the elite don’t have to tell the truth yes--they listen to us all the time, and we confess to men in their white robes--is this as Christ did prophesy? We prostrate ourselves to billboards and wear crosses, fearing the beasts around us---and fearing the mirrors as we sleep in silent darkness.

What they call evil then is the refusal to accept a lie. Who are these so called others. these spreaders of evil and disease? What we call evil now is the inability to transcend the lies that we're prescribed. "Accept life as a Gift, and stop fighting." The resistance has handed over the prophets to the elites who will mark all of humanity with the lies of the new world order. Each question of authority will be traced through channels by the truth-tellers, as in the future we are compelled to confess every thought to the almighty elect seven, but only telling lies to save your friends can get you into heaven.

The majority population are all brainwashed.  

Everyone’s chipped with meta-data to track their every move; this is how the government tracks and confirms your identity. Somewhere out there a man had been able to penetrate the “Hexagram” by using the hacking software stolen from Unicursal Industries. They can’t explain the strange behaviors of the silent majority, or the diseases that have plagued the "others" for decades. Must’ve been some caused by a higher authority, some sort of plot to be rewritten in the center of Amnesia.

They were reflections of the same mirror, the one guided by a ghostly girl in a black pyramid in Egypt. Once a time when Pharaohs could see the future, before the disappearing ink would be dusted across the sky, to illuminate the night with shining diamonds and jewels. Once when scientists were the gifted makers of airplanes and time-bending travel. In a memory machine, we could see anything materialize before our eyes; the key code projected between each color of the lasers trained trained upon our diamond eyes. The future is the past, CERN has created the teleportation tunnel.

Mara had to lose her mind to preserve the future of Meridia and save her children. Bobby, her son, was destined to save the world from the Anti-Christ’s Metropolis. Mara fell in love with Sarah's father because she saw the potential he had to do something

impossible, and possibly end the suffering night terrors. Each night she sobbed herself to sleep dreaming of their deaths. Each night she would foresee a new incredible danger. But their father left one day on a plane to join the recruitment. 

The data will be analyzed and the codes re-assembled until we really understand how to save Molly from the singular oblivion. These our secrets. Our secret holy observations and legends of a fireball rising from the center of the moon and slow submission of powerful companies to planes of social order. So that now through electronic records can we decipher all that once had been of the monster which appeared at the center of a star and hollowed out the world for Citibank.

In separate corners there remained the good children who did not forget the past and now we’re heading back to the beginning. The Mars children are looking to place their hands upon the sparkling ruby in the stars. That blissful creation of Merrick and Lust, cast in stone through labors of the fibers between galaxies in motion. Could he program an entire web of stars to burst at will. The man had yet to contemplate the four machinations before him, enshrined by liquid so pure it could reform metal. Silicone. Thirst for it and it shall reshape him.

It held the secret to programming life itself and if you had been a liken to her, shadow-demons would turn from the fires of oblivion to bask in the glory of your offering. No, the dried old man on the golden chain was none other than the Master Puppeteer of star dust. One day, one day, he would be immortalized a masked vision in wax, made for us to worship under panes of glass.

Genetics would create the blue skies we might forget at last.  In this world the war was designed to never be defined; who wanted to suppress the people of the world; dissent struck fear with those fighting with night terrors of the sadist kind; the wall would be built and time would tell if the shining city on the hill would outlive oceans that were making their way toward them.

The leaders had lost their minds.

Most homes in New Earth have been built on the ruins of the past our new homes have silicone dome-shaped roofs to protect against the heavy gamma rays and radioactive pollution in the sky. The air is so radioactive now that all the animals have begun dying at a rapid rate. The air is full of noise from controlled drone strikes and nuclear blasts over terrain the elite wish to mine or terraform. The first person to reach mars was a woman. However she was a part of operation Gemini and never returned home. 

If the airport hadn’t been warned and evacuated then there would have been a chaos around them, but the world was ending and the storms were coming regardless of who waited. Her family had already gone. Sam felt the cold ache in her chest. They didn’t wait for me. The passenger drones were full. The world had surrendered to madness. The airport now empty save for the few, like Adam, Samantha and a few others who were left behind. Despite these passenger drones Samantha’s father had designed would start and stop without fail - -the storms were stronger.

Black helicopters fill the horizon in the capital of our new world Citibank. “Dress in bright colors, look alert. Always remember your mission.” She fell in love instead and betrayed her fathers dying wish. The cold moon was falling against the white winter rain. She fell in love with him instead of revenge.

Molly was clinging to the sink as the water continued to pour. She pulled the navy blouse over her head and could not help but notice her shining eyes in the reflection of the wall, mirrored in a thousand directions. Molly’s reflection stared back at her.

“You cant have this secret Key, Molly"

Her insides were turning and her heart was beating rapidly because if the elites knew what she was attempting to expose It would all be suppressed and then her world would be over. She was standing before the podium, giving a speech to the Illuminati ; speaking in false tongue for everything the world has learned to forget. Meanwhile Sarah was in the backroom collecting bits and uploading them to the usb drives.

“Dress in bright colors, look alert. Always remember your mission.” She fell in love instead and betrayed her fathers dying wish. The cold moon was falling against the white winter rain. She entered the elevator and dropped the package then went down to the lower level, through a tunnel to the otherside of Stanhattan. She fell in love with him instead of enacting this pre-planned revenge.

“Don’t show them what you can do.”

Molly watched as her mother sat down on the padded floor staring off into the white walls. She was cloaked behind a myriad of cameras and robotic arms; they led her mother to Cern's memory machine. Her mother stared straight into her young daughter’s eyes and for the first time looked afraid.

"Prove them wrong, daughter of starlight"

Mara folded her arms to her chest and sobbed. Looking in through those glass windows, Molly wondered if this was what was left for this woman who had stared at her through the scanner glass for so long and never once had spoken until now. The nurse seemed to be caught in a moment, another time.

Her little hand reached up toward the air and swatted at a flying insect. The instructor lifted the book up with one hand and chided her, attempted to begin her daily lesson. “Sit still Molly.” The tiles stretched out before them in spiraling hallways to nowhere. Molly loved to stare at the lights, she felt like they carried some secret.

When she stared at the light, she had visions. The scientists told her that dreams were fiction. Dreams are not meant to be the way things are. Her mother was kept lock and key inside the Center of Amnesia, and when normal children would be socializing and having fun, this was Molly’s study time. Her mother could not care for her when sleeping in a cell surrounded by walls.

Molly grew up inside of this institution: a cage within a cage.

Sometimes it felt like this place was hers like the walls were built up around her to keep her imprisoned like an animal. She was free and safe... from something or someone impossible. She was taken care of by the people inside the giant glass walls. The people there, who understood her condition was incurable. The ability to time travel was a severe disease that many hated and most misunderstood. When you pass out, and the seizures change everything, and the migraines fill you with bright pain, and then it stops--and you wake up somewhere else entirely, with a new memory and new eyes to see again.