It was several, even uncounted years ago. In the late 2030's. The world was - as suspected before - full of surrogates. Silver surrogate. Candy surrogate. Love surrogate. And so on. Tancer was an ordinary, lethargic, mentally sleepy 28 year old brain dead, when in April 2038 he went through some extra ordinary adventures that made his life for a short time more exciting, but gave him in the end - well, if he really gained something in the end we'll see, perhaps. The machine - built boredom of his time and world made him sick, sometimes. The artificial cheap joy of hyper vivid ultra violent sex orgy game toys could even make him puke, once in a while. Tancer was thin and pale and tired and dressed in dark green - and he was roaming a ravine between 800-metres-glass-and-steel-and-tractyrium-towers called supra skyscrapers or so - and it was Tuesday, the 27th of April in 2038, when he came across a strange young girl. She was clad in dark orange. Her hair was bright orange. Her shoes were green, but that wasn't too important. her smile was more important. puzzling and beautiful it was. She gave forth a smell of joy; a touch of optimism; the odour of juvenile power was about her. It came to pass that this little girl laughed into Tancer's face with mild scorn seeing his lethargy, and she invited him to accompany her to some place she knew - some dance teeny orgy filthy cheapness hall he suspected - but they ended up in a gigantic basement hall which was lit up with bright, enormously blinding light. As soon as Tancer had entered the hall, an overwhelming terrible terrific noisome repugnant wonderful noise arose, and Tancer felt utterly miserable, turned pale even more than before and wanted to get back to his bubbling fluffydy bed to nurse his ear-pain with plastic pneumatic electro sex. But the young girl whose name was Joy Noyse, by the way, held him back and called upon him to dive into the noise in order to get revived again - with these following words...
Tancer was dancing ecstatically for hours and days, probably. The noise, the white, gave him back real vividness, which he had craved for - for years and centuries. Tancer was wet with sweat, when the beautiful noise died down, and he was looking for his nice new friend, but she fled from him; and he followed her. Into long dark corridors they ran, ever down, down until at last they reached a hideous dungeon filled with steam, and cables, and Tancer recognized them but slowly - engines and things. But Joy Noyse was gone, swallowed up by one of the strange machines, as it was later suspected. Tancer was there where the electro lurch lurked, a mad scientist whose hobby was to create and build eerie machines. The old man stood amidst his machines and he addressed the only recent vivid man: "So. You're here .... appearing whole and fresh again, eh? But we both know that deep inside you've been hollow, for years and centuries now, I dare to guess. Bereft of real and deep emotions, as well as far from fulfillment of your innermost longings. But never mind! I can help you!" and he led Tancer to a very specific and individually steaming machine which was indeed an engine of diabolic powers : for it was able to create emotions in a human being's head who just needed to be connected with the hellish apparatus by cables and beams and means that need not be mentioned now. "What's the use of having sorrows, longings, feelings worked out all by yourself", the Electro Lurch asked laughingly, "Moreover: emotions that can't be terminated by pushing a button when you've had enough of them ?" He shoved Tancer into a kind of comfortable chair in the midst of the emotionmachine, pressed the knob initiating the damned gadget, screaming: "Nobody nowadays needs to create his/her own, crummy little wishes and love yearnings and what not .... try the cybernetic lust!"
So Tancer became entangled with his own terrifying weakness : unable to resist he fell for the temptations the Electro Lurch had offered him. He felt guilty, he felt like the victim that he was. He felt like he'd lost his individual self, which he had lost. The scientist laughed with cold contempt, as Tancer stumbled out of the hellish chamber. One word only danced in his head : "fucking Cyberbite', so there were two words, in fact. Cyberbite was a rumor, a shadow, but many people knew it was more than a rumor. Cyberbite was the agency, the company, the plan that ruled those out-fashioned days : the center of all controlled/artificial life. The thing that made human beings of 2038 mindless toys who were forced to forget that they were individual, specific, single and extra-ordinary. They were persuaded to consume the candies that Cyberbite gave them : computerized games, for example, like "superb non virtual blow job" or "magnificent magneto boobs and balls". Thinking of this and of the amazing summer of 2029 when he had been glad and struck by love, Tancer climbed a long flight winding up. Then came to his mind the Cyberbite resistance which he had heard of : a bundle of rebellious counterrevolutionary good looking piercing eyed guys who were fighting Cyberbite's aims - and lo !- he toppled into yet another chamber where he almost ran into two of those legendary guerrillas : Krabbarth and Rasmarkuyn; but Tancer did not perceived them at once, which is not astonishing. They stood in this scarcely lit cell, talking to a thing that in 1984 would have been called a televisor, out of which came an ensnaring voice.
Then Krabbarth and Rasmarkuyn beheld Tancer, and they asked him to join their fight against Cyberbite. Firm they seemed, hard, un-defeated, strong-willed ; but all of a sudden this vision ceased, and they became nervous, fluttering. Restlessly they scratched their necks and feet, their thoughts got tangled up. An uneasiness seemed to eat of their hearts, something made them tremble : and they fled into dark tunnels, running heedlessly into their ruin or something, Tancer thought. For days and weeks and even hours he was captured in the underground labyrinth, lost in the maze - and he met many other creatures; and, like in the upper world, he thought to perceive an analogy in all those faces to come across : restlessness, discomfort, concentration failure were carved deeply into them. The marks of Mother Restless these were. She was one of the three very modern furies who haunted mankind (as we all know nowadays ). Everyone was nervous, heading for something that can't be reached. Everyone down in that cursed labyrinth in may 2038 was searching, fleeing, seeking , running, with no aim or thought. No one was able to live the moment, they were twisted and torn and without the slightest residue of mindpeace - alas! - and sometimes Tancer wondered how many people lived down in the labyrinth which seemed to him like an allegory of life itself - and ha harr of course, like the tfs'ers say, it was nothing else - as every diligent reader had already suspected. And slowly but real surely Tancer became aware of something he already had known deep inside: he himself was hunted and irritated by Mother Restless' power: he was restless, with no single second of peace, he was wretched, he was running with no destination - whereas she came closer with every day, lurking somewhere in the labyrinth - to touch him with her flabby hand, to gain ultimate power over him. Behind every face and phenomenon Tancer thought to behold Mother Restless' misdoings. He heard her disgusting voice screaming in his head: "Make haste! Run faster! Don't rest! You can't enjoy the moment, can you?" and in the middle of a dark night ( probably, though it was ever night in the labyrinth) he knelt down on the stony pavement, and he wept and screamed.
But nevertheless - she came. Looming over him Mother Restless wanted to squeeze him, caress him. Holding him tight to her monstrous breasts she tried to make him suck the poison of uneasiness. But he bit her chest and escaped into dark narrow tunnels ( hadn't he done so before ? ) - for hours and even years Tancer walked on, and then one day he met Krabbarth again. The revolutionary was mourning over the death of his old comrade Rasmarkuyn who had died as a Cyberbite victim - after excessively playing game- girl-electronically-steered-analoral-sex. And then Tancer got to know that he himself had become a kind of famous legend, because- he was the only one registered who ever was able to escape the massive caress of Mother Restless. And Krabbarth was sure that he, Tancer, and no one else ought to be the Cyberbite resistance chieftain, the leader out of misery. And Krabbarth and the voice of his dead friend Rasmarkuyn that suddenly floated through the corridor began to sing.
Then Tancer sighed: "How can I achieve this? Am I really strong enough? Who might give me advice?" The dead voice of Rasmarkuyn then taught him about Madadonia, an old woman, former opera singer in a world gone by, former guerrilla fighter in a world even longer gone - the legend of a brave revolutionary - who sat in a dark chair in a black chamber in the midst of the labyrinth, well hidden from tourists. But Krabbarth and the voice of Rasmarkuyn, sounding somehow dead, showed Tancer the way to the hidden den, and Tancer talked to Madadonia for a long time, and so he learned about the story of her fight against a Cyberbite predecessor system in the late 1990's.
The old woman sat still in her chair. The legend was shattered, somehow, of course. Nobody in the outer world knew that she had betrayed her original aim, no one knew that the moloch system which later developed into Cyberbite was brought into charge again with Madadonia's help. "But nobody really cared", Madadonia added, "I've lost a great vision, perhaps, but in the 1990's people never really cared about anything. The world died in those days. Only a small part of the earth's inhabitants lived in what you might call wealth - never heeding the rest of the world's starving - never minding what might happen to the weak of their own society, never minding anything but their own paltry fucking personal luck, never minding the wars outside, the scars to men and nature - children crying in the dirt, with blood coming out of their mouths, dying of hunger and thirst and wound - you don't know of these things nowadays no more. They lived in their white world of unreal TV luck, pitying themselves, listening to sentimental stories and silly songs about love, heartache, beaches flowed with cheap sexual stimulation and alcoholica and so on ; anger befalls me again that world didn't heed what we - the political correct as we called ourselves did ; and one day i recognized, alas, that even we, the 'just', were nothing else but white world people - arrogant, proud of our knowledge and deeds, endlessly paying homage to our own dirty unimportant actions. Ah! Reverie to think that the world will be changed by your hands!" she sighed. And Tancer left her to her dark brooding, but even as he stepped on the threshold of Madadonia's chamber, her old sister entered the room, Tanubya, who was still dreaming that the world might be changed ( like in the rotten dreams of her youth ) - she was still hoping for the one to rescue all, the one who makes dreams and wonders come true. "Who's the wonder, Madadonia? Who tries to fight?" Tancer roamed the corridors, filled with hate, against Cyberbite, against Madadonia, especially against those white world wankers of the late 20th century - but there were still enough of them in 2038, and even nowadays, which is much later of course, they are to be found. "You want to meet some of them?" Krabbarth asked him. "Whom?" "There's a special chamber in an upper storey of the labyrinth, full of those who were white world people, full of their breed, egotistic little jerks - you want to visit them, scream at them a little bit, just to let off steam or whot you're bearing inside, eh?" and so they did. If Tancer's action was indeed justified, he didn't mind; but seeing all those jerks playing "Angelyka visits the starving Sudan child to give away the pink dotted umbrella" - a four dimensional freak screen game - he went berserk.
Tancer felt strong, like a mighty warrior of the just, but alas! - he did overestimate himself. The tide was turning against him. No need for endless resignation - for probably Tancer will return some glorious future day - but nevertheless, after visiting those white world wankers, the tide was turning against him .... there were other powers, old and strong and still alive, down in the neonlight- glass tunnels of the labyrinth, who were at best amused about the brave new warrior Tancer; these were the powers behind the things visible on the surface; no subject to Cyberbite they were, following their own rules- and in the early 21st century, to be on the peak of fashion, they had taken up the form of androids, and as the four androidgods they appeared to mortal eye. And Tancer was unfortunate to stumble into one of their huge halls, the size of which no one could even guess. as if he had been summoned by them, which he had been. Tancer was standing in front of their thrones that were shaped all in early 21st century fashion with digital mystiphrathans and more stuff - and he couldn't help but feeling tiny - and the androidgods' words of re roval proved quite unnecessary.
Tancer fled from their thrones, he was so afraid. And he was alone. Krabbarth had disappeared. Who were these powers behind all things? He should soon get to know what kind of powers should prevent him from further Cyberbite fighting activities the powers that roar within, deep in the center of individual life. Forces that keep you (and me, and everyone) entangled with oneself, that make it hard and difficult to move the outward direction. Even in this situation of doubt and disturbance, destiny had two more unpleasant meetings in store for him : the two other very modern furies, the beautiful younger sisters of unlovely Mother Restless, but dangerous as well indeed, were after him ; and first he met dark haired red eyed Sister Anger in a dark red dungeon in the uttermost depths of the labyrinth. The one that takes away your heart's comfort by burning it with wrath and the fever of violence is she. She kissed him fiercely and infected him with the virus of furious rage - and gnawing dissatisfaction, a feeling you sometimes feel at work in your loins, don't you ? - Tancer staggered and stumbled about, hot with anger inside, against anything and all, mostly against himself, or the whole world or what. An diztron-electro field trityolcat hobgoblin named Coghan sat in a corner of the tunnel, mocking at Tancer, advising him not to be too troubled about the inside burning, but rather to enjoy the little wrath dance. It was pure scorn. Of course for a fleeting moment Tancer had seen a brief vision of all three furies, as being one, which is one of their hobbies. But now everyone was gone; Coghan was gone (for but a short while ), peace of mind was totally gone, the tunnels lay dark. But the youngest of the three very modern furies, and the most beautiful, was about to come. The next gift should be handed over to Tancer, which should utterly ruin him. Miss Dissatisfied enjoys to appear in shapes simply too beautiful, in raiments too irresistible' she walks. She delights in arousing endless burning love and itching desire in those who behold her. She had chosen one of her favorite forms to appear before Tancer : the blonde eminence she was, beautiful beyond enduring. And she took him, then, in the maze of the underground tunnels in June of 2038, and she kissed him furiously and fucked him on the cold pavement, and then she left him lying on the ground. The sting in his heart, the fire that burned his soul, and all that can not be put into words : he was crushed by a dark yearning. For experiences like these are too much for male human souls : and the craving to touch miss dissatisfied again, to hold her face, to feel her nameless naked thighs again made Tancer go mad with desire, and no other thought roamed his head no more. "Yea, the ol' Miss Diss", the snaring voice of re-appeared Coghan pierced Tancer's ears again," makes ya kinda dizzy, eh ? cursed filthy little brat she is - with 'cosmic dimensions trapped in the splendour of her body 'as I heard some mystical chemical atom phyrrtracian wizard say a while ago - ha harr - but all that ain't too good for ya, eh ? ha her body is not of the stuff of earth, so just reckon her a plastic boob puppet, he? And the goblin Coghan sang a disgusting song of praise and curse over the blond eminence.
'ey, man Coghan continued, "Wanna have her again, eh?" He laughed a dreadful laughter "No chance, bub. She never screws a guy a second time .... hhm ... let me see. What is it for you ? This leaves ya...... wretched? Horny? Uneasy? Hm? Harr. Ha." And then the goblin disappeared. So. And now almost everything was accomplished. The doom of Tancer completed, for now. The guilt that he had charged himself with during the Electro Lurch session, his mental weakness; Mother Restless' caress; the harsh words of the four androidgods; Sister Anger's wrath-infection; his hate against anything: and the unbearable longing to kiss slender Miss Dissatisfied's lips and thighs and what not - all this had battered Tancer into the very smut of misery. It was all too much. For the moment. To continue the fight against Cyberbite.Krabbarth would be utterly dissapointed, if he'd learn about; but Tancer's fingers trembled, as well as his heart. Full of itches, longings, helpless rage and all lacks, lacks, lacks he was. He sat on the cold ground. The truth about himself, his follies and all stood clearly before his eyes. He had lost a kind of battle, whatsoever he might do to calm himself down. He was a sneak. A wretch. And a horny bub... He thought of Joy Noyse, his young girl friend whom he had lost too soon; and he wept long, until in the puddle of his tears he saw his face reflected : a horrid, grotesque grimace it was. And addressing the pristine image of Joy Noyse which he bore in his head, Tancer murmured a tune; but while he stuttered these words, a strong wind arose blowing through the dark passages, and a storm or some thing took Tancer, and he was blown out of the labyrinth, while he sang.
And then Tancer found himself - finally - outside in the fresh air though hot and dry it was. The stench of the rotten labyrinth slowly left him. He looked at the blue sky, for he knew naught else to do - and he beheld that it was a sandy stony desert where he stood watching, though not too far from a mournful abandoned shore with dim waters. And now we're close to the end of the story, as it was told to us by the wandering yellow spirit. Tancer walked about for days and days. And it was a strange waste where visions and mirages deluded him and made him stray from the path which didn't exist anyhow. Flickering air images these were; visions to give him hope, and visions that made him despair. And then - finally - he met Joy Noyse again on a far-off sand dune, and her dark brown or green eyes were a comfort to his heart. Yet they both were troubled by the swirling visions all around, and what would befall them. They searched out the secrets of the stony plain asking anxiously if their whole lives were nothing but illusions. They held each other tight in the cold desert nights, and in one of those nights Tancer sang for trembling Joy Noyse a small tune he had made up, while a mystical musical box floated about them giving forth a melody.
And that's the end, for now. But Tancer and Joy Noyse will return, of course, one day, after gathering new strength in their far-off desert. To take up a very special fight again.
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