The Adventures of Username 2045 AD

Username furrowed his brow, he knew the nightmare of civilisation hadn't left them. It would never leave him, he knew that, it was embedded in his mind. This landscape, this earth, this mother, she still bore the scars. But already she was so frighteningly beautiful that to gaze upon her, upon utopia, brought tears to his eyes. Frogs plopped between bobbing cartons and tortured shopping bags, rats and voles scurried through thickets of brambles, lazy dragon flies rested on hawthorn leaves, marsh tits flitted from hogweed to Elderberry and back again, and it was supervised by nothing except the sun. By night bats flapped through gaping windows of industrial society's skeleton, owls hooted from one side then the other, everything walked quietly, twigs on the ground cracked like gunfire and nothing was supervised by anything except the moon.

Username breathed deeply and rose from the turd he'd just laid behind a majestic sycamore. He grabbed a clump of moss, the best and softest plant to wipe your arse with. He cursed himself for still cleaning his bum after shitting and was glad nobody else was around.

Then a strange whooping noise reached his ears. The calling of the tribe! His pulse quickened as he ran naked, dragging his scrotum through the undergrowth.

When he arrived there was already a crowd around the woman, she was grunting and screaming with pain. The witch grunted at her as she tried to force out the baby. She fed her some comically ineffectual leaves for the pain, she knew what was happening here, had seen it before. Oh the baby would live, perhaps, but the mother was haemorrhaging, that's what they might have called it in the twentieth century at least. She was being reclaimed by the mother goddess. A cheer went up as her pulse died. The new one was there, bloody and naked like the rest of them. They looked at it, squawking with its first breaths. Then a frenzied whooping followed as they saw it was another deformed one. Three in a row thought Username.

With retrospect, Black_Clad_Messenger's decision to petrol bomb Sellafield had not been the best informed. The nuclear fall out, added to the seeping radioactive waste that now ran in every river, meant that most children born were horribly deformed. As the elder of the tribe, Username scooped the creature in his frail arms. His strength had deserted him and he knew he didn't have much time left. This one had nine arses. Interesting, he thought. Already the young ones were making a pyre beside the Zerzan wood carving. They knew the routine. Infanticide was a ritual celebration they couldn't look after passengers here. They whooped and danced in a circle, a crazy music, the beat of nature, no instruments, no rhythm, no coordination. "Ah, Crass" he thought nostalgically and cursed himself for remembering the dark days of technocratic slavery. Then they attacked the crying nine arsed mutant with stone sharpened flints and gouged its body before flinging it on the fire. Username's hairs stood on the back of his neck, what a feeling, what a moment, this was liberation, this was utopia!

They watched the fire burn and then went back to foraging and hunting. They didn't know much except foraging and hunting, and nor did they want to. They did know how to tan animal hides with their brains, though quite what use this was had always escaped him.

He looked at the wood carving of Zerzan and the crudely hacked map of Eugene, it represented everything he'd ever dreamed of. He remembered the summer of the year they had called 2005 in the old calendar, he remembered Zerzan's speaking tour and the genetically modified maize constructed by an eco-warrior who had infiltrated Monsanto and how it had made everyone want to go and hear Zerzan, and believe his word as gospel. What a man. And he cursed himself for thinking in language, a route of oppression they had long ago abolished. He hadn't spoken in years, but the words wouldn't leave his head.

Username, sighed a weary sigh of an old man who had out lived all others of his generation. There had been hard times for sure. He remembered the HIV epidemic after condoms ran out, it had got so bad they couldn't burn the bodies quick enough. They had eventually solved it by abolishing penetrative sex except for procreation, a solution proposed by Lemming. He remembered the agony he felt when Yrewenot3? had killed himself. But he didn't feel bad- that car, burned or not, was technology and had to be destroyed. But when he saw the trees burst through the concrete he knew it was all worthwhile. And he whistled to himself as he picked berries (he was too old to hunt) and tried not to form any recognisable tune. His whistling was short lived, for there were only two berries on this tree. He was hungry, of course he was, everybody was. Despite the cataclysmic mortality rate, the deaths of everyone over forty (except him and Lazlo Woodbine, strangely) and the ritual slaughter of those who engaged in penetrative sex without permission of the elders, there were still far too many people. They fought over the limited food supplies as primitive people in times of scarcity had always done, as mother earth had meant it to be.

Then something truly beautiful happened, by the grace of Zerzan he stumbled over the rotting carcass of a toxic rabbit. He would eat tonight! He couldn't wait to find his beautiful life partner Skippy, not that he would share with her like some dirty communist, he just wanted to show what he had hunted, to prove he was still alpha!

There she was, on the horizon, grinning to reveal her dental calamity like a row of condemned houses. He gnawed into the flesh, too hungry to think to cook it. It was almost as delicious as road kill had been, and he cursed himself for thinking some good had come from the invention of automobiles. But as she came closer he saw she was alarmed.

"Ug, ugg, ooh, ug!" she grunted.

"Ug, ug" he replied.

"Ug, ugee!"

"What's that Skippy?" he thought. "Ugeega is trapped down an abandoned mine shaft and the dark people are attacking?" and he cursed himself for thinking in language again. The dark people were another tribe led by Lazlo Woodbine. They had been friends before they had destroyed all crop plantations and food had become so scarce.

"Ug, och, ugee, ug uig!"

"What"s that Skippy?" he thought, "the dark people are on the other side of the hill?", "ugg, ugg, grouton moy got ug"

And they ran to the horizon.

The sky was lit up, the most beautiful radioactive induced sunset he had ever seen. From here he surveyed utopia. The sky cracked in gold and crimson, bright pink, deep green, murky brown and other colours a sunset really shouldn't be. For a minute he watched the silhouettes of swifts circling higher and higher against the golden ball of orange light. He still dreamed of firing all the nuclear waste into that ug. And he cursed himself for thinking in terms of technology.

"Ug, ug, ooch ug!"

"What's that Skippy? Over there, the dark people attacking unga, uggee and ujiee?" he thought. But when he looked closer through his weary eyes, he saw it was his own tribe that was trying to hack them. He felt saddened, the way they were behaving wasn't fair, it was the opposite of how they should have behaved in this utopia! For a moment he thought to remonstrate with them, then he cursed himself. They were the children of the revolution! They knew no language, they were pure and wild. He was a rotting legacy of the technocratic nightmare. He cursed himself for consciously reproducing the morality of civilisation. The revolution belonged to the children and he watched them chase unga, uggee and ujiee and heard their desperate screams. He felt a nagging discomfort but when he remembered the nightmarish times when you had to buy your food in supermarkets and wear clothes, he knew it was no price to pay for his heaven, his utopia, his perfect world. He laughed out loud, the children, they were in charge now, by Zerzan they were beautiful. He laughed again, it was Big Dave's nightmare - animal consciousness running wild and no marmalade. He felt tired, mother earth would embrace him soon. He would die, and with him would die the original sin.

Meanwhile, in the last remaining buildings on earth, in a room badly papered with yellowing pictures of manga girls and photographs from the Spanish Civil War. Behind several walls, a deep trench, rolls of barbed wire and in the shadow of a frayed red and black flag, Revol, Wayne, Redyred and Steven. watched the clock. It had stopped long ago. Everybody sighed and tried to think of something that hadn't been said during the last 40 years. It hadn't been the same since cantdocartwheels had died and Jack had killed himself unable to live without the only person that truly understood his analysis of the International Communist Current.

"Fuck I'm bored" said Revol.

"Quit winging you Fenian bastard, you sound just like Sinn Fein" and Wayne grinned and winked a bit like :wink: so that everybody knew he was just joking and wasn't really a sectarian bigot.

"Fuck off cunt face, I fucking hate Sinn Fein"

"Fucking right, eh? Nationalist wankers"

"Aye, fuckin coca-cola donation cunts"

"SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" screamed Steven. and everybody was surprised by his sudden rage. "Forty fuckin years I've listened to you pricks drone on about Northern Ireland, it doesn't fucking matter any more! Sinn Fein joined the primitivists for blood and soil and the UDA lost the will to live after the primmos stole their Burberry caps. Northern Ireland, Ireland, the UK, none of that fucking matters any more!"

Everybody went back to looking at the clock. A long time passed. Redyred walked to the window and gazed upon the rewilded land. "It's over" he said. "I'm tired. We have fought this for so long. We fought them as they destroyed buildings and roads, we tried to save crops, we have lost. We are the last, we are the last of humanity"

"Oh fuck up you pretentious cunt, who are you? Fucking Chingakchook?" asked Revol.

"It's true" said Steven., "humanity will die with us"

"Ah ken" said Wayne, "if only there had have been some lassies involved with class struggle anarchism"

"Whose fuckin fault is that ye cunt?" asked Revol. "Mister fuckin 'wanna fuck'"

"Fuck off, we were all happy pumping vaneigemapreciationclub till you fuckin shot him"

"Come on, could you put up with his bad rehashing of situationism any longer?"

Everybody shook their head and went back to looking at the clock.

"Want to play chess?" asked redyred.

"Nu"

"I"m going out to the garden to get some potatoes and rosemary then".

But just as he was about to leave a terrible scream reached the building and the last four workers on earth ran to the window. They saw something horrific. They saw the littlest girl trip and fall and saw the children of the revolution gain ground on her.

"Shite, they're gonnae fuckin slaughter them!" said Wayne, "we've got to do something!"

"Fuck that" said Revol, "they're fuckin primmos, remember what happened when The Blast went outside in 2012?"

"Don't you see" said Steven., "they were running to us"

Revol thought hard. He was balding now but he still had a cheeky quiff, even though his quiff involved gluing his pubes onto the top of his head these days. He played with it as he considered what to do. "Alright, come on, let's get tooled up and kick fuck out of some primmo scum".

They made molotovs out of the last of the petrol and ran outside, as redyred hurled his bottle the primmos dropped to their knees and worshipped the ugs that threw fire. They dragged the naked girls into their compound and gave each of them a towel. They were shaking.

"Fuck" said Wayne "they look like they need a drink"

"Weirdo" said Steven., "you know we finished the alcohol seven years ago"

"Well I've been holdin out on yous a bit there, I've still got a couple of bottles of amaretto stashed away.

"Cunt"

"Ujiee, Ujiee" said the oldest primmo girl patting her big breasts.

"I don't fuckin speak leprechaun" said Revol.

"No" said Steven., "she's saying her name! Don"t you see, she's trying to talk!"

"Fuck me" said redyred, "we'll have them reading Cleaver in a couple of years!"

"This calls for a celebration" said Wayne as he ran to get the amoretto.

When the sweet Italian liqueur touched Ujiee's lips she smiled a smile so unmistakably human that everybody laughed and cried all at once.

"She's got beautiful eyes beneath the mud" said Revol, "do you think we've got any mascara and lipstick lying around? I haven't had a blowjob in decades" and he smiled and winked in a way that looked a bit like :wink: so that everybody would know that it was just a cheeky joke and he wasn"t really being sexist.

"You've never had a fuckin blowjob and there's only three of them so you'll still no get any you ugly cunt" said Wayne and everybody laughed and nodded, including the three primmo girls who almost seemed to have understood.

"A toast" said redyred, "to the future"

"Aye" said Wayne, "to the self emancipation of the working class, to the victory of humanity, to international communism!"

:rb:

Wayne Foster
Taken from a thread in our forums, The Adventures of Username 2045 AD.