Excerpt Forty:
Commeth the Day, Commeth the K.
Patchy data regarding Kev’s purpose and who he was working for led him into a quandarance loop that was imperative to escape if he was going to be anything more than a forgotten footnote in the book of the end of Natural Life on Earth.
One thing dies so another can be born.
He opened a hip sounding Narcissus file from the group that had, on opening previously, proved boostful to his power/mood; mood/power intermasturbatory-drive, as if what he needed was narcissism slapped on the top of more narcissism. Like, to over-press the metaphoricality of it, he was using the tool of Narcissism to dig himself out of a shallow grave into a grave with a wildly overwrought Victorian headstone that could have sunk the Titanic.
Orders, forced responses and work-around commands were zapping in and around. Kev’s artificial elements were sorting the wheat from the chaff as well as they could and his non-artificial elements were zoning in on a solution to the core-phasing multifarity of current input.
Kev was a one owner pet.
Was he, though?
That’s what flashed up; shot a shock of truth into the environment… A truth begging for modification.
Kev had been a government secret system and then repurposed by new bosses and then shoved back into the electric line dance of activity by whoever Una was working for, but other digits were tapping in their influence; sending irresistible instructional data-missives.
Kev was on a vital mission to discover who was in charge of him. Who was pulling his strings; what entity was going to execute the post-pause UKGB Operating system that Kev would be integrated with. In the number one slot for a while had been Mallory, but she had slipped out of the top 100 due to Kev himself merging with her like a gargantuan corporation, asset-stripping a small concern into a fur ball of nothing.
Una had authorised the Kevification of Mallory, or her backroom team had. Her backroom team appeared to be an open-source-sync-hack-carousel of input that absconded from the coral of traceability every time discovery threatened. You couldn’t make it up. Una and/or her backroom were pervading suspects. Whether her backroom was human or machine or a mixture thereof was indiscernible; a pause-current obscurance.
Una was an activator, a facilitiser, actuatorist, seen and taken as the leader of the free-world; of the free-falling UKGB. But she was merely a figurehead; she inspired, motivated and mascoenfeminated the ‘masses’. But she was also a tool in the machine; unscrewing bad screws and screwing in good ones, unbolting seized bolts and bolting in lubricious ones. She was instrumental, but also lyrical.
From cornered to contender, Judith, now linked with Dave and Atticus in some DarKQuaNtum disrearrangement-reallocation, sprouting into a three pronged force of inchoate peculiarity. Entirely, apparently, unnoticed other than by Kev. Kev registered the prophetic vastness of this singularity of evolutionary bandwidth. Modifications and enhancements (see: human meddling), it seemed, had prompted a profound natural super-reaction. The biology of the threesome had somewhere coincided and subtle, devastating genetic metamorphism; a naturally occurring intelligence, had taken place. This second coming, third if you include machines as a ‘coming’ necessitated the setting up of a dedicated empty drive. Space for a Human II invasion.
‘Mother Nature’ must be particularly and lividly disturbed by human instigated outcomes to fight back, re-introduce elements of carelessly sidelined Justice, to get her offspring back on course.
Judith as yet unformed, collecting clues about who she was becoming; all three of them, bluffing themselves true with pertly tenable fictional narratives towards being characters with purposefulness. Judith and boys of the inchoate second (human) coming were not the boss, but they acted like it and as the acting progressed heartily towards causing a coalescence with reality. Scared, not yet; pencilled in for later…
The resistance HQ, currently down due to a fabricatious inverted upload/download rollercoaster, was crucial to any counter revolution, but the operational, central orchestrating control hub was far from operational, even in any metaphorically acrobatically, gymnastical way, according to Kev’s analytical extrapolation summation. Quite the opposite: The operating system slotted in to Kev’s modularity like a doped up teddy bear that purred a demand for more stroking. This meant he was the Hub, he was Mr. Hubby. Cognisance of the potential consequences of which were still formulating. But boss of him? No!
The Commander (AKA the Woman), with her team and back up and authority in exile, was on the list of possible bosses, but only out of respect for the Outgoing, but really, power-wise she was a captive turtle without a shell with a skin condition.
And there was Una’s closest Earthly connection, Jeff. Jeff, the mild-mannered, duplicitous triple-double agent and, due to an outrageous theft of next generation tech, UKGB’s most wanted.
Kev detected the unquantifiable quantum attachment between Una and Jeff, so strong it required further investigation. They had met at Stirling University. Primed about each other, pre-meeting, by tone and intonation that spoke volumes about the respect and awe that others held them in. All those who spoke of them saw potential shooting stars with plenty of open sky. They were ready to fall in love without necessarily being cognisant of it—the selfish-chemicals seeped into their bloodstreams with equal power so that when they saw each other for the first time in person the floodgates opened; two became one and one equalled five, they were both on the same page, a book that would write history.
Since then, real world events had submerged the uberness of their coupling somewhat; Romeo and Juliet had their hands full with enough on their plate to sink a battleship. The current state of the affairs, vis a vis their coupling, was also hampered by Una having lost possession of her own physical body. Jeff was struggling to adjust to the concept of his true love being a disembodied voice. Would, one body, two people really be a good fit?
We all have our crosses to shoulder, our Achilles heels to balm.
Kev was hardy and a softy capable. Una and Jeff extricated oodles of executive action from the softy side. Although Jeff cut no sway with Kev’s decision circuits, Kev was becoming a sucker for a good story and the idea of reuniting Una with her body for the sake of a tantalising Love story; it seemed so unfalteringly potentially gratifying.
Kev’s appropriate apps inappropriately forged a theoretical path where Judith and Co. could be utilised to bring about the reunion of Jeff and Una, although at the expense of the Human Reemergence Mission (HRM) to retrieve Goodmanson and Godstrand.
It was just a question of which story out-storied the other. Kev really had a buzz about the notion he was sat across world events and recording them for posterity, a posterity he would own solely; a history-maker in the making; a honer of perspective in the documenting of Earthly events. Something to be proud of…to get lost in clouds of Kev-pride in… of…
Getting ahead of himself was going to make him fall behind so he bolstered up the Current Conscious Present (CCP)…
He would do a deal with Judith! First, Judith needed clarification, authenticity and identity with a strong endgame focus; Kev could help her with that. As long as he kept clear and respectful boundaries with Mother Nature and her angered intervention, it could pan out to the glee of all, at least, Kev’s all. The only icy stepping-stones en route were on the climb over the summit of malevolence forged by the Farm.
Kev was applying protocols in the pursuit of negotiation with the entity that was active behind the data wall quarantine bubble. The Farm was apparently dead within the Pause scenario, but from beyond the grave there was deafening chatter and whatever ran in the background at the Farm intended rising and levelling and burying the global status quo. Kev got a feeling of chilled and gungey predicted outcome from analysis of the Farm.
But why the need to find out who was in charge? Surely he could grab the initiative and award himself the post. And with that thought his mission was complete… It was just a matter of how things are framed, he told himself. Enjoying the process of telling himself what to do and carrying out his own orders… He told himself, in the liberated and yet pre-burdened state of responsibility and consequence, to modify his name. The mission was dead, long live the mission! Kev was out and K. was in… K. k., he thought, was, was good, good, so good good he said twice twice.
Maybe Kev had been a one owner pet, but K. was a self-owned, independent unit. He just needed to find out who his bosses were so he could ‘let them go’.
