1.22 Agent Ayakashi steps out of his den broken flourescent tube crowned on his head armor, within his quick silver penise case, morning bliss condensing into beautiful pink frost and which will never sneak glimpses of dawn sky. Duskbrief clouds track into the dark morning, the road is frozen mud which cracks into contrasts of black and white under foot as he makes his way to the stock market. The ride is dull, punctuated only by the turning world. He wades through the commuters a strobe of a lies everywhere gets off the bus and to the railway station where the company have a starspangled banner painted, superstreached  limo waiting for him. The driver stands sad lonely boy balanced precariously on the edge of a cliff, sea spray and crash of waves drifting up toward him only the finest mist when it reaches his rosy cheeks. They drive off listening to the news on the latest  crush at the fareastern stock market caused by Financial Big Bang; some had wrongly predicted as the beginning of economic history for the 21 st century, Mr B is now at a point in space, 186,000 miles from Earth at point B. "21st century where?", " Sound travels at the rate of 1114 feet per second" 21st century in the land of forgotten occidentals, the memory of his grand mother's childhood still lingers on Agent Zero's pubescent dreams, 21st century where within the city limit of interzone WSB continue to strike his repetitious gestures, he mombles sometimes inaudible sound but between those premature syllables of unborn words, you hear one-sentence monologues like "the only love in my life was a man named...." or but "I ____(unrecorded) for Joan" WSB and his fatigued gay deciples stroll around the barren land, I was struck by sudden visions of Jesus Christ in Chinese opera, walking across the top of vast mesa by the Yellow River, or a crazy mormon preacher in a gothic half coat, passing the knowledge of alternative history, at the end of his manifest desteny, finally discovers the emptiness of Utah.      

2.1 On arrival he signs a receipt and climbs up the few steps to the old brick doorway. It is a beautiful place, made of old sandstone built by some mill owner in the middle of the last century. The company delegates welcome him and he is shown into the meeting room. There the directors sit, not acknowledging his presence. They are all unaware of his position as agent and of the agency he works for, invisible, silent and non-existent in this space time coord. Too good an oportunity to be missed. Zero reaches into his bag and flicks a switch.

"Nothing personal" he lies before he erupts into an explosion of Presence.  

  2.2 On arrival at Siriraj hospital he signs a receipt and climbs up the few steps to the old brick doorway a few meters above the waterway. It is a beautiful place, made of old cajumaro trees built by some opium den owner in the middle of the last decade. The company delegates welcome him and he is shown into the meeting room. There the directors of atrocity exbition  sit, not acknowledging his presence. They are all unaware of his position as agent and of the agency he works for, invisible, silent and non-existent in this space time coord. Too good an oportunity to be missed. Zero reaches into his bag and flicks a switch.

"Nothing personal" he lies before he erupts into an explosion of  Presence.

    Atrocity Exbition

(Siriraj Crime Museum, Bankok, Thailand):

   Floating exactly 186,000 miles above the tropic of capricorn, concealed in a cryogenic chanber Andrew cuts in: The agent looks down. he has no legs but long green tentacles He has prepared for this moment all of his life, he knows what's about to happen. A large ocean wave sweeps him into the cold sea. he is naked. The enemy female agent appeared 100 yards to the right,armed with the deadly poison tipped speargun. For some ungodly reason he feels himself becoming intensely sexually aroused. Is this part of her arsenal of weaponry? The death of the agent will have an erotic quality. His loss of concentration allows her to fire a harpoon which lodges in his liver(warning, ultra explicit contents). The water clouds red and he feels himself dying, all he can think about is the color of the red blood surging and swirling around him. He remembers himself, a child playing with small pebbles in the hot New Jersey sunlight. He sees his father helping him ride his first bicycle down the oak tree lined street. Losing consciousness he sees the enemy agent remove a long glimmering knife and slice his head off. All he could do is smile at the thought of his de capitated head floating into the mouth of a waiting shark.(CAUTION, CAUTION,CAUTION, DO NOT EVEN BOTHER TO TOUCH THE LINK IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH), The Agent awakes, he realizes he had been drugged. He wonders if he revealed the location of The Zone while under the Ketamine injection(.ra). He looks down at his throbbing erection. The nurse arrives dressed as a Prostitute and starts sucking his cock. She sits poised above his stiff prick teasing him. "Tell me the location of The Zone and I will sit on your cock, " she coos like a seductive viper. "Tell me the location and you will never feel pain again, " she whispers and strokes his begging rod, dripping with sweat. The agent has been well trained, he cracks open a cyanide spray pellet in his right bi cuspid and sprays it down her mouth.Dying she sinks onto his waiting cock and he explodes in a fantastic orgasm of crystal light.  

>Hey sister melissa,
>I want you to know you are now an official member of THE ZONE!
>The Zone is being created to protect creative artist from the uncaring masses, politicos and art flunkies.
>OUR SLOGAN :
>THE ZONE PROTECTS IT'S OWN!
>While the Zone is against all forms of physical violence
>any member who is physical threatened or stalked by
>demonic forces will protected by any means neccessary.
> 
Andrew


The agent looks down."A missing factor in any equation. The invisible mould of what is not that inexorably determines what is: The Inferential Kid from Pluto can blow up the planet with a pinhead or freak if you prefer, or as easily and cooly reorder the planet with silent shifts of his inferential departments or departures as the case may be." He has prepared for this moment all of his life, he knows whats about to happen. He sends his spirit up, above the animated ghosts of those with him in the dead land, avoiding the dogs summoned to take them onwards. The dogs leap in amongst the directors and managers tearing them apart before dragging the still animated and torn limbs off before Yama, king of the dead. Yama sits, his evil glare piercing with laser shots into the jumbled remains while Zero looks on, standing to his left. One by one the pieces are sorted by the guards and thrown before the giant mirror that is fixed by Yama's side. One by one the old men are forced to look into it, see themselves, and scream before disintegrating into dust which falls inbetween the cracks of the floor back to the living world below. Judgment and sentencing is always passed by your reflection. There is no other way. Then it is Agent Zero's turn. As he steps forward, a ripple of long forgotten knowing floats to the surface of his mind.He summons his total will, focuses it into a beam of golden light and directs it toward the mirror which disintegrates into a shower of light, a crystalline halo of flickering silver dust hanging in the noonday air. He laughs out loud as the remembering dawns, "Je n'existe pas!"
   

"The man, identified as a relatively low level employee, was heard  to shout a single word before the detonation that ended the lives  of 16 people, including himself. 'Aramchek'. Is this the name of  some new terrorist group or cult or is it the product of a sick, lonely and desparate mind? As yet, no demands have been made, no responsibility taken for this monstrous act of violence.  This is Ken Kenneth of TraK news, goodnight."

        "I am the time unaccounted for between the camera and  what the camera takes. I am the mark who wises up when  he couldn't wise up. I am the power that beats the film studio  with a box camera, a regiment of tanks with a slingshot"   

He was in what they'd nicknamed the bardo, after the Tibetan word for the state inbetween lives. His consciousness blipped him for the briefest of moments as he was dump-loaded down into a new body from the CaSC (developed with future tech sent back for the battle. Using the model of nature a skilled technician can create a bio-model of ones and zeros capable of holding a human personality; a soft machine. There is some degradation over prolonged periods of storage and an agent can become lost in the Bardo, "going zero". The other problem agents face with this method follows in line with the work of K in the early 20th C. Each time an agent adopts a new body he is affected by its physical structure and his personality subtly remoulded. Several agents have been turned because of serious flaws with the body that has been grown with them making them more open to Control. It is all an unpleasant experience and the agents look forward to a day when suicide is no longer necessary.) He opened his eyes into a different world, again. "I lost my fear of dogs in Tibet"

The technical side of this Bardo operation involves the fine workmanship of neurological cut-and-paste. The art of juxtaposition which was discovered (or rather rediscovered for how many times) by Surrealists at the beginning of previous century was finally applied to the art of  brain and vertebrate surgery, from the frontal part of cerebrum where was proven to reside the sense of self, through the vertebrae's neuro-electrical highway down to the peripherals, the sophistication in the laser surgery determines the precision in the transmigration of agents soul into another entity. Once approximately seven or eight earth years ago, a agent made a request that his consciousness should be transported  into his late lover's Akita dog, the request was granted and after the operation three hours and forty seven minutes longer than usual, his soul, his entity was successfully transplanted into the body of Akita. As years go by despite the phonetic disadvantage as a dog, with slight inflection the agent Akita mastered to speak Tibetan which was his lover's mother tongue. The Trans-specie operation was successful on most mammals with the exception of Siamese cats and border collies for their temperaments and hyper sensitivity.

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A dog's life expectancy is 100 years these days due to the recent development in veterinary. However Agent Akita, who was sent undercover to 1950's San Francisco to inquire on an unsound development of psychic charges across the Bay area, was run over by a crowded trolley. Some say he saw a shadow of his long-lost lover whose spiritual death was the outcome of Agent Akita's lack of faith. A few 1/1000th of seconds before the expiration, the agent Akita, paralyzed by the  trolley train rushing toward the wondering body of his, he channeled the high-bandwidth brain wave to the Arpanet and E-mailed, his last message reads: "Love to all, active free agents, the net is vast and inescapable, over and out"  


The message sends shockwaves throughout the western world. Disgruntled employees and redundant victims no longer need to walk into their offices with MG's to act out their revenge. Their targets come into focus as the heads of companies. A little bit of thought goes a long way. Boards and directorates cower, especially after the assassination of two heads of major Secret Services (which shall rename nameless) and suddenly no-one wants to be in charge. "But the show must go on, old chap." Those forced into the top positions become paralysed with fear, even the promised better security proves unable to keep Aramchek away. There's no defense against people willing to die.