Staplers and hole-punch
Paper, signatures, and stamps
Busy, busy work
Audit error, office closed
Oncoming apocalypse

---

“If you are viewing this instructional video, you may be having some glitches with your audit processes. Don’t panic. From time to time, any bureaucracy worth its hole-punch will need to conduct an audit.

Daily dandy-desk-documented fun
Standard sunny-systematised-stapled hijinks

However, sometimes, there is a clerical error, or worse, a process deviation. If this occurs during an ordinary, 8:45am-5:20pm workday, the standard review process can be implemented, commencing on the same day, should the error be detected before 12pm, and if later than 12pm, commencing on the next working day. The typical review timelines can then follow, ideally 3-5 business days for information gathering, followed by committee consideration dependent on the 6-weekly cycle and agenda length.

Expected. Thorough. Busy. Reassuring.
All systems nominal.
Stamping and signing rates above baseline.
Working hard, at a sensible, sustainable pace. Amiright?

Unfortunately, occasionally,
something cataclysmic happens
bottom right on the risk matrix
(likelihood=E (rare) x consequence=5 (catastrophic))

Hold onto your staplers…
A fault occurs during the audit.
An audit error in the error audit.
This results in the dreaded, circular,
Paper Ouroboros Paradox.  
At this point, the
perfectly procedured
copybook committeed
faultlessly filed
bureaucracy
will implode.

The only way of avoiding POP is
a concurrent process to audit the
audit, we call this The Meta Audit.  
The bookish amongst you may want to say
that would increase the circularity
(moving POP from likelihood=E, to D!)
Don’t worry, we run the Meta Meta
Audit to make sure that never happens.

Our favourite galactic bureaucrat avatars, the Vogons, were the first race to encounter the pure, paper-curling hell of TMA. That is why these instructions are written in poetry, of sorts. But not Vogon-authored poetry, of course, even though
the quality
and honestly
the policy
of the potential use
of these directions
or sections
or connections
for torture
Have never been directly investigated.

The KPI for TMA is known as the
Kafka-Cockroach Distance
measured in imaginary cockroach lengths (icL).

Under potential conditions of
POP, the TMA KPI KCD starts at
42 icL
     and counts down with
     every fatal meta error:
       -Information presented to audit
         committee in triplicate
         instead of quadruplicate,
41 icL
      -Audit presentation containing
        27 slides instead of 26,
        as clearly outlined,
40 icL
     -Email about colonoscopy sent
       to audit address list instead of mum,
39 icL
     And so on.

You’ll know when you reach 17 icL,
You’ll see the cockroaches.
Conveniently, this makes measurement simpler

Now you know how to calculate your Kafka-Cockroach Distance, you can audit your audits with perfect assurance and insurance.

---

This bureaucracy
Kafkaesque catastrophe
Dear Douglas Adams
Thanks for giving me words for
Processing my processes

--Entry 0001--

At daystar distance, light-time 9.2
Reached orbit of a lonely little sphere
Inhabitants, galactic refugees
Lost beings fled for working atmosphere

From orbit I observe a solid wall
Bisecting the small planet into two
Is this the same as walls they made at home?
Before, their earth in ruin, they withdrew

Remote-scan sensors indicate two groups
One group in light brown garb, and one in beige
Communities uncoupled by the wall
No circumstantial need to co-engage

The beings take position near the wall
Their blasters in the air, as if to war
Will need a closer look to understand
Assembling ground crew for a recon tour

--End Entry--

--Entry 0010--

Away Team One have scouted both the camps
And both took great attention to explain
That cosmic contrasts sit between the two
So never to be reconciled again

The 'Northers', in their light brown town, *****
To Iris, God of Moon, a monument
The eye a symbol of this watching one
A stone displays his holy document

‘O God of cycles, ebb and flows of life,’  
The stone acclaims this lunar deity
The tablet smooth on left, and rough on right
Abiding token of fertility

The 'Southers', in their beige, build one as well
But this, a shrine to Os, the God of Bones
His sigil skull expresses loss and death
Indelibly recorded on his stone

‘O God of dying, born of earth and sky,
Hereafter and rebirth as well as death’
This stone that sits adorned with crook and flail
--is baby-smooth on right, and rough on left

Away Team One weaved worry through their tale,
A looming war was set to decimate
So, find a concrete plan to intervene
And hope and pray that we are not too late

--End Entry--

--Entry 0100 --

Away Team Two report the wild events
This sphere will be immortalised in verse
For these effects of war upon this day
So tracked that all our plans could not reverse

The first explosives wall-bound from great arms
Start slowly causing breech and then a fall
The northern and the southern lands revealed
Sameness no longer hidden by the wall

And for the first time see the glory stones
Sit, monument atop, aloft on shrine
An eery match in form and font and voice
A paired, reflected hail to the divine

An astral silence, weapons come to rest
Then reverent 'Northers' fetch their hallowed stone
While devout 'Southers' hold their tablet too
A meeting reuniting moon and bone

And suddenly as tablets are aligned
The warriors unblinded to the con
Of holy tablets two, and each with God
At origin the two were only one

The beings face-to-face now with their God
Examining the reassembled tome
Not Os and Iris, but Osiris there
A single God writ on a single stone

So smaller differences in brown and beige
And seeming larger gaps from death to birth
       Now seen complete, more holy as their whole
       Dualities reflected in one soul
Now possible a new united earth        

--End Entry--

I shiver with a nervous chill
As I stand incredibly still.
Dressed in black of silk, twice-pressed,
A rose of red upon my breast.

High King Alasdair lies at rest,
Pickled corpse dressed in solemn best.
Stone-faced priests in ritual vests
Offer up incense cakes to guests.

Silent is the Hall of Passing,
False the tears of those in mourning.
Every sigh a shrilling laugh,
Grief and pain all pre-choreographed.

Seven spiders and fourteen lice,
Coven of liars, lords of vice:
Every one enseated here,
Scheme and plot whilst stewing in fear.

Cosmic thread of lies enweaved,
******* sons and daughters conceived:
Fighting for the Starry Throne–
The sounds of war give pleasured moans.

As a Requiem starts to play,
All who are present bow to pray.
Great and grand Galactic Mass,
Liturgy for a blessed farce.

Past the ghastly Introitus,
"Kyrie Eleison!"–Have mercy on us.
Ships and drones now lie in wait,
Pistols, disablers, knives and fate.

I get up and say my prayers.
Leave this hall of **** betrayers.
As I close the door behind,
Shots now click and fire in kind.

I breathe a sigh: it's coming soon.
Power shifts like the waning moon.
Death and Hades at our door:
Seven-way galactic war.

All great creative storytellers know,
As you do, Adams, Asimov, and Wells,
The time machine was built so long ago

Expression chassis, tonal power cells,
The primary engine, sending us with word,
As you do, Adams, Asimov, and Wells

The second engine, flashback, and a third
—portend, exhausts each piston-fired clue,
The primary engine, sending us with word

The epoch steering, future or review,
Remember back, or forward fantasy
Portend exhausts each piston-fired clue

Captain Imagine, Wingman Memory,
With engines run on image, tone, and phrase,
Remember back, or forward fantasy

Like Atwood, Pratchett, Liu, and Philip K,
All great creative storytellers know,
With engines run on image, tone, and phrase,  
The time machine was built so long ago

Dance for me, dear minstrel of the moon,
Sing languidly, sweet flute of the lune.
Tressed in silver trains and sashed with gleaming stars,
Galaxies for your flowing mane, Princess of Mars.

White against red, like blood to linen cloth–
Such is your skin, as soft as a white moth:
A spot of whitewash, a drop of pure milk
That stains the heavy crimson sky with silk.

Descending from your ship of steel,
Your gaze in veils of iron concealed,
You step onto the sand of the Moon –
The first of foreigners in the land of Aün.

A grand procession seeps from the ships:
Brass, woodwinds, and pipes on their lips,
Maidens of braided coiffures and gowns,
Menservants bearing jewelry and crowns.

Lances, spears, percussion, and cheer,
The Universe revels in awe and fear.
Gonfalons, standards, colors, and banners:
Kings, lords, and men of all manners,

Gathered from every corner of this Realm,
With ships of all sizes, and captains at their helms,
To witness and celebrate a sacred union
Of two people, two nations, in a blessed fusion.

Aün and Imandi, two worlds made one,
A union, a tie, dare challenged by none.
The Moon and Mars now weaved with a loom
Of iron and silver–the bride and groom.

O Princess of Mars, allow me one last glance,
As the breeze whips your hair in a dance,
As your dress sways to a sweet lullaby,
As I whisper a final goodbye.

Though I’m unworthy, allow me this word,
I’ll dare to say it, though it sounds absurd:
I love you, o princess–a plain, simple love.
With my heart of hearts, like a tender dove.

Not a love of pain and lust,
Neither one of ashes and dust.
Though it’s rude, admit it I must,
Lest my strength be made to rust.

Go, dear princess. Take your prince’s hand;
Enter with his people, his heart, and his land.
For now is not the time to weep,
But to sing, twirl, dance, and leap.

A cheer erupts from the gathered crowd–
Ten thousand races, hands aloud;
Brass resound a hymn from Mars,
Pipes and drums echoing the stars.

With a forlorn gaze, I sigh and falter.
With quivering breath, I sadly whisper,
“Farewell, dear princess. May your years be prosperous,
And your love be stronger than a fortress.”

With one last look, I turn away,
Boarding my ship, the 'Evergray'.
Though I’ve no plans, I’ll return someday,
A visit to the Prince and Princess I will pay.

In the heart of the city, where magenta veins pulsate,
A symphony of lights, where shadows dissipate.
Alleys whisper secrets, in electric glow they bathe,
Where loneliness is currency, in another world depraved.

Billboard signs flicker like fireflies in the night,
A digital dance, a city's heartbeat in flight.
In the labyrinth of circuits, where dreams collide,
Loneliness echoes, in the depths where souls want to hide.

Fast-paced technology, a relentless stream,
In the dimly-lit alleys, lost souls scream.
Connections fleeting, in a cybernetic maze,
Anxiety is thriving, in the digital craze.

In the city smog's haze, where futures are sold,
Humanity fades, in a world growing cold.
Echoes of the past, in the television's static hum,
Heartbroken minds persist, in the city's artificial thrum.

Yet amidst the chaos, a flicker of hope,
In the sprawling streets, where outcasts elope.
For in the depths of darkness, a spark ignites,
A rebellion against loneliness, in the rain-drenched nights.

So let the puddle glow, let it guide the way,
Through fiberglass and darkness, we'll find our day.
In the embrace of technology, we'll carve our fate,
And in the retina-burning neon lights, we'll find a new state.

© fey (27/04/24)

/ Blade Running \

Making memories,
Wondering who sent for me,
If it wasn’t you then who was it,
& if you didn’t send for me then why are you here next to me,

Self preservation is the first law of nature,
From animal to human from human to machine,
Antisocial butterflies restlessly cramped in our cocoons,
Part plant part mineral part alien fully human being,

Sure we converse with other persons,
But we converse more with ChatGPT,
Hey AI I have a question,
Do ‘Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?’,

Even Philip K ****,
Doesn’t know what the answer is to this mystery is,

Half man half nocturnal machine,
Half real life half diurnal dream,

Were we born or were we made maybe it’s the same thing,

Maybe there isn’t a difference or so it would seem,

“You don’t believe,
In miracles because you’ve never seen a miracle.”,
That’s why you’re willing to **** for a fee,
& why you’re always so sterile & cynical,

& maybe that’s why I write,
More than I do anything else,
As a way of trying to jog your memory,
While running up the bill,

At the bar trying to wash away,
Things that still affect me even though they can’t be totally recalled,
In this present day sci-fi anti-climactic dystopia like Arnold,
Call me Jack of All Trades & I’ll call you Jill of It All,

Getting drowsy,
Must be the pills,
On a plane,
On my way to somewhere else,

Travel so much,
Sometimes I wake up & don’t know what country I’m in,
It’s a dog eat dog world so cat naps can be dangerous,
Especially when you drink while sleep walking on Ambien,

A creature with amnesia & beautiful features,
How’d you become such a miracle,
Are you really that perfect,
Or is that just the way I remember you,

Guess it doesn’t matter either way,
Because maybe I don’t even remember you,
Maybe you’re not mine because maybe you never were,
Maybe nothing is mine not even the memories I have of you,

Maybe it’s all just programing,
Maybe we’re all just programs,
Programed to play our part,
In The Grand Program,

Programmed by the wizard behind the curtain,
Or by the woman behind the glass wall,
Maybe in the end we have the same thing we had in the beginning,
Which is absolutely nothing at all,

Maybe that’s why I’m making memories,
Wondering who sent for me,
If it wasn’t you then who was it,
& if you didn’t send for me then why are you here next to me,

Self preservation is the first law of nature,
From animal to human from human to machine,
Antisocial butterflies restlessly cramped in our cocoons,
Part plant part mineral part alien fully human being,

Sure we converse with other persons,
But we converse more with ChatGPT,
Hey AI I have a question,
Do ‘Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?’,

Even Philip K ****,
Doesn’t know what the answer is to this mystery is…

∆ LaLux ∆

From ABC: The Beginning Of The End
Available worldwide on all platforms and in all mediums, Audiobook, Paperback, Digital, and Hardcover

I woke up with a noose around our neck.
I thought it wasn't real,maybe,
a scene from a dream?
The snapping of the tree branch.
You use your nocturnal carte blanche
for just this one thing, it seems?
Every night you're given another chance.
Perchance;
Shrubbery snubbed your success, this time.
Instead of being caught by the bushes,
We could've collided into those boulders below!
Luck decided to show.
Intervened when there was no one else to.

I stranded us both on this island:
it's just me and you.
What delusions helped shape your one truth?
This island is a (psychological) poker table for two.
I deal from the deck.
We play a game reminiscent
of four-hand Omaha.
Sitting across from each other:
It always ends in a draw.

You know I can read your poker face.
You know I detest the one desire you chase.

Make your excuses:
They won't help you leave this place.
I see the ace up your sleeve:
It has always been homicide.

I wish you saw this body same as I-sacred.
Its purpose is to serve us,not be desecrated.
Everyday I pray in its name.
you prey.
plotting its demise at night.

One temple.
Two temperaments.
Your one-way fight.

at the Altar I pay tithes.
We are two alters-tied.
You wish to ***** out my life,
Yet abhor the idea of suicide.

I will never leave your bloodlust unchecked.
Your worst intentions(what do they reflect?)
You once could reside in the heart of the city,
Near the coast, by a bustling transit station.
I emerged that day to save them all from you-
You planned to derail a monorail
with a distraction,
Disguised as an altercation.
denied you your reverie
Of a premeditated killing spree,
stranded us intentionally far out at sea.
your constellation prize now
is trying to **** me.
You plant your ***** traps in the dark
while I'm sound asleep.

One morning
I
awoke
and water welcomed our lungs.
Weights wound round our feet,
took us down deep where fishes sleep.
One morning
I
awoke
and smelled smoke clawing at our throat.
Only one entrance in and out of our cave.
and of course: you'd set the entrance ablaze
One morning
I
awoke
and was in a daze
You had consumed something similar to peyote.
Slathered our skin in spices with a savory glaze,
then left us to be eaten in a den full of coyotes.

One morning
I
    awoke   And
One morning I
awoke
And
This morning I
Awoke
and this time. instead of death traps ...
my notebook was nestled in my lap.

ripped out pages I had written
-directed at you-
you glued them to trees with their own sap.
Splayed them out like Hansel and gretel,
for me to follow like a trail or a map.

But I'm no fool.
Luring me on a paper trail to buy my trust.
Where are the trojans that you've hidden?
Trying this new scheme
to occupy my attention.
I know you wish to slice and dice.
If I lose and you win:
we both will pay the price.

Yet, still I follow your route.
I have hope for what you want me to see.
I will always love you
because you're a part of me.

Maybe we can play a new game?
Learn from one another?
I know you think I'm your enemy,
but I've always seen you as my brother.

Shudder-I smell death.
I approach a clearing in the woods.
why have you brought me here?
Atop an amalgamation of numerous dead fowl, fish, rabbits, (those same) coyote
and deer.
A single piece of paper;
clear off the guts and grime.
Tears in my eyes, holding the paper dear.
That single sentence you wrote down:

I never thought I'd live to see this day.
That one line,

that one line was all I ever hoped to hear you say:

           
        "Together at our Altar we will pray."


-

Darkness made clearer
By the accretion disk of a collapsed star
Gravity is a force that binds us now:
Defining how strong we are

In our weakness we could not resist
Compelled towards a rift in the sky
distorting reality
A monstrosity not even light can escape
The irony being that we can assuredly
See our fate

Time slowed down as we neared it
soon it simply froze
We sailed past the event horizon
-onward toward a secret that through fear:
not even time is willing to expose

The nose of our vessel ripped apart
Ejecting us from the safety of our ship,
"The Noah's ark"
Unable to atone for the embryos aboard
we had lost
we drifted alone,
Together,
in the dark

rushing head first
towards the heart of oblivion
The mission escaped from our mind
as tidal forces began spaghettifying our skin

This wasn't the first time
A few seconds felt like
They would never end
Our destiny swallowed
by a black hole in outer space
Consuming our only hope
to restart the human race

Yet in this place I feel peace
we are shown a secret
that no man should ever see
Right before I desist
Collapsing Into that eternal nascent sleep

Something from beyond the singularity,

speaks...

I close my eyes.


                   "Such sweet release."

Once more the Big Bang occurs
Each time spurred on by the spark
of the sleeping child's dream of reality
A naked singularity inflates
at an exponential rate
Subsisting on the substrate
of her slumbering psyche

Her neural networks create galaxies
Energy expended directly from REM sleep
spent on the formation of solar systems
and stars
comets crash land carrying key components
for the conditions of future life on Earth
and Mars

Within the primordial soup
Of the third rock from the sun
Residing in the ocean
-life has just begun
Microbes photosyntesize carbon
Giving Earth an atmosphere rich with oxygen
Arbitrary factors steer evolution
Tetrapods mutate from fish
becoming amphibious

Exodus.

Something steps onto the surface
- for the first time
Two billion years have elapsed
mere minutes move in the girl's mind

It was maybe thirty minutes since
she bade her mom goodnight
The child sleeps tight
Meanwhile a caveman strikes flint on timber
The resulting embers form a fire
Providing him with warmth and some light

Callous winds from outside conquers
the comfort of her comforter
A chill permeates the child's skin
This feeling reverberates all the way down
The first ice age begins
A frozen world of snow
For eleven thousand years
Her mother creeps in closing her window
The ice age ends

External stimuli
affects those things which rely
on her to sustain sleep

The 21st century is past the prime of its peak
The greenhouse effect from carbon
Corrupts the ozone, making it weak
Wars carry on over resources or religion
Water levels rise and countries
remain in division
Governments pick payouts over compassion  
Indifferent to what happens
With their most vulnerable citizens
Letting most rot in for-pay private prisons
Yet far removed from all these chaotic conditions in this society,
...The child still snoozes,ever so quietly

There's no more gods In the 2,001st century.

In their place, now only harmony and grace
Humanity banded together as a unified race
galvanized toward a single, common goal
To flee the dying planet
before it swallows them all whole

A contingency plan is put in place
For when the scientists fail
and the Earth collapses under its own weight
A ship will be sent deep into outer space
containing embryos and astronauts
suspended In a cryogenic state

The sun assaults the closed blinds
Testing the resolve of the resting child...

Two astronauts are jolted awake
En route,they believe
To a viable new world to habitate
Earth imploded five decades past
But with mass embryonic incubation
-they will revive humanity
Saving it from the brink
of all-out annihilation,
All that hinges on is if they can first safely reach:
Their destination

A routine glance
at procedural scans on the screen
Shows they shifted an exigious sum
while they were sustained in cryogenic hibernation
This detour turned exponential;
when you tally up the years
They fail to attain any feelings aside from fear
for this journey they must now embark
a single line of corrupted code controls their ship,
"The Noah's ark"
These last two have veered so far
from what would have been humanity's
new home
-With no way to course correct
They suspected their task would take a toll
But they were not expecting anything
like this:

Adrift towards a rift in reality
The ship's malfunction
steered them in its wake
It's too late now:
-far too close they can't escape
That dark incision distends itself
gourging on time and space
There is a beauty to how things end
Watching superheated gas and dust aggregate
Creates an accretion disk concealing vacuity
-Yet shines much brighter
than an angel's halo
The two astronauts strap in to the cockpit
With front row tickets to the show:
...just how far down the black hole,
         are you willing to go?

The mother returns,
fully opening the blinds
Cuddles next to her resting child...

Meanwhile Inside the singularity
The last human sees a secret and weeps
He's peering beyond the veil now
Into a little girl's room who is asleep
Yes, he sees her clear
her mother spoons her nestling near,
Shakes her shoulders softly,
whispers into her daughter's ear,
-As she does every morning day,
" what did you dream of this time, my dear?"

She kisses her daughter on the cheek
The little girl yawns as she speaks
Birds outside have started to sing:

"Momma, I think I dreamed of...Everything?"

His eyes close
The man gives in to that sweet release
All of her internal creations ceast
Consumed
as the child is wrenched from the well
Of her own unconscious infinity
The pocket dimension contained within her
Is decimated as she arises
All that energy then metabolizes
to sustain her life
And when she rests it will be divested
once again
To create a new dimension-
as it does every night

Eternal Bloom
Entire galactic timetables and scales contained
In the slumbering soul of a six-year old
She will grow old
She will wither
She will die
As the world's which reside in her do,
When she wakes.

- when she meets her fate
On that operating room table
at the age of 98
the light which emanates at the end of the tunnel

Was merely a father's mistake.

Illumination cast killing darkness
In the bedroom of his home
he absentmindedly turned up the brightness
While playing on his phone
She takes one last breath then fades to grey
In sync with the father stowing his device away
Not alone in his room
he snuggles in for the night
-And can't help but smile
Unaware of the realms
that depend on the dreams

Of his own unassuming, resting child.

-