The Heist of the Century

The scene is a cliché.

Somewhere a top a dark and stormy mountaintop in Aspen sits a grand old five star hotel. Hundreds of rooms are laid with exquisite décor to relax the high flyers and tycoons that need it most. Gold-flocked wallpaper stares out onto four poster beds of rich mahogany and the mini bar is stocked with the finest tipples from across the globe. The lines of pure Columbian cocaine are pre racked by Puerto Rican maids who are disposed of weekly and the young boys are fresh from the Congo – It’s a vulture’s paradise.

Deep in its belly lies a smoke filled room lit by nothing more than a solitary desk lamp and cigarillo cherries flaring up at alternating intervals. The rain hammers against the pane and the lightning lights up the sky for miles around. The shadows of men hunch round the table and they have a plan. It will be executed without fail because they have the blood lust required and a thousand screaming banshees to do their bidding.

I can’t remember exactly when it happened. I was too young to be paying attention, I had the rare benefit of a childhood, but I knew it was there.

They had tried before, but it hadn’t worked quite the way they had planned. It had been going on since the sixties and there was hope, but it wouldn’t be until the mid eighties that things started to kick off. I don’t think they ever expected this to be their success story, but by the mid two thousands, more than a third of the worlds population were connected via a host of giant servers dotted across the globe.

Never in the history of man had people been so well linked to one another. The ability to share information, news, music and anything you could think of was unprecedented, even in its earliest incarnations. It took a while, but their patience paid off. The crack epidemics of the eighties were nothing compared to this and it outpaced Television by miles. In less than ten years, they had almost half of the entire population of the world addicted to something much more dangerous than drugs. The Internet.

Millions would go from leading a fairly regular existence of human interaction to detachable cyborgs junkies seemingly over night. All of a sudden all public places were filled with not only a younger tech savvy generation of bent necks, but anyone who was anyone. If you do not have a device glued to your hand for at least seventy percent of the day, you have missed out on:

Three separate kidnappings/war/a NSFW video of a small brown person in a faraway land beheading some other smaller brown person/cats with fluffy heads/war/epidemics/ goofball politicians saying the funniest things/hashtags/your ‘friends’ new baby/Bob Geldof/war and reams upon reams of subtle pornography.

You are a freak of nature, a lost ship in the night. You will be forgotten and shunned like a leper and banished to the ends of the earth unless you relent and succumb to this most unfortunate of evolutionary steps.

With the power of our supposed autonomy, we gave ourselves up to the slaughter like prized bulls high on mescaline, unaware of our ill-fated future, stumbling blindly towards the shiny glowing objects. They didn’t even need to force it upon us. They gave us the choice and we fell on our knees like greedy conquistadors, sinking slowly to the bottom of the river lonely and connected. It was us buying into the idea that made it work. We are forever magpies.

It would be unfair to say that this technological abomination is purely negative; it has the power to topple the kingdom from the inside, but it still works on the same principle of the lower classes working together. Unfortunately, through the comforting hum of a hard drive and the luminous glow of a screen, most people are so idly content in their own little worlds, they quite noticeably lose their minds when deprived of these innocuous devices. The people that are switched on are still the same as they were and will always be, but the thing is, even those people are becoming trapped inside this horrible machine whether they like it or not. It sucks you in on so many levels; you will never find a safe place to hide unless you go complete Luddite.

It is not just social media that snares you. It is the idea that everything you do is now conducted through a device; entertainment, shopping, working, socializing. All of these things, though they do not require it, add a greater convenience to your day thus becoming the norm. And slowly, over time it will be so integrated into society, that this idea of being free from it will be a footnote on our history and written about as the evil that ate the world in leftist folklore. Either that or it will come to a grizzly end, plunging the entire planet into chaos as the computer controlled systems that keep us ‘alive’ crash. People will realize everything they know is based on nothing tangible and hundreds of thousands will die because the god they depended on was unrealistic to our animal based principles.

They stole our minds and they did it so well we didn’t realize; a hundred million souls reeling in torment at the idea of become singular beings rather than an ephemeral idea of unity and love. The cries were faint and some heard, calling back in sadness and anger, but the rest had their ears plugged with little white noggins of plastic and wire. Music blared, the latest putrid chart hits dribbled like puss down into the ears, clogging them and solidifying any last ditch attempt at hope…. but then again, we have seen this all before and will see it all again. The pigs will always win and they shall be rewarded, but the cattle remain lame and punch drunk, lobotomized within an inch of their lives, burnt carcasses of human existence. Those of us with the benefit of a half functioning brain might join them out of desperation, or be doomed to spend the rest of our days living on the fringes of society, squabbling and claiming moral superiority. We are all slaves to an existence thrust upon us without choice and then we die. What we do with out time merely boosts or shatters our ego and hopefully doesn’t offend too many people, but then again, where is the fun in that?

‘Turn on tune in drop out’, a rallying cry of the freak movement has turned into the death knoll of our imaginations, but where there is fear, there will always be a fight.

These bastards will continue on their little rampage throughout history, but there will always be those of us setting fires, no matter how small; in reality it always plays out the same, just make sure you don’t drop guard.


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