MYTH

After the great collapse of the ego-empire, many of us had lost all hope. On the day of the explosion, our realities were forced into a new paradigm. Everything that we understood about ourselves and the space we inhabit had to be redefined. Even our identify, the one thing which we believed to be un-touchable, was taken amongst the primordial chaos of the birth of the new world. Before the detonation, we each subscribed almost entirely to our own individualised cosmology. This was a by-product of living within a society mechanised by the acquisition of possessions, and the progression of economic abstraction. In order for one to succeed, others inevitably had to fail and although we were ignorant to it, this had become the conduct of our relationships and the very essence of our existence.

On the morning of the new world, it became shockingly obvious that we could not return to the lives which had gone before us. The mythologies of the masses had, by default, become irrelevant. Our belief systems had become defunct, our dreams and fantasies extinct. The cold, visceral nature of waking up without narrative gave us the dawning revelation, the clear and cut-throat recognition that we are all alone.

Left without cultural narrative, many humans became savage. It was simply too much responsibility, too much commitment, too much effort to move forward in progressive, humanitarian ways. The terror had initiated a primal fear response, which had activated aggression within our souls. For many, the animal instinct became a survival strategy. An effective, but regressive way to avoid our own demise, driven by the terrifying fear of death itself. It had become clear that if we were to survive this new epoch we had arrived within, we would need to act, evolve and expand. We would need to create an entirely new culture.

Amongst the panic and mayhem of the detonation of 2032, I somehow found myself in a state of calm. Peaceful and somewhat pragmatic. I'd always had a feeling that epic change like this would come somehow, someday. So when the white light and sonic boom shook and shattered our snivilisation into a googolplex of insignificant pieces, I interpreted it as both pain and comfort, panic and hope, terror and liberty, fear and trust.

As the dust clouds faded, and the pink blue electrical storms retreated from our skies, those who weren't hopelessly acting out of desperate destruction, were acting out of calculated creation.  Out of my now blackened splintered glass window, I would regularly see people gathering materials from the wreckage of the old society. It wouldn't be long until some of us began to interact. I realised that I could not survive this alone. I would need to "find the others".

Over time, the optimistic of us began congregating in an old warehouse once used to manufacture machines for the capitalist economy. Phone circuits, internet cables, voice synthesis devices for children's toys, computer chips and disposable flashlights. Like almost all industrial production, the detonation had rendered this entire operation useless, and no-one was interested in this place anymore. The perfect place for a rebel network to begin.

Without any terminology for this reality that we existed within, we decided to give it a name. This zeitgeist would forever be known as "Apocaliptika". We shared stories of what we had been through and tried to form a real understanding of what had happened on that day. If we wanted to move into the future, we needed to learn from the past. Slowly, we pieced together a story. Each of us had different perspectives, but a pattern was emerging;  this apocalypse was engineered. By that I mean, it was not an organic event such as the decaying of a dead mouse or the life cycle of a star. It was manufactured, intentional. Divine. No-one could have imagined what would happen next.

Join the network, to follow dispatches from the frontline, as the resistance continues in 
The Chronicles Of Revelation.