Agents of an uninhabitable future we’ve returned seeking asylum within the ruins of this civilization. Hoping to recover the lost traces of our forgotten lives we wander the impossible streets of this vacuous age, each of us searching the fragments of blighted humanity around us for some semblance of recognition of our former subjectivations; of what we once were and can never become again. Like members of a conspiratorial legacy we drop hints here and there of what will be, unknowing in our intent that we are the one’s destiny decreed – beyond recourse or redress, to enact and bring it all to an end. Our mission is to scorch the earth of this disease named humanity, bring to an end its negations and wasted existence, wipe out the remaining traces of its indexical folds: those habits left upon the soft things of the earth, and lift from the fingerprints of time the dark contours of their blasted dreams and set them adrift in the abyss of oblivion’s eternal night.
But then it happens, the unlikely moment arrives, unbidden – a guest awakens, turns on the light, descends to the banquet hall, and she suddenly finds ‘ourselves’ standing there alone in the cold light surrounded by the blank faces of all the young eyes; an innocence that cannot be but is, a brightness of eyes singing of life rather than death. Our minds merged with the machinic process of subjectivation knows that things have changed forever; instantly attaining that limit of reason beyond which all things become others, singular and plural.
We will never be the same again. Our time on earth has been tempered by this vision of innocence, of a freedom from the pain and suffering of a dark future we can no longer remember nor inhabit. That our utopian dreams lie scattered all around us, leaves floating in a windy thought of sense; broken fragments of a war torn city troubled no more. Entering our task, gathering the leaves off the wasted plain, and into these vessels of an ancient and deadly curse, we now make of these remains a new City of the Living and Becoming Others: taking the final step beyond the human that always begins with the human trace lost among its vestigial memories and dreams… the grace and silence of a thought of being in its processual movement through time’s enclaves: the mirror of an impossible thought become real in the last instance of all that is or could become us.