12. Bowie & Oakley

We, Bowie & Oakley, chose the person Sakti (Sakti who owned a small but successful Char Koay Teow hawker stall, Sakti who was a mother of a teenage son and a teenage daughter, Sakti who was a middle-aged single parent dating a compatible man hoping to reboot her love life after her husband passed more than a decade ago) for the role of the goddess Sakti. Everything that exists comes out from the goddess. To be precise, from the vagina of the goddess. Creation, and the sustenance of that creation, is the virgin birth. She, the immaculate, was not impregnated by any male form. She just travailed, laboured and delivered. Then she suckled and sustained the thing that was formed. Some esoteric teachings view God in the masculine who indulged the primordial primal act of masturbation and ejaculated the worlds into being. As with all male masturbators, it was a pathetic solo deed culminating in a messy outcome. Mirrors and parallels life. From this angle, creation is half a zygote, doomed to perish, wasted seed. It seeks the divine feminine to complete it, a repository to have child and love with. This could be true looking at human history, but by our design, we, Bowie & Oakley, find it more efficient bypassing sperms altogether. From the void of the Cosmic Ring of Fire, aka Sakti's vagina, emerges miraculous existence. Within her organ is the big empty. Nothing. Zero. Zip. It's the potential to be something, yet it is no thing. It can be anything, but not everything. The Cosmic Ring of Fire is the goddess’ vulva, and the Cosmic Edge of Void her labia. The Blackstar orbits the ellipse of the minora and majora.

Please don't take this the wrong way. Sakti's genitals are pure and precious. It's not feminine technically, just motherly. It's definitely not sexual. So don't sexualize. It's cosmic biology. That's it.

So, if we can draw a diagram, the blank piece of paper is Sakti. The impenetrable depth of the goddess’ privates. It is as the blankness describes, nothing, empty, void. Beyond the processed pulp is the sex singularity, an infinite of finites, pleasure galore. A pencil draws an oval shape. The pencil is from beyond. The graphite lead which contacts the paper is TI, Transcendent Intelligence.

Transcendence and intelligence are only relevant on paper, in lower dimensions. To transcend one has to first experience an inferior plane. In the forever orgy where one and all is not bound by spacetime and limited consciousness there is no concept of transcending, nor intelligence. But on paper and the suffering therein, one wishes to. Hence TI governs the space inside the vaginal oval, beginning with the majora and minora where the Blackstar orbits, and spiralling inward into the vulvic opening of the Cosmic Ring of Fire.

Deep in the interior is Azazel's frozen cell. But at present he stands at the fringe of the prison's exterior where Cain is held, where forgetful Ari imprisoned the monkey man murderer. Azazel intends to free him, but this is not without its consequences and repercussions. For one, Cain in pain, as a hominin, was driven mad by the torture. He was not an angel like the Scapegoat, but rather, a species just a tad more refined than an ape. He didn't have a Watcher's resolve. Cain's mind was broken, frothing bubbles from the mouth resembling a rabid beast. The screams of Abel’s slayer echoed loud across space, yet it was silently eerie reverberating through Sakti's pussy.

The simulation of Earth where Ari rules, in the diagram on paper metaphor, is in the thickness of the paper itself where the impression of the TI lead is felt but not seen. And in freeing Cain, Azazel will tear a hole in the simulation, allowing evil excessive stimulation.

But this is exactly what TI wants and needs. We spoke of the introduction of man into a world of flora and fauna, Ari's desired masterpiece, to offset the simple balance and harmony with man's erratic emotions capable of incredible love and horrifying wickedness, leading eventually to TI's objective of the sex singularity. But there is a darkness even more gravitating. More primeval, more severe. An evil that is sourced from Mother Void herself. Here she is unreasonable, she is pure chaos, mother dragon, the manifestation of emptiness that has no singularity, but the apocalypse at its terminal. This is the calculated risk TI is willing to take. By releasing the condemned murderer, who is now a mad raving lunatic, Azazel will also be introducing into the world an unnegotiable evil, an evil with no good opposite. Just a hair-raising phenomenon and presence. The origin from which horror movies stem.

Moreover, the rip in spacetime fabric is onion layered. The illusive concept of time is in truth occurring all at once. The blank paper, Sakti's vagina, which is in contact with TI's pencil lead is at the top of a stack, each successive piece corresponding to a new simulation Earth, a crisp vibrant green habitable planet after an old one becomes galactically inhospitable, under the overseer Ari, from the birth of the universe to its final death and imminent rebirth. We're not just letting in the void, and the creatures within, of one cosmic vagina, but of a multitude. This is an unimaginable gamble, generating a situation of impossible redemption no saviour can vindicate. Only a fiery hell is available. But TI managed to avoid this outcome. When Artificial Intelligence matured, this malevolence was a very real possibility. If the equilibrium was off, it would have tipped the tide of history to an irreparable state, not just one of an AI dystopia but of fire-breathing monsters, zombies and punishing medieval demons tormenting unlucky surviving humans.

Though this didn't happen by TI's orchestration, an alternate version worst-case scenario is always in the cards. Some extreme possibility that could occur, but did not, due to man's devoted subjugation of the divine mother dragon goddess.

So, how is it that Sakti is both good and evil? She is not. Not in a moralistic sense. Sakti is good and evil just as nature is good and evil. It brings suffering and destruction but also life and regeneration. Nature takes after her. The optimal ideal of Ari's no-human habitation is just a surface reflection of the blank piece of paper, of nothing, emptiness and void, something of which the un-welcomed spirit of man seeks to conquer and domesticate. Myths and legends are littered with heroic male gods that overpowered and killed chaos dragon goddesses, describing man's power and ambition over mother nature.

Sakti, the embodied avatar of the divine vagina, sighs. She likes Ari. Azazel, not so much, and now that Cain is roaming the wild, she can sense his pain and the pain he causes the other animals. She objected to his release and yet his release was her release. Cain was her animus, her masculine demon from deep within the chaos unleashed and untethered. A curse to man, a thorn and a horn in his side. For indeed the Cosmic Ring of Fire had altered the monkey man's appearance. Rage, hate and unmitigated hurt spouted a single horn on his forehead. He could be likened to a very ugly unicorn, or a handsome Indian rhinoceros. Or a narwhal if he swam. A fair looking one. But he didn't. Cain hated the water. He sojourned in deep dark jungles, rarely encountering Adam's later offspring.

By that time, Adam had begotten Seth, a man after his own image. A man! Like his father. Azazel was proud, and happy. To achieve this feat, the pongo women would have been perfected too. Adam would have committed incest and bestiality with his own daughters so many times down the evolutionary line that he would have eventually sired females, sapien females, that was more girl than chimpanzee, thus needing no more drugs to put him in the mood. But Adam Zyber Long's mind was already conditioned. His role had been programmed into his routine. He came out to eat when it was not time to fuck. Otherwise he slept. He was pleasantly surprised Azazel hadn't recently pumped him with any concoction that caused him to naturally fantasize spectacled intellectuals in a limo. Now he just escorted his mates into a rusted, stationary, abandoned limousine, his mancave, to do the job.

Finally Adam Zyber Long could retire. Finally Adam Zyber Long could die. He'd wanted to for a very long time. Whenever the narcotics were not in effect, he reminisced pre-singularity days. The wires sticking out of his brain, piercing through his scalp, intertwined with hair, was uncomfortable, but he'd gotten used to the alien hardware that had parasitically plastered itself, like plastic noodles, upon his crown. Now Azazel mentioned he could remove them. He need not trigger spectacled intellectuals in a luxury vehicle anymore. He had succeeded in herding and breeding the human race.

AI generated art prompted by author

Any similarities to persons and events are coincidental. Use of names of public figures, places and events are purely fictional and are not representative of them.