[midievil] .πράξη τέλους by Right Knider

Immediately after the recent total solar eclipse, Azmon Nehum locked himself in Secluded Semitone HQ and began a copious cross-reference research by consulting galactic 3D maps and various rare voice recordings of Polynesian shamans speaking in tongues during previous solar phenomena. Days passed to no avail. No inherent method led to a scheme – No apt conclusions pointed to the answer he was seeking. Yet, according to his calculations, the timing was exactly right. With no plasma gate open at the coordinates he was expecting though, his lifetime research and travels summed up to naught.


A permeating, almost metal-like, sense of panic conquered his body and mind, clenching on his heart like rusty vice. Hours passed hopelessly as he darted his eyes on index upon index in a desperate last-minute quest to find a faulty numerical symbol that sabotaged his calculations and made a fool out of his life’s work. But even if there was such a fatal error, it was too late to start all over and wait for the next opening –he would need another lifetime. With every minute passing came a greater unstoppable wave of panic and desperation. Blurred and distorted by the crushing of his lifetime’s devotion, mind and psyche played a last tragic game on him. His guilt and emptiness amalgamated into visions, his visions materialized into electric currents crosshatching in front of his eyes, forming mathematical equations that solved his errors effortlessly, with an easiness that flowed naturally but was fiendishly otherworldly at the same time. He was witnessing the solution to the mystery he dedicated his life to by an outer force, far greater than him and he let his entity indulge into its superiority, until it consumed him wholly and there was no more of him.


After a severe meltdown in Secluded Semitone’s main reactor, the personnel that survived managed to unfasten the trapdoor of his bunker and found nothing but scorched and useless paper fragments and a severely punished but functioning data stick containing the sound clip that is now presented to you, serving as Azmon Nehum’s last will and testament for all eternity.

With the aid of his super VGA goggles, Right Knider can see a dystopian metropolis lying beneath the concrete foundations of the bore that is today. He prefers post apocalypse from post modernism, feels nostalgia for a future that has yet to arrive and works on an appropriate soundtrack for it.

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