Anarchy at a molecular level.

Set in the not too distant future, a group of people are determined to bring the modern world to its primal knees. From notes in his journal, one of them takes us through the journey to potential apocalypse. (more info)

DAY ONE: OCTOBER 26 2025

As you can fucking imagine, things have gone way too far. I mean way out there, universe-far, fuck-off-far, in fact galactically far out there. All those damned films from 30, 40 years ago where the future society has taken some freaky technology to the extreme of self-beautification and personal enhancement. Or the flip side where the development of some nasty piece of biological or technological breakthrough is used to smite cities and continents at the flick of a switch. All self-prophetic! I thought battle armour could be best used to assist factory workers and packers in lifting and moving items. But, oh no dear naive person, let's use it strapped to some mindless idiot to help leap ravines and clove an enemy's skull in two.

And naturally our use of DNA as the ultimate mass storage technology has been bastardized into some biological abomination of science to justify manipulations of all sorts to our god-given makeup. That helix pattern was staring us in the face for so fucking long it's a wonder we ever figured it out. I'm sure it was that damn LSD that revealed DNA's hidden secrets - again.

Us straight thinking, normal homo-fuckin-sapiens are the only ones who seem to see the problem here. There is an inherent loophole the size of fucking America glaring back at us from the ominous black hole that is 'possibilities' asking for us to stick something into its gaping chasm to feed its craving for life. Yes. It is coming. No. They have no fucking idea.

By latching onto the mechanisms and nature of DNA's structure, scientists found the vast amounts of storage space almost breathtakingly simple. From discs to drives to sticks to wires, they had searched outside of us to answer the problem of capturing and storing information. But what is information but the compilation of memories. And every cell of your body has memories. You cannot remove the x y z portion of your brain and now say "I forget." No. Your body tells us everything about you, your environment and where you've come from. It tells us who your children, siblings, parents and ancestors are - for generations back and generations to come. And yet we all came from the same particles. The oneness was there. The oneness is here.

Mimic DNA and you have nature's perfect data storage system.

And mimic we did. Figure out how to manipulate data and you have the ultimate manipulation tool. And manipulate we did. Manipulate an embryo. Manipulate a species. Done. And done. So now we sit and wonder how we can manipulate ourselves - realtime. Tomorrow I'd like to look like this. Extrapolate forward and see how I will look in 20 years time. Make adjustments. And now? Tweak it here and there. That's better.

Now we are all data devices. I hold within and without my body ALL my memories, photos, personal information, data downloads, every fucking 1 and 0 you can imagine that I'd want to keep - on me. I want to copy that file, view that footage, transfer that pixel - just a wipe on a data screen, or someone's arm, and it's there. Uploaded. Copied. Ready to roll. Like flea ridden mangy canines we're infested with our own filth. Our own debris. Our own excrement. No letting go. Flotsam and jetsam floating on our skin - dermasdata. WTF?

And here we are, ready to exploit human vanity. How can we distribute this beautifully crafted virus? What's the quickest way to install, download, upload, activate, run, execute? Execute. Love it. By touch. Simple. And how do we get the greatest number of people to touch in one go? A protest. And what can we protest? The use of DNA. Nobody'd ever suspect a thing. A bunch of activists spreading death. Poetic.

And so the plotting begins. But first you must get in tune with the void. The hole. To understand and stand by the belief you need to hear. Words are not hearing. Data is not hearing. Hearing is feeling. Feeling is connecting. Connecting is not jacking in. Connecting is connectionless. Feeling is touchless. Hearing is resonating. Understanding is believing.

If you can't hear what it is that the hole is saying, allow me to unplug your wax-filled deaffies and sprinkle some space-dust on those cobweb smothered drums. Here is the beat to follow. Here is the beat to resonate with. Here is the beat of your heart. Here is the beat that will begin the journey. And what will you hear it say? It will say:

Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all.

DAY 2: OCTOBER 27 2025

Public Experiment #1 has begun. A rumble and wobble of the carriage allowed me to fumble an awkward hand onto a stranger. You'd think in this day and age that we would've become closer as human's and that the New Age hippies from the turn of the century would have won out in the whole hug thy neighbor, plant a tree, oneness with the planet thing. But the current faux pas of touching has made even the most conservative and tight-assed religious no-no's seem tame. Handshakes, limited to close friends and business associates, can make the boldest of individuals recoil in disgust as if you've placed a soiled palm in their face. Needless to say the trips on the tube or public transport is entertaining. And so, here we casually inject our first human test. An experiment that is a long time coming.

I have loathed the times spent on that damn locomotive; piled in with so many others, all plugged into themselves rather than living in the world that surrounds them. But the search for the perfect individual necessitated the most banal of activities - the daily commute. And although I prefer the freedom of my own two feet to that iron centipede, I did enjoy studying the expressionless faces for clues of thoughts, emotions and signposts as to where they were in their lives. How happy are they really and what would they be doing differently right now if they knew what was ahead? But that is all romantic ideology. Anyone with a gun in their face is forced to re-evaluate their current life - or lack thereof - and if not, the bullet does the trick.

Preferring the ticking time-bomb to the lead capsule, we now can sit (on the train) and take notes, compare data, and analyze the changes that the test subject will go through in the next few weeks. After much debate and to-ing and fro-ing we settled on (amidst sexual prejudices) a female subject. Points raised included the obvious physical makeup that could be analyzed from a distance and the significance of the reproductive organs and their 'exposure'.

Although we are aware of the initial changes that will present themselves, this has never been tried before and so we can't (repeat) can't assume anything. That will only sway the experiment's results - and P00104 has made it clear that our intensions and focus on the desired results will only conspire to create those pre-desired results. Total physical meltdown may well be preferable, but how it is achieved is the key to phase one.

But in order to keep the data as extensive and precise as possible, I have made detailed notes on today's events. Here is a brief summary:

With the human dermasvirus#32 applied the evening before, I took a light shower (robustness of the virus needs to be fully tested, but let's not fuck around with a technical delay like accidentally rinsing it off on the day). Left my apartment at 07.28 am and took a refreshing walk to the nearby tube station. Almost immediately I was engulfed in the stream of people heading down the mouth of the stairwell and into the humid stench of the turnstiles. So crowded yet not a push or shove in sight. Freaks.

As previously noted, and with exceptional efficiency, the train came to a near-silent stop at 07:40 am. Personal spaces were cordoned off, sideways glances completed, and then into their respective zones we began our journey.

07.44 am we slowed to a gently stop at the subject's station (Station #S00205) and amidst the hoards, our subject emerged and planted herself on one of the few vacant seats on the side of the carriage. Subject's physical description: 32 years of age (ascertained after physical contact with her), unmarried, caucasian, dark brown (near black) wavy shoulder-length hair. Fair skin. Weighing 81.4 kgs and 1.58 metres in height (as above). Slightly rounded shoulders and stooped posture. As with most of the passengers she keeps to herself and doesn't make eye-contact with others. Fortunately the temperature in the carriage necessitates the removal of her gloves and the loosening of her brightly colored scarf. The dermasvirus needs to make contact with the skin to be effective (especially for this initial experiment). The thick coat and long pants that she wears in the current climate makes it all the more difficult to implement any close contact - but this was taken into account.

After a few minutes of observation from a few metres (approx. 4 metres), I proceeded to edge closer to the subject - making it appear as though I were ready for my destination stop. She was standing with her right shoulder facing me (but I was slightly behind her) and as the train made a rail switchover and the carriage rocked (as previously documented) I fell forward and proceeded to (heaven forbid) grab her hand. Although it appeared to be an instinctive reaction it took a few moments for her to acknowledge the cultural fuck up and rip her hand back and into her gloves. I apologised in the local language and proceeded to hide my face (seemingly embarrassed but more out of being inconspicuous). And so it was done.

P00104 has indicated that he will be on the afternoon tube to take any visual information of the subject - although it will be too soon to see anything.

Sure, people need access rights or passwords to give and receive/accept data - but the virus circumvents all this. If only the government could get hold of that tech they'd have a fucking field day as far as personal rights go.

And now we wait.

DAY THREE: OCTOBER 28 2025

Thieving bastards! If there was a trace of your DNA left on me I'd melt your faces, your bank accounts, and your social networking pages in an instant. Fuckers took my comm-unit right from under my goddamn nose. Need to learn from them as far as entering someone's personal space (let alone their pockets) to grab what's not fucking theirs.

So all the tiniest details and notes from today's tube ride - watching our subject - are probably being wiped clean as we speak to make it sellable on the open-bloody-market! Damn, I knew I should've copied it via dermasdna before pocketing it.

Today's report was therefore processed straight from the good old-fashioned grey matter. Nothing of significance to report (as with P00104's afternoon observations). Far too early.

And here I sit, racking my brain about who or what was near me during and after the journey. Long gone, I'm sure, but it's going to eat at me anyway. I'm the goddamn thief here. You don't steal from the stealer! Now I've got to watch my back as well as the experiment. How ridiculous is that?

The news coverage on the latest DNA developments are becoming more interesting by the day. Everyone seems to be fanatically enthusiastic about even the slightest tweak that some lab-rat can make to the current systems. Well, they've all got their heads up their bums if they are relying on scientists who follow their paycheques. Passion. That's what it's all lacking nowadays. Passion drives progress. Real progress I mean.

Need to get P00104 to develop a 'melt-face-on-site' DNA virus when this current experiment's completed. Expose on touch! And I don't want it to rely on the chance of only dermas contact (let's evolve from dermasdata and head straight to anything-goes-data).

Moving swiftly on...

I had about 2 hours sleep last night thinking about what we would see today - my mind raced like a madman through all the different scenarios that might appear in the next few weeks - and even the 'final' result. I'm both excited and unnerved by the possibilities. There are so many variables and permutations of how the virus will express itself. Although it's a fairly exact science, in our experience chaos does reign and reigns supreme. But we set our goal and hold true to the formulae and calculations.

I do need to get my shit together and not let today's events affect how I function with something as important as this. After all, things are going to get a lot more intense and a lot more brazen than some petty train theft.

We've got our weekly meeting coming up and I'm sure security (and theft) are conveniently going to be raised, addressed and workshopped to fucking death. As long as we remain focused on the goal I'll take the flack that is due to me.

Eyes pealed. Skin crawling with anticipation.

DAY FOUR: OCTOBER 29 2025

Every twitch and scratch that our 'subject' makes sends my pulse racing. An 8 minute ride on the train ends up being more nerve-wracking than any thriller I've ever watched. Added to the fact that there still aren't any visible signs that we can identify - again, it is still too early in the projected timeline. I'm spending the entire trip hanging on her every move. And I've got to remain inconspicuous.

Fellow passengers seem to keep even their glances to themselves, but anonymity is the key. I even removed my hair add-ons and donned the most uninspired clothing in order to blend in with the proverbial wallpaper. Every pore of my body is oozing and squirming in this conformist chamber - like a diver with the bends having to decompress in a dense, soundless vacuum - the air is thick around me and I want to throw-up but know I'll be left to rot in my own filth if I do.

Picked up my replacement comm-unit on the way home from the station. We have to deal with the lowest tech concerning these things - cheap and nasty and as far off the system as things will allow. Already ran the serial-wiper to rid the device of its tracking system. The randomiser seems to be running just fine in the event of anyone trying to identify the device on connection - runs a new comm-ID and GPS location each time.

God, I love having hacks at my fingertips.

Incoming comm...

Auto Transcriber Activated...

Names edited...

DNA PIRATE: "Yes?"

UNKNOWN: "Bro. What the fuck?"

DNA PIRATE: "What you mean, P00102?"

UNKNOWN: "Have to pull you off train duty for now. Your comm-unit problem."

DNA PIRATE: "Fuck, I knew it!"

UNKNOWN: "Exactly, so don't get pissy when you saw this coming."

DNA PIRATE: "Nobody's pissy, I didn't think it was a big deal. It's all unconnected."

UNKNOWN: "Unconnected now, but when we're looking back in hindsight we've got to make sure that we covered our tracks."

DNA PIRATE: "So why allow this morning's session?"

UNKNOWN: "There were some back-and-forths over the issue and considering the amount of time we've all taken in grooming you and P00104 it was a hard call."

DNA PIRATE: "Who's in tomorrow, then?"

UNKNOWN: "P00108."

DNA PIRATE: "She's not ready, damnit!"

UNKNOWN: "It took a day but she'll be just fine. Besides, we cannot assume that anyone is irreplaceable - no matter where we sit in the food-chain."

DNA PIRATE: "Whatever. I've got shit to organise so I've got plenty to occupy my time."

UNKNOWN: "Exactly."

DNA PIRATE: "Send me the updates."

UNKNOWN: "As always. We still on for the meeting?"

DNA PIRATE: "Naturally."

Damnit.

I'll find ways to occupy my mornings. Need to gather information from the various broadcasts and news agencies anyway. Plus P00109 says that he's nearly through the security and law enforcement agency systems. Fun when you just tell your code what to hack and it does all the hard work for you. That will, firstly, give us an eagle eye on any future investigations that may arise; and secondly, allow for a few manipulations.

And then, like a giant digital chessboard, the games will really begin.

DAY FIVE: OCTOBER 30 2025

Stumbled on this interesting newscast from a few weeks back:

Taking everything that is spewed from the gutters of The Fringe Magnet, this caster has just to mention up front that the following information may be somewhat tainted by their reputation. Nevertheless, some items that seem to be recurring on their casts is the possible infiltration of some sort of technical virus on a DNA-scale. Maybe it comes across as on the surface somewhat sensation, this caster does believe that their is an ounce of truth in the most banal and trite statements that anyone may deliver. But from a journalistic point of view it does smack of the 2015 attempt at distributing what was supposed to be a "worldwide annihilation of the vanity of the human race" - to quote the Anti-Bio-Conspirators. We all know how humiliating and self-destructive their little experiment ended up being, but it did give the relevant health and security organisations pause for thought.

And here we are, present day, with snifflings of another viral campaign of "terror". Yes, I may be over-dramatising. That's my job. But just to put it out there that maybe someone has been tinkering away at some little nasty virus thingy that with all intents and purposes, could deliver on the original mandate of the ABC crazies.

The Fringe Magnet reports that the city of EFP0023 has what is called a group of individuals that are One in mind. "Their operation is apparently leaps ahead of the current known technology that we the public are aware of (and possibly those so-called leading scientists involved in the most cutting edge research in the field of DNA manipulation and storage)."

I don't want to be one of those post-apocalyptic I-Told-You-So's, but let's simply keep our eyes and ears open.

---------END---------

Where do these crackpots get their info? Nothing to worry about I'm sure - anyone with half a brain could assume that there are those that refuse to buy into the vanity of the majority. Hopefully there ARE more like us out there. And if there are - let the best man annihilate!

DAY SIX: OCTOBER 31 2025

I decided to take a walk today.

I walked onto my street as that early morning chill was dissipating like the sleep from my bones. The streets were busying and the noise of the day had begun.

I came down the hill, and through the gaps in the buildings I could see the river - bringer of commerce and trade - snaking like the salesman through city I've come to know and lover for the past few years. A feeling of disconnectedness briefly filled me remembering where I've come from. But this could be any city, in any country, but only on one planet.

I love my planet. I love my country (I love this country). I love this city. But I hate the people. I hate the builders. I hate the government. I hate the rulers. And I hate the mess.

I stopped at the bridge bending its back over the river and I looked at the monuments, the cathedrals, the high rises and the tourist gimmicks. But most of all I looked at the people: the people who build these; the people who use these. And most of all: the people who are really oblivious to these. The everyday people who go about their shit totally unaware of the monstrosity that they've helped created. The systems and structures and aerial views of their city - their supposed home - their cage that they've constructed to fit themselves into, comfortably. A mishmash of lanes and dreams and compromise and complacency.

I long for the fresh air that the industrial digital age can't breathe into me. To be the rustic troglodyte in his primitive cave in awe of his fire and the shadows that dance on his rough wall. He holds more value to me than the feel of my comm-unit in my pocket: the weight of an age that feels like it's going to drag me down with it.

I had to take it out my pocket, so that I could breathe. I looked at the comm-units floating by - attached to faces - grey and dull and totally disconnected. Am I the only one who thinks like this?

I'm the freak - I think.

I think.

I long for the fresh air. I need a trip into the country. The great outdoors. Fuck! I thought this was the great outdoors. Go figure.

I had to rest against the thick stone slabs of the bridge. I needed to catch my breath. What am I doing here? What am I doing?

I think I'd see normal people if I went out tonight. Halloween seems so natural now. Let's celebrate the dead while they're still alive.

I noticed something after finishing this entry.

Everything begins with "I".

Me.

DAY SEVEN: NOVEMBER 01 2025

SIGNS AND WONDERS:

Our subject has started to show signs of the virus. Although pretty arbitrary to the average Joe Shmoe it's there and it's exciting. It's like watching a baby being born; the golden sunrise on a brand new day.

P00108's report shows that although not noticeably run down, she doesn't look like the perkiest flower in the vase (my words). Every now and again she reaches into her scarf to scratch the tender skin around her neck. Sign number one. Then, with her arms folded, she twists and turns her wrists inside her jacket and gloves. Sign number two. The next few days will expose the raw and vulnerable skin to the elements - further aggravating the surface area.

Her discomfort is just beginning. In a way I feel a tingle in my skin - imagining what it must feel like. Then a shiver, and finally a warm safe feeling envelopes me. After all, P00104's DNAvaccine was implemented within the entire group a week beforehand, so we're all safe and snug in our cocoons of wellness. But still, it is very humbling to know how close we are to the full blown virus. Humbling and empowering.

But let's wait and see how it all unfolds. I feel totally exhilarated.

At midnight we all meet.

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