by Ahimaz Rajessh

 

A window forks into a door at a bar in Felicity called Codified wherein some codes of life in concert hinge and some other codes not in concert unhinge. Where one would climb, jump a window, bruise a knee, feel the ball of a foot, and enter a door, manBarcoded crashes through the wall. Solitude—an umbilic torus door made of oak—stands, though primordial, strong. Sore hands ceaselessly scratch at its thickness.

But manBarcoded is a figment. manBarcoded is cut up into fragments. manBarcoded comes with neochromactic adverts. manBarcoded is Mancipated, says one new neon ad. manBarcoded is a rich poor man. manBarcoded is a freelancer who rents out his libido. manBarcoded does nurse illusions of absolute control or maybe he doesn’t. manBarcoded leaves Kanmani’s embrace and glances out a polygonal window. Learn Libidinal Economics in Eleven Days, says one cut-out billboard. manBarcoded has a chip embedded at the base of his spine. One day a boy invented a nanopincer, Kanmani, says the manBarcoded, to control kuṇḍalinī.

Next day he leaves on a task, says Kanmani, to capture dirt-poor laborers whom he would’ve labeled as Naxals and sandalwood thieves. Not laborers, no, insists manBarcoded, Naxals and thieves. manBarcoded thinks I think therefore you are. Voiceless, whispers Kanmani, dirt-poor laborers. manBarcoded believes grey areas are red areas because he strongly feels grey areas are red areas. manBarcoded cannot concentrate, not with his libido out surging in someone else’s loin.

You will come to me, Kanna, says Kanmani, in no time. She’s not a womanBarcoded, says the manBarcoded. I don’t yet trust that sort of womancipation is all, says Kanmani, you see. You have your libido, Kanmani, says the manBarcoded, when I haven’t mine. Your lust will come to you, Kanna, says Kanmani, in no time. I’m a gentleman speaking, barcoded XKYKZK 0984321, says over the toll free the manBarcoded.

manBarcoded tells lies as he utters half-truths. manBarcoded is an intel manager who does mess up his enemies. manBarcoded is a working man and a quitting man. manBarcoded is impatient for a patient man. manBarcoded is a perfect imperfect man. manBarcoded is a figment of fragmentation. The vandalized cut-out sign that flickers and fades—manBarcoded is a Force for ?Bod—puts manBarcoded in a nutshell. manBarcoded hears his chip bleep. manBarcoded feels his incoming libido. manBarcoded shuts the doors and blinds the windows as Kanmani leaves her attired thighs open for interpenetration.

We’ve got time enough, Kanmani, says the manBarcoded, for foreplay. Check later on, Kanna, says Kanmani, for your imbursement, not now. manBarcoded deactivates his glittering chip. manBarcoded spins, crawls into the arms of Kanmani. manBarcoded will not be controlled now, not unless manBarcoded activated the embedded chip which manBarcoded wanted embedded in the first place at the tail end of his spine. But then chaos is a door of smoke in Felicity. And Felicity is a city made of pulpwood. Although it stands fragile, it never ceases to see ceaseless manchines maneuvering around it layers of golden gift-wrappings. In the vicinity of chaos—that’s a Möbius strip but is that a door or is that a window—organized chaos. At the back—yes, there it is—a hexagonal window called arbitrary order.

 

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Ahimaz Rajessh has been published in formercactus, Occulum, Surreal Poetics, Cuento, 7×20, Jersey Devil Press, Jellyfish Review, The Airgonaut, Nanoism, Strange Horizons, Pidgeonholes, 200 CCs, Flapperhouse, Malaigal, Padhaakai, Thalam, Manal Veedu and Unnatham. His writing is forthcoming in Milkfist,  Liminality and Big Echo: Critical SF.

 

 

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