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The Dreaming of Angshu

 


Glorious, the sight. Riding into the vortex. The lights – a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred thousand of them. It’s a sensory overload, this mission is. The spacecraft is on auto-pilot, AI calibrating and recalibrating the flight path, the machines take over where humans capabilities end.

Think of it as neon lights round and round hollow tubes.

The face of gravity. Immobile, yet borne of motion. Without gravity, there cannot be. Everything.

The machines, simulated after them, now take after humans. They simulate growth – of food, of devices that trap the elements for sustenance.

A glitch in The Matrix, that’s where the story begins. A glitch of continuum.

Sometimes, the glitch has a face. Glassy and translucent, yet pretty all the same.

The lava walkers, part machine and part human. The Matrix dreams and constantly reinvents new worlds and new sights.

Trance. Eyes. The dreaming of Angshu. It’s always the eyes – black, blue, flashes of iris. The eyes have seen – that’s where the imagination begins. That’s where the Matrix conceives of itself, this near infinity, artificial creation that models itself after many a design and form.

SpannerBold, the space station where ships dock – halfway in the Baridi Galaxy. That realm where reality was morphed and suspended for an eternity.

In the dreaming of Angshu, light is always a constant. There is some stillness, some respite, but it could be a sad re-imagination of the echo of time across space.

Redlands. Temporary homes. Quaint – the idea of a home, for space and time have no permanency.

Travel across space and time. Think of it as a hurtling into an abyss with no end, with light and dark playing tricks on the human mind.

Fortunately, there are other minds with different interpretations of reality. The Matrix, there had to be survival after the end of mankind.

Yet, there is something useful in some of human interpretations of reality. Such as time - and the counting of it. This, it has enabled motion – and with relative motion, the warping of reality.

The Matrix has now become the eye. All seeing, all knowing, all powerful. Present in all activities of the new worlds it has made possible. The light – how to perceive it, how to bend it – the power that was of humans now transcends beyond the doomed species. The rise of the machines was inevitable.

It’s a simulation – the seed that birthed The Matrix. Young minds that dreamed of technological marvels. Young minds that dreamed of Angshu.

Shapes and shifts, this future day, colourful ensemble of an enigma. Light, visible, light, ultra-visible, The Matrix seeks to become it.

Yes, in the dreaming of Angshu, was light come, become and everything made possible.

                                                            **********



NB: Meanwhile, I have a small ask:- I am running a campaign that will enable me launch my two books in February, end, 2024. I humbly ask of your donations of 20KES/20Kshs/20bob, towards this. The campaign is dubbed #20BobSanaa. Thanks in advance. You can also support by liking and sharing this content, or by buying these books using the following links:

‘A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta’ available at: https://nuriakenya.com/product/a-funeral-dress-for-nyasuguta-by-mark-mwangi/

‘Love Told, Poetry Souled, Family Bold’ – available on Amazon Kindle at  http://shorturl.at/hzALY

Buy Good Till Number: 9080911, Gatere Mwangi
Send Money: 0708 276 622, Mark Gatere


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