7 – Breathe Life

The train made its usual stop at Chon. Chon was the last remaining urban centre, where transforming humans dabbled in post consumerist delights like colourful French macarons and antique Balenciaga dad pants. It was a place for fun and rest.

Daisy sat up. She was awake for the last little while finishing her sandwich and still wondering about Mr. Beaver in the hat. He was gone, probably somewhere between Life Space and Elevententeen. She was happy to be at Chon. She wondered if her best friend from Calgary was there, Linz. Linz worked for WestJet, a now defunct flight carrier that was sold off to Indigo, a distributor of Paradise Colours. Really, this world was so different now. The practice of social marketing was a language in and of itself. Depending on one’s digital cognition, social marketing could provide sustenance to an audience or increase the relativity of binary disease. After all this time, survival of the fittest was still the game. Humans don’t want to be sick. They don’t want to be dead or living. They want to breath and do regular things.

As she stepped off the bus (she’s been off the train for A Day now), Daisy headed to the Nike outlet so she could change her clothes into something more beguiling. Her mind thought of lime green, neon orange polka dots and always-always white eyelet lace. Daisy picked something out. While waiting, she made her third eye blind to prevent identity thieves, then headed to the wall of bags to pick something to put everything in.

Her next stop was Yoga Passage. It was time to reset and recharge. Yoga these days was literally a moment to decompress. Everything left your body as your soul lay suspended in a hue of neon pink. Rearranging locations and transformations, so you could see properly. Daisy practiced yoga once, when she was young and did not finish her teacher training practice. Alice from Wonderland stopped a sour pursuit of a man named Justin Patterson as he would have led her to a full-fledged intoxicated state. The relationship was stopped by a major car alternative. Laying in Savasana, Daisy fondled her mat, remembering that life filled with creativity and ideas that could have shut this place to smithereens. She closed her lids and drifted off into space. She could see letter zs italicized, drifting into time followed by baby emoji apples and puffy digital rainbows. It was the stuff of her man-made life.

Do you see blue or yellow?

6 – The Train Naps

Daisy was out, then she arose. She could feel the left side of her neck, bent out of shape and sore from sleeping on it bent. And the train was still moving across moist carpeted land or moss coloured greenery, however you wanted to see it. The trees, they looked like LEGO pieces. She didn’t quite understand when she transitioned back, but she was glad to be here smelling the faint stink of a ham and cheese biscuit.

You don’t actually want to see the workings of Elevententeen. What’s behind it is extremely frightening. The framework is made up of spider-like grids, when you see it, they move and pulse like a living thing. Daisy shuddered just at the mere thought of it. She quickly patted her yellow eyelet dress to ensure it was still in existence. Another way to halt the screams (screams occurred when your brain computed the framework) was to enter Elevententeen with a very specific wardrobe, preferably containing bold colours, patterns and texture.

Sighing, Daisy remembered what it was like in social media school learning about plain stuff. Graphic art and design attributes were existential now, they served no purpose. People only wanted multi-dimensional graphics, that breathed and pulsed and held meaning. I guess altering genetics in 2019 completely erased the human need for new things and surprisingly,  technology. It no longer occurred. It was too fickle and rambunctious; nobody cared. It was now about Artha, Manipura and finding pure bling that could get you back through the framework unnoticed.

There were no humans on the train today, only empty seats and a refined beaver quietly sipping his Earl Grey. “Well, he looks…dry and  relaxed, so he must have come from the land.” The beaver heard and adjusted his frames while cocking his head North East. He wanted to see if he could grab the newspaper from thin air instead of having to hold it in his hands. Paper was so archaic, he thought. Daisy wasn’t sure if he noticed her. Her heart skipped a beat and stopped for a moment as he again adjusted himself out of what looked like discomfort. Inhaling a deep breath, they both fell deeply asleep. The reflection on the mirror was blank. Someone had switched time and space again. What was going to happen?


A digital object is checking gadgets. Tiny beads and shards. Daisy felt fuzzy and warm. Life Space smelled like a contradiction. Did you see it? Wait! Come back! You didn’t even ask! Daisy runs past in a fluff. Ugh, what is this stuff?1704E55B-54C3-4A4A-A095-F94906EA87D0


Pink plastic covered their heads. Depending on the nature of their state, faces could also be erased. The way back to Being was a way to Manipura. And if one could count, it would be to Artha. To be found: sunny and bright Elevententeen.



3 – A Day

“Dude, I’m not coming up yet.”, “I’m not ready.”

Daisy was so frustrated. Why did he have to control her like that? Why was he in charge and not her? The green tag of her Champion jumper rubbed the back of her neck and she irritatedly scratched, like a black spider would trying to climb a slippery tent. From here on out, she was done being told what to do. “I am going to succeed, if it’s the last thing I’m capable of, dangit, I WILL!” She expired her smoke while tiny violet pills leapt off her dress making their way down onto pillows marking the street with jewels and yams protruding from the earth. Wait, what? Where…am…I? Daisy slapped her forehead feeling silly and stern. “I thought the map was taking me through that way…hmm…I am going to have to reconfigure.” She stuck her finger down her throat to feel the recess between her clavicle and sternum. The bump was still there, and it felt mightier than before. With a giant sigh of relief, Daisy whipped her hand out and quickly rubbed her brow of the pink and yellow sweat trickling downwards toward the edge of her puffy orange UGG slippers. The colours were debating with the sunset, arguing in agreance with this theory: Can we reproduce smells using sight? If only I could see my thoughts, Chona said.

“Is it still not working yet?”, “No.”

Okay, well then…let me think. I have zero capability of calculating the difference in time and space using true visuality AND I have thus far only found value in doing everything. Everything was trying to pinpoint the exact ‘moment memory’ Chona experienced most frequently while driving. Today, June 24, 2019, she smelled/saw the winter time, the time around Halloween and a few others. But they came and went so fast, she just couldn’t ascertain every detail in time to truly discern the event, and she most definitely could not determine how in the hell this was working and how she would even begin to explain it. Everything was creating. Everything was putting it together. Everything was adding it up.

Daisy’s mind went blank. She sat solemnly in the imitation art chair wearing a worn out neon pink giant Cotton Ginny t-shirt, and appropriate underwear of course. “To shower or not to shower, that is the key,” she thought. Her boss quipped, “To remember everyone! Cucumber! Coffee! And, no sex please!”

According to the Kama Sutra, a person with the principles of this science, who preserves his virtue, his Artha and his pleasure, will obtain the mastery of Each Other.

“Daisy, are you listening?”, “Yes.”

Seventeen always looked like that, predisposed to sleep, knowing she needed time for rest. Chona Fe yawns and gives up for a bit then hands the paper over to Alice. She bites into it like a rabid snail, because snails are like tricky people. Alice goes back into hiding and the teen just shrugs again. The adventure has now begun, but where it will take us? Because in this moment, none of this make sense, right? And, do you truly think it will be a thing? A real, true, regular, normal way of being? Chona thinks, “Probably yes. But, I dunno! I just have to try and will probably die doing it!”