{"Go on. Get lost. Last words are for fools who haven't said enough" ~ Karl Marx... Today's post is first part an entry to @tygertyger's Electric Dreams Contest and a second anniversary post. For those for the entry, just read ahead. For those for those for the 2nd anniversary or have been tagged into this, I like you to now hit ctrl+f or whatever is your "find word" key combo and type yer @ name. Thanks for understanding and bearing with me... Today's and the last ever music-aides, I just wanted to choose two songs and they are in order of listening: Temple Theme / qnF [1.] Fight theme / qnH [2.] (EYE Divine Cybermancy OST).}

My sketchy sketch

- Niefortunne powstanie -

What was that noise? That can't be good if I had to hear that now. Why did our body... wait why I am here now? Did we win the election or... what was my theyfriend thinking! Or is it good?... Well my body is still at odds with my mind, well time to move or something timed will happen. Why is it still reluctantly moving about, what kind of sleep where they in before I had to be summoned here? Beats this shared body of ours, though I gotta give thanks to this lil' gem. Gosh does this thing burn, what if I were to smack it-

"Oh Alexandra, you finally are awake! My guiding spirit, I am afraid I call you upon my worst hour yet I can't speak much on it. The point, well let it be our spirits are no longer safe with my great mistake..."

Why is my voice-box pecking up now? C'mon, speak! Oh no, please before the unholy flash of lights!- And there go my ears pressed upon like someone decided ear-stabbing day was today... And now there's the timed event, not liken to the fact that cannot even knock three times with quiet concern. It has to be some opera-theatre esque rampage of a guerrilla loosing their damn mind now! By Fortuna's grace, that noise is bleeding through the common safe hatch-doors. I could begin asking what thing dare to beckon them to call me upon this hour, but that work began being cut out for me with their infrequent knocking.

So running the fingers along the desk, my ears hoped for more than the wooden table's annoyance of my hard pressings. Yet a small bump was all I needed before I let my hands truly make the table scream like a patient treated by maddened doctor. Fingers prying open the wood with all the wood-chip screams, I came to see a peculiar floating sphere. Running my hands over those carved lines, the glistening bright soon spewed out and out came a pour of red-n-black fumes. Slithering out was a collective of flaky tendrils that soon stabbed and drilled into the Earth, the knocking noise soon bled through the safety hatch to this oval office. But I swear the ground was quivering, as now instead of knocks became a choir of screams.

Soon stopping, my legs hopped unto the table before the ground spawned out four hands -fingers twitching about. My hands parsing underneath the desk, oh did those course hands snatch a Tommy gun alright. My trigger finger was ready to let rip a lead thunder, and yet only an awkward tension permeated us like a swarm of flies. However, those four flaky tendril-esque hands forced their palms to form lips and soon they spoke about:

"Heel! Heel! Your theyfriend are our ally. We wish to transport."

"With grace, listen to our message with a sharp ear, don't hesitate and let it be!"

"Lo! You and your theyfriend in that crystal be nae safe! Ho! And so we repay the debt."

And spake no more they did as the lips melted into the palms of their hands and all but the hand that spake not submerged into the ground. The quiet hand's fingers - only four on such did my eyes caught - scrunched inwards before touching together. Dark electricity sparking from the center, a dark bolt struck me and the light of the World was no more to be seen as the shadows comforted me all around. Yet as quickly as it came, as quickly as the shadows were gone; alas, I now ran into a more sincere ruminating of why I stare into the improbable and my certain theyfriend's diligence with that "trouble" now...

"Ah, 'tis be the Alexandra. Nie? Well, I wonder how much can be said with the grains of time escaping our grasp as we speak? Yet these are not questions I really care to ask, indeed I wish to skip the obscenity of asking if thy theyfriend had gossiped about me and so I say it: I am the last remaining Devil in the Devil's Council. The story behind that, irrelevant in our situation; of why I call, that's the true investigation. So please, take comfort in this lil' seat-n-table we fancy upon this great our. But I do have manners, so please breathe and talk on as I'm sure you finally understood the chaos about. Nie?"

How could I respond to this, but I guess Fortuna wasn't the one to give me the easy ones - as always. So-

"Thou know I can read thy thoughts. Continue on if you wish to not speak but "mind-share" the info with me. Never was a speaker despite the show I gave. Yet I find it strange the Church chose to dilute the documented history a whole lot, but don't put me in a room full of satanists now."

Interesting, why hadn't I expected that? Then again, why ask when I should be formulating a response to the problem we both see in the World I just escaped from? Inasmuch as I do wish to elaborate, I think it best to ask another question and not divulge on trodden statements. Why is it that you now, despite what has happened in the Universe, act and reveal your arm, heart and spirit?

"Truth with a Capital T is the one I cannot divulge upon, not because it burns me but because not even I have access to it. Nor did my co-creation of all Angelic and non-Angelic creatures could safely divulge the Truth. However, I can tell a truth despite a small lie that both you and I know, yet I consciously cannot see lest I squint hard enough at it. And so this truth: that the Universe didn't have a need for me, nor does it now, nor does it in the future and yet do my ability to possess the title of creating the Universe slip by as an entity worse than a black-hole continues to grow. But give thanks to your enemy today, as they are not that.

I see, and so I guess in a confusing way it is to suggest that I am mere pawn like you to a force dragging you out and act upon the stage of the Universe? If it be so, then may I beseech your opinion of the good Goddess Fortuna in this regard?

"I shall do you one better as I continue to talk and these grains of sand start to slowly drift away from our grasp before we are truly forced to act or deny what is in front of us of which we had delayed. And this is the line: that I am grateful, yet my control diminishes. I loose the pieces, she acquires them all. However I say this, at least it's managed."

And so somehow she reminded him of a blow-fish... wait, why am I getting these random thoughts? Is there a TV- of course I see your head cocked but can you speak on what causing this now? No speaking but gesticulations, great I'm going to have to play detective- well I see the portal there, no wonder I have been hearing random noises; like that one of two people mud-wrestling. Strange, why do you keep a portal like that open? Crap, you're speaking sign language to me now... oh... time's up already? And the portal's there for me, wh-what!?!?

The oil-painted screen on my eyes soon wearing off as the light came back to me. Seeing the scrunched up hand straighten and drill into the ground, yet again a thunder of knocks slammed on the door. Vaulting over instead of answering the knock, I noticed the lack of black-red fumes drifting about - more or less the sphere. Yet it matters not as my eyes were drawn in by the door's splinter-bomb death - soon the urban camo and helmets rushing in. My legs rustling with my long skirt, my trigger finger sliding slowly into position and my sights dead-on the first target of the incoming detachment.

"Ripcord, forget about the President. Over."

"Negative, sensors spot tango here. Target my radial-"

The lights flickering, my finger let loose and let the lead thunder pepper their bodies. Swiss cheese holes of human carcasses forming as the rat tat tats escape the chamber of the Tommy gun. Yet a cold permeating all over my skin, the goosebumps forming over the fact their Kevlar armour didn't stop the bullets and all had been ripped apart. Emerging from cover, I saw another squadron rushing towards my position and boy did I fucking slam myself against the wall.

Yet then and there did a cacophony of screams from shattering glass-n-walls, to the death screams of those troopers and to the war yells of an accent so familiarly strange. Peaking about the cover, this detachment had head covers adorned with a red-painted four pointed star and their hands armed with pike spears - oh did the tip shine bloodily. However the four pike-wielders moved aside to let a person with a rickety wheelchair stroll by in and they spoke with an androgynous voice stung my ears and did it felt so soothing to here:

"By the Devils council, we finally met thee! Lo! We are, with difficulty, here to reverse what will happen in the future; so long as the Universe grants us to reverse the flow of matter, the Universe cares not of continuity! So help us, good Alexandra and figure out to stop the detonation that will grant this wretched city a few more hours of not becoming an opera of dancing atoms! What says thee?"

"Great orator, I give to you and your cavalry a great praise. Yet I do not know how to stop this detonation and my fellow trapped in this crystal refuses to take control. Is my-"

"Good Alexandra, thy they-friend be not the error maker! No, 'twas the third person that you both used to know before he had wiped both of your memories clean of him. A tricky fellow, but now he is in control of these secret agents and people dawned in a white cloak who spout the worst and speciest lines known to the Universe. Yet let us move for I know the safe-room where all atomizing missiles are controlled."

"Is there a way to regain?-"

"Worry lil' of that, for while it seems he's in control he's not. His hands are pulled by strings of an ancient foe we, including thee, despise - not the original, old angels but a misnomer of the Holy Angelic Order. They are truly infection forms that ravaged the old angels and now turned them into the hands of an all-consuming beast we thought once dead. Yet matters not now as these enemies are the most local spear we have to disarm in this new Universal war."

"I know of what you speak, though I know not all the details."

"Tell me a person that knows all, and I will be more than happy to fill in on the spot. Otherwise, we need ready to crack into the door right now!"

"On my way there now! Protect me will you all!"

I saw the four-pointed star symbols transform into smiling faces, I couldn't but smile back at them. Forming a phalanx of pikes did I hear the pikes shuffle about, yet the orator decided to wheel away from the room - the rickety wheels still creaking. Hands and eyes on the matrices of wires, I swear I was playing the equivalent of sticking a fork into a power socket; yet with fingers in tact and the small clicks of each lock bouncing on the walls, I continued hacking on. The last wire sending a massive shock, the giant door began sliding back into the wall; beyond the room's thick walls oh had I heard the wheelchair ricketing again but also the embers of fire and screams permeated through the walls as well.

Turning to see the orator, their wheelchair rolled in with a trail of fire right behind and small smile on that black-head cover before transforming into the generic four-pointed star. Oh who was I kidding, I wanted to compliment on their combat skills with burning down the entire White House down and making secret service scream. Yet Fortuna was blessing me not an opportunity for such, and we all rushed to the bottom of the safe-room; the phalanx ghosting all the way to the bottom like ashen billet bullets, the orator grinding against the rails as to avoid the annoyance of step-stairs and well I not of particular note. More-so it was seeming the long haul became a short one-two step; however the in-between of memories fading in-n-out with connections only in halves was the chief trouble-maker for my perception.

Yet it was the final memory that was no memory which had detached me from reality despite my body still in motion. The walls, familiar to the walls seen next to the spiral set of stairs - yet each step further cursed in random scratches, burning holes, husky corpses poking out and symbols I yet understood. The room beyond the stairs of which I knew I had no recollection despite the vividness; I saw it all from his perspective - the tainted third - as each step only bloodied the edges of the walls, the burning holes reappearing and expanding, the husky corpses twitching about and his skin only graying beyond recognition. All of that, erased as soon as his eyes fixated on the screen prompting a simple message of "detonation sequence ready, the turn-back code is 29-MacH-1F0elix-20ia17-velli. Initiate the detonation: [Y/N]" and his hand slammed the button with the entire room devoid of both the light... and the dark.

"Ms. Alexandra, art thou awake?"

"Orator! I am, but you saw the vision. Did you?"

"We all had, I need you stop this; we're going with an experimental contingency plan of which we know can worsen everything now. Do you accept?"

"And what does the Devils Council have to say on this matter?"

"Why, we shall be relaying you to the remaining Devil now~"

"Before I go, do ensure to stab the prick in the face. Weak spot of his, not the balls surprisingly."

"We can promise that."

"Then I can accept this."

And so the dark was resurfacing all around me before I was sitting next to Lucy boy himself, yet I saw them already at work making the portal to who knows where. They, still drawing the portal out, reached a hand out to me for which I couldn't refuse to grab. Being closer, their two hands began clutching my cheeks as it stared down at me; four tears dropped and the four flames were at it roaring. And yet time was still flowing and we hadn't a moment to spare to give to one another, and yet I knew they were going to say something despite their voice-box failing.

"Yes, it is true that even the devil cries. But worse that despite helping to resurrect a new Universe do I lack even control over such. My enby hands can only do so much, yet do I know what to do. Step into the capsule and I shall rewind the material flow, you have but one task and you know it already."

And what if another takes his pace?

"By then the grey-freaks would be exposed, their new mission to hunt you, their pride shamed and yours a tasty one to devour."

And what if they seek to corrupt my partner still stuck in the crystal?

"I was planning to pull them out now, but before such I must warn a slight one. That it shall be painful, yet the merging shall help to keep corruptibility low. They happen to no longer be stuck in the politics of transition and you no longer having to swap. Yet there's one thing I've yet to see you earnestly address, that you being for both of you and your obsession with hands."

It is true, but for too long had they've been repressed from even the periphery. Made into rats and the filth of filth. You know which hands I speak off, the ones who arch and twitch beyond control because of the pain they are subjected to. And so, where does this capsule lead to?

"To the moment before he even stepped into office, before his corruption, a time to act upon his neck and to force the March of History elsewhere."

And so I was given what I was promised; I felt a weird string tugging on me despite not being able to tug it back. Seeing him relaxing on that chair and kicking back without worry; however the memories flooding back had warned me otherwise. I saw his hands clutch that crystal and he tried to summon; but here I was standing and my crystalline necklace not even on with my they-friend and I being now one. Hands upon his neck did I heard his gurgles barely escaping his wind pipe; and yet my past-future memories only still there despite me undoing where I had once been.

And a faint, weak death sigh escaping his lips, I checking myself and I was still standing. My hands parsing the desk again, I had not even felt the bump nor a thing to pry off. Turning around and seeing his corpse, yet I couldn't care as I looked outside to see the outside space. And yet a tinge of sadness fell upon me, for I knew he was but of one person in a greater game.

I stared at that corpse again, flakes of gray just departing from his corpse and burning a crisp into the air. The memories then flashed through my eyes, a dissonance of events prevented yet now only coming into mind. Syringes of genetic goop, death moans of thousand ex-humans, screams of millions of poor people scrambling about to dodge the Void ever-consuming and all of that burned to a fine crisp in the radio silencing mushroom cloud. Like a burning film shot at the end of a movie, so did the World came back to me, there is but one act for all the other are none-choices at the end of the night.

And so to prevent what has happened, one doesn't quarantine but rather uproot what has happened. And with the violent hand of History reflexively forcing my hand, a finger pressed the button and all the waves ceased. Now a simple line that will end the nightmare project that is this decrepit hell hole of a prison house of nations. One speech, and the snowball will turn to an avalanche - for now I am ready to die - with the masses picking up their own pitchforks and what is left of this dangerous experiment of experiments will truly crumble:

"With a deep heart, the president of the United States of America has died of suffocation done by his own hands after realizing what he had done. But for while he is dead, there is but a few programs that currently exist behind closed doors that he was too much of a coward to share and instead choose to further develop in the future. Some would say a paradox had occurred of how he could know what he had done and killed himself there and yet still be able to do what he had known. For he had not died in the sense of a six-feet burial but in the sense of disowning the promises he made and instead was like every other career politician; he was indeed his own murderer and I stand here to attest as the one who killed him that shall be playing every conversation ever made in this oval office alone - enjoy."

And with my hand shoving his corpse to the ground, the gray skin bursting in a pile of saggy flesh and bones; I cared more for scowering the oval office for the Tommy gun and hearing all the deeds he had committed that of which now shall not so alive. For while I had disarmed a major local spear from an entity that lies beyond my control, it shall disrupt the flow of matter of where it was supposed to be going and new contingencies will form about. Whether the contingencies will be in the favor against the space that consumes all other space or be its greatest boost, I haven't a clue. For what is to be done is simple, and may the unfortunate uprising begin so that the other parts of the Universe to showcase that time indeed is no linear beast but a spiral bombarded by a series of contingencies.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Two things before I end my last end blurb ever: I am greatful of @tygertyger and the fact that her contests exist for me to practice lengthy short-fiction.

As always, I had a end blurb that tied or semi-connected with the story. Today, I will cut all the sense of analysis to provide my own auto-analysis of the text.

In a sense, it superficially feels like a time travel plot but grounded din materialism and the assumption that the Universe doesn't really care to be linear at all - if it had, we wouldn't even be able to time travel period with the first spark killing the entire Universe over. Yet even in this superficiality, if one had been a long avid reader of my fiction, you could catch all the small and weird side-tangents that were more in an abstract matter of representation than they were of a literal element of a story.

To descend into the story for the figurative: one can see definitely the pursuit to rebel against the normalcy of literature and fiction-crafting to make all main cast and background characters the overrepresentated white cishet male, and yet one can see me normalizing what usually be the periphery of white cishet males. And one can see this very attempt to not only create a World where I needn't even have to explain that enby means non-binary (gender) but also a Dialectic away from my juvenalia towards a new era in my writing.

And this is where we must break from the story to now break ourselves away from the chains of Metaphysical thinking, to now include all sides of what had come into it. In effect, the story was my resignation to the stories I had created on here while giving them a respect that cannot be equal in the love of a love letter and yet more than a mere recognition. Especially concerning two characters that I had named Him - the leading head of the Void - who was the POTUS and It who was most definitely a reflection of the Devil in terms of function and speech. In writing this I sign my name everywhere from damning the stories of horror I made, burning up all plots I created, forcing upon a dread to the characters I leave behind and, in the end, rebounding to a new era of (documented) history I will have to live out. The post-juvenalia transition was hard, yet one I had confronted and will begin experiencing with a heavy heart to the past. Insomuch as I care for my juvenalia, I shall post a list of all the ones that I cared to even compile; however, it does mean I shall salvage some for my interests and hope to flesh out to more serious projects and programmes of which I now step into and have to venture in even with a flashlight. I shall not mark what, yet I need not tell even then...

A hefty amount of stories made within a year's time span, and yet a many million other things I also had done in-betwixt all that... No worries, you needn't read one of them to understand the story above; and yet I do wish to point them out all the same!

And now to recall all the @ signs from the intro blurb:
@tygertyger @veryspider @scrawly @vermillionfox @jayna @f3nix @agmoore @agmoore2 @brisby @dirge @bananafish

Let's start this anniversary by groups of people

@veryspider @scrawly @vermillionfox - mój towarzysze (my comrades)! I will miss seeing your art, but I am glad to have your discords for sure. Ye all! We still need to confirm some commissions between us, hit me up on Discord later. Now, by the names. @veryspider, thank you for not only being the bardzopajak (only curie gang will understand this polish word) but being the spideriest spider around!!!!~ <<<<3333!!!!~ @scrawly, I dunno what has happened since I basically cut Steemit off in my life except posting my final posts, yet I hope things are doing righto over there in Aussie land!!!!~ <<<<3333!!!!~ @vermillionfox, the adorable pear :p, I hope the cafe's still in biz and hope new moments are created there as always!!!!~ <<<<3333!!!!~

@f3nix @agmoore @agmoore2 @brisby @dirge @bananafish - I must admit a bias that I already wrote my goodbye to you already, so I'll just link this here and make a collective goodbye to you once more. DO WIDZENIA!!!!~ <<<<3333!!!!~ (If you guys ever need a prompt, don't hesitate to reach out for me!!!!~) @f3nix, wherever the hell you're going, don't die there in Italia. @agmoore and @agmoore2 - the secret twins no one ever knew >:^D - I will say that good health may be blessed upon thy path and I dare you to invoke more feminism (lest I confuse another NANA-ite) and be bold with it that can not only interpret - but the point is... - to change. @brisby, the squirrel of Steemit, keep up with those squirrels and keep in touch with me about that Grunt plushy [Joke reference image we had amongst each other] now!!!!~ @dirge, hope things go swell in the RoK!!!!~ @bananafish, whatever really happened whence I was no more on there be a spring towards a better and more lax future!!!!~

@jayna - not exactly a group (lest a group of one counts), but I want to say thanks and I wished I had talked to yah more on Steemit (and vice versa of even a small comment on my posts if yah had read them or not; I've changed a whole lot!!!!~) <<<<3333!!!!~

@tygertyger - another group of one but I want to make a less serious comment here. That being, I wish for the best to happen on whatever happens in yer daily life outside of Steemit. I dunno what you do in real-life to stay afloat considering Steem's rather lackluster socio-economic performance since HF20's release, but I can recommend you a co-op (and they recently made a Twitter account and have a Discord Server if you want to be more in touch with them!~) in need of professional musicians and artisans such as yerself!!!!~ <<<<3333!!!!~

Did I hit everybody? Good. So... let's re-introduce myself for the last time...

Heyo!~ My name is Wiktora "F.D.V.G." [Redacted], I am Polish Slav that's also a Transbian (Transgender-female and lesbian) kid that's going to college [Classified] in late August.
Wiktora is now a name I go by; it's cutesy and Polish for Victor. F.D. is Felix Dzerzhinsky, my hero. V.G. is Victor Gabriel; Victor was my deadname that I still like to keep; Gabriel was my mother's choice of name before the Patriarch override and chose Victor. [Redacted] is [Expunged from the record, I will not share nor tolerate anyone looking up my last name. If you even see your friend posting it, I will highly suggest to ask them to edit it out or outright delete it; if they don't budge, then I will take the hit for you flagging/downvoting their behavioral problems].
To no one's surprise if they actually checked out accounts before and saw my account's bio, it reads: Czerwony salute(!), or "Red salute!" I do not consider myself as an "Amerikkkan" despite being born, raised, taught and kak (shit) here, even worse that my Polish Immigrant family refuses to teach me - their own kid - the Polish language and Culture. I could go on a whole socio-economic rant of how I still am classified as a White Amerikkkan, yet I shall not. However let's leave it at this: I cannot stand White Amerikkkan "culture" and rather be called silly/quirky for expressing Polish Culture while being casually gender-free/non-conforming qua the strict conservative and yet hypocritical standards of White Amerikkan "culture" here.
Which then ties directly into me being a Transbian, of which I shall decide to give the most definitive bullet-point syndrome version I ever made today right now: - As a kid until 5th grade, I would act, talk, think and desire what we can call a "girl" per se. 5th grade (by the time my speech impediment was "corrected" enough), the teachers would notice and basically force me to be a boy. - Middle school I would be in tons of GAY AS HECK relationships until I was forced outta them because of homophobes (where I truly learnt homophobia) and then be... look just accept I am a CSA (Child Sexual Assault) survivor. - Highschool would be my grey years as I am forced to act as a cishet male, up until 12th grade when old memories would re-emerge and I would question them a whole lot which leads up today. Where I not only feel but know I am a transgender (not because I have gender dysphoria; of which that's a cruel bioessentialist manipulation of transness while erasing it as well to say that you can only be trans by being a gender dysphoria possessor), but also a lesbian. Which thankfully translated well in my senior year of highschool as I made girlfriends, trans friends and other LGBTQ+ friends.
Now what about a college! Well I am going to [classified, ask me on Discord if I have you on there or I had tagg'd you before - I'll fill yah in] in late August to study Chinese (language) and Mathematics (in general, will probably get into the theoretician branch)!!!!~ <<<<3333!!!!~ What I can say is that it's a philosophy college which has practices reminiscent of Slavic Europe~

This will basically be my last serious post on this account ever, I will not even come back here to promote any future writing-art accounts I do set up; if I ever do come back here, it's because I am either tipsy or I am here for nostalgia's sake. If I do promote it, it will be to a certain few that I deeply still love on this website and I want you to not explicitly share it with any other steemit user lest I ask you to pass to a person of my request. Of those I tagged, please leave a message here or on Discord!!!!~ <<<<3333!!!!~ And for the last, for real, time, this fool will say the line now!~