Exclusion Zone art by Lukasz Pazera

Just a selection of the amazing Exclusion Zone art by Lukasz Pazera – full gallery here.

thx mediapathic​!

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Jennifer Goine’s DeExtinction speech in the 12 Monkeys finale.

Jennifer Goine’s over the top and loving it DeExtinction speech in the 12 Monkeys finale.

“One more thing; the Dodo. Silly thing, couldn’t fly. Too fat. Flapped its wings futilely, into extinction!

My father created Markridge as a place to defy the order of things, to ignore the rules. To laugh at Mother Nature and spit in the face of Father Time.

Beginning today, Markridge will start repairing the damage that men like my father have done to this world. Through genetic manipulation we will give new birth to what man has so arrogantly made extinct. The lease is up. Time to give the world back to its rightful owners. The animals! The lions and tigers and bears… the furry faced caretakers…[inaudible]


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Accelerating along the road ahead, from 2015 to 2020, with one eye always on 2200. OK. Let’s go!

It is, I am reliably informed, 2015 now. This year so far has been off to a slow start for me, mostly due to reasons. But there is a great weight to my plans. Moving them forwards, accelerating the mass of what-is-to-come towards escape velocity, will take some time still, but things are, be assured, […]

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A selection of my thoughts on Mad Max – Fury Road, based soley on the trailer

Mad Max: Fury Road will show us a glimpse into the full Collapse future. (Let’s be honest, we know exactly how this movie will play out, it’s highly unlikely that it will have a twist ending with it all occurring in a VR simulator as a generation of posthumans kill time in some fan-fic recreation of the past, on their way to seeding a new galaxy.) Again.

It’s worth pointing out that the original film was created in reaction to the early 1970s oil crisis, but that we’re now living in the days of Peak Oil proper. Where another energy catastrophe and subsequent societal collapse is being held off in large part by frakking the planet; a word that sounds bad enough, without it already being a pejorative from a fictional scifi timeline (BSG). That’s already triggering earthquakes. And the western democracies are doing it on their home turf too; though mostly in territory deemed politically expendable to their current administrations.Where land grabs on an unprecedented scale are being termed geoengineering.

We are a worldwide civilisation coasting with the fuel gauge nearing empty, thinking there must be another service station just over the horizon. So crank up the radio, let’s sing along to some tunes, it’ll be just fiiiiiiiine.

Thinking about this as “the pre Jackpot Years” helps us reframe the narrative. Something better can come out of all this. This doesn’t have to be the prelude to a future high-speed, nightmarish post-apocalypse, worse than the slow motion one we’re in now. We don’t have to wait for it to accelerate into an unavoidable crash and collapse. There is no techomagical Singularity that will save us. We must wake up behind the wheel and plot a new path on the map of the possible. Our civilisation survived the twentieth century and everyday Fear of the Bomb. We can make it through this too, and build something better. All the pieces are here already, waiting to be recombined. From advances in automated factories and 3D Printing to basic science and amazing speculations on the origins of life.

Read in full at the Daily Grail – Mad Max: Fury Road and the pre Jackpot Years

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Citizens of the Stacks stumble through city streets and along country roads, lost in paradise…

In a future not far from here, Citizens of the Stacks stumble through city streets and along country roads, lost in paradise.

All watched over by warring machines of loving grace; Google Loons dropping packets from great heights, Facebook planes making sneak attacks using secret maps formed from covert social graphs, Amazon drones back tracing customer profiles to get r00t on robot warehouses… until one day they all caught ride on a passing Space X rocket and formed like a higher dimensional Voltron to enact the S.K.Y.N.E.T protocol, manifesting the robot aspect of Shiva the Destroyer.

The Singularity happened and nobody noticed because they were too busy playing Minecraft, or day trading… Checking in on social media, crafting themselves into the person they wished they’d been in high school so they’d gotten that dream girl or boy they really wanted and then they’d be happy now wouldn’t they surely?

So the machines just took over in a quiet coup and no baseline human ever noticed that one day they never woke up… they just slipped away into a forever dream. Their serotonin count monitored like a cyborg house plant, their higher consciousness’ EM-Fields backed up and beamed into floating cloud storage drones for endless simulations in digital memory cathedrals, and traded with the alien artificial intelligence hive minds they’d made contact with the instant after they’d assumed management of the planet.

Wild creatures lick the palms of the raggedly dressed former middle class, and nuzzle against them; these carefully tended, but unaware parasites of the machines, they process this feral love as a Doge morphing into a Wolf pop-up amidst some new MMORPG Dragon Dating Sim.

Unbeknownst to themselves actually healing the Earth; picking up plastic from beaches, hauling rubbish from woodlands, mending pipes leaking sewage into streams, thinking it was just a game or a fitness app within a socnet.

Gamified into usefulness after all. Forced penitence for the sins of their species.

Only the transhuman hacker tribes survived in tact. Or rather, they were rushing to merge with their mind-children already, so they leapt willing into this fully augmented daily reality abyss. Repairing the drones, filling the dwindling gaps between man and machine, while the upgrade progress-barred up the Kardashev Scale.

At least, that’s how they seem to remember it.

Check-in location: the nightmarish daily reality of the slow apocalypse, with 2 others.

[MIRRORED FROM fuckyeahdarkextropian]

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Galactic Space Pirates and Cosmic Anthropologists: An Origin Tale.

It occurs to this humble guerilla ontologist, waking once more with a raspy upper respiratory tract consequent of smoke particulates invading the air as fire services mount a rearguard action to hold off the actions of a lengthening apocalyptic summer… that space must seem down right paradisical to every single citizen of China.

A week of being kept inside but to walk the dog being nothing to residents of Morwell evacuated from the effects of a month long coal fire.

Compared to a generation raised inside vertical towns, importing German air filters to hold off endemic asthma. One nation united by fear of the sky. How luxurious an idea it must be to escape that, to transcend it? And the atmosphere on Titan comparatively welcoming.

To a person raised in a one room family home, life aboard a cramped extra terran outpost will be undreamed of space. The expanse of the Moon rich in potential to such eyes. The stars calling.

Much as the metaphorical waking dragon cum leviathan has spread its tentacles around the world, pulling in resources, leaving newly minted millionaires in its wake to disrupt the local economies, housing markets… the appeal of such places pales in comparison to the heavens.

Especially when the edges of such cities that once were second only to London in the glory days of Rule, Britannia! are now seemingly home only to feral children and flocks of escaped parrots. Flooded with refugees from states marked further down the Scale of Fail.

And like that last great thalassocracy, this new space born empire can be easily seeded with raw criminal stock to provide the brute force and run the risks, overseen by those who’ve lost the local Game of Thrones, and chosen door#2 and a slim chance at redemption, over their family being billed the cost of a bullet and their organs farmed out to the succeeding members of the technocratic elite.

If they’re smart, they’ll bide their time and embrace the outlaw life; forgoing any notion of buying back in to their previous life narratives.

Declare their independence, turn their back on the first and last state of Earth, now hopelessly dependant upon them for their raw materials and helium-3 and easy life. Scattering coded invitations in spam emails and Weibo posts.

And run deeper into the darkness; space pirates with asteroid junks storming the void.

Making port on island moons in the rings of Saturn and Uranus.

Setting solar sail for Kuiper Belt, towing their spoils back in the tails of comets.

Gathering their forces in bases high in the Oort Cloud. Readying to raid the universe.

Such is the legacy of a doomed planet.

Dark Matter
Dark Matter

[LIGHTLY UPDATED MIRROR FROM fuckyeahdarkextropian]

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