A SORCERER IN THE REVOLUTION
BUSINESS AS USUAL
To those living within Time, the Revolution appears as a disruption of
events. To the sorcerer who has stepped outside of Time however, life
on Earth is always Business-As-Usual.
The sorcerer lives in a state of monistic sameness and ordered recurrence.
At noon the dayside forces have their revolution, and at midnight
the nightside usurps the power of the
day.
The sorcerer is a Cosmic Conservative, feasting on human flesh as
the mob bangs on his castle doors. A revolution can only mean a
disruption of his daily feast, an unwelcome intrusion into his carefully
arranged orgy.
Inhaling a draw of smoke into his blackened lungs, he
says I remember too when I was young...
The memory begins to play
internally. Transforming into a handsome young vampire, he takes to the
streets. The chaos of the smoke and fire filled night is perfect cover,
as he easily picks off prey in the alleyways and indulges his desires.
The blood of the revolution flows freely, and he eagerly laps it up. He
is a gigolo to the Queen, and a comrade to the prostitute.
The smoke of
his exhaled breath clears, and again he is an old man, drifting off in
front of a half-eaten plate of human brains.
BECOMING-ENEMY
Human groups used to be organized into small bands resembling wolf
packs. In our vast contemporary societies however, humans have
organized themselves into insect hives resembling those of bees or ants.
Computer technology buzzes with the intelligence of flies. The location
of a morsel of food is announced through the networks, and a swarm of
humanity arrives on the scene to nibble.
It would be wrong to call
contemporary human beings sheep then, when the course of evolution has
arrived back at the insect stage. The sorcerer is a well-practiced
insect, having taken up the form long before it became popular. While
most larvae are only growing their first wings, he has carefully
sharpened pincers, elaborate antennae and well-crafted armor.
Armor is important. The riot cop's armor is a reflection of his
internal state; he is armored against change. The whole world could
revolt, and his heart and mind would remain the same. Outnumbered by
the crowd, he would only attempt to find shelter in a concealed
compound, to nurse his wounded conservatism in peace.
The sorcerer appropriates the riot cop's shield and night stick for his
own purposes. The shield becomes a cosmic cunnus, and the night stick a
phallus. In his darkened beetle lair, he penetrates the veil of Night.
The Revolution has supplied him with new masks, lifted from the severed
heads of business leaders and politicians. He attends the party in
style, with a millionaire's face. Stitching and dried blood add extra
cosmetic points; awkwardly sized eye holes only create a more mysterious
and smoldering gaze.
The sorcerer has learned how to step inside the
Enemy's body.
ISOLATION
Even when living in the middle of the city, the sorcerer is alone. He
brings the wilderness with him.
The pleasures of community are not for
him. While protestors join hands in bonds of communal love, the
sorcerer is at home, speaking to a puppet.
Having rejected humankind, he
could never make a revolution, he could only foresee it. There's little
satisfaction in prophecy. After the mob has dispatched the ruling class
of its day, the sorcerer knows they could soon come for him, because of
what he is: a monster.
No matter who is in power, no matter how pure or
corrupt a society is, how near or far from utopia, the task of the
sorcerer is always to survive.
He is alone with Night. Together they
have made a pact to care for their demonic offspring. His
responsibilities are incomprehensible to a normal human being.
In
isolation, all things are possible. The sorcerer has made a sacrifice.
He demands the impossible, daily.
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