Demi Bhagwan

interface n. 2. A link between two circuits or parts, especially in
a computer. 3. The meeting point or boundary at which two theories,
systems, groups of people or the like meet and affect each other.

cyberspace n. 1. Built on the platform of the Internet, where computer
users can interact with each other in a three-dimensional digital
universe.

I WATCH YOU DANCE now and cannot close my eyes against the sight. Like
a man hypnotised by the serpent I stare vacuously, transfixed before
the bite. There are Others around you, they writhe their figures with
exaggerated movements and try to torment me, but it is only you I
see.
You called yourself Demi Bhagwan when I first heard your voice riding
the sensory static of cyberspace. A lilting cadence that whispered to
me from the absolute blackness of un-rendered reality. Where I was,
nothing had been built yet. Most users of cyberspace had a place to go,
a reason for being there, a destination. But there are those like me
who simply wander. And out there, beyond the rim of commerce and
data-handling, in the blackness of nowhere I heard you. A solitary,
care-free broadcast, your words touching the minds of any casual
passer-by, gossamer threads on a warm breeze, wrapping around their
thoughts and sticking like spider silk.
I was plugged in. The computer interfacing directly with my neural
cortex, electronic impulses - pure machine code - caressing the raw
heart of my nerve bundles.
For you the Internet was no good as a medium. You could not get inside
people's heads who viewed everything from the impersonal distance of a
computer screen. Direct neural interface was your way in, the violation
of flesh by technology created the most intimate link, the deepest
intercourse.
I tracked your broadcast, you did not make it difficult; pinned it
down to a blakk bunker locked beneath the encryption of the porn
houses. I paid everything I had earned that month just to buy the
access codes. The bunker advertised criminal pleasure.
What I found was you.
A voice and more darkness. But this darkness had form, was created for
a purpose; I could not see your avatar, the image we choose to
represent ourselves in this consensual hallucination called cyberspace.
You removed it from my sight and left my imagination to picture you,
some sultry incarnation dredged up from semen stained dreams. A
goddess. That was your name, Bhagwan, goddess.
There was just your voice.
You could have been a facet of machine intelligence; a scam to squeeze
more money from me set up by the creators of the bunker, tuning into my
desires with black market squid-ware, but I knew you were human. I knew
that somewhere in the Realworld you were plugged in yourself,
orchestrating all of this.
You became my dark chimera. I listened to the things you said you
wanted to do to me, and like the lamb being led to the slaughter I
believed you.
I watch you dance naked, jerking your body to the profusive pounding
of the tabla drums; you drop into scuttling crouches and shake your
arms in ecstasy at each discordant wail of the horns; ringlets of black
hair scattering across your Eurasian features with every twirling
step.
For seven days I talked to you.
My friends said I was sinking into obsession, called you dangerous for
leading me on. I ignored them and the mounting on-line charges.
I quit my job, tired of waiting all day to punch the power stud on my
deck, impatient to slip the interface cables into the carbon-rimmed
sockets surgically drilled into my skull: a breed of new
intelligentsia, technology was my religion, yet human urges are strong
and eventually irresistible, we crave contact with the primitive we
sprung from.
That was the day you said you were ready to meet.
So here I am and I wish this could be a digital fabrication of the
bunker, but the unspeakable terror of this is real.... this is my
flesh, worthless as it is.
You met me outside my apartment in your car; an expensive sports
model, sleek and composed of tight curves, a perfect match for your
Realworld self. There you were, physical, for my own eyes to see, the
veil of darkness temporarily lifted My God, nothing could have prepared
me for your beauty!
I walked out to your car and lost my soul at first sight.
A lithe limbed creature, sheathed in transparent sepia-toned neoprene,
a one-zip body suit, coiled up in the bucket seat, smiling back at me.
I could see everything and I wanted it all.
I actually believed you were willing to submit yourself to me.
I suppose I first suspected when I saw the motel; cheap and isolated
from the city, a flickering neon sign in a loosing battle to hold back
the darkness of the desert. I had expected a Grande hotel.
You drugged me with the wine.
Prostrate and paralysed on the floor I was helpless when the Others
came in to carry me away. They had been waiting outside.
A transition then of blurred lights and horrible gravel voices between
there and here, another car ride and then cold stone steps.... a
descent into your secret lair and the smell of recent murder.
I watch you dance, see the glint of the blade in your hand, bronze
flesh glistening with sweat in the light of the bonfire, painted with
symbols of ancient religion, far older than humankind.
I am aware of more like me, screaming unbearably, bound by wrists and
ankles to wooden crosses, meat for the butchering, sacrifice for your
worship of yourself.
I did not understand until I heard those Others chant your real
name.
Asherah.
I could have laughed. Queen of Heaven. I have studied you and here you
are and I am thinking so calm: this bitch is going to kill me. Almost
as if it has not sunk in yet.
The venerated consort of Yahweh until the Hebrews purged you from
their Law. The Christians came and turned their back on you, they had
their salvation in the Son of God, but was he not also your Son? I find
it hard to remember. To Muhammad, you were a bad dream.
Asherah, Asherah, those maniacs howl the word like an
invocation-
Ahh-she-raaaa.
Your hand flicks across the scream-bulging throat of a man strung up
to a cross on the other side of the stone chamber. His arms thrash
against the bonds as if there were some hope he could stop the stream
of blood jetting from the wound the blade left behind.
This is all in the peripherals of my vision, my focus remains on you.
The man is twitching and lurching into spasms like a freak show puppet
with short strings. My grip on sanity is slipping. Reality is sinking
home.
I want it all to stop now, pull out the cables and come back some
other day.
But I am not plugged in.
Cyberspace? A distant dream...
If only I could breach the gap between here and my machine. My mind,
my me, I, ID, it could live long after death?
I want to scream at the unfairness of it all. Cyberspace, to hell with
it, what about my Life? When comes the part where it all flashes in
front of me; how much after childhood would there really be to see. I
think of all the hours I wasted whilst the Sun was shining outside
glorious and bright.
Ahh-she-raaaa, the chant goes on.
My eyes never leave you but my thoughts circle round.
Demi Bhagwan was just a stale joke that slipped from your jaundiced
lips.
The Hebrews tore you from God, your husband.
They blamed you for their fall from Eden, their exile to the East from
their state of happiness in the northern kingdom, and damned you with
the title of Eve since when Man has despised you. You were once a
goddess of passion but your love soured into the most bitter
poison.
Stepping closer, bare feet padding through the entrails and spilled
blood of the dead, you see the knowledge in my eyes and a wicked smile
curves your mouth like a sickle's edge.
I search for some words to save myself but my own self-loathing keeps
me silent and seals my fate. Why else would I have found you? I am one
of the wretched of this world, like so many of the unbelievers.
All the names you were once revered as: Elat, Dione, Hawwa, Nintu.
Your symbol, the serpent curled around a tree. Now your cults are
reduced to almost none, the worship you once had is gone.
Your rage is infinite and eternal.
And who better to exact your revenge on but sick fools like me.
.

END~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~