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CHAPTER 1

I’m a reclusive auteur—I mean how do you spell that? Oh yeah, right… Please allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m a reclusive author who has merged with his words, late in his life, subtlety and quietly becoming a connoisseur of governance. Cha Cha Diva, well, that’s the name I was born with, when I was born in a bubble bath. Before my first and only book came out, they used to call me the Whipping Boy, because I was shared by my masters. Now it’s just Cha Cha Diva, sometimes Diva-Bear for short.

My book, now considered by many in the underground to be a definitive cult masterwork, was entitled THE YOUNGBLOOD ASCENDANCY, for it probed at great lengths into the concept of what a new resource based economy could to do to squelch the clandestine organization of, I forgot what I was saying. And I used to stand on the catwalks of the book factory and pour buckets of black ink all over the books while they were being published, so it would be personalized and seem more collectible.

But those were the good old days. Now I live in a log cabin! The inside of my home is mostly decorated with my folk art, which I would describe as me scratching my nails into the wooden walls and furniture. And underneath the first layer of my house is candy. The whole house was originally made of candy. Its so cute and plus I have a sweet tooth so it all makes sense. When I die I want to be eating lots of sweets.

Theres a dentist coming over to the house today. Dentist Lazarus Everly. He always sweet talks me, and swears I have a delightful smile, but he kinda freaks me out a little. Last time he paid me a visit, he fidgeted with my pearl necklace for over an hour and then dangled it into my mouth. He twirled his finger around the necklace in my mouth for the longest hour of my life. Then dropped some gross metal necklaces in as well. I’ve been meaning to get rid of that disgusting jewelery, but I keep forgetting because I’ve been so busy.

That experience with the dentist was especially niggling since his elbows have little bells on the them. Yeah, that’s right… both his elbows are pierced and have little bells attached. On second thought, maybe I will just ditch the dentist today. Time to leave the house, I’d say.

So a while ago I got this fan letter from this art band from Camden, New Jersey. They said they had gotten really inspired by my teachings and would like to meet me in person someday. I got to thinking that I’d also like to meet these fellows, since they actually appreciate the full breadth of my work. Most of the people in this world are just too blind to see, too self centered to believe that the world they live in is a world of lies. These poor people just need a jolt of the truth and that is just what I’d give them if they would just wake themselves up out of enslavement and learn my book. I guess my book will always be considered a cult phenomenon, too far ahead of its time.

Since I am going out in public in the city I have to dress accordingly. No more pajamas. Civilian clothes. I choose to take a GunkTech / hipster crust punk angle, and (first things first) start by taking apart my old CaseLogic CD book and hotgluing the page sleeves with album art onto my clothes so that people know what I’m like. Next I deepfry my dreadlock. It looks dazzling so I’m ready to go.

My cabin is located near the bog by the abandoned nuclear power plant, so the ecology is all radioactive. Sometimes I will lay in the brown haze on moldy rocks and think about days bygone in the storming scene, it was all too surreal to even describe. Times have changed, things are so tame these days. You won’t understand, it’s generational.

Anyways, my journey to New Jersey begins with me leaving my house, and I’m also me leaving my door open so who knows. My journey begins with me river wading through cloudy, greay chocomute-hued water—but it quickly gets too interrupted by all this trash. My journey begins with, uh I forgot what I was saying, I was interrupted. Oh yeah, I’m never minded by blindspots so I gotta focus on moving forward to (as we were, as we were) moving forward to where I’m going to-- but I’m distracted. All the presentation on the trash is very disorienting, graphics that are intentionally trying to divert me through their live interactive occurence. The labels are lively and distorted, shapeshifting their figures and letters into knotty paste. Its likeable because of all the dddd repetition wording that that they use to flirt with your traveler’s taste tongue and its reactive graphic design that’s literally soaring off the packaging and bringing you back to the womb, sucking on the baby bottle. I try to wrangle it back to the retro orientation marker that was created on all production design of the early 00’s but the fonts won’t participate right with my hands. In fact they start to ‘chingle’-fight with my hands, angering and enraging me (I’m a very aggressive person).

The nearby amphibians and slugs resting on logs are getting really confused watching me manipulate their habitat, so I let the slugs eatfuck my fist. With the amphibians, I am trying to get a reptilian slant for use in my calligraphy wrist curls and I went back to that. Gotta start studying the logo wraps on that trash for my new more informed, more aggressive graffiti stylings. The inside of these labels have security directives (that prevent me from going back into fighting them) that fill themselves with different varieties of smogs—like surveillance smoglets.

After playing in the labels (actually it was more like grad school for Cool Hunters), I punctured an escape route back to the bog, and started sculpting the dramatic vectors out of the bark on the side of a swamp tree, forming these wonderful little riblets, more like award winning contemporary graphic design experiments. I am getting more and more clever by the minute, and all I am doing was standing clammy in the bog. I crawl all around this landscape for a few hours and begin to notice little wireless receivers growing everywhere off all the plants and animals. There’s a muted hum coming from underneath everything, like there is an underlying subtext beneath everything.

I perchance to ask the hum what’s it for’s, and why there are receivers are. It tells me in a buzzy voice that the receivers are energy receptors that are connected wirelessly to the abandoned nuclear power plant.

“It’s the sound of energy that’s completely wireless, my friend.”

“Then why,” I ask, “is the power plant abandoned?”

“It’s ‘abandoned looking’ in order to deceive you into thinking that this place is toxic, and will mutate you, but it won’t… because,” the humming energy says, “the land is off limits.”

“Why is the land off limits?”

“You will find out if you break into the power plant.”

“Yeah, alright, I,” I say,“get it.”

CHAPTER 2

So I crawled up towards the ‘King Castle on the Hill’ style nuclear power plant. Yeah, smash a hole in the wall with the building’s motion sensor, it automatically detonates the wall like a sliding door in the grocer. I definitely ‘get it.’ Somebody wants me to be here…

Now I’m in… yeah, it’s my kind of place. Everywhere everything surrounding me is corroded & crusted, dusty & dingy. I find that yellow plasma bubbles have popped all over everything and dribbled down the wall. I take a taste. It’s duck sauce, go figure.

The big power generator is operational with the wireless energy relay outputer signal flashing “ON.” The humming sound was utterly correct. This place is weird and suspicious. There are X rays of teeth everywhere. Above me there’s a laser cut wooden sign that says “Dentist’s Chambers.” It must be a private workstation for my Dentist. Oh no, he’s going to think I’m impinging on his space, trying to stalk him or something. My heart always starts to race when I’m around Dentist Everly. I hide under an enormous tarp in a different room just as I see him walking in through the collapsed doorway.

“Whose the rat who’s been wandering through my home?!!” He’s a huge hothead, mad as hell, putzing around looking for a clue. He sees my teeth marks on the duck sauce, and screams, “Where the fuck are you, Cha Cha?!! I’m going to killfuck you! I hate you Diva Bear! Why weren’t you there at the house?! I had all my supplies that I was going to use on you! Unleash the Youngbloods!”

He was always bragging to me about this aristocracy of vampires called the Youngbloods that he had as clients. He also had a little tooth fairy apprentice working for him that buzzed around his fingers while he worked.

Apparently, there’s great new book out about the little secret world of tooth fairies called What-the-Dickens: The Story of a Rogue Tooth Fairy. Have you ever heard of a little musical called Wicked?? Duh of course you have. (If you haven’t then you’ve been living under a pillow for the past couple of years.) Well it’s fun and its from the author of that play, George MaGuire.

Anyways, if he had these vampires as clients, then why would he be ordering them around? Do these vampires like to be told what to do? The answer is apparently a resounding YES! There is a rampant young group of privileged, overly spoiled vampire princes that like to run around and get whipped and drilled real hard, controlled by Dentist Everly (its what you might call a master-slave relationship). What do these vampires look like? Well, I’m glad you asked. Lots of ornate plastic surgery. Lots of stretch marks. Naked, wild. Very dramatic. Very angular. Very chi-chi. They stuff royal heirlooms under their stretched skin and in between their organs, as not to flaunt it. The best way to describe them would be to take everything you know about a traditional vampire (like say, Nosferatu or Dracula) and throw that in the fire. I mean these modern day Youngbloods are completely transforming the whole notion of what it means to be a vampire on the world stage. You may think they look like feral scamps, but these are cultured and refined members of an elite nobility.

The vampires dash into action, sniveling their way through the tarp, they are right on my trail. I take off my clothing so they can’t tell who I’m being.

The tarp literally feels like its everlasting, even with these immortal vampire predators coming at me from all angles. Its a tarp that’s approximately 600 square yards which has been bunched into a room that’s only 200 square yards (with ceilings as high as a large gym). It is most likely used as a way to cover up all the psycho sexual experimentation that goes on in this building.

The tarp makes it so it’s insanely hot and dim in here. I’m running away as fast as I can from these chasers. Sweating like a hound dog, I quickly approach a glowing light that’s being emitted far in front of me. The light is coming from work lights (like those used on construction sites) that are set to shine on a few kinky Youngbloods blowing glass into a large sphere around their peers getting involved in seriously one of the most deranged sexual activities I have ever seen. They are painted golden and doing rituals comparable to flaminco belly dancing, and having sex with bloody roses. Lots of straps, the whole nobility is imitating each others’ faces and moaning like one another.

I wink at them and they blow a kiss back at me? Yeah right!.

More like I wink at them and try to run away, but they blow glass around me. I look below and forget what I was going to say, then see under the glass bottom a dark hole full of passed out strangers. I look up and its Lazarus Everly. A vampire brings him a daiquiri, then fondles him in a very submissive way. I’m starting to get the feeling that Dentist Everly has been brainwashing the Youngblood princes into thinking that they are allowed one bite of his patients after he anesthetizes them in exchange for his sexual enslavement over them.

The glass ball fills with laughing gas and morphs inside out so that a large tube goes into my mouth and down my throat, filling my stomach and my body starts to metabolize the hot glass as it shapes itself into heirlooms of the Youngblood nobility.

Anyways, I pass out and wake up with this dummy staring at my teeth, waking up with the Dentist’s eyeball literally in my mouth, checking to see how many glass heirlooms I formed. Luckily for me this process does not turn me into a vampire.

“All’s fair in love and war. Do you intend to cooperate with me, Baby Bear?”

“I’m not a BABY!!!!” I scream! I hate it when they call me a baby, I’m a retired 50 year old writer.

We keep trying to molest one another until one of us gets the upper hand. He knows that I have a sweet tooth so he keeps taunting me with chocolate creme eggs that he lays for my taking as gifts. Don’t worry, I ate them. But As Usual, I’m able to get out of an uncomfortable situation totally unscathed. Attack is the best form of defense so I start to poke him on all his itches to get him to stop rubbing all my smooth spots.

On the right of us is a work light, I climb into the cage of the lamp so that you can only see my head coming from the bars. I hop the tripod unit out of the tarp. Nevermind that didn’t happen, I lied. I ran away from him, truthfully, because I was scared.

CHAPTER 3

Anyways, so I hop with the construction tripod light into the information archives, where it is totally obvious what the deal is. The room is a complete mess. Yeah, what a pig. The doctor has ruined all his computers because he would always stuff all his print outs into the hardware space of his computer.

Next to his broken computers, there’s a cute little diary with the key still in the lock, so I take a look. All the computers and controls turn on when I open the notebook. The first couple of pages are recipes for cupcakes, but then the book completely changes directions. Kinda freaks me out a little. After the cupcake part, there are obsessively maintained, meticulous diary entries about every single part of my genitalia. One of the computers shows a CGI model of my sexual functions. He writes that he used to give me laughing gas during his doctors visits in order to sneak around my home and document my private writings and folk art. Some of the other computers in the room show home-surveillance footage from the camera on my XO labtop of me sitting alone in my room being lonely and by myself. And according to his writing, Lazarus Everly has been trying to brainwash me into a state of total house arrest. The diary talks a bit more about how the wireless energy coming from the plant is designed to feed the artificial bacteria growing on everything in the bog, making the areas surrounding my log cabin appear to be very health hazardous, preventing me from ever leaving this land. This bacteria is also surveillance sensory equipment that he is testing out on me that he wants the Government to one day use. Then comes the juicy parts, there are diagrams of how the Dentist has very intimate connections with the President of the United States.

Why does the Dentist, if he wields so much governmental power, care about what I do or say or think? I must find out why! I must take a stand! I must break free!

So I go over to the controls and blow a big hole into the main generator and I just stride right in. My matter keeps flipping back and forth from being a liquid into being a gas until my mood-swing swirls into a positive/negative vortex control pattern. I like the repetition so I hide in the frequency to debut as electricity. I am now totally wireless electric and I need to get my mind to trick matter into going with us into a cloud.

But first things first. Gotta get Everly! I swoop down through the air towards his spinal column and give him an electro shock therapy back rub, completely breaking his back.

So its off we go to the Oval Office. I am so glad to be out of that horrible, seedy hangout for deviants, perverts and sex addicts. Traveling in a rain cloud, I pass by lots of little tooth fairies. I wave at them, blow them kisses, and they invite me to Camden, NJ to this wonderful little hangout spot called Papa’s on 8th. I decide to stop by and scope out the scene, maybe offer up some sound advice. It feels so right, so alive… the collective spirit lives on! I meet Rick, Bill, and Lou, the three artists and musicians who call themselves Papa, and do an electric twirl through their musical instruments while they play. They have the size, style and spirit of guys in their mid-twenties, but they have wrinkly skin and grey hair. They were real productive: tooting out new sound-scapes, gluing together nonbiodegradable sculpture collages (with no place to store them), and blogging about themselves being drunk for their former schoolmates interning at fashion magazines in New York. When we finally all get to sit down, I try to lead the conversation into competing at who has the craziest party stories and who has had wilder lives. This quickly depresses them and they tell me they are closing down their experimental exhibition space because they are sick of this sort of attitude. They tell me about how ashamed they are to be white and how they don’t want to carry on in the traditions of that. Certain tendencies have developed in their minds that they can’t get rid of. They are programmed to create useless art objects out of raw materials that eventually get put in the dump like everything else. I tell them that they were brainwashed by their art schools to speed popular culture along to increase the production of new distraction trends, and new goods, and as a result to increase inflation, so that the countries would be forever indebted to the Lazarus Everlys of the world. I inform them that since they are in such a ripe position for culture manipulation that Papa should guide the world towards a moneyless, jobless, resource based society that is super advanced technologically. They tell me they totally agree, but that they saw a viral internet video (awhile back) (about all of that) and that I was ripping it off. Anyways, all that matters is off to Capital Hill!

CHAPTER 4

What an unforgettable sight, our nation’s capital at night, truly breathtaking. On my way flying into the metropolitan Washington DC area, it starts raining. I come down in lightning out of a cloud striking the White House, cutting the lights out throughout the building. When the lights come back on in the Oval Office, I am there, my body matter totally neutralized, excited to meet the president but what I actually see right in front of me is a bizarro art installation. The room is trashed, with the phrase “It’s an exciting time to be alive right now” splattered all over the walls. Over by where the president’s desk is, there’s a creepy sculpture of three mannequins, and on top of the desk is a bowl of butterscotch candies. Sucking on the sweets, I contemplate the art piece: the first mannequin has a rubber mask of the president melted onto its face, its limbs are being puppeteered by a mannequin that’s been decorated to look like a vampire; the main mannequin puppeteer controlling the vampire puppet is a handsomely shaped mahogany statue of the dentist.

This communicates something to me. Yes it does. It was widely understood throughout the underground (from my book, THE YOUNGBLOOD ASCENDANCY) that the president was “secretly” controlled by world bank stars and the wild boys of the vampire nobility. Well, on second thought that’s not the entire story. The dentist controls everything. And he based his entire system offof (as we were, as we were) offof hiding behind all the conspiracies in my first book. I betcha he’s not even a dentist…

As I walk out of the oval office, I see hundreds and hundreds of high processing data storage drives. His employees are on the most advanced SplashDecker mudware-entanglement interfaces designing official news graphics and animating politicians/celebrities into lifelike, but fictional realities. The designers are very superstitious and have put talisman office decorations between them and their computers. Some of them have bowls of candy. And above their heads are signs designating their departments, the signs have all the major news outlets represented: Drudge Report, Associated Press, NBC, NPR, Bloomberg, New York Times, Reuters, PBS, Wall Street Journal, etc. where they dream up the ideas and the scenarios for fake news events and then create the visuals with CGI. Anyways, there were also departments for the Dow Jones (where they direct the economy) and departments for Google and Apple (where all the world’s information gets stored and organized onto the MindBanks for further casual cross-referencing).

So are you still asking yourself why the Dentist would care so much about what I do if he has so much on his plate? Well I can almost assure you it has a lot to do with the fact that THE YOUNGBLOOD ASCENDANCY uncovered all of this (if you are wondering what THE YOUNGBLOOD ASCENDANCY is about, then reference back to when I was rambling) Its now more apparent than ever that the Dentist wants to suppress me because he is afraid that I will figure out his plans and write a book and take over the White House. Well what can I say? Don’t underestimate me!

But on a more serious side note, I would never do such a thing. On second thought, nevermind. He has hijacked the motion-captured, computer-generated manifestations of our president and other politicians from the class of vampire nobles so that he can pass whatever sexual laws he sees fit. He has consistently used the catchphrase, “It’s an exciting time to be alive right now,” to make you feel cool with him destroying our economy and environment so he can pump more funds into the eccentric pet projects that he likes to get our country into. It sickens me to death!

Anyhow, I go back into the Oval Office and decide to hide under the desk to wait until workers have left. After they leave, I leave my post under the desk and sneak back out to the main office area. I log myself onto one of the modules and start doing experimental graffiti arts with the tried and true classic interface for NBC News. As always, I get carried away, and open up all the source files on the MindBanks and start to collage different people, places, and things together with subversive new storylines and quirky video / audio content… creating my own fresh and original news events. I edit this together all night long, making it a sensual, visually addictive product that the public will not be able to resist. I push the “broadcast” button, so it will go live onto the Wetware Networks. Every night while people sleep, they get fed dreams of the news. This is what will establish that the Cha Cha Diva is back. Tomorrow morning the big, hot button topic of conversation will be the overthrow of the world government and how Diva Bear will lead this revolt.

In order to continue on this path of disrupting the world government I need a sidekick, so I call up mama and ask her. She regretfully declines this offer so I get to thinking that the perfect sidekick would be a little field mouse that I could fit in my jacket pocket. Just before dawn, I tip toe around the White House searching for my new friend.

“Here, here little mouse,” I say, “Come to Diva Bear, little mouse.” No luck, so I start banging out hole in the walls and… “AHHH!! Ratz!”

There is a nest of huge rats (the size of catz) curling around each other in the wall I broke. I move on, knocking out 5 more rat cavities until it finally happens! Yes, I look deep into the nest of a dark hole, through the swirl of rats and I come across a scared little field mouse wimpering, clasping for dear life onto his miniature, “mouse-size” Christmas hat. At first he guards his eyes from the light that is being shone into his squinty eyes. I hold out my hand and he hops into the base of my palm getting very excited that I am there to lend a helping hand (while looking for a helper to work for free). Very cute.

“Oh my goodness, what’s your name?” I ask.

“John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith, The White House Christmas Mouse, at your service! Paah-paa paaaahpa….Peepee!” tipping his little Santa Claus hat off his head.

“Want to work for me as a sidekick? I will pay you in sugar cookie crumbs!”

“Oh yes, yes sir, of course. Pa paaw pee pee pee… pee pee, poo poo?” says the little Christmas mouse.

“What are the truths behind Lazarus Everly? You are the only one that I can ask.”

“Well, first of all,” says the mouse, “just forget everything you think you know about him.… pee pee pee… pee poo pa, ke ke… poo pa, poo poo”

“Uh, I think I kn--”

“You know nothing! He’s not even a dentist. He’s not a he,” he says in a squeaky little mouse voice, “and he’s not even human. Heee’s a hee za pee pee poo poo. He’s the next stage of evolution, the whole surface of his body is many times more sensitive as a normal female or male reproductive organ. His body is like one big sexual organ and he is totally pornographic, recording all of those feelings and sensations with the surveillance bacteria onto the highly fee fee- fahhh fetishized BrainDomain drive that he owns on the network.”

“Oh. So I’ve,” I say, “been taken advantage of.”

CHAPTER 5

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CHAPTER 6

There are stretched shadows. A spectacular golden light radiates into my jail cell. The sun is setting in the window and its been over 40 days and 40 nights since I started writing my latest composition, THE GOLDEN BOOK, a tell all whistle blower, rebellion-style diary book of the corruption I have witnessed on my latest journeys through this ya-ya world, and its almost finished. Its been quite inspiring actually to write this book, billions upon billions of people, who are newly acquainted with my belief system have, assembled outside, 40 stories below my cell window, on the streetlevel to cheer me on as I finish this book and to help me overthrow the world government. This book will hold the key to how these people will feel and the key to how we will all bring about the global uprising. This is the night I must finally finish my oeuvre and finally show my face to the people of the world, delivering the speech of a lifetime.

As I put the last finishing touches on my latest masterwork, I start to realize that I don’t have a speech prepared. Well who cares?! I scream freedom, and I fling the book out of my window, through the bars, right into the sun. The book becomes a blinding ray, reflecting the sunlight back into my eyes. Its almost as if time has decided to slow down for this poignant moment, but the image starts to linger too long, getting to the point where its boring and time-consuming by the time it gets digitized. Well the book is almost instantly digitized when it gets down to the street floor. My fans just can’t take the wait! The info goes out quick in this age.

When I finally come up with the brainy idea of getting Christmas Mouse to sneak out of the cell in the middle of the night while Night Guard is napping and steal the keys from him, its already too late... it’s already happening. Every prisoner in the jail is rattling their cups on the bars on their cell, chanting, “CHA CHA CHA, CHA CHA CHA….” so I basepump my fist in the air, battering the concrete roof of my jail cell into complete oblivion. At the exact time the entire prison population punches in, breaking down my prison walls, power-thrusting me up 10 floors, level by level, all the way up to the roof. My fist pounds through the roof (a striking silhouette against the full moon), with the prison collapsing around it.

All the criminals underneath me decide to live underneath the existing rubble, forming their own civilization based on spider webs, preying on curious little explorers.

I spring into action, soaring in front of the moon! That’s when I see him, Lazarus Everly. His face is being video projected into the night sky.

CHAPTER 7

In front of billions of people, I watch his face grimace back to me in the sky. Hands around him are putting ping-pong balls onto his face (he can’t do it himself I paralyzed him the last time I saw him). Huh?! Oh no, what does he think he’s doing? He’s putting motion capture devices onto his face! The video in the sky shows that the ping-pongs are directly connected through wires to a ragged old voodoo doll. His assistants are helping him write something directly onto the doll. As soon as they write it, it instantaneously appears on my stomach, saying, “motion capture voodoo ( psychic mind control.”

I am completely stupefied into a state of permanent shock. Ironically, now my body is paralyzed and I really can’t do anything about it, unless I defeat him psychically or somehow destroy his face.

The word wounds on my stomach disappear, just as they write something new on the voodoo doll up in the video in the sky. The words, “The Golden Book was written by me as you,” appear on my stomach, and I cry inside. Ghostwriter Everly perhaps controlled me the whole time I was in jail.

The words in my head won’t come out; he begins to get fired up delivering my speech of a lifetime. He as me is telling a crowd of billions and billions of Cha Cha aficionados, “That the time is right to do what’s right… it’s an exciting time to be alive right now!
Get your shakers out!” Everybody in the audience holds up and starts shaking these plastic hand clapper shakers that gave out for free at this event.

That’s when I see the Papa band come out of the crowd with the Christmas Mouse. The members of Papa tell me they had sent the little Christmas Mouse into the White House long ago as a way to monitor the activities of Lazarus Everly.

“So he always says ‘pee pee’ and ‘poo poo’ because he is trying to pronounce the name of your band?” I wonder.

They can recognize what I’m wondering based on the look in my eyes and say, “Christmas Mouse just likes to say things like that, he always has.”

“Hee hee,” says John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith.

Christmas Mouse had told them earlier that I was in trouble, so they decided to come up to the front of the crowd and save me. They grab my legs and my hands and control my bodying and reversing the voodoo back into that doll. Christmas Mouse jumps on my skin’s face and stretches it around like elastic sheets. Up on the skyscreen projection, the Mouse manipulated face is bleeding from all the different expressions he is making, while the Papa controlled voodoo doll jumps into Lazarus Everly’s heart, making it pop open, subsequently killing him once ‘n for all and making me regain control of my body with the glass heirlooms shooting out.

I look-at-my-book and edit-it, for xample xing out all the “no’s” with “yes’s” and vice-versa and everything else is opposite too, so that it goes with my beliefs. The Papa band says they want to publish my book so I immediately knight them in front of the cheering audience.

CHAPTER 8

Giving the speech of a lifetime, I rally the audience into believing what I’m saying:
basically saying that in order to end our energy crisis, we must see what its like to be electrocuted. In a caravan, the crowd follows me back to the bog, where we go into the nuclear power plant and we all become electricity and shoot ourselves in one very large blast out of a solar panel back into the sun (making it pop) turning us into a new idea of the point of humanity. We get sent back through space into the earthborn solar paneling, turning us into wireless electricity, and we split us apart and travel through all the world’s various technologies. Every device, vehicle, appliance, and machine turns on as humankind infinitely passes through them, as humankind collectively realizes that the sun is the heart and the earth is the brain. That's it.