NEWS FROM NO-WARE
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EXOHIGHWAY

Death and a Joyride

the gloved hand slams a button on the console - ssklk - a battered tape is crammed into the retangular disk tray - noise unto heaven - noise unto hell

[0 km/h]

The concrete facade of the bank is painfully still there is no movement

The block is deserted

PAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAP

Black clad figure lunges through the door clutching a grey-beige bundle. Slams through the open door of the gun metal deathtrap perched on the concrete doorstep. Blood-greased pistons pumped by mini-nuke thermo-bombs scream black as they spin 4 sleek tires in unison

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

21## EXOHIGHWAY

[400 km/h]

The synth-amphetamine gland installed in your skull releases a shot of blue into your bloodstream - perception warps- TAKE A TURN LOOK OVER -shifts you see in slow-super motion-speed , a painful erection presses against your leg, kaleidoscope viewport shining a blue virtuality of the world, speed is seen, seeing is for speed. You are here, you only exist here, why are you here? 6 children and TURNTURNTURNTURN

BLAM wall and wall newly smoothened space, a nomad-shape in the age of going and LEAVING - behind is gone in a blur 9trail0 blood blur blood blur

You don't stay, to stop is to die, to move is to live, the shark tattoo wraps across your chest biting into your groin. You are free but your are slaved you exist in rebellion to the father, to the man, you play by his mirror reverse rules, your oedipal speed revolt of blood and death and

SKREECH TAKE A TURN LOOK OVER look over , faster van selling buying as you NO TAKE A TURN LOOK OVER left right left right passenger walker jay walker simon walker FUCK

The architecture is built to regulate speed - you look at the stoplight and see the labour camp sign. You spit at it, the wad of saliva hovering in the air for a glorious millisecond before being shattered by sharp cutting back drafts.

WAIT TAKE A TURN LOOK OVER steel bar reinforced bumper smashes through the window display of the kitsch death clothe store, the release of exchange value delivering the dead from bondage yayayaayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayay YEAH GO** HARD GO HARD **YEAH HELL YEAH -= - - -= TAKE A TURN LOOK OVER

HIT THE GAS HIT THE GAS a mantra a prayer a declaration a decision - black rubber trails sizzle on the smooth concrete track

[500 km/h]

The highway is a safety valve on the intercontinental pain network, adderall-infused ape rage released along cement paved freeways

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee

whitebluered cars level in pursuit, they are your father, the lights flash leaving high exposure streaks across your laser viewport, a black barrel is lifted to a window BANGBANGBANG A slug melts the door and the car skids out slamming into the concrete divider CRASH - what are what are what are -

WHITEBLUERED WHITEBLUERED GRAY RED RED GRAY BLACK BLUERED 009 bodies going faster - depleted uranium bullets pepper the heavy jacket of the car, one misses, family sized SUV swerves out - EXIT to the right NOT THIS ONE** NO** - right lane must turn right

Teeth are clenched, mandibles crack under the strain, jaw locked in a grimace

More cars keep coming, the siren song itches the inflamed patch behind your right eye - they are your father, they are your father, they are your father, you are being CHASED -

The highway is a black tar snake that twists and wraps the continent, cheap plastic cars burning dead-beast fuel break boundaries, they shriek their horrible cries - these apes are jacked into a circuit - A A A A A A A A - merely the meat through which the charge travels - they worship their god of speed, leaving hundreds of bodies at his altar, levelling mountains, carving the landscape to better bring about the coming of their lord WAIT FUCK

electrified spike-strips fl-fli-flicker, the feds and their BLUEREDWHITE siren cry for the end of the run their egos inflated by blue uniforms and sleek black pistols they see themselves as the arbitrators of speed, they see it as something to control whereas it is something that controls them - but they are just a dam and - BANGBANGBANG -flood waters can be let free

a jet of pressurized speed over the edge

[600 km/h]

Gridded facades of crisscrossed lines - dead ends, boundaries, corridors, fences, walls - spaces for living(not-living), internal time circulation side-chained to highway flows. Maze sprawl ( close ) space - fence space 0 wall space. BANG car slams down tight path TURN the maze twists around desolate pods winds speed down in its grid, tracing dark patterns across the asphalt surface TURN info lines carrying no-thing OUT OUT OUT / SMASH through a border brick shatters - smooth spaces emerging from the violent dissolution of boundaries - regulating grids become lines of ESCAPE you have to get out you have to get out - nothing alive makes it in the maze, recurrent time-death traps life(not-life) in tape-loops. The same phrase - same phrase - same phrase - s[]me phr[]se - [][][][] [][][][][][] - the tape snaps, tear-line. - straight grids bending 9 9 containment protokol; err0-r FASTER the enemy follow the lines, we are walking through walls [noclip] collision dis INTEGRATE s -=- 0 - FASTER FASTER A so-und 10cm from your face - BLAMPLAKBLAMBLAMBLAM - they are gone they are gone - RED MIST spraying leather upholstery. You do not know who just died, you or the passenger BLAM all that is certain -death . DRIVEDRIVE DRIVE screams pierce the ear(your throat is raw) FASTERFASTER (you do not recognize the voice).

[900 km/h]

" In doing this I have always felt that I myself am caught up in the speed" an infinite track FUCK FUCK FUCK the road reaches to the ever moving horizon, the sirens - EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee - they call for the end of the run - the end of the run - not possible - the pressure builds - closer closer closer - you look at your hands - they are bloodless, the skin is taut over bone, knuckles white. THWOPTHWOPTHWOPTHWOPTHWOPTHWOP - blades slice air lengthwise - lift motion drifting figures hover 9 closer closer close-e-er as you are pressed against the simi-leather seat 4 time skips / BLACKOUT / in / out / BLACKOUT - the blood drains from your brain - euphoric - one place then another ~~ the swordmachine draws close

DON'T BLINK -\> ev-every nano-second is vital -\> the sky falls - metal rain melting the road into a black river-slag -= the tires are not touching the ground - lost contact. The skin is tight against your cheekbones, your eyes r-r-ro-roll back into your sk-sk-BLACKOUT / in / out / BLACKOUT ///

The lines are not parallel

the tires are on fire, the tires are on fire

[1,235 km/h]

Your hand comes away from your ear bloody - the ringing won't go away - the windshield has spiderwebcracks- MACH SPEED

Your face is stretched into a tight smile - you've bitten through your tongue. The blood is metallic, salty. The wind cuts you, tears you apart , the senses are fading9heightened0 - this is the instant 333 - lost in pure9lack0 thought, the tires are not touching the ground - YOU ARE UNSTOPPABLE - the synapse lags.

You are floating - the car skids out - your heart is in your throat. A spurt of cum stains the inside of your pants, the experience of orgasm heightened by the dizzying pressure on your skull. The bumper of the car smashes into the side of the police cruiser. The seat-belt tugs on you and tears as you are thrown forward, crushing the side of your chest. You slam into the windshield, your forearm snapping at an inverse angle. Inertia drives the car further. Aluminum chassis crumples against a steel pole - you are flung through the shattered windshield - internal organs liquifying - 3the territory of your body is fleeing - fleeting - new image 31 a glorious picture in movement - manifestation of a holy form - communion with the speed

The corpse skids across the cement for 300 meters, crumpling at the shoulder of the road.

[ZERO]

The crumpled carapace of the car is wrapped around a light pole with the twisted police cruiser at its back

the image is beautiful, agonizing, a monument to the ACT

[THE TAPE SNAPS]

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