Final FUCKING Crisis x 5!

December 13th, 2008

I feel like the Mindless Ones have been in on a secret. Since its inception, both beasts, Lord Nuneaton Savage, Bobsy and I have all been whispering amongst ourselves about how Final Crisis is actually good.

A few thoughts from Zom:

“I noticed that Brian Hibbs, amongst others, recently commented that Final Crisis lacks weight because of the way it seems divorced from continuity. That’s a criticism that I have some sympathy with – as a reader of ongoing comics how could I not? – but it is rooted in an understanding of the DCU that differs significantly from my own. Brian is positioning continuity as central to our relationship with the fictional space, whereas I tend to approach things from another angle. It seems to me that as fans we all have a much deeper connection with the DCU. I’m talking about our relationship with our private, idealized DCUs. We all know where Gotham and Metropolis are and what’s important about them, we’ve all been to Oa, we care about our favorite superheroes even when their continuities have taken a turn down shit alley. Especially then, perhaps.

Final Crisis is threatening those DCUs. Give a fuck about the one where “superpants punched bumhead so that couldn’t happen!”. Yeah, yeah none of it’s entirely separable- obviously! – but I tend to think that the world is best approached as an analogue rather than a binary experience. It’s not either/or, it’s just about turning down the continuity volume, and trust me it is possible – I do it all the time – and so do you, it’s just that you might not notice.

I’ll be giving you an example in my next post: FUCK YEAH!

Kick it out the door, Poodle!”

Back to me. Welcome.

Stop reading the interviews, ignore the hype, immerse yourself in some Kirby, trust the creative team, stick on some apocalyptic music and you’re ready to begin.

Just a little aside before we get into this. There’s plenty of sites out there featuring balanced reviews, there’s plenty of sites out there featuring scathing reviews, and there’s plenty of sites out there drooling like a muthafucker. This site, however, is all about celebrating what we like about the comic, with a healthy wodge of gushing, but hopefully in an intelligent, infectious way.

I could write the negative review. I could write the balanced review. I could go ‘I MARRY GRANT MORRISON LOVE WEDDING!!!!11123!YOU R BASE BELONG GRANT MORRISON!’

All this would bore the shit out of me. It’s like I’ve just heard a brilliant new tune and I want to enthuse about it, regardless if it’s a bit tatty round the edges and the breakdown’s a bit overlong.

 

Chris Carter – Clouds
[audio:https://mindlessones.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/chris_carter-clouds.mp3]

 

PAGE 1

I don’t read Geoff’s comics anymore, so I don’t know how this has played out at his end, but I’d love to know what flimsy evidence the Guardians’ve been presented with supporting Hal’s guilt. We never really get a sense of it in Final Crisis. It’s not that important really, but it would be nice to have a bit of a grasp of whatever these trumped up charges are based on. What we do get, though, is a good line of specious reasoning:

‘Jordan, once so easily possessed by Parallax, plays host now to a murderous god of Apokalips!’

I mean, this is by no means evidence, but it is persuasive. Earth lanterns, it seems to me, play the part of the USA to the corps’ UN. Or at least the way the US, under Bush, liked to view itself: the daring loners. The mavericks. And, sure, there’s always hiccups, possessions and the like, but that’s only because real heroes – really, real human heroes – have passion, emotion – rough round the edges, honest to goodness cowboy-spunk. No-one trusts these guys, so easily inflamed by love, lust, anger and impetuosity, the poison of emotion, and, like young Skywalker, the Guardians are always fretting they’ll turn to the Dark Side.

But Son, these’re the boys who get shit done.

PAGE 2

Grant’s writing always gives me the impression he’s permanently stoned. I’m sure this isn’t the case, but his difficulty keeping his eye on the bigger picture – his frequently slapdash plotting, telling and not showing etc – is easily compensated for by his attention to the minutest, arguably more interesting, details. It’s like the deep focus you get under the influence of THC, at the expense of a slightly muddled peripheral awareness. Check the way Guy refers to the guardians in the singular – ‘Jordan’s head is hiding an implant, prosecutor!’ – reminding us they’re a group mind.

‘one of their minds equals five of ours.’

Anyone remember that line from the Invisibles? I wonder how deep and how far the guardians see….

And Kraken has one last burst on the bullshit pipe before…

PAGE 3

…just giving in to ranting villain glee, prancing around the room and tossing luminous green, carnivorous flesh eating millipedes about. You can feel her riding the crest of a wave of giddy, evil euphoria:

‘We’re going to eat your braiaaaaains, tra la la la laaaAA!’

I think Guy’s response sums him up perfectly, don’t you? The dude’s not big on imagination, so projecting a massive image of himself crushing the things with its bare hands works quite quite nicely. In fact, the idea of an imaginary Guy attacking imaginary monsters makes for a more interesting image than the inevitable, obvious, emerald machine guns or bug spray lesser writers might conjure. And check out the speed of his response! Pacheco really sells the velocity of the action: Granny’s beasties are both scattered and intercepted in one panel. It’s a little hard to figure out at first ’cause this is an altogether new kind of combat: Lantern-Fu.

PAGE 4

‘Imagine it. Darkseid’s unstoppable will in command of all this power’

And now we get to the meat of it. Granny’s mission is to grant her dark master access to the power battery itself. It’s a perfect match. Darkseid = Nietzche’s will to power, but componentless, pointless, as an end in itself. He really would be the ultimate Black Lantern. Like a dreadful reverse Midas, the battery would char and turn to coal at his touch.

The Krona Protocol? I don’t read enough comics… Ah, but looking it up I like it. Krona’s story’s like one of the creation myths in the Invisibles. Especially the one about the atom bomb being the spell responsible for the biblical fall. (Excuse me: DIE GUARDIAN! DIE!!!) Kronas’s interrogations into the nature of reality cause the universe to emerge as it did – him, his actions, with it. Strange non-local events ripple across the surface of being itself! Behold! All that Jazz. It’s infinitely recursive, fractal, as above-so-below shit isn’t it? You’d certainly want to guard the universe’s most powerful weapon from ur-quakes like that, wouldn’t you.

And speaking of which:

‘Is this the ultimate technology Metron pointed them towards?’

You know, I suspect the the plasma’s original condition is a perfectly polished, silver, fractal ecto-fluid….

If you know what I mean.

Anyway, the green goo probably isn’t the ‘weapon’. Also, the secret of fire is that it’s a technology – it’s not strictly offensive at all – and it’s a new technology that’ll save the world. Bloody dark god’s, always viewing things in terms of their hit-point potential. Idiots.

Also: can’t you hear the dark god’s voice rising to a shrill cackle straight out of some horrible fairytale; the one that gave you nightmares and made you want to cover your Nan’s mouth with your little hand?

‘It belongs to Granny now!’

PAGE 5

See! Poncey bastards waffling on about ‘will’ and all that shit, when all the situation requires is a good one-two in the jaw!

The art nicely conveys the Alpha Lantern’s, ahem, arming up.

I’ve always been fascinated by the silver orbed lantern with the bendy arms and power-ring floating in his mouth. I like it when he’s drawn all realistic-like. Looks totally alien. There always needs to be at least one fucking weird lantern in the room with all those humanoids, just to remind us the universe isn’t fundamentally skewed in favour of bipeds with proper faces. The fifth panel gives you such a clear impression of the gracefulness of his *legs*, like feelers, as they scan the surface of the floor; his steady, constant gliding motion.

Aaah, comics! When visuals are good….

PAGE 6

‘Spacetime around the Earth just crumpled like it was crushed by a fist. Weeks crushed into days.’

Grant Morrison loves black holes. Okay, I’m going to talk about these cosmic monsters in my forthcoming Imaginatrixce post, but there’s one thing we need to get clear: a black hole is just about the most awe-full thing I can imagine. Real holy terror shit – like a mushroom cloud only a million times worse. And Darkseid’s will is the horrendous gravity of the Midnight Sun. It knows nothing other than its own density, everything eventually plunging into terrible night and remade, fused, in his image: all is one under the pressure of that nightmarish singularity. Now we understand what his ultimate *goal* is. The form annihilation will take. His sign, the fist, represents this force. And of course he’s made of granite – the primal ur-stone under whose weight the multiverse itself buckles. Effortless symbolism, and I’m sure Grant’s aware of it.

Because, as usual, I haven’t read any other annotations for this issue, I don’t know if other commentators have picked up on the time acceleration stuff. Morrison’s been doing this since the last volume of the Invisibles. Almost as though, as events approach reality’s plughole, they fracture and condense like the panels in a comic. We are literally reading things at the speed they happen, or thereabouts. And everything’s as disjointed and discontinuous as the cavernous gutters between panels. The people inhabiting the page are just as confused as some of the readership. It takes a while to catch up. If anyone ever does, ’cause the days and hours are starting to heat up, fizz and boil.

‘The destructive emanations of Darkseid…’

This is why the dark gods all crave Darkseid’s favour. They want to return to him. They simply exist as his fingers: Godfrey’s his voice, Mokaari’s his intellect, Kalibak’s his body, Granny’s his… I dunno… Hey, this isn’t an exact science.

‘Word-weapons that can enslave souls.’

This is the kind of thing, which, if we didn’t already know about the anti-life equation, would have us scratching our heads, fantasising a future storyline where Morrison would explain away what it meant. It’s a lovely slant on the original idea – ‘..word weapons…’ Mmmm. Great.

Yeah, it’s a bit self-consciously pop, but I’m not cynical enough yet to remain unmoved by lines like ‘You have 24 hours to save the universe, lantern Jordan.’

PAGE 7

Are those scientists checking out the biology of a swarmtrooper? What happens to us when the helmet goes on?

‘I suggest you read up on the M-theory, higher dimensional branes and the Bulk.’

Grant hotlinking to the science inspiring his comics again.

I spent a whole day this week devouring Mark Evanier’s brilliant, loving biography of Jack Kirby and I have to say he and Grant have a lot in common. Everyone talks about Jack in hushed, reverential tones now, but back in the day – certainly by the time he was working on the Fourth World titles – some people absolutely couldn’t stand him. Much of the comics readership of the time found his work too weird and demented. It didn’t always tie together too well and it stretched the boundaries of sense almost to breaking point. All of which, as far as I’m concerned, is good, but my opinions are hardly an accurate barometer of comicdom’s attitudes generally. Yeah, I think Morrison and Kirby would find stuff to talk about. Final Crisis is Grant’s tribute to another of his great inspirations, the street rube from Brooklyn who dared to peek behind the stars.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the original Omac, mohican and all.

This is pure Kirby. The off-hand insanity of it. The supersoldier as vacuum packed, identikit, easy to assemble ultra-toy. Isn’t it great the way the effect is heightened by having his head positioned in that impossible position between his legs (directly referencing the build a friend-bot on the cover of Kirby’s first issue)? Its really kinda gross. A styrofoamed nightmare of a new-model, prepackaged humanity, designed to last only seven days. But seven days of total destruction. I’m also digging how Grant riffs, with such a light touch, invisibly, on pre-existing continuity, always making sense of its obtuse, incongruent edges: Kirby’s Omac comic is set in the ‘world that’s coming’, so it would stand to reason that Grant’s Biomacs represent the most recent developments in the technology – in actuality the mohawked dude isn’t retro at all, even if his design is less self-consciously *modern* than the model featured in Identity Crisis – and, given the events of the aforementioned IC, yeah, right, Checkmate’s ultimate purpose has to be as a bulkhead against super-war. I always felt the organisation didn’t have a proper raison d’etre. Superpowered-espionage just didn’t cut it.

PAGE 8

And now a quote from Zom (fresh from my in-box):

‘Those big dogs they all ride, it’s all about post-apocalyptic imagery, innit? At the end of the world dog packs will take back the streets, scavengers, stuff like that. Can’t believe I haven’t seen that discussed anywhere else. Instead, predictably, what we get is commentaries on whether big dogs are really much of a threat – ‘fact file thinking’ (new coinage=mine).’

The coinage might be yours, Zom, but you took your cue from my Anal retention and the comic’s fan post I wrote many moons ago. The one which made everyone hate us, but happily gave us a new alley in Neonsnake.

*waves*

Yeah, factfile thinking. Autist-crit. Everything’s literal, measurable and categorizable. The dark gods aren’t the only people keen on hit point potential.

Except for massive, red-eyed, hunter seeker-bloodhounds, steeds of Apokalips!

Zom is so on the money.

The scene outside the bunker really does defy categorization: Conan, fucking Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, Superhero comics, Fourth World stuff, 911…

Here I go again: this is what alien invasion really would look like. It’s scary and weird, which in my book makes it doubly scary. Fandom! Stop insisting everything looks stereotypically and one-dimensionally evil! It’s so boring! Arrgh!

You can hear the slow pounding of war-drums as Wonder Woman and Batwoman suit up for battle.

Look at Mokkari, Godfrey and Simyan, flattened, on their knees, in orbit around the night-lord’s flaming shadowstar, desperate to crawl back inside.

Pervs.

PAGE 9

Wonderwoman takes a moment out to regard her helmet. Is that meaningful? Can you ever keep a good amazon down?

‘…You have…acccomplished only as I will it..’

Of course, there is no division in Darkseid, His agents cannot act outwith his desires. There’s no point boasting and groveling, guys…

I like the idea Darkseid’s new body’s having difficulty adjusting to the impossible gravitas and ultra sub bass-tone’s of his voice. Each word carries the weight of an imploding world within it. And those eyes… Those bloody eyes that look like they’re brimming with red tears. A grave stone weeping. I don’t know if Grant or the colourist intended this – I suspect they didn’t – but who gives a shit?

‘The hour of Apokolips is upon us’

Apokalips isn’t a place. It is an eternal event.

The Furies’ steeds look a bit soppy in the final panel. It reminds me of pre-hunt footage I’ve seen, where the dogs lope around all cuddly-like, causing one to forget for a moment the savage, rending monsters that, in the eyes of the fox as it’s getting torn to shreds, they’re soon to become. Hunting dogs are far scarier than vampires, guys. Just ask Basil Brush.

PAGE 10

FIGHTING!

‘Life, on the other hand…IS ALL STRUGGLE!’

Why is it no-one else in superhero comics can write dialogue like this; stuff that just sings and puts you right there behind Hawkman’s mask as he pummels the justifiers out of the sky? Real air punching dialogue. Maybe it’s because in the space of one sentence it tells you all you need to know about the brutal, Darwinian, red in tooth and claw Thanagarian philosophy (so it keeps the geek in me happy), whilst simultaneously remaining so incredibly true and life affirming on it’s own terms. Because damn right, it is all struggle. Anti-life’s for fucking wimps and losers.

And while we’re on this subject, I just want to have a quick spunk over the sequence in FC #4 – the one with all the ‘watchtowers’. All that ‘Watchtower 3! Holding!‘ business was pure, exploding GOLD! This is why I prefer Morrison to Moore. Moore doesn’t make me feel super, but Morrison, for all his faults, does. I guess I’m just shallow that way. Lactus always did tell me I just liked ‘action music.’

People love baddies, but Grant makes you love goodies more. If these guys were action figures, while I’d definitely infect my Mum with anti-life if that was the only way I could obtain a Darkseid one, I’d crave the Super Young Team, Frankenstein, Flash and Tawky Tawny dolls more.

PAGE 11

Speaking of Super Young Team…

Shame about the car.

The soldier wittering on about how he ‘didn’t mean to do it’? I suppose he’s under the influence of Evil then. I love that. ‘No, your Honour, it wasn’t the drugs. I was under the influence of Evil…’

‘Motherboxxx is more than just a machine. If Gods made I-Pods that were alive? Way beyond that.’

It’s been said before, and by Grant himself, but this is a neat nod to Kirby’s total, pop art aesthetic. There needs to be examples of Fourth World machinery in the design museum, basically. Motherboxxx as the ultimate accessory: with 5D sound, fully immersive VR that feels just like life itself, reality record and playback option and boom tube generator as standard.

Ping! Ping!

PiiinnnnNnnGGGgGGGGBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

PAGES 12 & 13

…But Evil done gone fucked it up. I knew Grant’d deal with that right away, ’cause this is the issue where the tide turns.

Peel those discs out the air, boy!

‘She survived a cosmic war… but she’s not alone.’

Hey, who thinks Most Excellent Superbat and co. are prime vessels for a certain gang of cosmic hippy kids? Eh?

‘Radar says the Swiss border just…just got further away…’

Black holes: terrifying.

‘A fallen devil-god…’

Yet again Grant spins the idea of demons/Satan/scary supernatural shit through his glorious sci-fi superhero conceptual mill. Darkseid as Lucifer for the 21st century. Hell as the interior of the singularity. Okay, Event Horizon got there first, but Tartarus just looked so pedestrian and hellraiser-y. Darkseid’s all about the total desolation. Much nastier than flesh hooks.

I think.

Don’t test me on that one.

‘You see this pattern we all painted on our faces? Tell your people to do the same.’

This was the year they immanentized the eschaton, etc…. Mystics throughout the ages have sought to draw Heaven down to Earth, and now Darkseid goes and makes it easy for them. Apokalips is only the first manifestation of this transformative energy. The angels and humanity are about to collide. Shilo knows all about this. The Super Young Team feel it, like pure, concentrated adventure coursing through their veins. The symbol they draw on their faces is the doorway for a new, improved space-face to peek out. This is kozmische-make up. Ziggy Dior-deluxe.

Mr Miracle and Mr Terrific team up to save the world:

SUPERBEST!

PAGES 13, 14, 15 & 16

This scene is just full of Peter Jackson goodness, isn’t it? Everything that was exhilarating about the LOTR films without the weeping hobbits cuddling each other: Tigertroopers riding out into the DC equivalent of Mordor (see how the local architecture’s become infected with dingy, concretized kirby-tech?) to face their foe. Fucking feline Uruk-hai. Wind rising, papers scattering in their wake.

‘Their Soldiers COME!

The Battle of Bludhaven is on!

Fraaaaaaaaankensteeeeeeeiiiiin!!!

There should be more heroes (I count 18 + metal men doing their Autobot thang) but maybe that’s the point. This is the last of them.

Anyway: if this shit isn’t working for you, you should give up on this comic. No harm in that. Just put it down. That’s it.

Good.

PAGE 17

‘Give in! Anti-Life makes it easy!’

‘Anti-Life: the choice that’s made for you!’

Shades of Doom Patrol… You remember how the enemies all spoke in anagrams, nonsense verse and cut-up? Here the justifiers speak pure ad-jingle. A comment on the vacuity of consumer culture, perhaps? The void in the centre of the ultimate product? Ubik in negative. Perhaps the abyss is at the root of what we’re being sold: our own emptiness, reflected back at us via…things…goods. Darkseid’s boys just go to the source, so to speak. They want to dump us all on the production line to nothing.

Look, Grant, if you want to make sexybaby with Frankenstein so much, you should helm an ongoing (not sure it’s quite that easy – ED).

And, you’ve convinced me, I’m going to read Paradise Lost. I’m actually going to buy it today.

One gripe: it’s a shame we don’t really get to see Kalibak’s boys or the Furies in action this ish – there’s a lot of build without any real pay off – but I guess Grant’s saving it all for 6.

I like fighting.

PAGE 18

This little scene reminded me of Zenith. A sadistic, gleefully murderous bad guy zoning in on her prey, only to take an absolute fucking total caning just as she’s moving in for the kill. KRAKOOOOM! There. That wiped that bloody smug grin off your face, didn’t it?

Don’ tes’

PAGE 19

In Zenith, happily, the Superheroes just rammed their bark fists and blasted their laser beams through the faces of their Lloigor possessed friends, and that’s pretty much what you want Adam to do to Mary here. Just finish her. And, no, this isn’t woman hatred. I want Batman to do the same thing to Mokkari (not that he’s gonna get the chance). The comic, however, is on slightly shakier ground. The ‘Leering old man in her eyes’ is probably, well, what the fuck? I don’t know the names of all Darkseid’s crew, do I? But we’re back to the old possession as rape analogy, aren’t we? If women experience violence, it’s so often sexualised… Hoom. So, yeah, Mary = dodgy. But this is the METAAAAAAAAAAL! cover version of the superhero narrative, so I guess this is all par for the course. It’s not as though Morrison’s comics are choca with the rapey-times.

Alan Moore: for shame, mate.

Anyway, did anyone else experience a creepy Lost Highway inspired spine-tingle when you were making your way through this page? I know I did. Pretty ladies should not be the repository for manky old, killer male, death urges.

Eh, comicdom?

PAGE 20

So, Mary, what is your ‘dirty magic word’?

Is it ‘Fanny’ (British version)?

‘Cause in panel 2 it bloody well looks like it.

Hooray! Quantum blunderbuss’s ahoy to rescue us from all the nasty sex.

Whoops. Maybe not.

I want Tawny to duff that dark god prick right up next time.

PAGEs 21 & 22

The disabled dude’s probably Metron. The hairy guy?

?

The first drawing – Metron’s symbol. The Quaballah of the New God’s. Their super-sigil. Try O-facing over that later, but you’ll have to dispose of the thing by boiling it in Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Spirit, and that’s always a tad difficult. Spirit costs an arm and a leg these days.

hNH.

It makes sense that the Monitors are the sigilizers supreme. All of them artists, summoning the comic into and off the page. Until they get caught up in all that icky, viral story stuff.

Awww, how cute! His magic word was always his girlfriends name.

And only Grant Morrison comics could contain the line:

‘She’s a drawing. A girl from another universe I dream about…’

Maybe all of this, Darkseid falling, everything, is just a teen-god’s broken hearted love letter to his estranged g/f somewhere in the oververse. The Monitors make the world, don’t they? And now everything’s gone to shit.

Nix Oatan is also us, isn’t he? We too dream the universe into being. We get caught up in all the doom and gloom and it feels hopeless because the superheroes can’t save us. We have to think outside the box

PAGE 23

Or should I say CUBE?

The inverse of that horrible puzzle in Hellraiser, summoning a new heaven rather than a hell. It’s like Robert Anton Wilson’s John Dillinger conundrum: How do you escape a room with no doors and no windows? How do you solve the cube in an impossible amount of moves? Rotate it through the 5th dimension. Only a god could do that, or something approaching one.

PING!

Is Motherboxxx-prime a higher-dimensional hyper-cube technology? Is this its cross-section?

PAGE 24

‘If you show willing, I might even let you be first in line with Supergirl…’

Poor Luthor. I’m sure he’s got something up his sleeve, though. Something Libra won’t walk away from. Real villains have class. They don’t need to sexually violate the enemy.

PAGE 25

‘….The Batman psycho-merge killed the clone army these fools tried to build!’

Damn, I wish I had that comic in my hands now.

Mokkari and friends return home to Darkseid. First those closest to him, and then all flesh. The singularity increases in density.

‘They have only ever faced the idea of a god before…’

I like the notion that all prior conflicts with the New Gods were conducted in the mythic realm – the eternal realm of ideas. Apokalips and New Genesis as occult, secret hyper-worlds chafing on the fringes of the third dimension. Final Crisis is about these ideas intruding, clothing themselves in time-suits. How awesome they would be.

But reality can’t take the stress for long.

PAGE 26

WOOHOO! It’s the Supergirl/Mary Marvel mega-WAR kicks off. What a lovely balance of fantastic ideas and out and out akshhheeeean this comic is.

PAGE 27

‘We’re falling into some kind of hell where everything is Darkseid!’

Now we understand the secret message embedded in the statement ‘Darkseid is’.

The Dark Lord folded in on himself, forever and ever, enveloping everything. And those justifiers – the way they rise up towards stewart like weird, flat cut-outs. A swarm of bugs. Infestation. I find the first panel sort of nauseating to be honest.

The falling lanterns reminds me of those just-on-the-side-of-good scary dreams you get sometimes, where you know you could drift off into something vast and annihilating, but you can feel another force, just as strong, tethering you to the solid, the real, and you’re safe. What should be soul-numbingly frightening becomes thrilling. But I suppose these guys are used to it.

Are those the 52 multiverse earths being pulled into Darkseid’s orbit?

PAGE 28

It’s the end of the World.

‘I. AM. THE. NEW. GOD.’

Brilliant. Utterly, utterly terrifying.

You know how Grant’s baddies get so nasty and outright bloodthirsty it becomes comedy?

This isn’t one of those times.

This is the thing emerging from the pit. The thing with glowing eyes. We all know it well. When it tells you to surrender it doesn’t mean put down your arms. It means put down your soul.

PAGES 29 & 30

It could be a problem with the art, because the first time I read this sequence I had no sense of where Darkseid was positioned in relation to all the other action. But that’s not a problem from me now. The pit is everywhere; and he’s rising up everywhere, all at once. Obsidian cobra ascending our souls.

Frankly I don’t want to even bother trying to talk about this bit. It is just too good. I believe in the threat wholeheartedly. This is the end.

That isn’t lightning. It’s the universe shattering.

PAGE 31

Dark Monitor! Come on!

It’s not only bastard devil lords who can fall. There are things above them.

Imagine the endlessly reflective SUPER-FIRMAMENT, the master monitor, turning inwards, collapsing, dividing, becoming many. Imagine each of these splinters hypnotised by the play of images upon their surface. Imagine one of them lost in the story.

Imagine him waking up.

All of reality accessible through his omni-screen.

Remix.

Edit.

Cut.

P.S. Fresh from the Botswana Beast, real annotations:

“the monkey handed man in the sciencell is probably Himon (poss. mixed w/ Detective Chimp,) Mary Marvel is likely possessed by Desaad (you know this, the bad psychiatrist out of 7S: Mister Miracle) and Nix at the end, in my fave page this year, if you see the shape of that blue-TV-etherhelmet, looks like he’s rocking Vykin the Black.”

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