Together once again, YDWP and FOWC, its a marriage made in the corners of the WordPress.

The WordPress was originally the machine and then the organisation which became important after the word drought and near extinction of the early part of the 2100’s.

Language had cracked and was breaking down as the population spent more time on their devices, hardwired into snapchat and tick tock, their minds soaking up data of no consequence. Clothes, vacuous K-pop, trainers and sun kissed beaches, models and so called influencers touched up then photoshopped to within an inch of their lives, left violated by Internet fat cats all because they wanted to achieve fame and get free stuff; trainers, clothes and sun kissed beaches, pumped up with botox and ketamine to achieve the optimum levels of vacancy, aloofness, and cool, unable to argue offering merely contradiction rather than thought out thoughts. Their Influence as dead headed pretty poseurs was to call to the naive, Their bodies burnt, full of cancer from the climate catastrophe.

“Come to us, be like us”

Before another failed to communicate in a language unformatted, and fell by the brightly coloured wayside, dead in a technicolour ditch, but at least they looked good. Speech had fallen into grunts, “likes” and thumbs up, pouts the currency of desperation, more and more for less and less.

I sat on the veranda of my cabin, looking at these fucks as they’re brought in by the bus load, sitting on the ground, in the mud, not comprehending what they are here for or what here is. Vacant.

The servers have failed, the web for us is no more, we live in the dirt, in a land peppered by metal self sufficient AI cities, the meagre woodlands our haven. We try to teach basic language from scratch, this is where we begin again.

This is Year Zero.