Christian Kirtchev cp manifest

with a fresh feeling inside my chest, concrete buildings on my lef and right. a satellite image would show a dot moving inbetween structures of buildings, automobile traffic fills the streets. The pedestrians filled with mix-crossed cultures of meat, wrapped in their clothes. Payphones on every few meters and cellulars ringing in pockets and palms. The big corporations advertise trough channels of smaller firsm and companies, their hunger for profit. The Newspapers and TeeVee shows me only the interests of each individual in the parlament. Writers that wrote Cyberpunk are good historians. and romantic pessimists, too. Internet fills the cables that cary the impulses of here is one - here is none. Brand new and radio-waves fill the air, which we breath. Inhale, Exhale. Vibrations of internet traffic. There is almost nothing in theese days that can be done without the use of a computer -machinery. The latest in human mind is the computer-related technology, mass media and global telecomunications. Wandering by the sidewalk on the longest way to the pub, I can imagine how the picture before my eyes is assembled real time by pixels of light. A billions and trilions of colors, resolution. Percieving sounds, distorted by other sounds and microwave transmissions. They've cloned a sheep. They have cloned a man. They can winnow the future society, creating the best man and woman, deal with desseases. Lost something by accident - no wories, there is a clinic that can replace it with another. Cyber, mechanic, bio... make your selection and pass by the bank to cover the epxenses from that terminal. People do not look at me, but when they do - they see something dangerous or anything simple. I'm faceless, my identity is not coded or formed by the measures of the masses. In them I see, their code. Mine is encrypted, I choose to whom to give the key and there are not many that have the capacidy to decode it. Because my identity is coded and formed by the latest in technology, by the most modern invention. It is in the air, I love to say. The way they see the tree and the car and the Rain, the same ways I feel the data in the air, the buzz of the electricity on its way trough wires. In the pub, there are many like me. They're on different levels, but we are all united by one thing - that can not be exaplined. .. . . . .. .. . . It is that inspiration, the point of view, a rise of the spirit, the dense of the mattery, facination by thoughts and observations. I do not dress in fashion, I dress in fucntionality, real functionality. I prefer quality, custom quiality. I do not own a computer, because they get old too fast. I use the computing machinery for contacts, arts, an exihibit of what is inside my head. Population grows, and do we know how many are born and how many have died. The nice old lady from the second floor always asks me on how to program her VCR to record on timer and I help her. What is VR? it is Virtual Relity. What is cyberspace? it is the space, but enhanced to cyber. What is the computer? the translator, the reciever? What is the man? The man is the one who never ceases to explore and build and destruct. In the pub, we drink and chat and laugh or sobber. Smog voers the city outside the plexiglass window, lamers walk in the safety of their illusion. Until trouble comes by and if it is in cyberspace - w can help. People, do you think your goverments loves you and works for your wealth? They care only for the stock in their refrigirators. Corporations fill their fridge. Corporations are on top. On top of the structure. And freeminded, fresh-breathing individuals with coded indetity is a threat, too invisible in their sight. We, who are cyberpunks are the ones who live on top of the time. Hm, I think so and maybe I think wrong, but look at my swatch it sais so. Break up your boundaries, and do not be affraid to realise that world is modern and haves it's illness. -Rose n' Hose-