We’re Fucked, Pt. 102 (Fiction)


“As wretched as you’ve considered your life to be,” Alberto the blob says somberly, “the worst is yet to come. The professor’s machine borrowed its reality-altering powers from other dimensions, which are now bleeding in to balance the mess out. Consequently, our reality is thinning down and fraying, and the leaks in space-time are increasing in number and size. Picture the eldritch horrors that will crawl out of those tears as whole alien ecosystems merge with ours. And the same way your presumably sentient self invaded the Ice Age, this planet will face intrusions from otherworldly intelligences.”

I’m engulfed in a vision of Arachne’s shimmering cosmic loom, interstellar strands pulsating with starlight, an intricate tapestry that has linked the grit beneath our feet to the nebulous edges of Her domain. In the end of the warp attached to Earth, rips have been torn open like jagged gashes in a dishcloth, each a yawning gateway to other realms, allowing the worst of the Thread Weaver’s servants to intrude in our world.

The buildings of Donostia are engrafted with throbbing fleshlike growths that ooze a corrosive slurry. Ground-sloth-sized, amoebic monsters, their blubbery forms slick with a glistening sheen, slink down the streets, gobbling up pedestrians in a cacophony of screams and squelches. The highways, those ribbons of tarmac, writhe with tentacles that reach out and snatch at speeding cars and trucks. I smell air thick with sea salt; the oceans are churning into a foaming, swirling turmoil as gargantuan blurs shift under the waves: leviathans rising from the deepest trenches of the cosmos. The blanket of blue above is pockmarked with wormholes that vomit forth winged nightmares. As their inky bodies spread across the sky, they cast long shadows on the world below, a world being devoured and digested.

A shiver slithers down my spine, and its icy tendrils wind their way into the pit of my stomach.

“That looks about right for what is about to happen,” the blob says, his words oozing out of his putrid, gelatinous bulk. “Once the dimensional planes sync up, this planet getting a lot of dicks stuffed in it all of a sudden is the intermediate step, a pit stop on the highway to oblivion. According to the professor, eventually the universe will unravel and collapse. Forget about those large beasts from the Ice Age, the wooly mammoths and sabertooths that once roamed the earth: our species, with its knowledge, artworks, cultures, and history, will disappear. Every species that has braved the many extinctions in our planet will be wiped out as if they never existed. We’re facing the end of everything.”

I swipe away the layer of sweat that has accumulated on my forehead.

“Shouldn’t you be, you know, fucking pissed at the bunnyman? After all, his gadget set off the final countdown.”

The gooey mass heaves as if shrugging.

“Maybe I am angry about this reality unravelling thing, but not enough to shit on the professor for achieving something brilliant.”

“He turned you into a slime-dripping slug that wallows in poisonous waste!”

“Unlike you, I don’t blame others for my psychological problems. I was warned not to mess with the machine twice, but I got greedy and ended up sneaking in for more. Hell, its own creator couldn’t keep away, even though he understood the dangers. And honestly, I wasn’t too thrilled about my existence in this dimension. All the excitement I experienced in my youth was gone like an amputated limb. Now I don’t need to feel trapped by the walls of this office.”

Although I raise an eyebrow at the blob, I’d love to be freed from the bane of my existence. One of these days I will ask Jacqueline to pay my bills.

“I can see the appeal of never having to work again. Maybe you were meant to become a wet heap of organic garbage.”

“Anyway,” the blob gurgles, “now that you’re in possession of the relevant facts, you should understand your purpose, your role to play in the grand tapestry of existence: your unhinged self must prevent humanity’s extinction, along with the universe’s collapse into eternal nothingness.”

His words hang in the air like a noose I’m expected to slip my neck into. I rub my clammy palms up and down the sleeves of my shirt.

“Save humanity?” I echo in a hollow voice. “Save the universe?”

Does this filthy species deserve to be saved?

Most of my interactions with people have been detrimental to my sanity. The cutting remarks, the dismissive glances, the never-ending ridicule; a tide whose bitter taste has always lingered in my mouth. Even as a child, I wanted to disappear from the mind of everyone who knew me, to live isolated in some mountain sanctuary, a fortress of solitude where I could escape from a world that was nothing but cruel to me. What stake do I have in humanity’s salvation? Why should I care about a universe hell-bent on tearing itself apart?



Author’s note: today’s songs are “When the Levee Breaks” by Led Zeppelin, and “Eve of Destruction” by Barry McGuire.

I keep a playlist with all the songs mentioned throughout the novel so far. A hundred and sixty songs. Check them out.

Sometimes all it takes is an audiochapter to lift your mood. Check out the audiochapter for this one.

This chapter is shorter than usual, but I have been halving my writing time because I have to study for an upcoming exam that will determine if they’ll keep calling me for work. It’s not like these chapters will correspond one-to-one with the structure of the final novel, whenever I get around to self-publish it.

Cormac McCarthy is fucking dead

The only living writer that I respected has ceased to be alive. His Blood Meridian remains the book with the best prose that I have ever read. It sucks that people die.

He knew that on the day of his death he would see her face and he could hope to carry that beauty into the darkness with him, the last pagan on earth, singing softly upon his pallet in an unknown tongue.

Fiction of mine that involves aliens

I’ve always been into aliens and UFOs, from even before I was thirteen and witnessed one along with my family. Now that we may be close to the US government admitting that aliens have been making people disappear Missing-411-style so they can create hybrids of us and take over the world, allow me to promote a few stories I wrote that involved a subject that fascinates me.

The first piece of fiction is a long free verse poem that I wrote back in July of 2021. It involves a hapless wannabe musician who gets abducted by aliens and then employed to work for them. It’s a silly piece, but it’s based on the work of some psychiatrist that started treating abductees to disprove their experiences as imaginary, only to end up convinced that the subject was real, and that we were in serious trouble.

A Chaperone For Hybrids

The second is a short story in three parts. A trio of kids see a UFO/UAP descend to their local woods, and they decide to investigate. Pretty fun.

Interspecies Misdemeanours, Pt. 1
Interspecies Misdemeanours, Pt. 2
Interspecies Misdemeanours, Pt. 3

The third piece is a short story I wrote in April of 2021. It’s very loosely based on the Utsuro Bune case. Back in 1803, a strange ship washed ashore in Japan. The single occupant was a weird, non-Asian woman who kept holding on to a box for dear life. It made the local news, that featured the following eerie drawings:

The short story I wrote likely requires a revision, which I will do if I ever decide to self-publish it in some compendium.

My Strange Friend From Far Away

I guess that’s all for today. I hope you enjoyed any of it. If you didn’t, don’t tell me. I’m too sensitive about that stuff.

Review: Misumisou, by Rensuke Oshikiri

Four stars. I don’t know what the title translates to, but it could have translated to Fuck Around and Find Out.

Our protagonist is a middle schooler who moved out with her family to the boonies for reasons. Her new town has so few children that once her class graduates, her middle school will close down. It also happens that most of her classmates are unredeemable psychopaths who bully our protagonist with the usual middle schooler hijinks: they carve insults on her desk, steal her shoes, trap her in a garbage dump, kick her father on the back with drawing pins attached to the sole, shoot her with a crossbow, stab her repeatedly.

Her parents realize that her classmates are demons, so they allow her to stay at home. However, the horrid shitheads want their torture doll back, and they do something irreversible. I don’t want to spoil it; the manga itself screwed up by showing it at the end of the first chapter despite the fact that it happens a few chapters later.

Anyway, the protagonist is left with little to live for except murderous revenge. I’m talking splatterpunk, intrusive-thoughts-realized violence. I got bullied in school as well, so I derived quite a bit of pleasure from the protagonist’s balls-to-the-wall path of action.

I wanted to post quite a few other panels, but they were too gory. You’ll enjoy this manga if you like the sight of middle schoolers getting brutally murdered. They fucking deserved it, though.

Someone made a live-action adaptation of this lovely story. Here’s the only trailer that doesn’t spoil the whole thing:

Review: Teisou Gyakuten Sekai, by Amahara

The title of this manga series translates to The World of Moral Reversal. It follows the adventures of an attractive high school girl who gets isekai-d into an alternate Earth. This new reality is nearly identical except for the fact that women are now as horny as guys were in her original world, while the local guys are as prude as pure maidens. The entire society is built around capturing women’s arousal, because they will waste lots of money to satisfy it: advertisement is full of nearly naked dudes with huge packages, most of the porn is aimed at women and focuses on men’s bodies, and even regular TV shows pull off daring camera angles to showcase the physical talents of their male casts.

Our protagonist hangs out with the same two girls she knew from her former world, but in this one they have been transformed into a pair of horny monkeys trapped in a spiral of lewd thoughts, who can’t wait to cast off their virginity to any male willing to give them the time of the day. That’s unlikely to happen any time soon, the same way that female classmates in the protagonist’s former world would be reluctant to engage a pair of virgin males who loudly proclaimed the virtues of some hentai book in the classroom.

The story is a slice-of-life that often feels as if the author made a list of all the lewd behaviors that tend to be characteristic of men in the real world, only to then assign them to women and do some entertaining, frequently funny commentary.

Instead of maid cafes, girls go to samurai cafes where attractive boys treat them like princesses for tips. Girls take off their tops while playing tennis in the school gymnasium to attract the attention of the boys. The manga club in school is made out of awkward female loners who draw hardcore hentai. Groups of girls gathered around desks argue about the most interesting objects with which to penetrate themselves. Girls hate exposing their nudity to each other, not wanting other girls to notice any size differences or skin conditions. Female perverts fly drones over men’s public baths to record the action. Sports events have to deal with female streakers. Girls refuse to talk about female underwear, let alone go on trips together to buy some.

The author justifies the logic of this brave new world by saying that because girls can come far more often than men, and are mainly responsibly for bringing about the next generation, it makes sense for them to be far hornier than men. It’s a matter of survival of the species.

My favorite sequence involved an awkward loner guy from the protagonist’s former world also getting isekai-d to this alternate Earth of horny girls. He immediately prostitutes himself to the protagonist’s friends, whose previously aimless lives from then on start revolving around earning enough money to get back to fucking.

All in all, this series is lots of fun. If you’re about as much of a pervert as I am, you’ll probably love it. Apparently it was made by the same author of Interspecies Reviewers, a manga about guys who fuck monster prostitutes and then review the experience according to the particularities of those fantasy races, or whatever. I haven’t read it yet. But I know that the anime adaptation got taken off the air in the US because it was too lewd. That’s a badge of honor.

Review: The Fable, by Katsuhisa Minami

Five stars.

I’m always on the lookout for new manga to read, but I had only come across this award-winning series twice, the latest one when ChatGPT mentioned it. I wish I had read it sooner, because this long series (about 240 chapters) has become one of my favorites.

The story follows an assassin who works for a nameless organization called Fable by the criminal underworld of Japan. This assassin, considered the best of the best, is, as stated by his colleague slash little sister, a savant, a genius at killing, but a kid at everything else. He grew up fending for himself in the woods for days if not weeks at a time, eating all kinds of nasty shit, and stabbing bears in the eye. Apart from the psychological effects that such an upbringing would have on people (which is explored in the story), the guy is also socially blind and has little concern, as well as understanding, for social norms. Pretty sure he’s supposed to be autistic, because the other hardened assassins consider him a weirdo.

After an introductory hit on a bunch of goons, the guy’s boss tells both of his disciples that they have to lay low for a while: they’re ordered to leave town and spend a year living under the wing of the local Yakuza family. They are prohibited from killing anybody in the meantime, under the threat of getting whacked themselves.

The second disciple is a young woman who lost her parents at an early age and then was trained as an agent by this shady organization. She keeps herself drunk most of the time, partly to stave off boredom, mainly to drown the traumas that, along with her training, have rendered her unable to have normal relationships with people. The author could have played her entirely for laughs, or as a fool, but she’s tough and dependable, often the single person in charge of making sure that the dangerous people around her don’t jump at each other’s throats.

When the couple of assassins start living at the Yakuza safehouse, we see what passes for normal behavior for our mentally peculiar protagonist: he sleeps in the bathtub, he walks around (and greets guests) buck naked, he eats fish whole, and is endlessly amused by a third-rate comedian named Jackal. Because the protagonist comes across as an unimpressive dweeb, the hardened Yakuza people he gets to meet want to test his mettle, or resent that he’s occupying the safehouse rent-free for a year. Various dangerous individuals end up trying to ruin his existence for one reason or another, and he’s forced to deal with them without relying on the main ability that made him a legend.

He also pushes himself to hold down a normal job for near minimum wage, as a delivery driver and illustrator, which puts him in regular contact with normal people, exposing them to the dangers that follow him around.

The author blended together drama, comedy, action, and slice-of-life, with endearing, intelligently-written characters that hang out like buddies one moment only to then shoot each other in the face. For example, the grounded grittiness of a nerve-wracked underworld goon who has to avoid getting killed because he has outlived his usefulness, contrasted with a bored drunkard getting a young player so shit-faced that he injures and shits himself in public.

I can’t properly explain the vibe of this series, the then-and-there-ness of its narrative, but you can tell that this was a labor of love for the author, and that he lived vicariously through it. Even secondary goons that would have been cardboard cutouts in other stories get character arcs or at least the sense that they are the protagonist of their own story.

I only have two complaints, the first one quite significant: the first few chapters of the story felt off. I didn’t quite understand the vibe that the author was setting up, perhaps because at that point I assumed that the protagonist wasn’t intended to come off as an autistic weirdo. That led me to abandon the series the first time I came across it. My second complaint is that some of the fights were supposed to happen so fast (particularly those between members of the same organization of assassins) that they were depicted as blurs, which made them conspicuous in a medium that has depicted most of the memorable fight scenes in fiction.

This series was turned into a live-action film that is probably shit because the Japanese can rarely adapt their mangas into live-action movies properly (I suspect that it has to do with how the staff members and actors get chosen, because they have no issues creating amazing anime). Anyway, here’s the trailer:

Lady Gaga? Seriously?

If you enjoy manga and love character-driven stories, please read this series. It’s amazing.

We’re Fucked, Pt. 101: AI-generated audiochapter

I wish there were a song like “Take Me Home, Country Roads” but about the Ice Age. This audiochapter covers chapter 101 of my ongoing novel.

Cast

  • Leire: a thief quest-giver that hangs out in the sewers under Riften
  • Alberto the blob: non-space-based reptilians

I have produced audiochapters for this entire sequence so far. A total of two hours, sixteen minutes and nine seconds. Check them out.

We’re Fucked, Pt. 101 (Fiction)


The blob sloshes his bulk like a tar-black wave of putrefaction coming in on a beach, sending ripples of oozing flesh and eyeballs across his gelatinous mass.

“Here’s the gist: a big fuck-off apocalypse is approaching.”

“Oh, another end-of-days scenario.” I sigh. “The Old Gods must be back in business after a long absence, during which they watched us monkeys clamber through the mud in a voyage toward self-destruction. By Arachne’s glorious breast! We’re doomed to be swept off the stage, to end as a stain of entropy, once the Mother of Spiders finishes consuming this universe.”

“Please, stop spewing horseshit and listen. This mess started because the professor designed a revolutionary…”

“Wait, what professor?” I demand to know, irked. “Are you one of those cretins who mention third parties as if their interlocutor were in the know? Have a modicum of respect for the laws of communication, you slobbering slimeball!”

“You met him, idiot.” The blob pulsates with a sloshy squelch. Across his bulk, coconut-sized growths bulge as if they were about to shoot out, pushing eyeballs away and making them bump into other eyeballs. The growths sink back under the rippling goo. “I can’t mime for shit in this form. Nevermind; it’s the bunny guy.”

I’m seated in the first row of my mind theatre when it projects a portrait of the bunnyman’s furry, piss-soiled head sticking out of a toilet: close-set, pointy ears; bulging, gunmetal-gray eyes; a pair of overgrown incisors dripping with drool; almond-or-whiskey-colored fur matted with filth, splotched with gunky crusts.

My guts curdle as a wave of revulsion sweeps through me. I stagger backwards.

“Professor… bunnyman?” I ask in a cracked voice.

“Yes, the bunny-brained professor.”

“Th-that pervert with a torpedo-sized dick?!”

“Healthy self-esteem, I’d say.”

My temples throb with a dull pain.

“You hang out with a cacodemon who pours his own semen on pancakes and force-feeds them to his guests?!”

The blob huffs a blast of fetid air.

“Leire, you’re the kind of woman who would stab her partner because they cheated in a dream. I’m glad I haven’t shared a horizontal position with you.”

“Your loss. I’m a ravenous pussy-eater.”

“Anyway, let me illustrate the problem in terms you may understand: the professor’s contraption ripped reality a fresh vagina, and ever since, it has been oozing fluids from the darkness inside.”

My mind replaces the sight of the wall-wide mass of goo with that of a corundum-hard cock as thick as a stick of salami. Pulsating veins snake under stretched skin that threatens to rip open. The crimson cockhead, glistening with pre-ejaculate, draws nearer and nearer to my wide-open pussy.

A shudder of vertigo wrecks me. My legs go limp; I drop to the carpet. As I clasp my hands to my temples and shut my eyes tight, I rock back and forth.

“Get out of my brain, you giant fuckpole made of twisted, purple veins!”

“Quit your histrionics!” Alberto barks out. “Can’t you stay lucid for five fucking minutes?”

I grit my teeth. After I wipe sweat from my forehead, I lift my gaze to glower at the insolent blob and his legion of glazed eyeballs.

“Wh-why did you have to mention a vagina in such close proximity to that bunnyman bastard?” I demand to know, my voice strained.

The blob heaves and ripples as if he were containing laughter.

“I was trying to relate to your go-to frame of reference. Should I have mentioned penises instead?”

How could I defend my honor? I’ve been known to draw pencil sketches of cocks to visualize data structures.

“I keep glancing away from your greasy thoughts,” Alberto continues. “Oh, did I tell you that I can see them? They emanate from your head as psychedelic steam mirages, constant reminders of your depravity. If they could, they would smell of musty socks.”

I want to sob and curl into a fetal position, but instead I let out a guttural noise and rise from my kneeling position, jerking to my feet. Heat crawls up my cheeks.

“Says the dickbag who stinks like a cesspool filled with rotting corpses. You have thoroughly and blatantly invaded my privacy, so you may as well violate the sanctity of my mental space.”

“Now, could you clarify how come a child has been popping up in your thoughts? There she is again. Anything seedy you’d like to share, you dirty cunt?”

“Are her eyes squinty?” I ask in a calm voice.

“Uh… Yes, she’s Asian.”

I jab my forefinger at the blob.

“Then that’s my new daughter you’re talking about, you jizz-filled, brain-dead bastard. Have some respect!”

The blob’s bulk wobbles, making his myriad eyes quiver.

“Wait, you’re serious. Why would you suddenly have a child? How?”

“Jacqueline and I adopted a little girl that I found in the Ice Age, and she’s the cutest bundle of joy to ever warm my heart. Name’s Nairu.”

“Care to explain rationally how you acquired an Asian kid?”

I cross my arms and tilt my head.

“Rationality is for pussies who believe they need to justify themselves. I merely walked into the trap that you, or that so-called professor of yours, laid out for me.”

“Leire,” the blob growls, “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. Please tell me you didn’t steal some random girl!”

“Relax, you poxy shit. I’ll explain the origin story. One recent night, after the last round of sex, Jacqueline wrapped me in her arms, pressing her bountiful breasts against my back. Sheltered by mommy’s warmth and heady scent, I started slipping into dreamland. I visualized Jacqueline and I in our old age, curled up together under the covers, sharing a cigarette. By Arachne’s nipples, I was flooded with gratitude for the woman whose light had seeped through the cracks in my battered mind to extinguish the lonely part. As a child, before I became the target of harassment by interdimensional creeps, whenever I pictured my future, I saw myself stumbling around in a labyrinth of corridors lined with funhouse mirrors. I sobbed and sobbed, terrified of that appearance that kept warping, knowing that soon enough I would lose the only image of myself that I understood.”

“Move on with your story!”

I let out an exasperated sigh as I brush strands of hair from my forehead.

“You interrupt me at such an emotionally charged moment? What a disrespect for the art of storytelling!”

“My interruption was driven by a desperate desire not to hear more about your problems. Just get to the part where you nabbed the kid!”

“Fine, I’ll provide a streamlined version, you blobulous mound of pus. In the morning, I got up from mommy’s bed and I walked naked to the bathroom. When I reached out to turn on the lights, a crackle of energy ran through me. Next thing I knew, I was standing on the muddy pebbles of a riverbank, and an icy wind was blowing against my bare tits. I won’t bore you with my initial freak-out. Anyway, I met the girl in that boreal forest. I also ended up annoying a ground sloth as it was drinking from the river. That long-extinct beast nearly performed extensive surgery on my face with its twenty-centimeter-long claws. Are you getting the close-up of that magnificent mofo from my thoughts? What a gigantic, shambling mass of meat!”

“Oh shit.”

“I wish I could have ridden that goddamn goliath, whose claws were created to rend and gouge, to pull down trees and reap lives. Just so you know, it was probably the largest mammal to ever exist, larger even than the bunnyman’s cock!”

“Leire, none of us opened that rip in space-time,” the blob says gravely as he shifts his bulk. “They will keep appearing spontaneously near you, because your insanity makes you a conduit. It’s a miracle that you returned to the present.”

“You’re telling me. I only had to walk backwards, though. To be fair, I fell on my ass back to the hallway of Jacqueline’s privileged apartment in the hills, to then find out that I had dragged along a filthy, confused child who was unaware that parquet flooring existed.”

“So, in a way, you did kidnap that girl.”

“The authorities might see it that way.”

“I guess it couldn’t be helped. No way to un-kidnap her now.”

“Perhaps I pulled off the greatest scam in the history of interpersonal relations.”

Alberto’s amorphous form shudders, sending waves rolling across the gelatinous mass. His glossy eyeballs, fixated beyond me and beyond the windows, are catching the light from the ceiling fixtures in a somber dance.

“Oh man,” the blob mumbles. “This is terrible.”

A pang of shame forces me to look down.

“You know, I thought so back then, wrapped up in a blanket, chafing my arms through the sleeves of my wool pajamas, near hallucinating due to shock and hypothermia. ‘This is terrible.’ What the hell was I supposed to do with the kid that I snatched from her home? But Jacqueline embraced that little girl like a gift from the universe, and when her angelic giggles fill the apartment, I catch myself smiling. You should see her drawings. She’s so eager to express her uniqueness, like I used to be before my parents shredded my psyche. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of those ancient cave paintings belonged to her. But… being raised by me is like getting injected with poison.”

“I meant the rips in space-time. Still, a living child from thousands of years ago is mind-blowing.”

“At least about 11,500 years, which is when the Younger Dryas ended.”

“If the press got ahold of this story, the scientific community would want to lock that girl up in a lab.”

I picture a gaggle of white coats gathered around Nairu as they dazzle her with bright lights. The medical staff will take her temperature, make her pee into a cup, pry open her mouth and reach down her throat to study her lungs, inject her with syringes full of strange fluids, cut away strips of flesh to check her DNA, and open her skull to peer inside the brain.

A sickening ache squeezes my heart, and I clasp a trembling hand over my breast. The urge to murder those butchers sears through me with the fervor of an ancient beast’s drive to dominate and breed.

“I’m sure many scoundrels would love to run their greasy hands all over my sudden daughter,” I say in a cold voice, “but none will, because no non-monstrous person will find out that I kidnapped her from the Ice Age, as well as from her bearded, hunter-gatherer father. In due time, Jacqueline and I will relocate to some remote wilderness, where we’ll survive by farming, raising poultry and livestock, and staging highway robberies at gunpoint. So don’t you go spilling our little secret, you blubbery ectoplasm. In fact, restrain yourself from talking to anyone else; they will run away in terror.”

“Well, in any case, do the world a favor and don’t raise that innocent soul as a pervert.”

I chuckle.

“Nah, she’s fucked. Both of her moms are freaks.”



Author’s note: today’s songs are “Angel From Montgomery” by John Prine, and “Bitter Sweet Symphony” by The Verve.

I keep a playlist with all the songs I’ve mentioned throughout this novel. A hundred and fifty-eight songs so far. Check them out.

Leire met that bunnyman bastard back in chapter 59, during the sequence titled “That Bunnyman Bastard.” She ended up in the Ice Age back in chapter 63, during the sequence titled “A Gift From the Ice Age.” You can check out all the chapters in this page.

How about audiochapters? Do you enjoy them? I do, which is why I spend hours putting each of these together. Here’s the audiochapter for this chapter.

You know how I know that I will never become a professional author, other than the fact that I need to write stuff that virtually nobody else wants to read? I got a sales report from last month; someone has bought both of the books I self-published in Spanish back in 2017 or so. I got paranoid and wondered who was trying to fuck with me.

Ongoing manga: Tengoku Daimakyō, by Masakazu Ishiguro

I dislike reviewing manga series when they haven’t finished; more often than not, how all the parts end up tied up together influences my view of the entire story. There are quite a few manga series that I follow and love but that haven’t ended yet, like Dungeon Meshi, Kaiju No. 8, Boy’s Abyss, Chi no Wadachi, etc. However, a week ago I came across the most intriguing manga in a good while, Tengoku Daimakyō (the title apparently translates to Heavenly Delusion), which has “only” reached chapter 55 (such series tend to end at about chapter 100), but that I’ve been looking forward to sit down and continue discovering what it has to offer.

This story is an odd mix of the Fallout series of games and The Last of Us (the first game, not the TV series, and certainly not the second game). We follow two storylines. In the first one, a bunch of kids are living in a controlled environment designed to raise them in a certain way while isolating them them from the outside world. The kids are tended to by AI, as well as by shady adults who seem to be guided by a cult-like drive to create a “heaven on earth,” where people won’t be discriminated in any way. You quickly realize that these kids slash test subjects have been manipulated genetically to whatever extent, and some of the most interesting scenes of that storyline involve children being unable to comprehend how utterly nuts their environment is; they are unfazed when they come across babies that look like alien squids, because that’s how human babies look like as far as they know. One of the children mingling with the rest straight up looks like an alien. We are only given a bit more information than the children, because we follow some of the adults that handle the operation. In general, the whole deal works like a Fallout vault.

The main storyline involves a twenty-year-old redheaded bodyguard who wears a cool jacket, and the fifteen-year-old kid for whom she’s working. They live in the post-apocalyptic ruins of Japan after some cataclysm destroyed a world that had achieved artificial general intelligence. Enough time has passed that the newest generations don’t even care how things ended up this bad. Anyway, for unknown reasons, disturbing monsters with superpowers are roaming the place, which has prevented human beings from establishing lasting settlements.

The aforementioned redhead, who is the main protagonist of this tale, was offered work by a sick young woman who promptly died, but not before bequeathing the redhead a ray gun along with the task of accompanying the fifteen-year-old kid to locate a place called Heaven, where someone who shares a face with the kid will need to receive an injection of a mysterious medicine. Our main couple sets off together to explore a ruined Japan. The redheaded girl also intends to locate the two people she remembers from before a monster attack landed her in a hospital bed for about a year.

The anime adaptation has already been produced. Here’s the trailer:

Troublingly enough, though, it has been picked up in the US by Disney Plus. This is a casually hardcore series that involves regular nudity, murder, The Thing-like grossness, a thirteen-year-old prostitute/hotel tycoon, rape, child rape, and such. There’s thematic stuff that Western fiction wouldn’t touch with a teen foot pole; for example, one of the settlements that the main couple comes across is controlled by a group of female supremacists that cut off women’s breasts if they are deemed too big, that kill any older men they come across, but capture attractive young men (and kids) to keep them as “seed pigs”. I have to assume that the anime, which I’ve barely started watching, must have been toned down significantly, which would be a shame.

All in all, fantastic worldbuilding, very detailed landscapes of a post-apocalyptic Japan, natural-sounding dialogue, cool fight scenes, and a narrative that gets sadder and more tragic the longer it runs. The only downside for me, quite minor in comparison, is that a couple of “evil” characters come across a bit over the top. Anyway, check Tengoku Daimakyō out. Or don’t. Do whatever you want.

We’re Fucked, Pt. 100: AI-generated audiochapter

For a measly hundred euros, I will share all my knowledge of the Younger Dryas cataclysm. This audiochapter covers chapter 100 of my ongoing novel.

Cast

  • Leire: a vexing thief that hangs out in the sewers under Riften like a common rat
  • Alberto the blob: Argonian fellows

I have produced audiochapters for this entire sequence so far. A total of two hours, five minutes and two seconds. Check them out.