There was something about the way her head leaned back, dangling over the edge of the building, the way her mirrored sunglasses sat askew as the spotlights swerve above. Sometimes they were looking for something, someone. Sometimes they were just a fear tactic, keeping them all inside the ragged homes and the piled shipping containers.
The landscape hadn’t changed even after they’d boarded ships with massive open doors, trampling one another, running from poisonous fumes and exploding manhole covers, tossed high into the air. There had been rumors of those left behind, beheaded by flying scraps of metal. But those who made it had found a new planet and built it up, hoping for a new start. There had been greenery and food and water that you could drink fresh out of a gurgling stream. Nothing lasts forever, his mother had told him.
And so, it had been years in the making; life in darkness, glowing eyes behind glass. They couldn’t remember the last time the sun had shown, made its way up and over the horizon. They couldn’t recall what vitamin D felt like, penetrating deep into their skin. It had long been blocked out as UV scorched the ground beneath them and even the weeds failed the crop up in the cracks of the asphalt.
Inside their homes, they painted themselves glowing yellow and prayed that their own families could tell them apart from the wanderers, scavenging for rotting food in long disabled refrigerators. Sometimes mothers stabbed their own children in the dark, terrified of lost souls.
She looked to the sky though while others hid. He’d seen her before, intrigued by her fearlessness, the way she beckoned the spotlights, egging them on, screaming into the never-ending night. Maybe she’d be illuminated by a collision of stars and find something new, see settling dust like she’d been able to when the sun came through filthy windows many years before. Perhaps she’d hear the shifting of particles amidst the clamoring of industrial machinery and gears turning and swinging cranes. They said they were building, improving, but all she ever saw were more spotlights, more people running inside to hide, scared that they were whatever was being searched for.
No one ever told them what it was they were looking for. At one point, she’d thought they’d wanted to put out fires in trash cans, scatter huddled masses trying to see one another’s faces one last time. But the masses were gone anyway and fire was no longer.
She was pretty sure that they searched for nothing. No one looked for anything. No one saw their faces and no one seemed to care.
released June 19, 2018
Itzokor is a project born in 2009, rooted in cyberpunk it converges mainly in the production of Drum'n'Bass music, Dubstep and Experimental, sometimes with a strong Industrial aftertaste. Moving between dystopian atmospheres and disturbing melodies Itzokor strikes the listener with its haunting rhythms.
Иногда не слишком похоже на музыку, и в тоже время бывает трудно разобраться, почему это звучит музыкальнее, чем почти всё, с чем ты был знаком ранее. Тем глубже строишь ассоциации, чтобы всё понять, и, следовательно, тем глубже в подкорку сознания всё лезет.
Там, глубоко в подкорке сознания, эта музыка и остаётся. Вероятно, навсегда. ailes grises