Naked, you say that the Emperor is naked, you fool? The emperor naked, as she gazes over the balustrade of this obscene palace? This palace erected atop the skulls of the brave champions of a thousand civilizations, civilisations crushed in a thousand wars waged over light decades of empty spazio, and skulls retrieved from their variously configured – and mangled- corpses floating frozen, collected at great expense for the treasury so that they could act as foundation for this palace, where we play meaningless games like the one the Emperor now gazes at? I should have your eyes for this offence.
But I shall forgive you, for you are blind, blind and barbaric.
You cannot see the black cape that spreads from the Emperor’s pale neck, this cape that represents the black sections of the galaxy which are hers, the minerals and labour counted by the Economist, the fiery stellar tableaux and the many and multiple-shadowed sunrises celebrated by the poet.
You cannot see the silver armour that sheathes her body with the terrible might of our stellar armada, infused with a force-field of intimidation that warrants peace with our neighbours for as long we want to keep it (not long).
And worse of all, you cannot see the web of poisoned lace that spreads from the tip of her fingers and the surface of her skin and each fibre of her hair, and worse of all those eyes, eyes that know no innocence (otherwise she wouldn’t have survived growing up in the palace before this one, the one she so ceremoniously obliterated the night she was crowned.) Eyes shrouded by a veil of intrigue and a deviousness running so deep t’s indistinguishable from (black) magic.
You cannot see it, but you can sense it, like the mice field sense the bird of prey soaring above them, as it drops for the kill.
Here she comes, here she comes, the Emperor, dressed in dark might and night music.
We have been listening to Uncanny Valley a lot since they sent us these two songs off their forthcoming cassette in Night People. Together with Iain M. Banks’ cruel and mesmerising Azadians (and their game, which we’ll leave for some other time), they inspired the above.
End Game is the funereal procession for a suspect of witch-craft whose body was never found in the conflagration of her Parisian flat – but played backwards, while Illusion of Paradise is Chris and Cosey’s ‘I feel Dread’ dub for Donna & Giorgio’s glitter & coke anthem.