4 de Julio 2005
surrender before it's too late
Here in the United States, you are under constant surveillance. The computers of the National Security Agency routinely monitor all domestic and international communications. Transmissions containing certain combinations of key words are recorded and carefully scrutinized. There is now substantial evidence that "octopus" is one of those words.
Far away, turbines the size of houses are spinning. They are the glistening heart of the octopus. Millions of miles of high tension lines march across the countryside, the veins and arteries, carrying the precious blood to millions of faceless apartment buildings, crumbling brownstones, rotting wooden houses covered with vinyl, and suburban homes all exactly alike. The capillaries bring blood to the skin, smooth white walls with plenty of outlets. Listen to the hum of the octopus.
The octopus wraps his tentacles around the Earth and feeds hungrily. He rips deep holes in her flesh, and sucks up her sweet essences, water and oil and gas. He piles up her flesh in great mounds, and chews it, swallowing the resources he seeks, spitting out what remains into her rivers and poisoning them.
Her most secret treasures are looted, digested, and excreted. He digs pits for his excrement, and they are filled, and still he excretes more.
You are herded into trains and buses like cattle, or sit for hours in tiny chariots that belch noxious fumes. You are packed into long rows of identical grey cubicles, where you twitch your fingers and talk into boxes joined by wires. The boxes talk back, and you talk to each other as if you were in the same room. The buildings you work in have windows that can never be opened. Your masters fear the air, and rightly so. Breath is life, and their rule is death.
You return to your cells in darkness, recline on soft cushions, and watch soothing colored lights on glass screens. Food is transported from all over the world, prepared by less fortunate slaves, and delivered to you. You excrete in water closets that empty through labyrinths of pipe into the ocean, and the only hunting you do is for places to park your chariots.
War rages in distant lands, though you are no longer permitted to see it on your screens. The battle over the dwindling resources grows uglier. Whole nations are left to starve, and encouraged to destroy one another. There are riots and looting in your cities, and martial law is declared. Then, for the first time, your tallest building is almost destroyed. Your elites begin to fear for their property, and know that only the strongest of them will survive.
The octopus clings more tightly as the planet dies. Your bodies become weak, as your water and food grow more poisonous. In the summer the air is unbreathable and you are warned to stay inside. Soon there are shortages, and even you go hungry. Your leaders lose control, and fight each other. The holes in your atmosphere expand, and there are oxygen wars. The octopus empties the Earth, and her surface begins to collapse, causing tremendous earthquakes. Waves wash over your cities as your continent sinks.
Only the simultaneous enlightenment of your entire species can prevent this. You are the eyes of the world and the crown of creation. Surrender, before it is too late, and slay the octopus. You cannot possibly win your war with the Earth.
1 de Julio 2005
wells meets wells
En plena producción de La guerra de los mundos, el rey Midas del cine
ya estaba metido en la preproducción de Untitled 1972 Munich Olympics
Project, también titulada Vengeance, que recreará el atentado de los
Juegos Olímpicos de Munich de 1972, cuando un grupo palestino
autodenominado Septiembre Negro asesinó a once atletas israelíes.