Academic Economic Zone 2

Yes. Number One Nine Five Seven here. Time to reveal yet another quadrant, section, area, level, parish, zone of Soybean Island:

AEZ2.

This place resides just south of The University of Soybean Island and for all practical purposes (and by official lie) it is connected to that institution of higher non-learning.

As always yet even more so, I must be very careful with what I show, with what images I select. A reminder: The Apparatus loves and deciphers images, they ignore the written word (unless, possibly, it is a caption).

But AEZ2 is an area where corporations can have their way with the academic world, where they have access not only to all research and invention, but to physical space and the student body as well.

What corporations want, corporation get on Soybean Island.

Of course, as a member of the Prisoner Class, I cannot fully understand the nefariously diabolical machinations of this island, other than I know it is ruled by a Corporate Elite and that it houses those humans who governments and oligarchs and secret societies wish to have disappear. They are paid quite handsomely for this rendition of exiled prisoners. Anyway, Academic Economic Zone 2:

AEZ2 is quite different that AEZ1 (commonly and oddly-affectionately known as Snailtown). Where Snailtown (Academic Economic Zone 1) is all about commerce and filling the needs or perceived needs or conspicuous non-needs of student and faculty, AEZ2 is all about The Man.

This area used to be quite rural. It used to be agricultural, often put to use by the University's Department of Agriculture.

From this:

To this:

With more to come!

From here:

To there:

Yes, the top are real animals, I believe. While the latter photo is but a statue.

Or are they snails?

I can never tell . . .

But here is some curious artwork:

Metallic?

Check.

Cage-like?

Check.

Inhumane?

But of course!

Rather snail-like as well, I observe . . .

And this: Look!

A steel barrier cage in the middle of nowhere . . . Wow . . . No doubt it awaits the development of streets and buildings to catch up with it, but of course it's important to build spaces of confinement first. Yes.

But which is better? The rise of corporate infrastructure, or hanging on to what was?

Alas, it is neither here nor there, to be or not to be, good or bad or black and white or night, day, spring, summer, fall, winter or of burning importance to me. It is but Soybean Island and all I wish for is escape . . .

Until next time if there is a next time:

Goodbye from Soybean Island,

                                                         #1957

The Un-Nitty Gritty of Soybean Island City

I have not posted in a while. Forgive me. Though I cannot forgive myself: each time I do not post is but a failure in the lottery-like-chance I have in communicating with the Free World and thusly escaping this island of the damned.

Ah.

But I must say I am always fearful that The Apparatus will find me out, so I must be duly careful in how often I communicate. And how boldly.

BOLDLY?
Or deftly?

Judge for yourself . . .

Anyway and whatever and so on and forth and forthwith--here is a post concerning the not so bland and potentially-attractive side of the big city on Soybean Island. Yes, a bit of the gritty underbelly of SIC (Soybean Island City):

Yet, what does one expect from a Prisoners Island? Wine and roses and bunnies? . . . Well, they do have those here. But that is not what concerns us for this misbegotten posting. That last photo--the barred window--is very familiar to me. It could be my window if I am ever discovered by The Apparatus.

Onward:

Yes!

And while I can show you the plant waste, what I cannot and dare not depict is the human waste upon this island, within this city. To be honest, as of now I cannot discern the difference between the relatively happy local population and that of the captured prisoner class (like myself). Complacency and blind acceptance of authority looks a lot like the frightened existence and despondence of those who know better. (Look no further than North Korea if you believe me not.)

Let us continue:

As much as I dislike revealing such images of machinery and control, I believe it is important for me to document what this place is like and--to the best of my limited ability--what is going on here. What is left of my freedom--perhaps what is left of my life--is on the line here. Yet, I most soldier on:

The desire to display bent posts and sticks with orange ribbons is almost as strong as the seeming need to display dead plants here in Soybean Island City.

Attention:

Stairway to Heaven?

Hardly.

Stairway to Deathtrap is more likely . . .

But, even I cannot leave you with such disillusioning images. I must at least offer a glimmer of what The Apparatus would prefer you to see, here on their hidden island. So, without further ado:

I suppose those look like bunnies to the untrained eye, but I believe they are long-eared snails--a subspecies of the Soybean Island Snail (aka: Bean Snail, Transcendental Snail, Fighting Snail).

So. There you have it. Of course, there is no you, is there? There is no hopeful English-reading soul out there who can view this blog and can act upon the shocking information I have revealed and documented and sprung forth into the Internets World, is there? . . . Alas. There is no you. There is only me.

So, to me, until next time if there is a next time:

Goodbye from Soybean Island,

#1957

City, Country, Soybean Summer

Ah. Summer has finally arrived on the island . . . One Nine Five Seven here, reporting for reporting duties.

And while the beginning of summer is evident out in The Homesteads:

The city--Soybean Island City, to be exactly exact--shows evermore signs of depressing control and repression among the warm temps and sunshine:

Yes. Though the local denizens, secure in their ignorance, in their false sense of freedom and free will, are quite happy with the advent of summer, they choose to ignore what can readily be seen right in front of their myopic faces.

Whatever do I mean?

Take a look:

Sandbags. Ugly fencing. Bare bones urbanity . . . And look at that last photo: Fencing trapped within fencing. That in itself sums up the mindset of Soybean Island and The Apparatus.

What? You'd like more proof?

Here:

What do you see? Why it's fencing-like tables and chairs behind fencing-like fencing, that's what. You may eat outdoors but you must be fenced in--prisonerishlike--and be controlled. Yes. It isn't even very subtle, is it . . . This is how I live, day in and out, with only an illusory illusion of free will. Yes.

Even the local statuary has an abstract fence-like, prisonerishlike look to it:

Wow. Just, Wow!


Meanwhile, out in The Homesteads, things are much greener and much opener:

But do not be fooled. Despite the blooming of the soybean fields and corn fields and rutabaga fields, it is still all the same. Nada Nada Nada.

More Nada:

Yes yes yes, in the middle photo you can spy a communication tower belonging to The Apparatus. (Shiver shiver shiver!)

And so, the final Nadas of this post . . .

City Nada:

Country Nada:

And thus, in the spirit of this spiritless nothingness, I say--

Until next time, if there is a next time:

Goodbye from Soybean Island,

#1957