Black Speech:

This is the recorded speech given by Cecil B. Watts v3 before his demise. The event of his death was described as a senseless horror of existential terrorism. after faking his own death and resurrection, he amassed believers, only to terrorize them in a Jonestown style massacre. He released barrels of oil from above a stage, covering his followers in ichorous petrol, then lighting himself and them on fire.

The year was 3441; petrol was illegal, fire was illegal, and biological gathering was illegal. Cecil was the 3rd clone version and was expected to become stable after genetic updates. His leadership skills were potent enough to warrant a small grant. After the speech however, no such leaders were authorized for production.
Following Cecil’s speech there was a quarantine on public speeches for 14 lunar cycles. No one was allowed to compose or transmit any unauthorized opinions because they might cause panic and disorder. It is also worth noting that the day and night cycles had extended by an hour due to the rise in sea level. The addition ocean mass caused further tidal bulging with the moon, slowing the spin of the earth. This fact was hidden by authorities until the year 4633, at which point the earth had become locked with the Moon and the Great Storms began.

In retrospect, Cecil’s speech was quite tame compared to the burning of the oceans and the power of thunderbolts large enough to disintegrate whole cities. 

“Fear is the first breath. Inhale deeply, become terrified, see the darkness approach and wash over you, live in your fear, feel it daily. This is the first step into the unknown. If you cannot handle your own imagination, if you cannot handle what is transpiring in front of you, you will be unable to act, your brain with short circuit, and default to denial. If you manage to come out of denial it is usually due to a new language for change, new poetry, metaphysics, science, something to explain the edges of darkness. This too is a type of short circuit, a stop gap into the unknown. 

The unknown is dark in a sense you cannot see through it or into it. It is opaque, and without distinction. You must acclimate to blurry lines, and fuzzy faces, at least if you wish to travel into the unknown. If fear is not your taste, or a dish you prefer, then find the most enjoyable existence possible, live your life until you reach the dirt, the fire, or the gray lace of old age. 

If fear is your flavor, if terror is your tea, then look further into the black. It takes time to build the endurance for such a gaze, it takes time to pull yourself repeatedly out from reason and spiritual explanations. The human brain is reflexive when faced with the unknown and even this small diatribe may be considered a conceit. However, if you are tempered, if you can gaze into the void, perhaps you can begin to unravel. 

You might see death in all things, or at least a humming decay which whines with the growth of new life. You might see the world without edges or name and see the machinery of civilization as a stage show counting down the hours until extinction. 

You may find this pessimistic, defeatist, and perhaps unwelcome, but I implore you, this method is greater than denial compared to the will to act. When the mind is quiet and can tolerate fear, when the world is endured regardless of its horror, then you can act, then you move within the darkness.” 
-Cecil B. Watts

At which point the ichor flowed and the fire burned. 

Now humanity lives in the darkness, beneath the surface. The Great Storm blows above, with furious winds, torn in thermal currents between the light and dark sides of the Earth. Some of us are clones, and some have nurtured mutations into stable genomes, adapting to the lightless world beneath.
His words echo in the caverns and down the halls of stones, deep into the rock, reminding us that a greater darkness flows above and below us, opaque and turbulent; invisible to those unwilling to see. 

Tossed Into the Night:

There was a woman so large, her lap was an ocean and her hair was the sky. Sailors would find themselves suddenly in her lap, terrified by her rising thighs. Then, once near the Great Gate of Life, they would be smashed into splinters along with their boat by a sudden and violent force.

She spoke so slowly, and her words were a storm. “Stop” she would say, but the sailors could not respond, they could only fall from her lap like small droplets.

Her day and night were eons, her bed was a mountain range, and her clothes were made of forests and icy lace. Before she slept, she brushed her hair with the spine of the world. Great winds swirled about her, and hurricanes sprouted from her head. She would whip her hair around, flinging it over her shoulders and down into her lap.

Sometimes a sailor would cling to her hair, and when their ships and sails were destroyed, they would cling to the wind, and crawl up from her lap. They would sing to her, telling her to sleep, to ease her hair lashing, and dream in the arms of trees and mountains.

This woman did not hear the words of sailors, nor the songs of their pleas. She would fling the little bodies from her presence, tossing them into the darkness of the night sky, and cursing the ships of men.

When she did sleep, she tossed and turned as great earthquakes resonated from her dreams. Nightmares rolled out like midnight storms with a loud and cacophonous terror, a slip stream of mad clouds swollen with rain, hammering a static anger unto the roofs of poorly made houses.

On such a night the giantess was killed.

An army was gathered under an evil king who argued for her death at any cost. The king thought if he could kill the giantess, all others would fear him, and he could rule as far as he could see. Those who first joined the army were the sons and daughters of dead sailors, whose fathers were lost to the darkness and spite. They vowed revenge and were eager for the opportunity.

The next to join the army were those eager to gain access to the Great Gate of Life. So long had the gate been a dangerous journey, a place between the thighs of the giantess in which all creatures must pass to be born. To control the gate was a temptation beyond any treasure and were very eager to bring the giantess to subjugation or death.

The last to join were the victims of tyranny. Those who knew only the iron first of authority and had received a lifetime of oppression and subjugation. They were eager to inflict what they had felt upon the giantess, to do what had been done to them, to take their place as the next tyrants.

They gathered in the dark and waited for the storms of her night terrors to begin. They had only one chance, as she might not sleep for another eon, something the evil king could not wait for. They did not have to wait long, when the darkness came, so did the storms, and soon thunder heralded the sign to attack.

She was not easy to kill, her heart was fierce and her blood thick. Yet by the dawn, it was clear she would not wake. Her body was sliced up and divided among the victors, quartered by violence, separated and controlled. Soon the Gate of Life was under the dominion of the evil king and new tyrants.

It was time to pay the army; the Gate of Life was opened, and all things were born and multiplied.

Those who sought vengeance were not satisfied with killing the giantess and their bloodlust grew in each generation. Those who sought power and control found themselves with an abundance of both, yet the world seemed frozen with their power. The winds did not blow, the seas did not churn, and the tides did nothing. Their power was useless. Those who sought dominion over others found no shortage of people to rule over, but due to the new people tumbling out of the gate at record speeds. It became clear that the idea of control they knew, the idea they fought for, would not be enough for the hordes of new people. Control slipped through their fingers.

More and more people poured out of the Gate of Life until birth itself seemed to choke the living. Then the echo of the giantess was heard, like a thunderclap, the restless spirit of the giant woman rose from the ocean, and fell from the sky. Her ghost reformed under a new moon in the shadow of the evil king.

The Gate of Life was slammed shut upon her waking and her eyes were red with fire.  She rained down her viscous spite upon the children of her killers and the sons and daughters of the king until they were each thrown into the darkness of night to be forgotten without name. The king too was tossed easily into the sky, his authority and power adding up to nothing as the howls of the night wind mocked him.