Cities

Didn’t I say I’d tell you what cities are? Listen then, for I’ll not tell a second time.

Here it is as I was told it once, old but new minted with each fresh telling. Our world is sick, boy. Very sick. A virus got in a long time ago and we’ve gotten so used to it’s effects, we’ve forgotten what it was like before we became ill. I’m talking about cities, see?

Human cultures were originally homeostatic; they existed in a self sustaining equilibrium with no notions of time and progress, like we’ve got. Then the city-virus got in. No one’s really sure where it came from of who brought it to us, But like all viral organisms, its one directive is to use up all available resources in producing copies of itself.

More and more copies until there’s no raw material left and the host body overwhelmed, can only die. The cities want us to become good builders. Eventually, we’ll build rockets and carry the virus to other worlds.

Cities have their own way of talking to you; catch sight of the reflection of a neon sign and it’ll spell out a magick word that summons strange dreams. Have you ever seen the word ‘IXAT’ Glowing in the night? That’s one of the holy names.

Or make tape recordings of traffic noise and listen to them at night. You’ll hear the voices of the city coming through, telling you things, showing you pictures. Sometimes they’ll show you where they came from.

In waking dreams I’ve seen cemetery planets circling abandoned stars. Like mausoleums, silent and dead, every building a headstone.

The earth doesn’t want us anymore, see. She’s brought us up as best she could and now it’s time to leave the nest and let her get on with her business. We’re not wanted here. We have to cut the apron strings, boy.

Can’t suck at mummy’s tit forever. We have to leave our bodies and our cities behind us and go into space, just like the little fishes had to leave the sea was all they knew. And when we’re gone, the earth will just grow over the cities and turn them into dust. Meantime we must make allies of the tower blocks and the motorways and the industrial estates.

… City’s full of magick, neither bad nor good just there to be used by the people who know. Cities live and breathe magick. Did you know that if you get a map and join up all the sites of all the McDonald’s restaurants in London, it makes a sigil to the dark emperor mammon?

There’s a war on, boy. There’s a war on and we want you. We want you as a new recruit.