“La bataille du repentir” is a collection of novels I’ve been writing since 2002, to illustrate and detail the world that served as the basis for Bowels Of Suffering’s songwriting.
Disclaimer: The following writings represent only a personal vision of the future, of humankind’s evolution. Under no circumstances should these writings be taken literally. They contain no political, racial, or social judgments. Anyone who cannot tell the difference between fiction and their ideas should not be interested in this work. Otherwise, thank you for reading about what our future might be like if we don’t take care of our mother nature.
Préambule
Man, with a capital “H”, this animal supposedly so evolved that it distinguishes itself from its phylogenetic congeners as the culmination of the evolutionary chain. This animal shamelessly boasts that it is different simply because it possesses consciousness. A consciousness so evolved that it even justifies monstrous genocides within its species. One thing is clear: through this consciousness, this animal has assimilated the reality of death. A state of non-life for an indeterminate period, but Man has inferentially determined that it is an eternal state …
Initial State
The leaden silence of the room was disturbed only by the constant repetition of a beep emitted at the regular frequency by a small transmitter. The oppressive atmosphere was rendered stifling by a distinct lack of visibility. Only the multitude of backlit screens of the equipment in the room provided a providential light for the man seated in an egg-shaped box in the middle. The greenish reflection of the devices gave the place a surreal quality. The man seemed calm and composed. A strange helmet was placed on his head, occupying almost the entire cranial surface, from the occipital to the frontal…
Black Bowels
An intense pain paralyzed his neck. He could no longer stand this way of being woken up. This little surgical steel box hidden at the base of the neck under the skin allowed anyone with the access codes to plug into it and issue simple commands to the central and vegetative nervous system, the BCRI they called it, Boîtier Central des Réflexes Involontaires. For three weeks now, the entire West Wing of Warsaw had been roused from their slumber in this way. The city’s leaders had recently begun to fear another Gaian attack. The last one had been destructive, with thousands of deaths. Warsawites gathered in the city’s underground tunnels every time an alert occurred. For public health reasons, access has been simplified and fortified. Genetically sensed doors allowed a continuous flow of people, with the virtual certainty that no non-human foreign bodies could pass through. Humans had all protested at the appearance of such an information-gathering process, hiding behind the most fundamental of individual freedoms, that of protecting genetic source data. But, as always in such cases, the masses eagerly embraced the idea when it proved its effectiveness during the first Gaian attack…
Bestiaire
Human civilization has always sought to reassure itself about its origins and future. The wildest fantasies have therefore been embodied in imaginary races that highlight the fears of human societies. Told to children at night, the stories of these characters thrilled even the most sensitive. The bravest strutted about imagining fortuitous encounters from which they would emerge victorious. And so, like the sword of Damocles, vampires, bogeymen, dragons and other golems helped educate young humans. Each era has seen these myths evolve, retaining their mystical aspects while retaining an ounce of credibility for children…
Dead 3 Days
Men could have, should have, seen it earlier, listened to those more or less serious corpuscles announcing the awakening of planet Earth. Except that, in the end, it wasn’t the waking but the death of this spirit. GAIA had only manifested itself to a very few people. But it must be human nature to put the comfort of the moment before the stability of the future. The exploitation of the planet on a global scale, this plundering of the subsoil, made man the planet’s vampire, classifying him almost as a predator. Inevitably, as nothing is infinite, this devastation of natural resources led to irreparable damage to the planet. Man is a wolf to man and a leech on the planet…
S.e.G.M
Flashlight beams swept across the small space that led into the bowels of the earth. Suspended particles reflected the light like a billion spangles hovering languidly. It had been 2 days since this ancient laboratory had been discovered by the Gaian armies. Like a gaping wound, a concrete corridor sank into the ground. An oak tree several hundred years old had crimped the corridor with its majestic roots. The front lines of Gaia’s army consisted mainly of sentinel robots; extremely silent, they were dedicated to observation and information gathering. These machines moved on an excessively complex system of interlocking tracks. The last notable modification to their already extensive range of stealth techniques was camouflage by light inflection. The simple principle, however, took several decades to put into practice…
Ancestral Hopes
For François-Didier, regular reader, thanks again, and happy birthday
He knew exactly what he was, what he had to live for, but at that very second, he had forgotten everything, from his essence to his being. As he flung open the door to this dingy rad’s bathroom, he came to a halt, gasping in surprise. A blonde waterfall cascaded from the head to the shoulders of a woman leaning forward, busy drinking a little water flowing through a reverse osmosis micro-filter1. The insalubrity of the place made this apparition as magical as it was improbable. Especially since he knew this woman. He knew her so well… And yet he had refused to make a life with her, convinced at the time that he had so many other things to live for… if only he’d known…