The Red Circle Hymn, Part III

Bruno Masse, aka Raven, is a radical author and anarchist hailing from the bleak shores of Montreal. Better known for his research on radical environmentalism and otherwise known as ‘Canada’s darkest author’, Masse has published several novels, plays and poetry collections alongside visual artist Samuel O’Breham Rondeau.


Took a while finding the keys to the utility elevator. No time to crawl up a hundred levels. Tore down a floor plan. Found a dead super’s

set, pried it from his blood-stained belt and made for the backrooms. Backup tadalafil e diabete sodium lights beamed from steel-grated corners. They cast a sick green hue over the bare concrete hallways that led there.

Twin blast doors clinked open and I went in. The thing was still running. Punched in the top floor and waited while the box was winched up the spine of Imperium Tower.

Hold fast, Lily. Soon we’ll be together.

The power must have gone out around the 81st floor. Wasn’t expecting that. Had to improv: punch the ceiling hatch over, crawl up the tunnel to 82nd and pry the doors open. When I came out of there, dusty as fuck, I found myself on a deserted office level, gasping.

I was running 0ut of time.

The way I figured, Osmond’d likely split security twofold, one for personnel protection and one for me. Then again, chances were they might chicken out and just rush the lot to the rooftop. Wouldn’t have much data now. Difficult call to make.

Either way I had to make fast.

The emergency staircase was just around the bend to the next hallway. I ran as quick I could but my strength was slipping away. I’d spent the last two days fasting and running about. Legs felt like wet rags under me. Vision cialis versus viagra blurred by sweat. Never mind. Go on.



I went up

and up the stairs, rounding about, breath hoarse, desperate pants stifling out of crackled lips.



Fresh, cool air was gulfing down the staircase, and cialis online for a second there I saw myself over that rooftop, lopressor

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conquering the world, waltzing with you, my Lily, my one –

The first bullet ricocheted on the steel railing in a flurry of sparks, stopped me dead in my tracks. The second bounced off concrete and chipped off a whole chunk before I could spin round. The third went in and out my side. Never saw it coming. Forced back in shock then saw the door to the 93rd ajar, one rent-a-cop in the opening, clean-cut and leering straight at me. Chevrons all over. Before I hit the wall I blasted loose, shot down the staircase, yanked the lever and crushed that trigger once more.

The man had double-backed across the opening but the sabot slugs punched through the door like butter and sunk fast into flesh. I heard his screams as I braced my knees on the recoil.

Osmond was down.

Didn’t even blink. Adrenaline filled my blood black and I fucken flew down the stairs and out into the hallway where three more men were desperately holding up a bloody retch in uniform. Fuckers wouldn’t let go. Unloaded in their direction and sent gushes of crimson flesh spurting across the walls. They all fell down in a mass of loose carcasses. More screams echoed down the hallway and so I climbed over the retches and out to a vast expanse of offices, cubicles and designer furniture.

Tens of suits were betapace running here and there, ties flying about, briefcases and mobiles rebounding off carpet. These were human: runny make-up, toupees askew, sweat-stained shirts. Contorted faces in fluorescent light.

Pangs of sheer agony pulsed through my right side, sending waves of nausea to my stomach. Vertigo spliced my vision. My knees were quivering and my hands canada pharmacy online complaints were shaking and I was seeing red – these fuckers had gone too far and I couldn’t hold back. They were everywhere, they were always there. Wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t let go.

I couldn’t… they’d just…

Not now, Lily. Not now.

Like quails they scattered before my wake, still I pushed forward, shooting off peons, drilling holes into cubicle walls, sending splatters of blood on kitten pics and fax machines. They all fled and flittered down the way. Like cattle they herded ‘twixt twin hardwood doors into a vast opening.

The conference room.

And as they fell over themselves to reach the safety of that one great hall I abruptly ran out of ammo. Kept on clacking the lever but no shots came out, as though frozen in frenzy.

And I could see them 24 hour pharmacy all, in there, thirty more business men and women or so, aging, hand-tailored and scared to death.

Three of them were already fumbling through wallets to throw cash out on the table. Final sales pitch.

In the meantime, the wound in my side was bleeding profusely. Struck in a swoon the world was reeling, mixed with computers and desks and slug holes.

Oh, Lily.

I got down to one convulsive hump I’d shot in the spine and tore out one piece of his thousand-dollar suit. Stuck the thing halfway down the Wild Turkey, put the cork back on and went out to the meet the chairmen of the board.

They were all there, survivors in spite of everything. Must have been holed up some time now, in this fucken ivory tower. Ghosts of power-play. Reduced to this. Baffled, frantic. Humans without a clue.

“Wasn’t you,” I chocked, laughing. I was starting to see. “Couldn’t pull that off, motherfuckers. You’re not the Circle.”

Some shook their heads, blurting out words I couldn’t make out. More cash was thrown on the table. Always the deal breakers, these corporate swine.

Spitting blood, I lit the rag.

Sixty wrinkled eyes widened instantly. Without delay I simply swung the bottle unto the room, and it shattered instantly, spewing flames across the mahogany table and out upon the chairs and curtains.

Screams gnarled out hoarse throats, snuffed out as I closed the twin doors and barred the handles with the shotgun. And I laughed and buy an essay laughed.

“Not you, dumb fucks. Never were.”

And as I limped away their cheap generic viagra cries phone tracker spy gadget android rose up higher and higher as the fires roared on, until they were commingled together – the heat and the suffering, the old and the new.

So I hobbled away, bleeding and weaponless, slowly coming to that final opening at the end of history. And all of a sudden it hit me, Lily, I understood everything. I got it at last. The Red Circle Hymn. The chaos. The destruction – all of it.

And I just smiled, Lily.

I smiled.


It snowed black on Friday.

Just like you said it would.

Now I’m kneeling on the edge of the world, the Primus Imperium rooftop, with its glorious winds and a bird’s eye view over burning metropolis, just like we planned, Lily.

Just like we always planned.

Explosions keep hitting the bowels of this maze and I can see them, I school help desk specialist can see this world breaking down on itself, the

motions under movements and the wheels cycling in on themselves, projectiles sent by forces, hurling to the walls raised thousands of years ago by a caste of cruel fools. And with the accumulated strength does the odious creation finally fall. Rallying the species to its own means was the only way that could happen, and I know that now.

The burning fires send rancid tadalafil ashes into the perfect sky, and the specks flit slowly down, floating on hot winds nourished by the

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infinite strength of rebellion.

Black snow falls on us all from above – signal of deliverance, freedom from authority, unfettering from the age-old system of symbols that kept us from ourselves and

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each other.

There’s just so much humana pharmacy blood, now. It’s in and out and everywhere around me, and I feel so weak. Fucken hurts. Fucker shot me good. Can’t hold on much longer. Does it even matter, love? Does anything matter, anymore?

They’re coming, I can see them in the distance. Three black copters, high military, flying straight in this direction, as the very flames I’ve set are now roaring up to my post. Evac. They’re soaring right to the Imperium to salvage the elite, the crème de la crème, but they don’t know. It’s over, Lily.

Ah! The world is no more!

Laughing, I see the choppers suddenly veer into the emptiness and sway back and forth as their engines begin to fail. And then they are struck. Like ravens they each plummet from the sky, one by one – black plumes so beautiful against the crimson dusk, falling for evermore, plunging down to the burning mess of the primitive future.

Oh, Lily!

I saw the red circles

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you’d drawn on these pieces of paper, and then you’d held me tight, so lovingly, and I forgot everything. We’d kissed. You smelled of summer rain, then. Oh, Lily…

“There’s billions of us,” you whispered to me, “waiters and clerks and teachers and people all across the Earth, whose pain and hatred for slavery are constantly inflamed. Our hope

of peace with this artificial world is dying, we are coming to the ineluctable conclusion. With each disillusionment, with each fragment we lose to culture, we get closer to rupture. Our fall will be grandiose. Complete and utter chaos. Some don’t know the words and can’t explain how they feel. Others know the words and simply don’t know what to do. Mutilated existence is like an infection, just there canadian pharmacy beneath the veneer of reified abstractions. We can feel it growing. Soon we’ll start and we won’t be able to stop, cause our very natures compel us to go forward. They could have stopped this. Each and everyone of these fuckers could have stayed our hand, if they’d just given up that greed,

that power. But they didn’t. They won’t. We’ll stop it, then. All of us. Just waiting for that time, you know, that rallying cry. But the Red Circle Hymn will come, and when it does, this entire world will fall: three days of Revolution will wipe out ten thousand years of Civilization.”

Oh, Lily. If only you were here now. I finally understand. You were never the answer, love.

You were just the question.

And I see, now, the domino pieces, the inconceivable movements of chaos twirling ever different – I see how you moved.

You were already falling when I met you. These tears, they were you, keeling over. And then you pushed me, Lily, so I went forth, yet another wayward projectile in the rebellion.

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You sent me here. You knew I’d be armed. You knew the elite would swarm the Imperium, bracing for escape. All of us, just aligned to that end, to the end of the world.

We were never meant to see each other again.

And I cialis see them, now, the flames getting higher, the smoke, the black snow. And I see the pieces, falling, crushing each other, here generic pharmacy and there and all over this world, tumbling over themselves… they’re falling, Lily, we’re all falling…

Freedom at last.

I love you, Lily.

I love you.


Design and layout by Samuel O’Breham Rondeau Cover photography by Gaurakisora Tucker Contact: Backcover photography by Max Potega Contact: Special thanks to Karlsie & everyone at Subversify Magazine

Read part I here

Read part II here

6 Comments on “The Red Circle Hymn, Part III”

  1. Bruno, this has been a truly enthralling read. The linguistic quality thrilled me all the way to the end. Once i started reading, it was very hard to stop until i was finished; always the mark of a good book. Thank you so much for delivering this to us, and for editing out your work so it presents a pleasant format for publishing. I hope in the future, we can feature some more of your work.

  2. Brilliant!

    Mutilated existence is like an infection, just there beneath the veneer of reified abstractions. (loved this line!!)

    I’ve just the three installments back to back and was thoroughly engrossed. Truly exquisite. A fitting hymn for a dystopian society.

    I can only echo Karlsie and hope that you grace us with more of your work.

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