{"id":100043016,"date":"2024-09-04T19:00:00","date_gmt":"2024-09-04T19:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/?p=100043016"},"modified":"2024-09-03T13:02:28","modified_gmt":"2024-09-03T13:02:28","slug":"damnatio-memoriae","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/?p=100043016","title":{"rendered":"Damnatio Memoriae"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Archival footage recovered from Hesperia\u2019s House of Memory:<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The floating man rode the wave of narcotics into REM sleep, sinking into memories of Martian basins under bombardment and hounds skulking around dead lands. Through them, he perceived the world in its making and unmaking. He could no longer recognize which of them belonged to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A siren\u2019s shriek startled him. He scratched the back of his head and felt vibrations under his skin, just above the root of an intense migraine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He heard a laugh. A voice saying, \u201cI guess it\u2019s true what they say about the Martian army. They teach you to sleep anywhere. Isn\u2019t that so, Jarek?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jarek frowned at the name. Knowledge was not as forthcoming as it once had been. He prodded his mind for information, but only found mismatched fragments of an autobiography surrendered to a discordant void. He had one certainty. This was not Mars. Otherwise, he would not need to dream of gravity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He spun in zero-g until he was facing a dim red light. His hair was short and dotted with a few streaks of grey that extended to an uncared beard. The lines running through his face blended with battlefield scars. He wore a polyester suit with the letters E.T.D.C. <\/em>embroidered just above his heart. Eirene Terran Defense Corporation. <\/em>He spelled the words in his mind, slowly and consciously, wondering how he remembered their meaning. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He prodded his thoughts until a flash of awareness hit him. Then, with the full might of an employee disturbed during a break, he bellowed, \u201cWhy are you bothering me? Has Quentin lost another dummy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cQuentin is dead.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He hesitated. \u201cLike hell he is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWant to bet on it?\u201d the operator said, cackling at the idea. \u201cHe tried to sneak into a shuttle going down to Madrid, but cheap jammers don\u2019t do the trick anymore. His head exploded when he tried to pass through the first checkpoint. The cleaning team has just reached the docking bay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cHe already had fifty missions. He should\u2019ve been transferred to a holding facility on the surface,\u201d Jarek said as he floated toward the hatch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe have no control over the speed of the transfers. We do what we can, but there\u2019s too few of us and too many of you,\u201d the operator said. \u201cYou\u2019re welcome to return to Mars whenever you like.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And you can go to hell, he thought. There had been no signs that suggested Quentin had lost his mind. He seemed fine, if only somewhat distant. This was a bad omen. Jarek already had forty-eight missions under his belt. Was he that close to the edge? Nothing guaranteed the same would happen to him. He dismissed the idea before the doubt solidified into madness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe left you some unfinished business though,\u201d the operator said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGreat. What got through this time?\u201d Jarek said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA small cargo ship. It crashed in the California death zone an hour ago, probably hit some debris trying to slip past orbital defenses.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jarek opened the hatch and waited for gravity to kick in. \u201cCrash site status?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerimeter\u2019s already closed and your Barghest has been deployed. There are no signs of hazardous materials in the atmosphere. We\u2019re likely dealing with the usual desperadoes,\u201d the operator said. \u201cYour orders are to scout the area before the cleaning party shows up and see if there\u2019s anything worth salvaging. Understood?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYessir. Have you told Sophie?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe\u2019s already waiting for you, hotshot. And Jarek,\u201d said the operator, \u201cQuentin was smart. He was a real tech savant, and he still got his brains blown out because he did something stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m not Quentin. Shit, you talk as if you didn\u2019t know me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t. Knowing you is not part of my job. I\u2019d lose my mind if I had to remember every Martian that comes through this station. I\u2019m telling you this because you are an effective asset. Martians kill each other for water concessions. We do not have that problem here. Not anymore. A few years of hard work will grant you a lifetime of leisure. If you want to throw that way for a firing squad, that\u2019s your choice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

#<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The E.T.D.C. called Rhadamanthus station a temporary residence for displaced Martians. It was often translated as \u2018bureaucratic purgatory\u2019 into the Martian language. It was the stations that protected Earth from external threats, for example, people fleeing war-torn planets. It had been its main purpose for the better part of two centuries, and now it was almost senile in its functioning. If a piece had not fallen apart, then it was in the process of doing so.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sophie was waiting in a crooked hallway. She was pacing back and forth, walking with a slight limp. She wore dark fatigues too big for her malnourished body. Her hands were shifting invisible gears, but she stopped to smile at Jarek. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He surmised he had always known that smile, though he was unaware of the fact until recently. He could mimic the expression with ease. Over time, it had become a gateway into a different life. He smiled and remembered prowling the tunnels of Brown City in search of food while a putrid smell hung stale in the air. Jarek had never been to Brown City, but Sophie was born there. Now, the feeling of waking into a dream never left him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jarek slouched against the wall. \u201cQuentin. He\u2019s\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDead, I know,\u201d Sophie said. \u201cI told him that jammer was useless. I knew someone who could have helped him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour smuggler friend?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe\u2019s an ace. A few adjustments could\u2019ve taken Quentin out of the station, only he wanted to leave as soon as possible. He said Eirene planned on raising the number of missions to sixty.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd will they?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerhaps. Our salvage quota has fallen behind Minos and Aeacus by a wide margin.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m not surprised. They conscripted all the refugees they took in. Their death toll doubles the number of Martians living in Rhadamanthus.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cProfit is the only language they understand around here.\u201d Sophie sighed. \u201cCan\u2019t blame Quentin for trying though. He went through three fusion partners in the last six months, and compatible neurological partners are rare enough as is. Having all that information crashing his mind must have been hell. What do you become after that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCollateral damage,\u201d Jarek said. \u201cWhy do you think Earthlings stopped doing this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sophie stared at him. She frowned but said nothing more of the matter. \u201cThey\u2019re waiting for us. Come on. Let\u2019s not give them a reason to kick us out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They entered a rust-colored room, where pipes lined up the walls of an industrial crypt. It was empty barring two chairs and the equipment protruding from them; half sarcophagus and half medieval torture device. Five technicians surrounded the equipment, all draped in greasy coveralls. They only acknowledged the newcomers by looking away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jarek and Sophie took a seat opposite to each other. Someone tied Jarek\u2019s wrists and strapped his forehead with electrodes, then plugged a wire into the back of his head, right into where Eirene had carved an entry port connected to his spinal cord. The discomfort turned into pain, his brain seemingly swelling up inside his skull. He looked at Sophie. Blood was dripping from her nose and her forehead glistened with sweat. Her eyes were clouded, submerged in a trance-like, outward numbness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A tall woman holding a clipboard stepped between them. She leaned closer to inspect Jarek, like some researcher staring upon a misbegotten species. \u201cYour names and Eirene code,\u201d she said in a low, but firm voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJarek Kartashov. Anima three-one-eight,\u201d he said; then she said, \u201cSophie Corday. Animus six-three-zero.\u201d Their voices were fragile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two other people set up a screen between them. The woman set her clipboard aside, typing mechanically on the keyboard. \u201cThey have been through forty-eight cognitive fusions.\u201d She looked at them with narrowed eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSurprised?\u201d Sophie said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMost people don\u2019t remember their names after thirty.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs that why they ask us to do fifty missions before seeing a consular officer?\u201d Jarek said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman did not hear him. She was focused on the screens. \u201cThe psych-soft\u2019s ready,\u201d someone told her and she nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cListen, I will mention an object and you will picture it in your mind. Keep it simple. We are not grading your creativity. This is for assessing the cognitive damage and probability of desertion.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She picked up her clipboard, cleared her throat, and read with a booming voice, \u201cA tall white fountain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The room fell silent. Everyone turned toward the screen. There, Jarek saw his imagination materialize. The result was volatile. It became a fountain in the broadest sense of the word. The tower and the tip had a flat coloring and sparse detail. It was a gouache of grey hues and white highlights. Utilitarian and drab. The picture on the other side of the screen, the one Sophie was looking at, was only different in height and width.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Both held a vague resemblance to the fountain he had seen in the recruitment center on Mars. He carried no likeness of home other than what he held in his heart. He had been young then, and dangerously devoted to survival. The colony had run out of water and those who had not joined the army were already dead, and those who did join would die soon after.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the machines vomited a paper. The woman picked it up and read it with narrowed eyes. \u201cCognitive fusion is now at sixty percent. The probability of desertion\u2026 fifteen percent. Good enough.\u201d She started toward the exit, her group moving along. \u201cFind their synchronicity point and prepare the blender.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As he watched her go, Jarek\u2019s sight became blurry. He felt lightheaded. The sensation turned into nausea. The wire connected to the back of his head sent a strong electric discharge that emptied him of everything he was, and darkness poured into the void until there was no trace of whatever he had been before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

#<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The simulation could not turn back time. It could only attempt to catch a glimpse of its passing, like photographing a rare astronomical event. Even with a perfect memory, you were at risk of stumbling on the fact you had been dreaming all along. Still, to Jarek, this felt like homecoming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Here was the truth as far as he could tell. They had met on a ship about to explode. A howitzer projectile had wiped out Jarek\u2019s squad just a week before. He was the sole survivor, beaten by the winds and accosted by a ravenous wasteland. He lived despite a broken leg and a nearly depleted oxygen tank. His superiors gave him a medal for his courage. He found it ironic that, in their attempts to make him hate the enemy, they made him loathe the fighting. Perhaps that was why they sent him on his way with two gallons of water that he later traded for passage to the nearest interplanetary port. It was a safe bet. After all, he had never been in a shuttle that had not caught fire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She sat in the cargo hold, tucked away in a corner. Blonde hair, matted and wild, outlined an oval-shaped face covered in soot and dry blood. Her expression made her seem like a sculpture under red lights. A piet\u00e0<\/em> of flesh and bone that revealed a vast expanse and a great emptiness within.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jarek sat next to her. The curiosity he felt was unknown and familiar at the same time. The product of brain fatigue, of seeing this memory play out the same way during every cognitive fusion. Jamais vu<\/em>, something like a word that had lost its meaning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She nodded to him. \u201cHey, man, you looking for a comfortable place to die?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI reckon it doesn\u2019t matter where I sit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen you should\u2019ve stayed on the surface. Easier to get killed down there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wanted to see Earth\u2019s oceans.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She frowned. \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, I don\u2019t know why I said that.\u201d He turned away, ashamed of his animalistic fear of death, and he crawled under thick shadows to hide his face. \u201cTruth is I don\u2019t know why I\u2019m here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe you\u2019re just like me,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t know me, stranger.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t need to. The way you carry yourself tells me all I need to know. You\u2019re a soldier who never had to crawl through tunnels as a kid,\u201d she said. \u201cTharsis or Hesperia?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe former.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy, then it\u2019s a good thing we did not meet down there, otherwise I would\u2019ve shot a bullet through your head. Why did you leave?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI had to. I had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen you are just like me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA fool?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cClose.\u201d She chuckled. \u201cSomeone looking for a way out of war.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jarek sneered. \u201cYou think there\u2019s no war on Earth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She shrugged. \u201cHaven\u2019t been there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf I have to choose between foolishness and insanity, I\u2019d rather take the former.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d Jarek said. He became aware of her fear through their shared sensorial experience. She was tired from the sustained effort of self-reassurance. Everything will be okay, she kept thinking, and he sunk into the pool of her being until he was drowning in it. They ceased to be aware of each other soon after, composed into a gestalt of a single, silent consciousness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

#<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Barghest\u2019s codename was Garm. It was an advanced military drone retrofitted for salvage operations carried out in highly radioactive zones. Its conscience was stored in Eirene\u2019s data banks somewhere deep in the Nevada desert and it received orders from the signals that bounced from a multitude of comsats. It was fluent in procedural programming languages. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It shook its wolfish head and gnawed at a patch of irradiated synthetic skin that fell off, leaving behind a hole that exposed the nanofiber carapace that coated its quadruped frame. Then, it looked at its surroundings with eyes that were black as though there was no world, universe, or stars. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It radioed orbit to confirm the coordinates, then started trotting westward. The highway rattled and circled through wide stretches of dry land dotted with barren hills shaped like burial mounds. The wind blew hard, lifting radioactive dust off the ground and mounting it over the vestiges of ancient civilizations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Garm reached the crash site within the hour. The ship lay at the bottom of a crater. It was a Martian industrial freighter, sometimes used by the guerrillas as kamikaze bullets against hydroponic fields. The serial number revealed it had been modified with cheap materials from Jovian shipyards. Garm learned this from Jarek\u2019s memory bank because he had worked five years in a scrapyard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eirene could use the information, so Garm excised it with surgical precision out of Jarek\u2019s mind. Unceremoniously, another piece of his past was dispatched to a corporate prison of ideas. Jarek\u2019s contract stipulated he would get them back once he was on Earth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Garm made a quick descent and entered the ship. Inside the cockpit, the pilot\u2019s upper body rested above the console, draped in a military duster coat. Something had punctured his skull and half his face had burned down. The ground was covered with medals won in wars whose history only a few could remember.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Garm ripped a panel from underneath the controls and connected to the console through a wire coming out of its muzzle. It searched the interplanetary traffic database and found a match. The G\u00e9ricault, a neutral vessel en route to Venus recently reported as missing. It had a special license, private docks in every Martian station, and a flight system loaded with interplanetary illegal routes. The cargo was also full of Terran-manufactured weapons, all of them illegal. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The pilot had radioed his location to Luna\u2019s space traffic control. He had received a clearance to land on the satellite. Three minutes later, the ship vanished from radar screens. Garm used the data from the flight recorder to simulate the G\u00e9ricault\u2019s last moments. The ship flew across a transparent vacuum. The explosion was a blink in the simulation, the accident a matter of seconds. Its source was a neglected engine overheating. The ship fell off its course and then it was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After downloading the data, Garm went down to the cargo hold to make a general catalog of the smuggled weapons. Most of them had been rendered useless, and the task would have ended there if not for the extra container at the bottom of the wreckage. The container had turned on itself, scratched and dented by the force of the impact. Garm sank its canines into the steel and pulled apart a piece of it. It stuck its head and turned on its lights.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was full of bodies. Dozens of them. Their limbs twisted in odd angles and stretched to lengths that tore them down. The lights lengthened the shadows over their gaunt faces. The young suddenly became old. There was no pain in their expressions and their eyes reflected no knowledge of their passing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Martian refugees. There had been many attempted break-ins lately. People who had nothing to offer save for their lives. Garm took in the sight in silence, black eyes staring into dead worlds. It left the ship after the silence had revealed all it knew. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Outside, it was raining. Garm sent a copy of the footage and a request to search for the smuggler\u2019s liaison in Luna. The reply arrived a moment later: Delete the ship\u2019s log and the manifest. The cleaning team was on its way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Garm stopped, if only briefly because the Martians in its head resisted the order. It was futile, like trying to stop the rain, for anything tuned by the hands of god could not be made into anything other than what it already was. Eirene was Garm\u2019s god, its creator, and its master. It had not programmed Garm to disobey orders. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Garm stood with its sides moving in and out, as though it were breathing. It twisted its head and stood again, lifting its head to look around as if someone were watching it move. Without a sound, it turned back to the ship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

#<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The E.T.D.C. drafted a report with short and simple sentences and sent a copy to the governing ministry of Martian interstellar travel. The pilot was the only reported casualty. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jarek and Sophie returned to their cubicle in the outer layer of Rhadamanthus, where they suffered through the fusion\u2019s comedown. A strange paranoia flared in Jarek\u2019s chest, and the walls seemed to fall in on him. He was in a constant state of confusion and he spent several days not knowing where he was. He woke up sweating and vomited bile. He dry-swallowed some pills and tried to sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He no longer dreamed of Mars. Instead, he fell victim to nightmares in which he faced a pile of bodies, and he was met with empty eye sockets looking at him. He stood as testimony to their silence. He concluded that his escape from such fate perhaps meant that there was no fate at all and that people were hard-coded to follow a set path despite their choosing otherwise. Then, soon after waking, its meaning was already lost to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While they rested, the E.T.D.C. raised the number of missions to sixty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jarek woke up feeling stuffed with nausea. Sophie stared at him. Her eyes were swollen and wet. She was looking at him as if he were a stranger. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to tell her everything would be okay despite not meaning it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnother nightmare? Do you want to talk?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019d rather not.\u201d He turned and shut his eyes. Then he sat again. \u201cYou know, I saw you and my first thought was \u2018Who are you?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sophie stared at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve been in that churn too many times,\u201d Jarek said. \u201cEvery so often I feel I woke up in the wrong body with the wrong memories. You know how it is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She sat. She looked at him as though he were a madman, but then he realized she might be thinking that she was mad herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cListen. I know,\u201d Jarek said. \u201cI see them too. Hell. I can\u2019t remember much else these days, but there\u2019s nothing we can do about it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWrong.\u201d Her smile was almost innocent. \u201cSee, remember that smuggler, the one who pays for Eirene’s data? She hooked me with a recording device, so I could get better footage during missions.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course she did,\u201d he said. \u201cEven so, what\u2019s there for us to do? We\u2019ll become a drooling mess if someone finds out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s absurd, I know.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, you don\u2019t. If you did we would not be discussing this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe won\u2019t make it through the next loyalty test. Chances are they\u2019re already drafting our dismissals.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGive it some time. Maybe we\u2019ll forget about this too,\u201d Jarek said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut do I really want to forget?\u201d Sophie shook her head. She incorporated and so did he. Their movements were a perfect reflection of each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 She sighed. \u201cLook. There\u2019s no point in fighting over who owns what. You have access to every corner of my mind, and I\u2019ve seen everything you have to offer. We remember everything that never happened and only a few things that did happen,\u201d she said. \u201cBut whatever\u2019s on Earth cannot be worth all these deaths. Eirene wants pawns, not people with history.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He blinked and ran one hand across his sweaty face. \u201cSo that smuggler of yours gets the data. I suppose she can also leak it to a few Martian networks. Then we pray something comes out of it. That\u2019s the plan?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRight on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m amnesiac, Jarek.\u201d She smiled. \u201cLet us finish this before we forget we ever dared to act.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jarek\u2019s lips curved into a wry smile. They nodded to each other and they sent the information. Nothing had changed in the order of things when they reopened their eyes. Perhaps, Jarek thought, change escaped any attempt to understand it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They sat and shared the silence. Two strangers awaiting their reckoning, feeling like fate had already passed them over. He thanked her for keeping him alive in every breath she took, every memory she spoke into being, and every word carried the weight of a long goodbye.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

C\u00e9sar Esparza studied History at the National Autonomous University of Mexico, specializing in World History. He has been attending writing workshops for years and hopes to put good use to his learning of English by delving into the myriads of futures science fiction can offer.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Archival footage recovered from Hesperia\u2019s House of Memory: The floating man rode the wave of…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":73,"featured_media":100043035,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[23,3292],"tags":[234,1406,3333,3296],"class_list":["post-100043016","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-featured","category-fiction","tag-dystopia","tag-mecha","tag-memory","tag-prose"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100043016","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/73"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=100043016"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100043016\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":100043034,"href":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100043016\/revisions\/100043034"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/100043035"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=100043016"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=100043016"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=100043016"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}