Blown away by the illustrated storytelling branding of IkeraJones fashion line. While creating the multiplicity, he similarly does not shy away from disturbing implied legacies. This reads like a dystopian speculative fiction short:
NAIROBI. 2081 A.D.
"In the beginning, the drones were used to hunt poachers. Imported technology intended to stop the export and extinction of important wild-life. Motorcycle-sized mosquitoes buzzing mechanically between the tree-tops with decimal-point accuracy and a thirst for blood. Their efficiency would have been admirable had it not been accomplished with such calculated zeal. The hungry hum of in-flight havoc blending with our hymns became a common harmony. Roaming door to door to bear uninvited witness, these unmanned guests seemed increasingly inhumane as their algorithm-driven eyes looked into the faces of men; unable to recognize the souls emanating behind our eye-lids.
What occurred next should have been no surprise to us. Still, when their hovering shadows careened through our village streets like sentient storm clouds seeking an escape from the sun; when pillars of smoke spontaneously erupted from the ground where children had stood moments before; and when we lifted our spears to take aim at skies that no longer sheltered us; it was then we realized we’d been sitting idly as unseen hands steered us toward our end.
No one remembers which of us was the first to climb atop the cooling metal carcass of a downed flyer, but the story of a lone Masai stepping into a screaming death’s flight-plan would travel like an air borne outbreak. An epidemic pouring through Africa’s porous borders; indiscriminately infecting all it touched with the hope of freedom. Soon, silhouettes of dark skinned sons in brightly hued robes could be seen rising with weapons and shields aloft in the Nairobi sun.
The end was near, but it would not be ours.”