The Lost Artists

By Cal Danat

Cal Danat's The Lost Artists takes a look at the organisation of art in the near future. The Artistic Foundation is putting the finishing touches to its program of designated zones for art and commerce, rounding up any rogue artists who stand in the way.

A trip through the past, present and future of artistic thinking and organisation, for both the individual and the collective, The Lost Artists shows what happens when society tries to coral artistic expression into a narrow space.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Brick Publishing
• Release date: Jun 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9784990885120

Cal Danat

Cal Danat is an author of novels and short stories. He writes fiction, not thinly veiled accounts of himself and his social circle.

Book preview

The Lost Artists

By Cal Danat

Copyright 2016 by Cal Danat

Published by Black Brick Publishing

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978-4-9908851-2-0

Visit www.blackbrickpublishing.com

This e-book is licensed solely for your personal enjoyment. This e-book may not be sold or distributed for profit. Thank you for your consideration.

Wilson stared at the infra-red display on his monitor, shifting between a primal urge to see another heat spot appear and his professional responsibility to log a clear screen. He raised his eyes above the display, giving himself a clear view through his office window of a workforce engrossed in checking, logging, collating and reporting. The C&C Centre at the Artistic Foundation was humming with industry, devoid of panic but sufficiently energized to justify its increased budget. Wilson exited his office and walked up to a stocky brown-haired woman facing away from him. She was the only other person standing up in the C&C Centre. All of the researchers were sitting down at rows of long curved desks, staring at a giant monitor that occupied almost the entire width of the open-plan office. Anything I should know about? Wilson asked calmly.

There has been nothing for over forty-eight hours, the stocky woman replied while staring at the screen.

How many people do we still have out there?

In Lode, we have five. She kept looking straight ahead at the giant screen, her weak peripheral vision unable to detect whether Wilson had turned his eyes towards her.

And in the bordering wedges?

About twenty-five in each district. Nearly all wedges have reported second-stage clearance. It’s highly unlikely there are any remaining faultists outside of Lode.

About… nearly… unlikely. Wilson spaced the words precisely, never altering his tone.

I am sorry, Director. By the end of the day, there will be no such qualifiers.

Wilson returned to his office and sat down, massaging his temples with the base of his palms. He knew they were down to the last few faultists and still believed what had gotten him to that point would complete the mission. That reality was flickering away in his mind even as his intuition railed against it. He reminded himself to avoid including any rogue language in the following afternoon’s press conference. Anyway, he’d be preaching to the choir. But the Commissioner was a different matter. Even when he believed you, he acted as if he didn’t. It was his hard-wired response mechanism to keep people on edge; in his version of logic, a man on edge is more likely to reveal himself, as well as doing a better job. Wilson went over it one more time: he only had a couple of hours to phone his report into the Commissioner, detailing which areas of the city were in total control and how long it would take to lock down the remaining areas. Lode, he whispered.

Opening his eyes, Wilson banged his knuckles against his temples, a habit he’d forced on himself after being told by an eminent neurologist that it helped to induce solutions to mental blockages. For two hours, he’d been mulling over which assurances he could give the Commissioner. He needed to project certainty but was relying on information from other people, and that didn’t sit well with him even if his team