Art & Fashion > Cyberpunk < Vision of a future that could be today

Dead Gurlz, Social Tribes in Yellow Dawn

cyberpunk culture  and fashion - ideas for future trends - social tribes in post apocalypse novels by David J Rodger - art by Charlie Terrell all rights reserved

Art by Charlie Terrell – All Rights Reserved

Part of a series of images from the liquid metal, carbo-plastic, hydrogel and permacrete core of visual creators on the Internet.  Images that stir my senses and evoke plots and concepts for what I’d like to see (or fear) in the future.

Artist: Charlie Terrell, website and residue for his ambition here {click}

Back in the 80s, when the term Cyberpunk was still relatively new, the ideas for fashion in the future seemed to focus on clothes and hair in eye-wateringly bright sůn-ink colours, chrome limbs and bodystocking outfits (for all sexes).  The techno / rave and industrial goth club scene has brought Cyberpunk fashion forward already.  And technology itself, is delivering science fiction today.  We are almost reaching a point where cybernetic limbs, implants, exoskeletons, robots and synthetic biology are going to start entering mainstream public view.  Charlie Terrell’s artwork catches my eye.  You could picture this character (above) as a member of one of the social tribes that form in the wake of the apocalyptic event known as Yellow Dawn. She could also, easily, be one of the many fantastic characters you see today… drifting around Burning Man in Nevada – where time warps and provides a fluid lens view of the human future and our tribal past.

In the post apocalypse novel, Dog Eat Dog, one of the hero protagonists – Mikhail, Drobná – is driving around the enclosed confines of what is left of Manhattan, in New York City, one of the handful of Living Cities that remain intact on the planet.  This brief extract shows some of his journey and gives a flavour of the social strata there:

start / >

   He swung the aggressive nose of the convertible around a corner, leaving Broadway for Broome Street. A lot of very nice apartment buildings. The immediate absence of holos; the colour wash was replaced by regular street lighting. Most of the ground floors were swanky cafes, boutiques and restaurants: all closed this time of night. No scavenger stores or CRC depots here. The X3i cruised along; no harsh acceleration; no ripple of rubber tyres, just high-performance compressive spindles clicking on battered tarmac. Even before Yellow Dawn the roads in this city were always fucked.

      He cut across the Avenue of the Americas, then across Varick before turning North on Hudson Street, heading towards Spring and noted the rapid change in the quality of the buildings and the type of people on the sidewalks. Hudson River was one big natural Boundary. People didn’t like to live close to any Boundary; overlooking the Dead Zone reminded them on a daily basis of what had been lost. In this case the eroded and scavenged ruins of New Jersey. Sure, Drobná figured anybody would get used to it, living in sight of so many miles of ruins; he knew for a fact that ninety-nine percent of the population living in Manhattan who didn’t have to look at that every day had lulled themselves into pretending life was okay. But everybody had lost ‘somebody’ during Yellow Dawn.

      At that moment, Drobná sent out a silent wish to the God-that-never-listened that his scumbag of a father was one of those who perished.

      The general hubbub of noise of the streets filtered into his awareness. Either side there were cheap bars with a mix of punters spilled outside smoking phet-pipes and gongs, or holding drinks in reclaimed ceramic or metal mugs; clusters of garden furniture and battered leather sofas and armchairs hugged the stretches of sidewalk around each venue.

      Drobná clocked the various social tribes: Boomba Cuds, Zorm Boys, Dead Gurlz; CRC Roamers sitting on top of empty flat beds parked outside, catching up with R&R before the next scavenge tour; off-duty cops in uniform; local troops winding down after watch-duty, away from the Dead Zone boundary with various parts of riot-gear hanging open from their armour sub-frame.

      Joe Public was absent. Asleep. Dreaming of day jobs and a life that hadn’t really changed since Yellow Dawn ripped the rest of the world into paper shreds. Start again girls and boys; not here though, eh?

< / end

 Charlie Terrell

Charlie Terrell

Charlie Terrell

Charlie Terrell was born in Birmingham, Alabama
He is interested in mocking birds and the world of insects

Dog Eat Dog is a post-apocalyptic crime thriller set in the shared universe of David J Rodger after the event called Yellow Dawn

Available in paperback and Kindle formats




“Atmospheric and Creepy” – The Guardian on The Black Lake


“One of the best sci-fi novels I’ve read in 10 years” – Floyd Hayes, former Creative Director of Cunning, on Dog Eat Dog




Paperback from LULU Global

Paperback from Amazon UK ¦ USA ¦ DE

 Kindle UK ¦ USA ¦ DE



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