Who is silverback?
We are a collective of disillusioned bipeds that have been exiled from civilization as a punishment for crimes we did not commit.
We have since discovered the lies of the government, religions, and education systems, and now we're not sure what the hell to believe anymore.
So, we decide to set off on a journey into the unknown to restore our shattered minds and figure out the purpose of our existence.
The Gas station attendant who keeps a nickel or dime from every customers change and hoards them in jars in the crawl space under the trailer he inherited from his grandmother until there's enough to pay for his children’s medications.
The underappreciated Garbage man who used to be the football star in high school until the accident. He was in a coma for 4 days and remained bedridden eating through a straw for the last semester of his senior year. He had scholarships lined up but never went back. He was never the same after the accident, unable to control himself spontaniously filling with an irrational rage even he doesn’t understand, much less his poor wife and child who haven’t seen him since the day at custody court. The only contact with them left is when he signs the child support checks. Now he roams the street in his green behemoth of a vehicle spewing diesal fumes across the city, scraps of plastic candy wrappers and old maxi pads falling from the back of the truck like confetti at his estranged sons birthday party.
A double doctorate leading research on cancer remediation techniques who can no longer handle the stress that comes with being relied on by so many, the list of responsibilities a mile long, the constant barrage of requests, each becoming a new throb in his morning migraines. His peers say he’s accomplished so much, that they strive to have his drive and ambition. But all he really wants is to sit back, eat some Cheetos and play call of duty while masturbating 6 times a day.
The homeless man who begs for change on the freeway off ramp. You might see him pushing santas bottomless bag of toys in his shopping cart, full of empty beer cans, pots and pans, childrens toys, and everything else you and I take for granted and leave for the landfill. He drinks himself to sleep in his shanty made of boxes and painters tarps longing for the family he once had before a drunk driver t-boned their maroon 1998 honda odyssey with beige interior and a chrome ichthys emblem on the rear right bumper which offered no holy protection from the tree which cut through the passenger side of his vehicle, sending shards of broken glass which cut into the face of his wife like so many snowflakes on a walk in january.A piece of the mangled doorframe skewered his daughters abdomen but she was already dead from a broken neck. And there in the drivers seat, he sat whiplashed and bruised but to hs dismay left alive.
Injury lawyers with no morals and cheap ads at the bus stop who just barely passed the BAR exam, Illiterate meth addicted sex workers who provide intel on high value targets for a good price, and the doctor who bought a new porsche with the funds from prescribing toddlers unnecessary adderal prescriptions.
For better or worse, Silverback is you and me.