Notes written in temporal braille—2333
A new Life form, root is the “human experience”
Calm effervescence kneels amongst energy shared
Colorful forces with no needs, and communal consciousness
What was is forgotten and born again are those suspended by time
Awareness hovers without pain or judgment: existing
Serene oneness and belonging without attachment is bright and fresh
Humanity in drag, painted petals and coriander flesh rising and falling with every breath
Consumption, ownership, authority are obsolete—
They never existed in the minds’ eye hung above for all to experience
There was a marriage between day and night, and begotten is the sun and moon
Peace, at last. They feel.
But without contrast, is it?
The crying child
The distant sound of a child crying awakes me from my slumber. When I open my eyes, I find myself in an unfamiliar white room. I stand up and walk towards the door in front of me. My head is dizzy and my body feels weak. What the hell is going on? The more I keep on walking, the further the door becomes. I try running, but that doesn't change anything. I'm still stuck in the same place. "Hello? Is there anybody out there?" I try to scream but all I hear is the sound of my own voice echoing in the distance. "Welcome Mkhitha, congratulations on making it to year 2333." I turn around and see a tall blonde man dressed in a black suit. "Where the hell am I? Am I dead?" He chuckles at my question. "Oh no, you're far from dead sir. As a matter of fact, you're the only one in this room who's alive."
A Brave Neutered World
Woman #1 (dictating into recorder): Specimen is coming to. Specimen’s UGLY but vital signs look good.
Shallowgenepool (sitting up): Where am I?
Woman #2 (Smiling): Welcome to the year 2333!
Woman #1 (dictating): Our initial hypothesis is incorrect. Males CAN communicate in more than grunts and gestures. However, drooling IS present.
Shallowgenepool (dazed): Year 2333? What the fuck!
Woman #1 (annoyed): Hypothesis is incorrect, but specimen’s language is crude.
Woman #2 (speaking slowly): Man-sleep-awake-now. Understand?
Shallowgenepool (annoyed): I understand. Who are you and why am I here?
Woman #1 (dictating): Specimen shows curiosity. Intelligence MIGHT exceed estimates.
Woman #2: You can use words! My name is Dr. Dixon and my colleague is Dr. Knowles and you’re a miracle! The last man alive!
Shallowgenepool (Shocked): LAST MAN ALIVE!
Woman #2 (Smiling): YES! The inferior, male, or NASCAR gene underwent natural deselection centuries ago, but with you we can determine who’s smarter, the human male or inbred chimpanzee!
Woman #1 (muttering): My money’s on the chimp.
Shallowgenepool (now afraid): What?
Woman #1 (smiling): Neutering procedure was successful.
Woman #2: Of course! We can’t have another male going around how would a male put it? Fucking things up again?
I awaken with a headache, and fall off my bed. It's not until I'm lying face first on the ground that I realize this is not my bedroom, and I was not my bed, but instead an operating table.
Instead of being in my pajamas I have been changed into hospital scrubs. Like anyone else, I start panicking. After a good few solid minutes of freaking out, I look around in the windowless room. Lit up by the artificial light is a scalpel. I grab it and go to the door.
It's a shock when the door opens easily. Who leaves a weapon and an unlocked door with a kidnapped victim?
The halls are emptied, but seems like it was just recently vacated. I count myself lucky and search for some type of exit. I wander similar and endless walls, until I stab the scalpel into the dry wall out of frustration.
Underneath my stab mark, I notice a piece of paper on the wall, and pick it up.
Memo: 4/18/2333. Attention all workers. Surgery for Subject2O23 must be postponed, for there was an irregularity found. Please make a swift exit ASAP.
I throw the paper down and groan.
Screen in my Face
When I wake, I’m cold. I’m sat on a metal moving chair that glides along, unsuspended from the ground, carrying me somewhere. I cannot see the floor. The chair is leaned so that my face is buried in a screen in front of me. This is what I watched as a kid in “Wall-E”. Where am I any way?
Suddenly, my chair stops. I am annoyed, I had gone back to being relaxed and so very abruptly it was ruined. I curse and I try to look down at my belt, but my stomach hurts. My neck hurts. I can’t. My head aught to go back looking into the screen. The colors and images move so fast I cannot process the vulgarities they’re shoving in my brain. But it is entertainment. So, I watch. When will I get out of this chair?