Motto: In the beginning, the thinker, the feelings and the thought were one. It was bliss.
After a very long conscience sleep, he woke up wondering how he was spending his days. He was mostly trying to predict positive outcomes for his actions, but sadly that was not happening often anymore. As he opened his tired eyes, a heavy headache was hanging in his brain, writhing like an agonising phantom. His mind, populated by thoughts of the way he was spending his time, wondered if actually this was the way he was living his life. Was he living or wasting his life?
Aged 47, he was no longer a young idealistic lad, he had spent almost all his life indoctrinated that only producing and scoring matters. This has dried out his soul, that child soul he used to have that was able to taste, to smell, to feel joy and to abandon himself to the moment of happiness. All that mattered now was who you become, what you have, how much you can produce or how much you know. In the depths of his soul, he could not let go of the memory of being free, feeling, living, enjoying the experience called life. Yet, most of the time, there was no time to enjoy, feel and be happy, there was only time to rush, strive to be better and work. It all felt like chasing up a forever retreating ghost.
He could not help but think that there was a sort of innocence that was taken from him. An awareness and a consciousness that only illuminated people could reach at this time, and there were fewer and fewer of them. Generations of them have died trying to defeat powers beyond their strength.
The reality was cruel. Getting ready for work he feared that again he will have to face the cold domination of the metal race. Hardly any human had a chance to manage all the tasks laid ahead. Hardly any human could take decisions as fast as required or work without a break for 20 hours a day as requested. Exhausted, one by one humans were falling asleep standing and falling apart, while being replaced with clones, with no hearts but with powerful circuits. Soon even the few pushing the buttons in the control room were to be replaced, and a whole race was about to become obsolete. All people had become inhabitants of the same machine, batted constantly around by the same wheels that turn around faster and more painful than ever. The world had become abstract and cold, and the very brain that had created this reality was about to become obsolete in a universe of constant movement and flux.
Just like his ancestors, he had always fought for some reassurance and certainty in life, but generation after generation had failed to find the holy grail of peace. They have all died trying, tortured in a world that had become more and more aggressive, that had forced them to perform and produce more and more. A world that has robbed them of all innocence and all joy. A world in which one could not be present in reality anymore, because of the anxiety, inner torture and stress generated by the survival game. A game that looked very much like the experiments with rats racing desperately through mazes 500 years ago, hoping to find an escape. Yet he realised that he was only alive in this present moment, and by not being able to feel it and experience it he was robbed of all his existence.
That day he was unable to concentrate and work like he used to. The machine has quickly observed the abnormality and has taken him out of the assembly room. In a matter of minutes another, fast and cold, has taken his place. Nobody cared, there was no second chance, all that mattered were the numbers changing fast on the screen of a supervisor.
Broken and defeated he returned to the place he called home. Not a house, but rather a little capsule in a huge hive called now the city. Leaving behind the clay and divinity that created him, the memories of may successive lifetimes flew in front of his eyes for a second. With all the sensitivity encapsulated in his soul, lethargically and agonising , he was slowly dying. A new race , cold an ruthless, was taking his place. Future was there. Metal and circuits have crashed Adam.
Memyselfandela / Adela Galasiu, January 2016