Future thoughts

I live in an age without religion. It was finally abolished not with a bang but with a whimper. For centuries, religious fundamentalism poisoned intelligent debate and discussion in the world, either through absolute control or via protest and demanding "fair hearing' when crackpot theories disagreed with established religious thought.

Slowly over time, the population of the world got smaller and smarter. Better nutrition and more equitable distribution of food caused people to be able to pursue education. Once this happened, religion began to die off all at once.

This isn't to say we don't still have problems. There are still land disputes, wars greedy psychopaths. But they no longer have a shield of blind faith to hide behind. Even though we struggle on to a brighter future, we at least have one less monkey on our backs.

Dinosaurs

Vax was the premier scientist on Earth. He was also a dinosaur, of the bipedal humanoid variety. He had been working on the problem of a rapidly heating Earth, where the temperatures were gradually increasing every couple of years or so with no end in sight.

Finally, after years of research, he came to a couple of conclusions. The first was that the temperatures would soon plateau to be followed by a rapid slide into subzero temperatures. The second was that his cold blooded species would be wiped out by the reversal of temperature.

He summoned his lab assistant Wurg.

"We have a problem," he began, as he told him about his discoveries.

"That's horrible!" Wurg said when he had finished. "What can we do?"

"I hypothesize that we may be able to survive, but only if we are able to engineer a pathogen to help us resist the cold."

"Can we do that?"

"I have been working on it..we will need to finish the research I have begun."

With that, they set to work at once. It wasn't easy and took a long time to complete. But finally, it was done, and the two set about injecting themselves as test subjects. But something was wrong. The serum they concocted were meant to awaken their primordial natural resistances. When they were activated, they began to feel themselves regressing. Their intelligence began to seep out almost immediately as they felt a rush of power in their bodies and a thickening in their limbs. They fell to the ground and began to walk on all fours.

The virus spread to the other dinosaurs and they quickly regressed to an earlier state of evolution, robbing them of their intelligence. Unfortunately, they were too late to save themselves. The ice age still struck and the dinosaurs were all but wiped out.

Extinct!

Thomas could feel the breath rattling in his throat. He wasn't long for this world. He started to cry. For years he had searched for signs of another living person. He found nothing.

Now, as he lay dying in his small home on the edge of the forest, he couldn't help but weep at the bitterness of the situation. he would die, and that would be the end of the species. Forever.

He wore himself out and stopped crying, laying there for several moments with his eyes closed. Suddenly he felt a warm tingling on his skin and could see a light through his eyelids. He opened his eyelids. There was an old man standing in front of him, with a long white beard wearing a simple one piece tunic. He was permeated with a golden glow. Thomas lifted his head a little to get a better look, as his eyesight wasn't as good as it used to be. The man jumped back.

"Fuck! You're still alive?" the man bellowed.

"Who..are you?" Thomas asked, with a little difficulty. He hadn't spoken to anyone but himself in a long long time.

"Well, once upon a time you people called me 'God' but since you're the last of your kind you can call me whatever you like."

"You're...God?"

"Traditions are hard to overcome, eh? Yeah, we'll go with that."

"You exist? Why didn't you appear before now? Why wait until I'm practically dead to show yourself?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Lots of paper work to process. Almost all of you died all at once and it took awhile to make sure I didn't miss anybody."

"If you exist, why didn't you stop us from wiping ourselves out? How could you let that happen?"

"Why would I interfere? I didn't make you blow yourselves to kingdom come. You did that all by your lonesome."

"But..you can't let our whole species die..."

"Why not? I can always make another. See, I kinda didn't read the instructions when I made the universe the first time around and things got a little screwed up. It's only able to support one planet's worth of life at any given time. So as long as you guys were here, I couldn't make anything else. And I've come up with some really cool designs since then!"

"So..you let us kill ourselves off?!?"

"Well...not exactly. I can't really intervene on this plane of existence, just manifest myself. I'd never kill you guys off, so i just waited to let you do it."

"I don't believe this..you're such an asshole!"

"Hey, no need for that kinda talk! I understand you're upset, but there's not much I could do! I just start up the chain of events that cause life to form and sit back and watch...I was really rooting for the dinosaurs to pull through. Silly me."

"Our whole culture...our whole existence! Some malevolent being's science experiment! Just leave me alone to die in peace, would you? I can't stand the sight of you."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say."

And so God made his way out of the little shack, and the last thing the remaining member of our species ever heard was "I hope the next batch turn out to be octopus people or something..."

The high life

Walter was a carefree, easygoing kind of guy. He always had a joke ready and mischievous twinkle in his eye. So it was with some surprise I found him in his basement one night, somber and morose. I asked him what was the matter.

"We've been lied to," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" I said slowly.

"Everyone we've ever known has lied to us our whole lives. Think about it. Since we were children we've been fed the myth that our whole lives lie open to us and anything is possible if we reach out and grab like an apple from a tree. We've got a generation full of people with inflated self-importance who have been coddled by assurances their whole lives."

"Well, that's not really a lie," I began. "If you really want something and work hard towards it.."

"But that's just it!" he burst out excitedly. "Most of us have no conception of what hard work even is. When we weren't getting told how wonderful we are, we were getting handed most anything we wanted. Hard work has become a high minded ethereal idea, not something that intrudes into daily life. We have no concept of hard work."

"That's not true," I protested. "A lot of people work really hard to get what they want."

"Yeah, but they're not really struggling," he countered. "Even those who genuinely make an effort always know they have mommy and daddy to fall back on if things get too rough. It's the biggest lie we've ever been fed, a hoax perpetuated everywhere and by everyone. We get thrown out into the real and suddenly we can't understand why everything isn't just about us and doesn't exist just to prop us up. We get disillusioned by the lies we've been told. Some of us never see through it at all. But I'm tired of it."

"But.." I begin, but can't think of anything to say. I clearly look distressed, as Walter then smiles wanly at me and says

"Never mind me, kiddo. I'm having a rough day. I didn't mean to jump down your throat like that. I think I just need some fresh air."

He got up, put on his jacket and was out the door. I hung around a few minutes before also leaving.

He called me about a week later. He had checked himself into the sanitarium. He had "needed a rest for awhile." He was there for almost a month, and although I made a few plans to go and visit I kept making excuses so I didn't have to go. The prospect made me uneasy.

Walter finally got out, but he wasn't the same guy anymore. He wasn't ranting anymore, but it was like the life had gone out of him. He was more drab seeming and subdued. I don't really know what spurred him on to talk like that. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized he probably had a point. You can't raise a generation to expect success but train them for failure. Maybe we would all go a little crazy if we let ourselves think about where our lives had gone and what we had become.

You

You've never followed your dreams before. Not because you don't think you'll be successful. And not because you're any better or worse than anybody else. It's not even because you haven't practiced. No, you just don't make the time to get out there and do it. You always have a reason. You're too tired. You're just gonna read one more chapter, watch one more show. You wanna have a drink and cut loose a little bit. You need a little fun after your shitty job.

You mean well but you know that's the road to hell but still nothing changes even though you feel worse and worse about not going after what you really want.

You finally hit a crossroads. You look in a mirror one day and the sun hits your face just so and you swear you see some gray in your stubble for a split second and a chill runs through you. Or you'll be brushing your teeth and your face is pulled in an unusual way and you'll realize the laugh lines don't disappear quite as quickly as they used to. You know now that's all it takes and you decide to take the leap.

This is where the path splits. You need to make the choice between action and inaction. Between nagging reservations and thoughtless ambition. You don't think about it. You just do it.

You don't know what motivates other people, what gives give them relentless drive to carry on. But you know what motivates you: a gray hair in the mirror, a life unlead.

Sidekick

Joey was a sidekick. Not the Batman-and-Robin type of sidekick, more the Johnny-Carson and-Ed-McMahon type of sidekick. You know the kind of guy. Always hanging around the leader or dominant person in a group of friends, agreeing with everything they say or laughing at all their jokes.

Well, that was Joey to his friend Matt. He couldn't really figure out any specific moment in which it happened. In grade school, they had just been best friends and on an equal plane. But once junior high and puberty started, things began to shift fairly rapidly. Matt hit puberty almost at once, gaining almost 6 inches in height in about 6 months along with a much deeper voice and more manly frame. He became instantly popular with the boys and an object of affection for all the girls.

Joey, meanwhile, didn't hit puberty until high school, and it didn't really do him any favors. He only grew a couple of inches and remained fairly squat. His voice got squeaky and his skin got oily and pimply. he got laughed at a lot. But to Matt's credit, even though he had his own min entourage of friends and hangers-on, he never abandoned Joey. Joey repaid the kindness by becoming slavishly devoted to his friend.

As they grew into adults and went their semi-separate ways, they would still meet up weekly and so their friendship carried on. With high school a memory, it seemed for a time that their relationship would continue along a more equal plane. At least, that was what Joey was hoping for.

This proved not to be the case, as Matt was so used to being the centre of attention that he didn't relinquish it easily and Joey had been second banana so long he wasn't sure how to be otherwise.

So the two carried on as a pair, Matt dictating what they would do, where they would go and when. Joey just went meekly along, growing more and more miserable and longing for independence he didn't know how to obtain.

Finally, Joey decided he'd had enough. He did the only thing he felt he could: he cut off all contact and just stayed away. Matt would call, e-mail, drop by and get no response. Matt went on trying to contact Joey for months with no luck. Finally, he stopped. Joey was free.

Or he thought he was. At first, it was great not be bossed around and to do the things he wanted to do. But he had no one to do them with. Even though he had achieved his goal, Joey found himself even more miserable than he had been before.

Finally, he slunk back to his friend. He discovered his life without his friend was no life at all. He just couldn't seize control of his own life, no matter how he tried.

Copycat

I'm am impostor. Not that the kind who pretends to be batman or Stallone or something at a party. They're amateurs compared to what I do. Officially, I don't even exist, and what I do isn't even acknowledged as something that really happens.

There hasn't been a president since Kennedy who has ever appeared in public. The moment they are elected, the CIA, FBI and all the branches of the military come together to find or create a body double of that person so precise that they are virtually identical. This person then makes every public appearance in place of the president so he is literally never in harm's way. This is to ensure that even if someone gets through the mountain of security around the president, they have no chance of finishing him off.

Little known fact: Reagan almost certainly would have been assassinated by John Hinckley had he actually been there to get shot. Instead, his impersonator, one Clyde Daly, was shot and bled to death within a couple of minutes of the incident. The real president, or perhaps another body double, was instead inserted into the hospital and no one was the wiser.

Even though these impostors are put into place for the good of the nation, don't get the idea that they have any choice in the matter. As soon as the presidential candidates are announced, they begin to look for people who are very close in physical appearance. They are then taken against their will and given plastic surgery and elocution and enunciation lessons to make the facsimile a virtual copy.

At least, this is what happened to me. I was minding my own business, living a quiet but happy life in my home city when I was abducted. I was always told I resembled Barack Obama but I always just laughed it off. I didn't see it. The government did I guess.

Besides the kidnapping, it wasn't so bad a life. They paid me handsomely and I got to see and live a side of life most people never even get to dream about. I did feel slightly uneasy to be lying to everyone I met, at least at first. But when even his wife couldn't tell the difference, I began to see the whole thing as a kind of private joke and began to relish the role.

Oh yeah, I guess I forgot to mention: only a very few people know this even goes on. A few high placed intelligence and army officers, the president himself and me. Not the VP, not his family. No one.

Obama really is an amazing man, by the way. Charming, gracious, quick witted and intelligent. It really is an honor to fill his shoes, even if it is as a human shield.

I suppose there really isn't any reason for me to write this. There is almost no chance this little account will ever see the light of day, and even if it did I can't imagine it would be believed. but I like to write it anyway, even if it never gets read by anyone anywhere. It's a record of what my life was like and it makes me feel good to write it. When you spend all day for years pretending to be someone else, if you don't get to reassert yourself once in awhile you go a little crazy.

I also fear for the future. It seems likely to me that once Obama's out of office, they'll simply do away with me so word doesn't get out. I'd fight it but they've probably got another guy in the wings they can just pull out to take over if something happens to me.

The reverse is also possible. It's occurred to me that once the president is elected, they no longer have any need of him and could simply put of us in his place to deliver whatever policies they required. I know, a little paranoid. But after everything I've been through, can you really blame me?

Old man coffee shop

Every time I went into that coffee shop, the old guy was there. He was kind of musty looking, as though everything he owned was perpetually just pulled out of a closet for the first time in years. His face was covered in warts and wrinkles and always had a haggard, blank expression. I suspect he didn't have much money, because he sat there for hours and nursed a single small cup of coffee. You've probably seen him or someone like him dozens of times.

My girlfriend and I always used to speculate why he sat there all day long, what his life was like.

"He's an ex-con," she would say matter-of-fact.

"No way," I would counter. "He's clearly homeless."

On and on we would go and come up with increasingly elaborate explanations. A space alien! Overnight security guard! Ex-POW!

Finally our curiosity got the better of us and we decided to ask him. Or rather, she decided I should ask him while she watched from nearby. I never could say no to her, so I plucked up my courage and made my way over to him.

"Hi," I started out, hesitant. He didn't hear me, or else assumed I was talking to someone else. No one ever approached him.

"How are you?" I said, trying again. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?"

He looked up at me now with his yellowing eyes with an almost bemused expression.

"Leave me alone," he said in a thick, hoarse voice. But there was an almost lifeless quality behind it, as if he didn't care one way or another. So I tried again.

"C'mon, how about a bagel or something?" I said hopefully.

He sighed softly, said "a'right," and I went to get it.

I came back and he said "Thanks," in the same gruff but lifeless tone.

"So..what's your story? How come you always hang out here?"

He frowned and you could see the bottom row of his remaining yellowed teeth. He looked dead in my eyes with his almost pure black pupils as he said:

"I devoted my whole life to my family. Worked like a dog down at the factory. We had a daughter and she was the light of my life. I would do anything to buy her anything she wanted. Then my wife was pregnant again. We had a boy. Unfortunately, she died of a blood hemorrhage but my son survived. Event I was stricken by the loss my children kept me focused. After a period of mourning, I took joy out of making my kids happy.

There was an accident. We were crossing a green on our way home from a movie, one of the rare nights off I got. Another car smashed into us going 100 miles an hour. The back was totaled and the kids were dead instantly, heads crushed and bodies mangled so badly there was barely anything to bury. The driver of the other car, a drunk, was also dead, his head bashed open against the windshield. I was lucky, and survived with two broken legs. But it didn't matter. There was no reason left to live.

I devoted my life to my family. I gave up everything I had and lost it all in an instant. So I sit here, day by day, and wait for the end. There's not a day since I don't wish I had been killed with them."

With that, he got up and left, leaving me sitting there stunned. I watched him leave and go out into the streets. As he walked away, he fixed me with a lifeless glance one more time before he disappeared forever.

Mom

My mother died and I had no idea how I felt about it. We were estranged, and that's putting it mildly. We had a huge falling out when I was a teenager and things were never the same after that.

We'd been butting heads for a long while, and in fact we hadn't spoken for years.
My mother had always been manipulative emotionally and would use my inexperience as a child to take advantage of me and others. She would borrow birthday money from me and never return it or pawn my stuff and claim it was broken. Once, she took my quarter collection and used it up to phone her white trash boyfriend out of town.

When she wasn't manipulative she simply wasn't there. I was more or less a latch-key kid to a parent who didn't even work and just sponged off the system. She was always out drinking with some new-found scumbag friend who hadn't got wise to her shtick yet. When they figured it out, the two usually parted ways. And then it would begin again with someone even scummier than the last.

Once I grew into my teen years I was definitely wary of her and wouldn't take any chances. I would lock my room before I left and carry all my money around just in case. She would try to coax money out of me and I would refuse. This is when she turned nasty and the fights really began.

One day, things exploded and she threw me out of the house, going so far as to take my key away. I went to my father's and it was fine for awhile. I remember being really upset but also really angry. I'm not going to pretend I was blameless but the reprisal was far worse than the argument warranted.

After a couple of weeks, she called me to say she was sorry, and that everyone makes mistakes. I wasn't really sure, but I didn't want to abandon her and was confused my feelings, so I ended up going back to her place. Things were ok for awhile I guess. Nothing had really changed. But there was a tension in the air. Or at least I felt tense most of the time I was at home. She started another fight based on nothing and threw me out again. This time, I wasn't going back. When she finally got around to begging and pleading, I started to relent a little bit. But then I remembered the terrible things she had done and I stood plucked up my courage and stood firm. And that was that.

I didn't see her much after that. She still held a kind of power over me for quite some time, and although I didn't really want to see her, I felt I had an obligation to my mother and I did anyways. Basically, I would choose activities that would allow us to spend as little time talking talking to her as possible. Movies, shows. Whatever. I always made her pay for these, a kind of revenge for earlier money stolen.

Things carried on like this for some time. Then my grandmother died. She had been in and out of hospitals for a year, then suddenly that was it. My mother was understandably distraught and used that mourning period to get me to take care of the details, including calling her aunts and uncles and arranging burial and funeral home. She would come out of grieving to veto or criticize some of the choices I had made, indicating to me she was perfectly capable of arranging details but chose to place the burden on me instead. She cashed her last pension cheque and sold as much of her stuff as she could before declaring officially dead to the government. She plied relatives for money, laying it on pretty thick. Since social services had already paid the whole cost of the funeral, these final despicable acts of disrespect disgusted me.

I didn't speak to her again until almost a year later, when my grandfather died. Remembering the last experience I stayed completely out of it. I went to the viewing, said my goodbyes and that was the end of it. I didn't even go to the funeral after that. I just couldn't take it.

That was the last time I saw my mother. She called a couple of times after that and I tried explaining why I didn't want to be around her for awhile, but she was deliberately obtuse, so I gave up. She called and I just didn't answer. Finally she stopped. That was five years ago.

She died of a heart attack. I knew this was likely, even as a small child. She never exercised and smoked heavily. She ate incredibly fatty foods and downed alcohol and coffee like they were water. To make matters worse she took up pot in her 40's, which wouldn't be that bad, but only compounded everything else.

My dad is the one who told me, very gently. He had always been good to me where she had been bad. He urged me to reconcile with her, I suspect in part because he had never really known his own father and didn't want me to make that mistake. But I never did. When he told me the news I was just quiet. Stunned and blank. I started to cry, but out of sorrow or relief I'm not really sure.

So she's gone. I can't say I miss her. I remember loving her once but the more shit that got piled on to me, the more the more it receded until it was gone. It spite of it all, I can't cay say I hate her. I just don't want to be around her anymore. It's not much, but at least it's something.