What if gravity pulled us to the poles and the equator. The cold people and the hot people, throwing harpoons to pull ourselves to warmer climates, building ladders to hoist ourselves over the planet, where we could meet others unlike us. The tanned and the pale. Would we exchange harpoon designs and ladder architecture, or hold our secrets close to our hearts.
There where the weather is temperate, maybe we could be too.
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Radical is the word of the day on The Daily Post.
Technology is such that I have become lost in it, it seems. At times I see myself as a brain, floating above a chair, bodiless fingers upon a keyboard, in the vacuum of the Internet. My friends are other, bodiless brains and fingers and sometimes hands grasping appendages as they watch whatever excites them.
Do we become solid only when we get up out of our chairs? Away from our screens with images and words reduced to pixels and ones and zeros the moment they leave our floating minds? Do we ever long for smells, taste and the feel of anything but the nubs on the ‘f’ and the ‘j’?
Find Stream of Consciousness Saturday here and join in today!
Everyone loves him. Everyone feels safe in his presence. He is essential to our well-being. We flock to him as though he is our savior. Since the Armageddon, there are only a few hundred of us left. So how do I break it to the others?
I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. In the dark, beneath the ruins of a church I heard him pray to the deity in whom we cease to believe. He pleaded and begged for guidance. What’s worse, he asked for forgiveness. I thought he was our God now.
We are doomed. Our savior is a lie.
Linda G. Hill 