#riality

Some background - I was once quite close to this one spirit, we’ll call her Ami (obviously not her real name). I spent a lot of time with her for about two years, but almost a year and a half ago now we mutually decided to go our separate ways and end our companionship. I won’t go into detail, but my health at the time made me very poor at spirit work, and Ami also wanted to find herself and evolve more as an individual. In short, I haven’t seen Ami since then but we parted amicably, so I hope to meet up with her again someday. 

Two weeks ago, I was walking home from work at around 11:45 and felt a presence walking next to me. I asked the spirit to identify themself and the figure responded in Ami’s voice, that they were Ami. I, like a fool, completely threw caution to the wind at this point, just happy to get back in touch with my friend. 

So, I’m talking to “Ami” and things start to seem off. She’s talking about experiences and travels we shared together in almost a list format, as if she’s trying to “prove” who she said she is. Her form, in my mind’s eye, seems very tall, at least eight feet, broad shouldered and obscured by a cloak, to the extent that I couldn’t make out much of a shape to her or even tell for sure if she was bipedal. Ami has always been about my height and visibly humanoid. I rationalized this as her having undergone some change that effected the form she took. 

Then, a sinking feeling in my gut began to grow as the spirit began more obviously lying. She began speaking about how much we fought and how she’s so sorry for storming out, et cetera. I know for sure that on no uncertain terms, Ami and me never fought more than the occasional quarrel that resolved easily, and we absolutely didn’t part on bad terms. At this point, I decided to play along and find out a bit more about what this spirit’s intentions were. This was a big mistake. 

I felt my own memories being usurped by false ones of me fighting with Ami, and of her leaving in anger. I became heavily invested in the conversation, hanging off this spirit’s every word. At some point, I asked ecstatically “So, you forgive me? You’ll come back?” 

“Yes,” the spirit replied, “You and I will have great plans, don’t you know how gifted and special you are?”

Yeah. I knew that was a bullshit statement. And that, for me, was when the penny dropped.

“I’m no more special than anyone else.”

“Of course you-”

“And you’re not Ami!”

When the Anarchy came, things were fearful; however, it quickly devolved into ecstasy. Slaughterhouses were cutting loose all their millions and billions of trapped pigs, chickens, cows, turkeys, lamb, sheep, geese. Homes full of advanced age individuals who had no supports other than The Institution were abandoned and left to fend for themselves and ultimately die. The frail and the unhealthy were abandoned by everyone around them. 

We couldn’t afford to be around targets and easy food sources for The Invaders. Our stardust cousins had already decimated their planet with their wonton glut and were coming for us. There was no choice left but to cull the herd, end the religious belief that, “the meek shall inherit the earth,” and praise health, the curation of behaviors that lead to optimal processes, the respect for the fittest in discipline. Because we had to. It was the only way to survive. 

Mari was the one who had heard the call from the Animals and the Plants. Mari was the one who brought us the message. 

But she was dead. Her sister, Lena was the one to take on her cause. Mari was a godlike figure now and Lena her vessel. 

It wasn't hard for anyone to believe. The signs were there. The sightings, the atmosphere, mass hysteria. 

And of course, it helped that the Man in charge of getting us to primal health, was the most affable, the most desirable, the most physically fit, the most everything gorgeous and amazing right down to his bulging cock which he used regularly to begin seeding the next gen of demigods to fight the ones who will arrive from the heavens to destroy us, was the person who spoke to the public about the cause. 

Yes the losses of those who would have been lost anyway were very sad indeed. But there was no other way out other than to destroy an entire species.

Alex took a deep breath and watched as the panic of those released to defend themselves rushed by him, and couldn’t help himself but think of how amazing the world would be without so much malaise, misery, and mofos. 

“Let them eat their last fucking piece of cake,” he muttered.

“Now now brother. I understand your resentment for all of those who suffered for their selfish needs. Do not become a liability yourself with a toxic mind. That too-- is forbidden,” the Leader walked in closer and looked him in the eyes and then grabbed both of his hands and stood shoulder to shoulder with him.

“I know what can cheer you up!” she quickly added in, “Let’s have a baby!” she smiled and looked at him directly in the eyes now.

“Yeah?” he said, “I guess it should be ok. I mean, the Egyptians did it with a very high rate of success. I mean, Pharaoh after Pharaoh and so on.”

“Exactly!” she hugged him very tightly and could feel all the love for him rush into her warm her heart that was now pushing up against his chiseled chest, “I will make the appt. tomorrow.”

She picked up a hen that was squawking nearby and as she moved to get off the street and into her car with the fowl, turned to her brother and said, “And after the meeting, we can have some chicken parm at my place. Sound good?”

He flashed his perfectly white and straight teeth into a half moon and nodded. 

The Children’s Rights Movement was in full swing. Laws were being passed to honor their needs; not to sacrifice them for those who wanted to exploit them-- just like the Child Labor Laws. Forcing them for hours on end of laborious separations, snatching their childhood away from them to be in service to those who couldn’t survive without their youth as a natural resource, quickly became sweeping policy change. We realized as a society that it was wrong, just like it was wrong to put them to work in factories so their parents could make a living or to be able to put food on the table, it was wrong to use them as pawns for others’  longevity and the ability to get off. 

During this time, a voice emerged. One that didn’t make sweeping speeches or blusterous comments. One that didn’t buy algorithms or mercenaries for hire on The Web. Her voice, was at times brash, but mostly, confident, unflappably so, about the Nature of things. And always a light of faith in our Biology. 

Little by little, flanked by her incredibly sexy, real life Adonis brother, they warned and embraced and assisted and advocated and the world-- shifted.

Rather than making 45 the minimum for presidency in the world, it became the maximum. 

If you ended up alone, unhealthy, you were held accountable as to why-- not the state, which essentially meant on the backs of the children.

Everyone had to be subjected to tests of fitness and your age is now determined by that. Those who allowed themselves to flounder, were held accountable by not continuing to use any resources of healthcare or facilities to assist this person. 

At at first blush, you would assume that this person, our Leader, would have been some kind of maniac, but if you were listening, you would also have heard,

“Other beings are on their way. The Animals know it. The Plants know it. Now the Humans have been given this message. If we do not, do our best to get strong, resistant, battle ready, our species will perish.”

That is what got heads to turn. That is what got her to be, The Leader. 

“Gosh, why am I talking like I am writing my Autobiography?” said Char out loud.

The feeling of separation, the pain, was so great, that she writhed in her bed for hours. She saw her, next to her, in times past, over and over again, sharing laughs, intimate, powerful moments which were indelibly etched in her memory.

Every time she grabbed something that they had touched together, the anguish, the emotion, overtook her again. 

She was looking for a place to write out their plan. The plan that she was now alone to live. She reached into the nightstand and found a marker. As she continued to writhe at the fact that she was not with her, she reached for something to use as paper for the marker she scored randomly in the drawer. 

There were backs to facial bedazzling shit, some random receipt from their childhood, and then she saw the Jenga set. She initially thought, “Brilliant way to shape my ideas and look at them as blocks and individual concepts.”

Then another crushing tsunami hits her when she remembers the dares that they put on the sides of the pieces. 

She attempted to will herself to go on.  After all, production, progress and policy were her new directives in the New Reality. That was the only way to feel as if, her sister, isn’t actually dead, and we honor her memory in this way.