Cyclical Evolution

Cyclical Evolution
By David Glenn Cox

There once was a being named Orso, a sojourner among the galaxies. Then it came unto him the creatures that would destroy his faith in all that he held sacred. Creatures to whom reality was but a concept and to whom truth was but a belief and logic was what ever they said it was. Truth was to them like an ocean wave crashing on the shore; its validity would climb up onto the sandy beaches only to and just as certainly then to retreat back from where it came, leaving only perspective as its message.

Orso became fascinated by intelligent beings that could suspend reality whenever it suited them. Moral behavior was a voluntary code to them to be balanced against any possible gain. If they could gain by befriending you they would, while congratulating themselves for such up right behavior. If however, they could gain more by killing, that they would do as well without hesitation or remorse while congratulating themselves for their upright behavior and for their protection and salvation of themselves.

For they lived in almost a hallucinogenic existence, mesmerized by the technology of communication, they had mastered the power of speech but lost the meaning of words. No longer able to transmit viable concepts to each other for the very words themselves had lost their meanings. Leaving them only able to communicate by raising the level of emotion to simmering, bubbling, just below hysterical boil. What began as tool of sophistry became their master and over took every aspect of their lives. Growing like vines, entangling all that was holy, corrupting all that was sacred.

Raising rhetoric to God’s high alter, a golden calf and a silver tongue to overpower the weak and kill the young. A society of personal ambition without true God or creed save scared currency and the salvation of personal wealth. Not might that makes right, but wealth, as wealth will buy might. Wealth will buy message; wealth will buy media and if might fails to make right then message will discount the deficiencies. But the molds of their vocabulary became warped and worn leaving the messages of truth as meaningless and unrecognizable. A monstrous apparition in their midst confusing them as from where it came.

Unwilling to recognize it as their own child, a child that has traveled all the way around the planet of logic to approach them from behind. For it was easier to look away, to stare into the picture box of the masterbatatron. Visual therapy, to expand their powers of resignation, a salve to treat their blindness by ever expanding upon it, the more you watch the less you know. The less you know the less your guilt.
To listen for hours and hear nothing,
to watch for hours and see nothing,
to speak for hours and say nothing.

The more they embraced the technology of communication the less they communicated as if their very soul were replaced by the audion tube or the microchip. Their brains atrophied by super computers that freed them from the need of critical thought. The instant gratification destroyed their ability for long term love. For if reality is what ever I say it is then I say it is all about me and so say we all. So then society and civilization becomes not a group but multiple millions of individuals, their success or failure is then their own fault and I have no connection to it.

Hero or victim become abstract, clouded by whatever reality the media chooses to show us or we choose to believe. Freedom fighter, terrorist, messiah or devil, makes no difference but put them all in a bag, shake them up and see what pops out. Unable to love and unable to express emotion, life becomes superficial. Colorful without texture, to feel yet not to touch, to reach but not to grasp to care but not to love, locked away into the prison of only loving ones self.

Trapped inside a prison of technology that has brought them together inside its walls but so bombarded them with wave upon wave of news, pseudo news, infomercials, product placement, commercials and public service announcements. Life becomes like a mystical LSD trip, fantastical meaningless nothings and gray misty realities and their minds so clouded as to be unsure as to which is which.

Orso became lost and despondent; beings that had used the power technology to conquer nature but had been conquered themselves by their own technology. From wearing animal hides and using fire to protect their families and clans to a society with every creature comfort used to comfort the miserable creatures.

Trapped in an electronic black plague of their own wisdom and technology. Ruled by the trifecta of the corrupt mercenary, media management and for profit morality. Trading centuries of evolution for the opportunity to vote for the ape that makes the cleverest noise, or the loudest noise that promises to swing from the highest branch but won’t change anything at all. A stage play, a sitcom called Election o8 where the apes prove to their masters just how stupid they can be.