Post by goldenmyst on Apr 3, 2019 6:28:11 GMT -6
Adam & Eve - A Dream
The land is pockmarked in trees ripped from their roots and tangled in clumps. If there is a future it has to be somewhere further down the wasteland of what once was America. No crops can be grown to sustain us in the plutonium tilled land which greets us ahead.
But appearances can be deceiving. I aim my pocket particle beam projector at the contorted earth and voila a beautiful lake appears. The cloaked land reveals itself as an oasis of water out here in this radioactive wasteland. The holo fields which carpet the surviving bodies of water and forest are designed to keep the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow out of reach. Hence, the deception would cause us to give up on the ark called earth. This would drive the last nail in the coffin of the extinction of the lost tribe of America.
Low and behold running up the lakeshore are two young people in blue jeans. Not only had the cloak obscured the lake but also a young man and woman who apparently had hidden in this remnant of the earth’s once verdant country. They join me and my new wife up the hillside. My new spouse and I are too old to have babies. But this couple is just the right age at the springtime of their lives.
But the couple bickers and argues like spouses in a marriage on the verge of divorce. How can they procreate with such animosity toward each other? So I put on the new hat of couple’s counselor. But my tact is to explain to them what is at stake for humanity and why they have to at least feign getting along. If there is to be a new generation they will be the progenitors. For God sake, make love, not discord. My wife and I may not survive to parent your children so you two are in it for the long haul I admonish them.
So our motley crew heads out into the ruins of a city. There I come upon the broken down house in which I’d lived with my wife before the calamity. The photo albums from our trips are there mostly intact. There is a picture of us bathing in a hot spring in British Columbia. Then there is my LP collection. A Japanese jazz record catches my eye and excites me with nostalgia. But sadly this is the past and we have to move on to our future wherever that may lie.
So our young friends who will hopefully repopulate this land follow us into the wilderness in search of a place to grow crops and bravely face a future, after all, is lost except hope.
The land is pockmarked in trees ripped from their roots and tangled in clumps. If there is a future it has to be somewhere further down the wasteland of what once was America. No crops can be grown to sustain us in the plutonium tilled land which greets us ahead.
But appearances can be deceiving. I aim my pocket particle beam projector at the contorted earth and voila a beautiful lake appears. The cloaked land reveals itself as an oasis of water out here in this radioactive wasteland. The holo fields which carpet the surviving bodies of water and forest are designed to keep the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow out of reach. Hence, the deception would cause us to give up on the ark called earth. This would drive the last nail in the coffin of the extinction of the lost tribe of America.
Low and behold running up the lakeshore are two young people in blue jeans. Not only had the cloak obscured the lake but also a young man and woman who apparently had hidden in this remnant of the earth’s once verdant country. They join me and my new wife up the hillside. My new spouse and I are too old to have babies. But this couple is just the right age at the springtime of their lives.
But the couple bickers and argues like spouses in a marriage on the verge of divorce. How can they procreate with such animosity toward each other? So I put on the new hat of couple’s counselor. But my tact is to explain to them what is at stake for humanity and why they have to at least feign getting along. If there is to be a new generation they will be the progenitors. For God sake, make love, not discord. My wife and I may not survive to parent your children so you two are in it for the long haul I admonish them.
So our motley crew heads out into the ruins of a city. There I come upon the broken down house in which I’d lived with my wife before the calamity. The photo albums from our trips are there mostly intact. There is a picture of us bathing in a hot spring in British Columbia. Then there is my LP collection. A Japanese jazz record catches my eye and excites me with nostalgia. But sadly this is the past and we have to move on to our future wherever that may lie.
So our young friends who will hopefully repopulate this land follow us into the wilderness in search of a place to grow crops and bravely face a future, after all, is lost except hope.
