Silos of Man

Chapter 23 - From There to Here

She was gone in a blink. I got 18 glorious hours with her before she was drawn back to her lab, and it wasn't enough. I get it, and I support it fully, but I wanted more than what I got. I remind myself not to be a needy dog, pick myself up, grab a shower a try to busy myself. I haven't heard from Tom, so I can't even kill some time preparing and eating food because anxiety is thwarting my appetite. I pace slowly around our apartment with percolative cure-based thoughts, but can feel the tingle of anxious impatience creeping-in. I really have to figure out my path before I leap, but I'm necessarily poised to leap at the ring of my device. 'Get to it Dany!', I resort to scolding myself.

I unintentionally make my way into her yoga room and inhale her fragrance.  Eucalyptus essential oil, combines with her sweet and spicy exertion scent.  Stomach butterflies leap to attention with the first whiff.  I settle them down and lay one of her meditating pillows on the floor.  They're bigger and comfier than I expect.  Having a seat, I try to cross my legs like her, but aren't as flexible.  That woman can bend and twist in such remarkably sexy ways that...okay Dany focus-up!  More scolding is clearly necessary to keep her out of my head for long enough to think about secretly joining her mother in a covert operation to save the integrity of our utopic world!  A giggle at the absurdity of my situation erupts from deep within, and I suddenly realize that I'm on all fours laughing hysterically at the situation in which I have found myself.  I actually smack my cheek with a little more force than I would have liked, during my hysterical laughter, to see if I would wake up from a whacky dream.  Nope.  This is my life right now.  Fuck.

Collecting myself and sitting in my own version of a comfortable crossed-leg pose, I close my eyes.  I acknowledge her fragrance one more time, and then gently put it aside in my mind.  'Good start champ!', I smirk to myself, and then get back to it.  I clear my mind by following and focusing on my breath.  After several minutes of keeping my mind at bay in an attempt to obtain some clarity, it starts its imposing work. 

I clarify our situation in my mind: we're unknowingly involved in a social-guardians type of group, in which her mother is a member and has made me aware of the fact that there is such serious corruption in the leadership, that they are prepared to hold back the cure to a disease that has kept not just half of the potential human population off the planet, but they're a half which can provide a source of unlimited, varied, and renewable genetic material needed to propagate our species. If Tom's reports are accurate, then with the degradation of our current silo-piled supply of chromosomes, we need them returned now more than ever, and just hope to the universal heavens that we can hang-on long enough to get them to an age of reproductive maturity, such that they can then save us. Isn't this ironic. I feel a smirk try to cross my face and I let it go. Unless of course, we can do it without them. I let that go too.

I then clarify the problem in my mind:  corruption is the antithesis of equality, equity, fairness, justice, and essentially all other foundational values upon which Contributism is built.  The global acceptance of Contributism is the foundation of our worldwide utopia.  Corruption will inevitably undo what we, as a recovered society, have accomplished.  My mind races with our accomplishments. 

Even something as basic as human dignity during the end-of-life stage, was wildly different.  In the past, because of powerful, far and long-reaching influences of religion, it was considered a "sin" to kill yourself.  This evolved into a social abhorrence to the idea of assisted death.  People were forced to wither away with disease or live a troubled life of mental depression and anguish, where the only option for exit was to commit suicide secretly and alone, so your family didn't find out and stop you before you could take your exit.  These suicide methods were often very rudimentary and even barbaric, including hanging, slicing of wrists, gunshot wounds.  Families were even penalized through a loss of insurance payment for survivors of an insured 'suicide victim', as they called them.  These insurers were able to withhold these life insurance payouts, because it was a crime to end your own life.  Now, we have the dignified right to order our own deaths, picking the time and location.  Now, many even hold their own EOL service, and then slip away to a private room with their closest family members, where their doctor will assist with their end-of-life choice.  This is now a stage of life which is honoured, and even celebrated as part of the experience of being human.  It really takes a lot of the fear out of the whole death thing too, when you have such control over it.