Silos of Man

Chapter 26 - Echoes of Change

I haven't been able to settle down my nervous system since I met with Tom, and I can feel my arms quivering around my device as the doors to the auditorium slide open at my approach.  It's suddenly incongruous to see these modern era, virus-conscious appendages on our historically charming and otherwise well-preserved university.  The narrow distance that separates the present from the past has come into sharp focus for me lately, and I'm irritated that I'm being forced into a new reality, by mysterious envelopes, changing my perspectives and life experiences. 

I shake it off as I emerge into the lecture hall.  I inhale the aroma of very old walls and many morning coffees, competing with the melange of personal fragrances worn by recently appointed adults.  There's a lot of vanilla, rose, and cinnamon.  This may be my last class for a while so I absorb the moment and then gear-up for some history, hoping its familiarity will bring me some comfort.

"Good morning class.  I hope you all had a great weekend and are ready to dive head-first into the Transition, Equalization Distribution, and New World Order.  There is of course an ocean of information to learn about each of these three events in history, and we will explore but a narrow stream of this body of information.  What we do learn about these three here, however, will help inform our understanding of the New World Government.  Does anyone have anything specific they'd like to discuss within these three streams of history?"

Keener hands fly up in the air and I just start pointing to people at random, as they call out their curiosities.  "Money", "debt", "capitalism", "men".  This last answer incites some giggles, and my responding, "There were no men in any of these three streams of history so they are sadly off the menu" elicited full-on chuckles.  "We'll be addressing everything else you've called out thus far, so I'll jump right into it and if there's anything you'd like to jump in on, then go right ahead."  Supportive, confirmative nods, and I launch into it.

"Money is a big one. A very big one. In fact, it was the foundation of all human activities from the time it was invented about thirty-five hundred years ago, right up until the Transition. Money literally ran all the non-natural aspects of the human world. It was the basis to all commerce and economies. Money not people. A world full of people spent most of their time worrying about how to make money, and very little time worrying about how to make people. Ethical, contributory people - the most important thing in the world. We were our own best resource and we corrupted it right from birth at staggering rates." I let that absurdity sink in for a minute.

"Money, as you know is merely a construct.  It is an arbitrary design on an inexpensive item, like paper or alloy that signifies a value.  Those very valuable, inexpensive items called money or cash, got transferred into the equivalent digital value, through the evolved banking systems around the world, just prior to the Transition." 

"People used to sell their time by the hour when rendering services, and the capitalist ventures employing them paid their salaries, which the people then used to buy their necessities, and their desirables.  This was a generally successful arrangement in many parts of the world, however, in many other places in the world, where corruption was rampant, poverty consumed the majority of the population - people would do anything for money.  People kidnapped and murdered for money.  They cheated and stole.  Desperate people in places like a country called Afghanistan, straddling our third and fourth quadrants, sold their organs and even their daughters, in order to feed their families.  These children, as young as seven years, were sold to men to 'marry'.  Money, these pieces of otherwise insignificant pieces of paper or alloy, was worth a higher value than the life and health of those without it."  Another pause for solemn incredulity.

A hand raises to my left.  I nod at the owner, a tall, large, high-energy students who shares in a booming voice, "I have never understood how people with excess money didn't send it over to help struggling families, like those who had unimaginable horrors to choose from like starving their family or selling a child into a life of abuse.  Journalism ensured connection between those in privileged parts of the world and those in suffering parts of the world, and yet, they allowed the suffering to continue."  I nod in saddened agreement, "Yes, it's fair for our minds to go there immediately, but as you know, empathy wasn't woven into the fabric of humanity then, as it is now.  Humans with financial means in other parts of the globe, or quite frankly even in other parts of their 'city', considered the poverty of others to not be their problem.  Many people felt that everyone was responsible for looking out for themselves, regardless of how privileged or deprived they were at birth.  That's kind of the trap of capitalism.  It seduces with the notion that anyone can strike it rich with hard work and a good idea, but the truth is that very few people who came from poverty were ever able to cash-in on capitalism."