AUTHOR'S NOTES: I know the first chapter will be tedious to read for those who are not philosophically inclined, but please do not be discouraged as the following chapters are balanced out with character development with action scenes.
Fun Fact: The philosophy article that starts the chapter is actually a short screenplay I wrote to a post-apocalyptic short film I made.
You don't know me, you've never seen or heard of me in your life. It's just some other person dwelling in the world leeching resources and returning nothing or contributing next to nothing back into society. Why should I listen to what they have to say? I don't know them personally, and if they aren't recognized on television, than who gives a damn about their opinion? My name, just a meaningless title. Male, female, does it really make a definite difference? My sexuality, alludes my very entity. Asexuality. While something as such should be praised due to dual understanding of the needs of the many, it is an extraction from society. Well I tell you, fellow homosapien, I may not be a celebrity, a renowned psychiatrist, hell, I don't even get paid more than minimum wage, but I know the value of life.
Isn't it funny how from the earliest moments we can remember, correction and discipline have molded us into the beings we call ourselves today. We tell ourselves, there is no room for failure and no time for repetitive trial. We don't know why, but we frown upon any form of setbacks and anyone bestowed by them. They don't have a job, they live with their parents, they have no vehicle, they have no education, why should I spare them my time, concern, and appreciation? If time is of the essence and in irreversible motion, it is apparent that gluttony, greed, lust, pride, sloth, wrath, and envy is the equation of selfishness that defines humanity. Compare humans to any other species, and it is clear that the magnitude of ruthlessness and savagery is second to none and so brands mankind.
So the question often arises: What is the meaning of life? Simply put, no one will ever know and we can only speculate such an answer. However, the value of life is similar but a whole new question in itself. Look outside your window and see what the world has become. A single species has evolved and overpopulated the earth, expanding its habitat every passing minute with air clogging technological advancements of every kind to better itself and, in turn, to ignore the planet's needs. Look back inside, you see your shelter cluttered with endless forms of this same technology, and resources that are fit to feed a heart attack. We equip ourselves with remedies and weaponry to fend off the internal and external forms of terrorism that we try so desperately to dismiss. We hang onto the hopes of bettering ourselves with this hoard of so-called necessities and believe that this is what makes us a valuable catch to potential companions and mates. What we fail to recognize is that materialism doesn't compile the full equation of a human being, but it does play a considerable role.
What starts as a concept and idea, turns into a simple invention and/or experiment that is either improved upon, or scrapped entirely. Depending on the nature of the project, it is kept in isolation, quarantine if you will, from the public until it's inevitable release. Often this final product is recalled due to potential hazards or side effects. But I have realized that the government's experiment was no accident but perhaps the answer to the equation of a human being.
We blindly carry about these traditional and routinely lives without question and return to the perfect little worlds we call home. The media luring our attention with blinders, our minds focused upon our golden goals, our bodies set in slumber, meanwhile a biding conspiracy strengthens in numbers. A revolution ready to be unleashed.
We suspend our skills and dreams, eagerly awaiting that fateful snag when someone will snap up our proposals when we realize that patience is a virtue that we fail to recognize. Is it luck when fate extends its hand to us, or through the agitating task of kindness we ultimately get smitten?
Bitten is the hand that feeds; and now the question is if it's a flesh wound or something internal? Is it something that can be fixed with a cleansing, or something I have to cauterize and deal with the consequences of scarring? Or maybe even amputate to start fresh?
Time upon time again we throw ourselves into a pool of fire ants, seeing how long we can endure the constant nips and jabs until we either have become immune to feeling and sensory, or we flail our arms and bail out. We succumb to temptation and arouse ourselves in panic until we realize our inevitable doom. Doom we have escaped until it slaps us in the face, slithers through our bloodstream, and devours our braincells. Upon this epiphany, devastation becomes a way of life as we realize everyone is lost or about to be consumed by this immortal, airbourne fatality.
Like any predator, we prey upon the weak and abuse this power relentlessly. And yet, we are weak, cowardly, and even unsure of ourselves. Relying on the predetermined path that all humans take: The road to success. We are born, we educate ourselves, we find our careers, we find our lovers and companions, we reproduce, and we die, leaving behind a legacy that touches few and is soon forgotten.
This interaction is the key to survival. Like any other life form driven by sexual activity, humans act through their root instincts. The need for males to woo and mate with their female counterparts is a way of life, and vice versa. Isn't it ironic how those who shy away from relationships and focus upon their career tend to be the most successful by defying the rules implanted into our brains from infancy? And those who try to later bring a relationship into their successful formula sooner or later find disaster?
Skin, hair, eyes, teeth, height, weight, body type, voice, age; all characteristics defining our personas and overlooking the untamed beast within. Behind these fleshy masks and moissanite eyes, lies the nature of mankind; the true meaning and value of the human life. We plot, we covet, we fantasize; all the schematics lurk beneath our skin. As humans, we knowingly possess the power to endeavor these thoughts, feelings, and emotions into physical and audible actions. No bestiary doctrine, no almighty power or voice is telling us to apply for that job or rape that woman senseless. We are in tune to our minds and bodies; no overriding force makes us commit these actions. The inaudible excuse so many accuse of forcing them to steal and murder, and to buy that overpriced make of vehicle, or to pass notes in class because that undeniable love interest is much more logical than that basic math you need to graduate. We are caught in this web of tactical misfortune that shrouds our entire lives in an overriding darkness, uplifting the value of life and replacing it with a formula for chaos. Sincerely yours, Lady Aristotle.
Mary lifted her glazed blue eyes from her glaring computer screen to the nearby window. Rain clinked against the glass, breaking her devoted concentration on her newest philosophy article. With an irritated groan, she threw her head backwards against her armchair. Her long blond hair whipped against the leather, creating another clatter to further disturb her concentration. Her eyes trailed around the dimly lit living room and stopped at the face of an antique mantle clock, making her realize that she had been on her computer for longer than she anticipated.
"Eight o'clock," she muttered to herself, extending an arm to sip her cup of tea. Her youthful face quickly furrowed in disgust as she spat out the word, "Cold."
Beyond agitated now, she lifted her rooted bottom off of the warm leather to flick on the few old fashioned lamps in the room. Once on, a slim smile crossed her face briefly as the room glowed and invited her to stay a few hours more. Already being in her pajama pants and bare feet made it all the more alluring as it felt like she was bracing herself for a slumber party. With the room now alit, it revealed the aged interior that had been there since she was a child. Being the largest room in the one hundred year old house, Mary had managed to move nearly all of her daily essentials into it. Despite consisting of an office furniture set, a daybed, a mini fridge, and the unmoved lounge furnishings, the room remained uncluttered and organized.
She shut the curtains to each window and returned to her office chair. With the curtains drawn, she unzipped and removed her hooded sweatshirt, unveiling her curvy bust that complemented the tank top she wore. Her focus was then redirected to her article and she read the words aloud, "But I have realized that the government's experiment was no accident but perhaps the answer to the equation of a human being."
She pondered on the statement for a moment, her fingers twitching with eagerness to punch keys on her worn keyboard. She sighed and slammed her index finger on the delete key, erasing the entire sentence from existence. She saved and closed the document, returning to the desktop screen of an infinite white hallway. She examined it for a moment, as if trying to figure out the answer to an equation, then opened the Internet icon. She double-checked each window to make sure she had closed the curtains, then brought up a few bookmarked pages that seemed to flawlessly piece together. Each page contained restricted articles about codes that reminded her of binary, the government, and a wanted terrorist known as "Morpheus". Her eyes glazed over again as she skimmed each article multiple times, as if trying to decipher a hidden message. Suddenly, her body jolted in a flinch when her screen cut to black. Moments later, it blinked with a single green cursor.
"Hello Mary Simms…" the screen slowly typed, her hands far from the keyboard and clenching the arms of her chair. "We know what you have been up to, 'Lady Aristotle'. There was no governmental 'accident'. We have the answer to your equation."
Mary's body instantly froze into a cold sweat. Her mouth grew watery as her stomach turned over, and her eyes couldn't budge an inch from the screen.
"The Matrix has you… You have known all this time. Come join us for tea, Alice. Follow the white rabbit…" before the screen could continue typing, she leapt from her chair and yanked the power plug from the computer tower. She sighed in a panicked relief when the monitor remained in an empty darkness. But before she could reclaim her sanity, there came a rapping at the front door.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first fanfiction story that I have ever written... Constructive reviews would be highly appreciated!