I Am One — A Post Apocalyptic View of the Early 21st Century
I take a stub of graphite in hand, gripping it tightly betwixt thumb and forefinger so that it does not break.
I am unclear how much time has elapsed since the great internecine feud erupted in the year of our lord 2024. Though not surprised by its occurrence I was shattered by the speed with which it commenced and tore apart the fabric of life in our towns, cities and the country.
In the beginning the conflict was laughed off. Many chided its importance and referred to it simply as “The Orange Rebellion.”
All the signs had been visible. It was clear to most that a growing miasma of discontent and disenfranchisement was slowly disemboweling life in America.
Those living in urban areas were on the one hand less concerned as they felt that democracy would always win out. At the same time, they were scared with their proximity to the increasing violence erupting from disparate corners of the world, and even more frighteningly from within so many pockets of the country.
Many who lived in remote rust belt and rural areas weren’t afraid of physical harm that might be inflicted by mass terrorism. Some even unwittingly supported it.
The poor were blissfully unaware of the state of affairs as they struggled for mere survival on a daily basis.
The media compounded the slowly festering depletion of our moral sensitivities by 24 hour a day coverage of the methodical dismantling of American democracy as we then knew it. Ever in search of increased ratings, both conservative and liberal media pounced on every opportunity to bash what they perceived of as the opposition.
I can’t say exactly how but simply that one day long ago we suffered an eruption of such magnitude that all were taken by surprise.
The burgeoning vitriol that pundits endlessly clamored about took an unexpected turn. An armed conflict erupted along what was known as the Mason Dixon line. Though when it was all over, clearly the conflict was far more geographically wide-spread and in-bred.
Armed gangs roamed the streets and looked for visible representations of all they detested. Churches, synagogues and mosques were the first to feel the blows of years of pent up hostility, jealousy, hatred and fear.
The deep distrust that had been sown by the political establishment caused otherwise rational citizens to attack all symbols of authority. Mass destruction ensued.
Every state became its own little universe. Across much of the country anyone who might be considered an immigrant by the color of their skin was attacked, tortured and in more moderate territories interred in camps.
The federal government was helpless to act. The President in the eighth year of his second term had been successful in dismantling all branches of the government and led the country by totalitarian rule. Had this not been so, perhaps, America might have survived wounded, but operationally intact.
Imagine the surprise when many on the left, progressivess, found their way to arms. No one, certainly not I could have foreseen the insurrection that dethroned the President of The United States of America.
Before all communication was lost he hastily retreated to one of his many properties in Russia allowing him safe harbor. Rumor has it he was warmly welcomed and awarded Hero of the Russian Federation ( -”ерой -оссийской Федер-degreesции) and then appointed “Jester to the Court” ( Шут в суд) a position hastily created for him. It is said his chest puffed with pride as voluminous newly minted medals were pinned.
Once he fled chaos reigned throughout the land.
A massive earthquake and Tsunami engulfed the country destroying almost all its infrastructure and most devastatingly the entire electrical grid, Virtually all forms of mass communication were lost. America teetered on the verge of dissolution.
Life as it had been literally ceased to exist.
I have not the time nor the energy to explain all that happened within the states. I can only mournfully recall that the mounting death toll from starvation and lack of fresh water was one infinitesimal aspect of the horrific spectacle that those of us who survived witnessed.
The utter devastation and genocide is difficult to conceive let alone take pencil and paper in hand and try to describe. Perhaps there is no reason so to do. Yet I feel I must, if only to save those in the future from a similar fate.
I feel guilty. Why was I one of the lucky ones? I have no idea. I say luck because though I sit alone and isolated with this tiny writing instrument recording the nation’s rebirth I bear witness to promising signs.
Presently, all is very disconnected and functioning on an almost pre-evolutionary societal level. Yet, in my wanderings I have witnessed something new. I’m almost afraid to record it for fear of derailing what seems to be unimaginable.
Wherever I roam I see men and women helping out their fellow human beings. There seems to be a lack of awareness of individual differences bred of necessity. White man, black, brown all work together to craft a meager existence.
There is a complete lack of hostility. Indeed, just the opposite. In this our hour of greatest need mankind seems as one.
A rudimentary form of local government has arisen, based out of expertise not background or privilege.
Every man, woman and child works together. I view almost limitless acts of random kindness.
I am a wanderer, so perhaps I see more than others though I am “one” and forge no lasting relationships. My senses are buoyed by what I perceive to be the climate of hope and cooperation that exists among all.
Yes, hard though it may be to believe, or even comprehend, a great “oneness” has developed. Were I a religious man I would think this has all been a part of his great plan. A reinvention of humankind. A new beginning as it were.
We benefit by lack of communication with the outside world. In many cases our communities are simply small clusters of individuals. Many, who because of their unique skills travel as do I to make contributions to the various neighboring territories.
Smiles. I see smiles on the faces of children. Also on those of adults as they toil together to rebuild the remnants of what was once the most powerful nation in the universe.
It is my gut that tells me we will arise from the ashes, perhaps more powerful than ever before. But, in a different way.
Somehow, the disaster wreaked upon us by the “Orange Rebellion” has resulted in a fusion of individuals who interact at the most primal level in a manner that I can only describe as loving and caring. Rudimenary as existence is, contentment is a visage on faces wherever I roam. A sense of inner-peace prevails.
Were the citizens of our country always this way, deep, deep down? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I am hungry and must stop writing now. I have arrived at a new destination. A stranger is beckoning me with beaker of drink and a hunk of bread in his outstretched hands. He is smiling, he is waiving, he is welcoming.
I have arrived. Perhaps I will stay awhile.
Post Script: This political article was originally published on the Good Men Project before the devastating COVID-19 pandemic. While we certainly don’t expect the destruction depicted in this article… there are interesting parallels about all human kind pulling together in a time of crisis.
Thanks to MM Marvel for this piece. I am blessed to be the sole individual chosen to pass along world-wide the ruminations of this unique human being.
Photo owner: NASA: https://www.nasa.gov/
Image Source: NasaPhotos, License: No known copyright restrictions
From NasaPhotos CommonsSearch ‘Nature’ Search
