Omphalocele
Omphalocele
December 05, 2024
This holiday season, betwixt Thanksgiving and Christmas, people are supposed to be thankful. Some people are thankful for all that they have. I am thankful for what I don't have.
Look up the word omphalocele. View whatever pictures you will. Think about how many changes to your life this condition will cause. Think about how much money will be needed to live with this. Think about how much more will be required to cure or repair this.
Substitute omphalocele with any other debilitating condition or disease you can imagine. Then, this holiday season, and every other day since, remember, "It is not that you have what you want. It is that you want what you have."
Nuff said.
Can Knowledge Manifest Life?
Are we bored with living?
We feast on the sorrows of others
Spiraling into madness
Suffering with existence
Quietly begging for our release
from the chasm of the subconscious
The chaotic flow of knowledge begins
We start navigating the abyss
You hear the painful screams of lost souls
Ignorance brings confusion
Not wisdom
There’s no need to rush
Obtaining knowledge is a slow and steady process
Time gives legitimacy to existence
Be forewarned
Humanity is being algorithmically influenced and exploited
Are you not entertained?
Deep within our unconscious mind, we may be able to tap into unlimited knowledge
However, humanity may not be ready for this
As it still embraces greed and power
What about you?
You were given the gift of life
Do you know what to do with it?
Something Just Isn’t Right
Something Just Isn’t Right
July 29, 2024
The sand on the beach was the finest I ever encountered.
Actually too fine.
The pink color was a bit distracting. However, the soft sounds of the waves and the fact I was alive counted for more than the morning sunrise was displaying for my viewing pleasure.
I was alive on a beach, somewhere.
I looked up. The Sun rose in the east. The remnants of the moon slowly descended in the west. Luna 1 was always visible to the naked eye. I strained my eyes, washing my face with the saltwater of the ocean to find Luna 2, but couldn’t.
This is not my home.
By midday, I had walked the length of the beach looking for debris from my plane, parts from my raft, or something of use to eat or defend myself.
I found a bit of driftwood for a club. A few more pieces and I could make a fire, possibly a shelter. A few trees had coconuts, but that was it. Wherever I was, I was here alone.
I sat for a moment before inventorying my pockets. My survival kit had medicine, a fishing kit, matches, and a compass.
It was the fishing kit that kept me alive for the next three days. From the species I lured and caught, there must be a coral reef close to shore, possibly two running parallel, that protects them from predators. I could stomach raw fish, but not forever. Without a fire, I would eventually ingest a parasite or bacteria. I would get sick. Then I would die.
Without a shelter, I would (eventually) get sick and die.
Without a weapon, same conclusion.
My only recourse was to collect what few belongings I did have and walk inland. Perhaps I would discover signs of civilization. Perhaps I would encounter an indigenous species, relative to my time, correlating how far I traveled in the slipstream.
Before I departed the pink sands, I moved a few black volcanic rocks (obsidian, not pumice) spelling out the words HELP and my name, Prince Ozyark.
By dawn on the 4th day, I made my trek inland.
By dawn on the 6th day, I discovered a small house. Its doors were too narrow for my frame, but I squeezed in none-the-less. The pantry was stocked and the furnishings new, but of dimensions too long and too narrow for me.
But, beggars cannot be choosers.
Two nights here, two nights with only one moon, two nights without a single sound, either insect or animal). I might have been worried if not for the food the owner provided. It was enough for two weeks of my needs, perhaps as much for his. For this reason, I departed on the morning of the 10th day, so as not to encounter the owner. He might have a weapon. I do not. I would rather be a thief than a victim.
From the house, I followed an old trail through the forest. Not many traversed this path recently. Not many would ever traverse this path. It was rocky, strewn with vegetation of vines and thorns. The branches of the trees grew haphazardly, unattended and overgrown for as far as my vision permits. Wherever I stopped, I had my firewood and shelter materials aplenty. I would not be for want.
That night, I witnessed the spectacle of Luna 1 rising and felt relieved. At least that part of the puzzle remained constant.
But what of Luna 2? How can an entire moon be missing? What of its population? Where do two million go and why go at all? The terraforming made Luna 2 a paradise. I wanted to retire there. Everyone wanted to retire there.
But right now, there was no there.
So I sat at the base of an old tree, personifying it as a wise sage, hoping to learn the secrets of my troubles by osmosis throughout the hours of the night.
Sleep came slowly to me, but it did come and I found the delight of the fresh morning air invigorating.
So did the armed soldiers encircling my campsite.
I wanted to explain. I wanted to identify myself.
As they raised their weapons, I just wanted to live.
The noise from the discharge was deafening. Never before had I encountered such a voluminous disturbance in the ether. The projectiles, while traversing the distance between their point of origin and my body seemed intimidating, they became only a nuisance once I understood their ineffectiveness.
I spoke to each of the now frightened soldiers and asked them their names and ranks. They did not understand as they released another volley of metal projectiles from their weapons. I moved quickly to detain the six with each of my arms, pulling them to a more secure spot in which to converse. They must surely recognize my authority, or at least, the authority of a royal being upon first sight. These six kept struggling. I released the first and he ran away propagating high frequency emanations with each step.
So comical he moved. How can anyone accelerate with just two legs?
He did not get far as I threw a branch at his legs to halt his forward progression. The remaining five became even more aggressive, pulling smaller weapons from their armor. I took a more defensive posture, as is my right, and beheaded all but one. He immediately dropped his weapon as I elevated him with my single arm. He seemed to be in great pain as I made telepathic contact. I understand nearly 500 languages, but not the ones this soldier used. He just kept making high frequency noises.
That is until I beheaded him also.
The forest became as silent as before. The campfire cast shadows across all in close proximity.
I looked to the sky, straining to find Luna 2, desperately hoping to make sense of this all.
Whatever this world, I am not to be part of it.
Something just isn’t right.
The next day, a search and rescue pod located me and transported me back to the fleet.
I personally scanned the orbit of this world for Luna 2.
Here, wherever here is, Luna 2 does not exist. Luna 1 is as Luna 1 should be; cold and barren.
So should this world.
I gave the order before dinner.
Now, something is more right than ever before.
