The end

This is it. This is how I’m going to die. I just … I don’t know.
I mean, “This is it? This is how I’m going to die?” I would never have expected this. Maybe if I didn’t grow old and die of a heart attack I would have expected something more dramatic. Some memorable event people would talk about for years to come. This - though - this is not what I expected.
It’s not how I expected to respond either. Am I not supposed to see my life flash before my eyes? Shouldn’t I regret all of the things I haven’t done? Why am I not thinking of the people I love? Where is the light at the end of the tunnel?
Instead, I’m just disappointed.
I never thought my ego would be bruised by my death. What does this mean? It can’t just be about how I died, but about how I’ve lived. I must be disappointed with my accomplishments. I don’t even know what those accomplishments are. Have I accomplished anything?
I know I never completed college. I don’t have a career. Never had children, or created anything of lasting value.
Am I a failure, or am I just average?
Maybe the cliche death experiences are for above average people, and the mediocre experience is unspoken for its unremarkableness. There have to be millions of people with similar accomplishments - or lack thereof. Masses of unremarkable people with unremarkable lives coasting through life unaware that they are really disappointed in themselves.
But what does that say about myself, that in the midst of my own crisis I am comparing myself to others? Am I trying to say I did well enough, or am I trying to bring others down to the level of my own resentment?
I must be a terrible person to be judging other people even as I face my own death. Maybe I deserve this ordinary, boring death. I’ve looked down on others for so long I deserve to be forgotten when I pass from this life.

Gloriana - Prologue

They call it Technological Symbiosis. The very nature of man has changed over time. The skills of the Ancestors have passed away, along with so many other inventions and myths. It’s been happening for thousands of years, but has greatly accelerated with invention of artificial intelligences.

When an ancestor’s feet became too cold, the sock was invented to keep them warm. Over time, soles were added and the shoe became the greatest invention of its time. Humans now had the ability to travel farther, brave climates, and expand around the world. This was one of the first times technology and biology joined together to advance the race.

In latter times electricity and automobiles changed the way humans interacted with the world. Where masses of men were required to harvest a crop, now a single man on a machine would handle the same work. With so much manual labor being handled by machines, this left a lot of men seeking a lively hood in another way. New industries were created requiring fewer practical skills and more intellectual skills. Men had to prove their worth to society in creative ways. These skills weren’t necessary except to expand the luxury of life for the already detached.

A crisis of gender came as fewer and fewer men were required, while the population grew at unprecedented rates. Disaffected youth skipped college education expecting no worthwhile employment in their future. A slacker culture metastasized around colonies of young people who ideologically throw off the demands of culture, while developing their own counter-culture which devours culture and repurposes it as a display of nihilist futility.

These colonies were dependant on the culture they presumed to hate, even while developing their own economies within the shell of the decaying world they adopted. They craved the advances of modern technology, and embraced it to pursue their own self-determination in a society that has no use for them.

But when the entire façade came crashing down, the skills of the Ancestors long forgot became the utmost necessity. The 22nd Century human became so dependent on electricity, running water, wireless communication, automobile transportation, and digital information than when it all came to an end, nobody knew how to respond.

It wasn’t like you could take your mobile computer out of your pocket and look up how to find clean water supplies, or how to hunt, kill and prepare animals. Once the battery died on the pocket library, you couldn’t determine which plants were edible without trial and error. It was tried, but at first instantly rejected as the palette had been used to commercially prepared foods. But as times became more desperate, and the last of the grocery stores were plundered, hundreds of millions of people became migrants looking for the very basics of life.

Those with the ancient knowledge had great power. With time, men had moved from working outside all day to getting physical activity in air conditioned buildings on machines that didn’t train any muscles to do anything required of those men who eschewed the modern way for the way of the Ancestors. These men may have used manual labor for profit, or as a hobby, but it gave them a great advantage over those who had not.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The last drop of oil was squeezed out of the Earth on a sweltering hot August day in 2112. The wars began years before then. At first, there was widespread debate over the fossil fuel reserves; but the politicians didn’t take it seriously. But when the reality of wells drying up came to the fore, it was unavoidable. Our society had become so dependent on petroleum that each nation was soon strategizing on how to control the remaining supply. Alliances were formed. Allies were betrayed. Before long, the world was ablaze in bloody battle.

The majority of citizens had no clue any of this was going on. They heard about the wars, but they mostly just heard about how the enemies were hell bent on defeating us, and we had to protect our way of life. Little did we know how much petroleum we used on a daily basis – everything from dish soap to the bottle it came in. The machines of industry fueled and lubricated by petrol by-products.

Some nations fared better than others in the perpetual conflicts, hoarding surpluses of oil. They were able to transition some industry to coal, ethanol, nuclear, and hydrogen, but these sources would soon run out, which was preceded by even more bloodshed.

By the time the majority of world governments collapsed, half of the world population would be wiped out. The remaining societies were those born out of necessity in alcoves away from the conflicts. But the rest of humanity was left to wander, making loose alliances to protect food and water supplies.

It would be a long time before the warfare died down enough that separate collectives, bound to the traditions of the Ancestors, would begin trade with one another.
And that’s where I come in.

The Elders of Western Gloriana were concerned about protecting the trade caravans between the colonies. Groups of roaming marauders had been attacking and confiscating goods, and something had to be done. A council was convened, and an Order of Marshalls was established. I earned my commission from Elder Hillary, and sent on my way.

My goal was to track down and capture E. Albert Hatswell, leader of the criminal organization Askatasun. And that is just what I intend to do.

To be continued.

The Romance of the Undead

Sonia sat there uncomfortably waiting for David to return, going over in her head how things were going so far. It was her first blind date since the break up last spring. Her room mate Carol talked her into it. She said that David was a great guy, but didn’t know too much about him.

Carol and David worked together on the weekends at the yogurt shop. She said David was also fresh out of a bad relationship, which is how the subject was brought up. The suggestion that Carol would set them both up on a date was meant as a joke, but when David agreed, she had to follow through.

“I don’t like being called ‘Day-vid,’” he told Sonia when he arrive at her place to pick her up, “that’s just what everyone calls me at work. I prefer ‘Duh-beed’ because I’m proud of my heritage.”

“What do you have planned for tonight?” Sonia queried as they walked towards his Camry.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?” David responded.

Sonia was baffled, and slightly annoyed. “I thought we’d go grab dinner someplace.”

“Alright. Where?” David asked as he opened his door and sat in the car. He motioned for her to go to the passenger side.

“Uh... Is there anywhere you had in mind?” Sonia walked around the car to get in.

“Not really,” David said.

“What?” Sonia couldn’t hear what he had said because the door was closed on her side.

“Not really,” he said louder.

“Do you like Thai food?” Sonia asked when she settled into the passenger seat, kicking a McDonald’s cup out of her floor space.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it,” David said as he started the car’s engine. “Buckle your seat belt.”

“There’s a place just down the road here that -”

David cut her off, “Nah. I don’t think I want to try it.”

“What do you want then?” Sonia ask, adding irritation to her inflection.

“I don’t care.”

“Umm...” Sonia stared out the side window at the buildings whizzing past. He’s driving really fast, she thought. “There’s this new place I’ve heard about, L'heureux.”

David didn’t say anything for a few moments, looking intently at the road as he passed the car in front. “Too fancy,” he finally said. “We’d have to have reservations anyway.”

Which is why you should have prepared before you picked me up, she thought to her self with mounting frustration.

“I know!” David exclaimed, “There’s a noodle place a few miles from here.”

Great, she thought, ramen.

The few miles turned into a thirty-five minute drive, with two freeway changes. The drive was mostly in silence. Sonia held her purse on her lap, wincing every time David pulled up close behind another motorist before pulling around sharply. “Idiots,” he’d say under his breath. She wondered why he didn’t just change lanes sooner.

They pulled into a generic strip mall just off the freeway, lined with the same chain stores seen across the country in these suburban environments. The noodle place was called “Oodles of Noodles,” and had a line of patrons out the door - mostly college students, with the occasional impatient child.

“The wait won’t be too long,” David assured Sonia, “I come here all the time.”

They circled the parking lot two more times before finding a spot.

Waiting in line, David began sharing some of his philosophies on suburban life. He said these cookie-cutter strip malls reminded him of soviet-era construction. Repeatable, boring, familiar, cheap. The consumers who visit the shops: zombies, consuming what the cultural gatekeepers tell them to.

“Who listens to radio anymore? Even the mindless masses gave up on that monotony of vacuous series of interchangeable pop-stars.” Culture was consuming itself, in an endless cycle of gorging and purging, where even the most stiff of television personalities was in on the self-aware irony of the meaninglessness of their lives. “They make a living telling you who to like, but you already like these things, and that’s how it works. Nobody wants to hear about new artists, they just want their own interests confirmed in the eyes of others. But these ‘others’ are just people like themselves. Zombies.”

As the line slowly inched towards the counter, Sonia wondered if David has any interest in her, or if he just wanted to talk about himself. She became distracted with little things. The way the Yelp! sticker on the window was peeling off on the corners. The mismatched shoelaces on the girl in front of her. Is that peanut butter and prawns on those noodles? That could be good.

“What do you think?” David asked.

“I’m sorry ... about what?” her attention jerked back to David.

“What do you think about religion?”

“I’m pretty religious,” Sonia replied, surprised he finally asked her what she thought. “I go to church almost every week.”

“That’s stupid.”

Sonia was stunned. She made her displeasure known on her face.

“I mean, I get the social connections one gets from religion, but I don’t understand why it can’t just be about something else. Something of real value.” The line moved forward one step. “Sports fans are idiots, but at least their team has real, tangible attributes.”

At the register, finally, David ordered for both of them over the objections of Sonia. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” he told her.

“Two orders of Hot and Spicy Lime Chicken Noodles.” The young man behind the register said. “Anything to drink?”

“No thanks.” David responded, not looking at the employee. “That’s a split ticket.”

Oh, is that how it’s going to be? Sonia gave David a cutting sideways glace. He didn’t notice.

After they both paid for their separate dinners, David lead to a high bar stool along the side wall and sat down.

“It’s loud in here,” Sonia observed.

“It’s always like this.” David’s cellphone rang in his pocket. “I’ve got to take this.”

He bolted out of the seat and went outside.

As Sonia recounted the evening’s events leading up to this moment, she became angry. This is a waste of time, she thought to herself. It’s been an hour-and-a-half, is it too soon to call it quits, or is it better to get out now? She looked around the room at the other people, mostly having a good time.

David returned a few minutes after their entrees had arrived. He smiled at a few girls as he walked across the dining room.

“You know, Duh-veed,” Sonia looked him right in the eye, “I’d rather be with the zombies than with a monster like you!”

Sonia picked up her plate and walked over to the table with the girl with the mismatched shoelaces. “Do you mind if I join you?”