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- |-----------------------------------------------------------------------------|
- | |
- | There Ain't No Justice |
- | |
- | #28 |
- | |
- |-----------------------------------------------------------------------------|
-
- - Life is Pain -
- by Tal Meta
-
- A small child, perhaps five, maybe six, plays in the sand on the beach. Her
- father, watching her, smiles, "So much like myself," he thinks, "I can only
- hope she doesn't grow up to be TOO much like me."
-
- The man was odd. This has been said of many others, but not for the same
- reasons. Born to oddness, he did not think himself so, and wondered why
- others did. They didn't understand him. Not at all. But he understood
- himself, and everyone around him too. That was why he was dangerous.
-
- The boy who would become the man was fey. Dreamer, poet, madman, mystic.
- All of these things, yet none at all. idealist, his ideas were unpleasnat.
- Above all else, he was different. So he had to know himself. But first, and
- harder yet, he learned everyone else. But the idealism was a problem. So
- belief was the first part of him that died and was reborn. One evening, he
- was known to have written these words, even though the reasons were
- unclear. But then, they always were.
-
- I hear the cry of Friendship, and I rejoice! To have a friend is a good
- thing. But as I sit here alone, wondering as I do, just what could
- friendship possibly mean to you?
-
- My ideas are clear, so yours must be at fault, why else would we be at this
- point? I have freinds who are more than friends, and some who are less. And
- those that are less, them I leave by the wayside. And too, I have enemies,
- some who were once friends. But they are all assembled from those on the
- waysides. Still though, I seek someone to be my friend.
-
- Still though, i seek for someone to be my Friend, who shares my views on
- friendship, the way its meant to be. Today, as yesterday, and rushing
- towards tomorrow, I stand accused, The Fool.
-
- At times I wonder how I yet still live, burned by fires from within and
- without. the silver flames of treachery, and the personal black of rage. So
- I've claimed them as mu colors, the tartan of my clan. (As if, bastard that
- I am, I had that right.)
-
- And yea, though I walk through the valley in the shadow of death, I fear no
- evil. I have faith. Twisted by my childhood, warped in puberty, madness now
- has claimed me, but it shall not be. For yet I live, and while I live I can
- hope, and dream. Friends come and go, but enemies accumulate, there by the
- wayside. I have but two wishes in this world today; That I might choose my
- enemies as carefully as I choose my friends, and that my friends should
- understand me as well as I do them.
-
- -------
-
- I wrote these words a lifetime ago, to someone long since passed from my
- life. I kept them, as I keep many useless things, as a notice to my future
- self that there was once pain, and that there would be pain again. Life is
- pain. But you have to keep moving. Despite what some people's gods will
- tell you, death is a piss poor answer to any question. Unless its someone
- else's death, of course. You learn to deal with pain... there are as many
- answers as there are people to ask. I discovered meditation. I learned to
- learn from pain. I did stupid things, and learned thereby. I kept moving.
-
- Thats what its all about, really. Keep moving. Keep thinking. Your thoughts
- are all you really own anyway. Thats why there's no copyright notice on
- these things. If someone really wants to steal them, they will. Someone
- might have already. Its their loss. I still have my thoughts, and all they
- have is a copy. We have no rights. I used to think people were following
- me. I thought they knew what I was thinking, and were following me to stop
- me. Maybe they were. Maybe I just stopped noticing them behind me. But they
- haven't stopped me yet. At least, not yet today. Why were they following
- me? I don't even remember. Probably had something to do with Lyra dying the
- way she did. She cursed me that night, and it wasn't even my fault. She
- cursed me with the knowlege that what I had just begun to learn would grow,
- and change, and that someday, I, too, would prefer death to living. Maybe.
- But not yet.
-
- Its after 8 P.M.... I'm safe from invasion once again. The last search
- warrant said they could only come between 8 A.M and 8 P.M. They could come
- anytime they want, but that illusion of safety comforts me greatly. If I
- cling to it, thats my business. I'm not even doing anything to make them
- come, and I still wonder if they will. I probably always will. My privacy
- was shattered once: now I guard whats left tooth and nail.
-
- I used to wonder if I was really human. I even resigned from the human race
- once. Nobody took it seriously. Not that I cared. It was a gesture, and I
- was big on gestures when i was 14. I used to think... a million different
- things. Being an adopted child leaves alot of room for your imagination to
- play. Who were they, those gametes that met one November night? Did they
- care for each other? Did they care for me, even a little? Who knows. Maybe
- someday I will try to find out. Maybe not. Maybe one of them will try and
- find me. I expect they'll be disappointed. I'm more interested in their
- medical histroy than I am in them as people, anyway.
-
- I had my name legally changed, oh, can it be 5 years ago already? The
- people who adopted me, they told me I was adopted. That helped. I'd hate to
- go through life thinking I was related to them. I sometimes wonder if I
- changed my name to please myself, of to put another knife in my "father's"
- back. He was always so proud of the "family name". I despised it. I
- despised him, too, for lots of things. For never being there. For divorcing
- my "mother" to go breed with someone who could bear him children who
- carried his genes. I've almost got my "brother" talked into changing his
- name too, just to cheese the fucker off. He finally married for money. He's
- much happier now. He'll be happier when she dies and he inherits. But
- nobody will mourn when he dies.
-
- There's a war brewing. Somewhere. There's another war going in full swing
- somewhere else. People want to stop war. I have come to grips with war. War
- is good. We've reached the top of the food chain; we have no competition.
- So we have war. War is supposed to weed out the weak. Not that it does
- anymore. Too high tech. We should go back to swords. It all comes down to
- breeding. War spreads the genes around. Its better at it than TV, Air
- Travel, and Sperm Banks combined. We went to southeast asia before I was
- born. I was seven when we left. We left a million? More? crossbreeds in our
- wake. Thats what war is really all about you know. The chance to inflict
- your gene plasm on the enemy. The rape of the Subine, and all that.
-
- I read once that mankind was Earth's sperm. We are our planet's way of
- reproducing. When we go to another world, we're going to cart our plants,
- and our animals, and our germs along for the ride. Like bees spreading
- pollen. I like that illusion. I have no problem being sperm. I just wish
- we'd quit playing with ourselves and spurt on something already. Who knows,
- we might find something thats at the same point on the food chain as we
- are. We could kill that, then, instead of each other. Or something higher
- up could find us... but thats life.
-
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