The Pre-extinction of Mankind

It is the year 3005. Approximately a century of a light year,  man is on the verge of extinction. The ozone is depleting, unfiltered rays shone through. Each Human  had a 100% chance of getting cancer if they were exposed to the atmosphere.

Augusta sat at her grandma’s heel, they’d just had lunch. The grub is meager now-a-days, all food, even confectionery  truck  foods had GMO traces in them which is gastronomically toxic. At the time of discovery, less than 3% crops were organic and while the world steadily ate their way to the grave, Australia  proved resilient to the natural selection of humanity.

Augusta loved stories, her favourite were about the life before the extinction era,  she was curious about civilization and the millennials. She’d revere in the stories like she lived then as she’d never known smart phones or social media and today was no exception. Luckily grandma Alex is the best story teller alive, literally, as there were only 300 humans alive.

Grandmother Alex enigmatic eyes loomed into the distance. She knew the story her grand daughter would request far too well. She relived it as many times as she reiterated it. She heaved heavily as if it’ll hurt to utter a word. She started;

“I come from a time of great triviality. We could have done better because we knew better. It was the year 2017 and mankind was at the peak of evolution. The world had 3 trillion occupants with oodling birth rates and a recline in  mortality.

I was a young student at the time, my ultimate goal, to become a neurology specialist. I was insouciant to the world around me,  It was the only way to stay sane… little did I know what life had in store for us. The migration rate was explosive, with the ongoing war in the Middle East, and economic stand of third world countries, everyone wanted a better life elsewhere than home, including myself, albeit this was the beginning of the end.

A neo-viral disease surfaced,  The terminal ailment was traced back to a CNC mechanic in Cardiff. I was the resident physician on call that day.  He presented symptoms of a complicated flu, 11 days later, the young man made a complete recovery, or so we thought. Later that evening, he suffers from status epilepticus and died within seconds. A culture of his blood sent to the lab suggested that the infection was a recombinant cluster of Ebola and Dengue virus. Attempts to identify it’s diverse symptomatology failed and sure enough, the disease spread fast.

Vietnamese migrants were the first to be associated with the disease.  East-Asia crumbled under the blow of an epidemic, the economic instability worsened it.  Attempts by the world leaders to aid Asia proved futile. Europe and USA went on the defence, abandoning Asia, watching under quarantined roofs as one subcontinent vanished. There was an uprising by world activists; liberals protesting the governments, and thus began the third world war.

Lives were destroyed. Dreams shattered, and families  separated.  Meanwhile Russian biologists worked secretly on a trial antidote for the pandemic, it was solely in the interest of the government. Nonetheless, the grim reaper spared them not.

By 2020,  the rate of inborn errors of metabolism had drastically tripled, and the world population was halved yet again. This was indirectly linked to GMO in food produce.

All these while, Australia went A-wall. That seemed to have a source of hope. Unbelievably, it worked. Almost no one migrated there. In that period, Australia was simply forgotten. The underdogs survived the greatest tribulations of Mother nature.

You, my dearest Augusta, are the descendants of the fittest survivors, grandma concluded.

Although Augusta loved that story, she knew it was a far greater burden for Grandma Alex. She made a solemn promise to herself that she’d never make her millennium old relative relive the worst era of her life.

An so it was, because as nightfall came and they rested their eyes, so they could fight tomorrow. Grandma suffered a stroke.

Today is  29. 2. 3005, General population of the world, 299 survivors left.

 


I wrote this story a while back but held back from publishing it. I guess now’s as good a time as ever. I hope it makes sense to you and you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Don’t forget to let love shine through your words, and deeds.

Bless your beautiful hearts. Au revoir.

The Painting

Time really does fly by. It’s been a busy past couple of months, and this phase will only end in June hopefully. I have neglected interactions on this platform for a minute, albeit unintentionally, it has been devastating. I didn’t have time to pull together a story this week, fortunately, I  have this poem for “writing crisis” like now.                                                                   I love all art forms and often imagine that if I had the time I would project my creativity in making paintings, so here’s a poem that’ll stir your imagination, I hope you enjoy it.  Au Revoir darlings.

 

A lone man’s dreams these stories

Corals of ox-blood and ultramarine.

Delicate pieces of happiness, beauty & lust

War entwined onto the canvas on the wall.

 

Beauty floats in a meadow of virágok

Maidens of silk ebony skin,

Their radiant eyes veiled like morning dew

with voices like canaries.

Ensnaring them are men of power

Missles fire into the air

Corrupted soil turns crimson.

Volcanos give off condensed smug

Rain.

 

 

Feathered fawn, persnickety lots

A doe beside mossy greenery

Announcing it’s meek spirit

as if it were home

Wolves growl hastily at their prey

The blood moon runneth over

Flirting abstractions on tempera and pastel

 

 

The silhouette of a man

seated at a table

Elegance stares back at him

His bride by his side

Their hearts meet in the center

Knowing each other.

Finding each other

Completely free in each other.

Alas, evil stirs the ego of his brother

Consuming him, he unleashes  a wrath

Thus bringing an end  to a beautiful home

Man being his kin’s worse enemy.

 

Etched in brass beneath the painting;

“Her love although late, saved me,

but not before I forged a decree

and descended on the cul-de-sac to self-destruction.”

 

The fresco hangs haphazardly on the wall

Creating an imbalance between light and darkness.

Love and valor. Life and honor.

Archaic to the tides of change.

 

 

Virágok: origin; Hungarian, meaning; flowers