If I focus real hard from my eyrie in the green vinyl chair I can see minute cracks in the cream paintwork that form the clock’s face. And zooming in closer with superman-magnivision I can see the dark rays of time that leak through these cracks from the mechanism beneath.
Time, the mechanism that drives the world; that hums beneath the soles of my feet like artificial gravity, dragging me and everyone else headlong into the future.
I know the mechanism is a product of culture and of the collective mind; the colony of blind progress.
I know therefore that if I try hard enough I will be able to influence that mechanism, check its motion, causing the thin black hands to slow, and eventually to stop. If I tried hard enough, that is.
Alternately I could cause those spindly black hands to speed up until they blurred; the days, nights, months and years flying past. I would emerge from my stupor only when it was all over – when they had brought the apocalypse upon the planet, by hastening the Ice Age or by atomic suicide, by mass genocide or natural catastrophe.
I would emerge only when the end of the world was over. I would emerge into a world where people no longer cared how much they weighed, where woman no longer contaminated their bodies with plastic or were sold on night cream with anti-wrinkle hydrocermides. Where men no longer cared about proactive rear wheel steering or intelligent windscreen wipers, hard-on gigabyte Intel processors and liquid RAM chipsets, Bluetooth headsets and ergonomic aerodynamic breakfast cereal to keep you regular.
Where children are no longer born into the slavery of their parents’ evangelical pursuit of the mighty dollar.
Where the list of the hundred best everything is no longer important.
A time when people listen to music for the sheer pleasure without thought of what tomorrow’s big hit is going to be or whether TimeLifeWarnerEMI would declare record profits for the quarter causing the markets to rally after a day of sluggish trading with The DOW being dragged down by poor performance in the Tech sector.
A time ignorant of oil.
A time where the end of the day did not exist other than for the sun to set and nobody strove to be in the zone or sought windows of opportunity in front of which to hang curtains of satin cliché and lacy aphorism.
A time when The System had finally fallen - the revolution been and gone, by whimper or bang, by fire or by ice, with the survivors living in the moment; tomorrow too far ahead, today too large an obstacle, full of earthy needs – all the better to concentrate the mind.
Time, the mechanism that drives the world; that hums beneath the soles of my feet like artificial gravity, dragging me and everyone else headlong into the future.
I know the mechanism is a product of culture and of the collective mind; the colony of blind progress.
I know therefore that if I try hard enough I will be able to influence that mechanism, check its motion, causing the thin black hands to slow, and eventually to stop. If I tried hard enough, that is.
Alternately I could cause those spindly black hands to speed up until they blurred; the days, nights, months and years flying past. I would emerge from my stupor only when it was all over – when they had brought the apocalypse upon the planet, by hastening the Ice Age or by atomic suicide, by mass genocide or natural catastrophe.
I would emerge only when the end of the world was over. I would emerge into a world where people no longer cared how much they weighed, where woman no longer contaminated their bodies with plastic or were sold on night cream with anti-wrinkle hydrocermides. Where men no longer cared about proactive rear wheel steering or intelligent windscreen wipers, hard-on gigabyte Intel processors and liquid RAM chipsets, Bluetooth headsets and ergonomic aerodynamic breakfast cereal to keep you regular.
Where children are no longer born into the slavery of their parents’ evangelical pursuit of the mighty dollar.
Where the list of the hundred best everything is no longer important.
A time when people listen to music for the sheer pleasure without thought of what tomorrow’s big hit is going to be or whether TimeLifeWarnerEMI would declare record profits for the quarter causing the markets to rally after a day of sluggish trading with The DOW being dragged down by poor performance in the Tech sector.
A time ignorant of oil.
A time where the end of the day did not exist other than for the sun to set and nobody strove to be in the zone or sought windows of opportunity in front of which to hang curtains of satin cliché and lacy aphorism.
A time when The System had finally fallen - the revolution been and gone, by whimper or bang, by fire or by ice, with the survivors living in the moment; tomorrow too far ahead, today too large an obstacle, full of earthy needs – all the better to concentrate the mind.
1 comment:
I've heard of a speculative theory of time speeding up termed,'the quickening'. Where people, animals, and all living organisms alike are adapting poorly to the increasingly frenetic pace of life and their surroundings. They have manifested anxiety and mental afflictions in themselves unknown a generation before and they're exploited by unscrupulous pharmaceutical companies. Normally docile animals are becoming predatory and think of the massive climate and Earth changes. Yes,change is afoot and coming rapidly. Everything is cyclical and like you eloquently pointed out, it's just a matter of time.
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