Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Dust to Dust

"I'M SIGNIFICANT!" screamed the speck of dust.

And he was. He had been flicked off Julius Ceasar's tunic as he was stabbed by the Guardians of Democaracy.

He had been a part of the red tikka on Subhas Chandra Bose's forehead as he signed a document in blood.

He was the first to be hit by a radioactive particles at Nagasaki.

He had been catapulted a million miles into the atmosphere and finally landed on the arms of a lone protester who stopped rolling tanks in China.

He was a significant speck of dust.

But now he was being judged. His crime: Hitching a ride on a space shuttle and trying to escape - leave this gravity well.

You see, specs of dust weren't allowed to leave here. It was in their contract. It didn't stop millions of them from trying each year though.

So he was now being judged. The judge: A large, heavy rock. One of the Establishment. Oh they didn't mind not leaving. They had it good. Comfortable. Once people grow up, they have no idea what's cool anymore.

Our Significant Speck of Dust sighed. He knew the end result. Prison. Sentenced to a life of drowning in an ocean and living on the sea floor. A refugee dust particle forever with no chance of escape. He screamed his lungs out.

I think it's time we got this bit of dust to a psychologist.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Curiosity Killed the Cat

Hashish was a Tinkerer.

That's what we called them. Tinkerers. Loathed by the good bible fearing folks of the town's crowded streets, they hid themselves in Mommy's basement and other dark unnoticed virtual corners.

They aren't Normal. For one, they stay awake after sunset, sometimes All Night. That's how most of them are caught anyway.

Though, they have it fairly easy in this country. East of here, Tinkerers are publicly quartered every weekend. "For Sport". At a time when the biggest religions are publicly traded in stock markets, it ain't wise to anger the Mobs of Belief.

If my father had his way, they'd all be locked up and exposed to small doses of Alpha-radiation. Not enough to kill, just enough to grotesquely mutate - he thought the irony was perfect: they'd finally resemble their damned creations in the end.