The day after tomorrow

It's called the Day After Tomorrow, DAT for short. And because of it, I know exactly what to do in order not to get killed in two days. So I can relax, and I won't have to worry about anything any more. Brilliant, eh?
Honestly, this machine has the best VR graphics yet, and that is saying something. Those scientists have really got onto something this time. Imagine it, a machine that calculates one possible path of your future, and then simulates the results. And it's never wrong. The military and Secret Services have got them, all the rich people too. It costs a fortune, so the closest most people ever come to them are the ads in the Arcade. But those people don't deserve them anyway. It was their choice to be poor, DAT taught me that. Every part of your life is based on the choices you make, and so every bad thing that happens to someone was their choice, and their choice alone. It wasn't any fault of mine.
Those blacks starving in Africa? I reckon they're just trying to get our food, money and sympathy. Bastards.
Yeah, it's their choice. Life has just felt so much better since I bought that beautiful machine. Now I know that everything that happens in the world was because of someone else's choices. And it's entirely up to them if they want to die from the BioPlague or not.
Yeah.
Anyway, it's been interesting talking to you. Look, no offence, but I think you should change your mind about being a beggar. I mean, seriously. Do you really want to live the rest of your short life wearing rags and begging for money? Think about it, OK?
What?
No, you cannot have ten dollars. Haven't you been listening to me? It's your choice if you want to be poor, but don't go trying to inflict it on anyone else.
Of course it's your choice!
Yeah, well, it's entirely up to you if you want to get evicted.
Well, if you didn't want it, then why did you choose it, huh? Answer that then.
What did you just call me? Speak up! Don't look at me like that! How dare you! You know who I am! I could have you slung in jail for verbal assault you know!
You don't care? Look, I am the richest man in America!
Yes, it was my choice to be rich.
Well, the fact that my father was a billionaire might have something to do with it... But I chose him, as well!
Of course you can choose your parents!
Well, its hardly my problem if you chose to have a drunken gambler for a father.
I...
I'd better be going. I've got an appointment to attend to.
For the last time, you cannot have any money!
Look, that's what soup kitchens are for!
Now GOODBYE!

A monologue/dialogue

Drowning cats. That's what it sounds like. Drowning cats on drugs.
What? How can you say that?
Just listen. He sounds like he's dying really slooooowly. He's not even making any sense! I mean, what the hell is he supposed to mean by “I'm worst at what I do best?” That's such a contradiction!
It's not supposed to make any sense! You derive whatever meaning you want from it!
The only meaning I can see is: I'm on drugs and I can't think of anything else to say so, hey, how about we put in something that sounds really deep but is in reality a load of crap? And lets put it to some heavy music and scream it out real loud so that no-one can understand us!
Look, the lyrics are an anthem to teenage rebellion.
“Load up on guns, bring your friends?” Come on. It sounds more like the anthem for “Serial Killers United”! And what the hell does the mosquito and the albino have to do with teenage rebellion? Admit it, you have no idea what you're talking about.
Well... I... The music is great, you've got to admit that.
Oh god, now he sounds really strange. What song is this one?
“Come as you are”.
Well, this doesn't make any sense either. What's with the “And I swear that I don't have a gun” business?
Well, obviously he hates this person, and he's trying to get them to come over, or whatever, and he's swearing that he doesn't have a gun, when actually he does. I think.
Guns again. This guy is seriously wrong in the head.
Was.
What?
Was wrong in the head. Not that he was.
Why, did he burst his lungs trying to rasp out those lyrics?
No, he killed himself.
Ha, that proves it. Wrong in the head. Insane. How did he kill himself?
He shot himself with a sawn off shotgun.
So I guess he did have a gun then, huh?
It's not funny. He was a good man.
Good? I had no idea. What the hell is this song about?
Tea.
What? Tea? How can you have a rock song about TEA?
Well... He obviously liked it.
Tea. He liked tea. And so naturally decides to write a song about it. Cherry flavoured, no less. How very creative.
Hey, I like this song.
I thought you would. Seems like it would be just your cup of tea. Excuse the pun. I think I'll change the track. What in the name of hell is this supposed to be? This sounds like the sound effects to some low budget science fiction movie about flying saucers!
Radio friendly Unit Shifter.
Radio Friendly unit shifter. Radio... What the hell was wrong with this guy?
Nothing was wrong with him! He was amazing!
Amazingly high, by the sound of his voice in this song.
Look, just because you don't have a voice like Kurt Cobain, doesn't mean you have to insult his music.
Yeah. You're right. Sorry.
It's OK.
I'll see you round.
Bye.

Resilience

See this man, as he gazes out the window at rapidly passing scenery. The way his short blonde hair falls over dark blue eyes . He is one face of many on the train, but he is the one we will observe.
He is listening to music on his MP4 player, and tapping his fingers to the beat.

Lets hear what he hears...

“Well I think it's fine, building jumbo planes.
Or taking a ride on a cosmic train.
Switch on summer from a slot machine.
Yes, get what you want to if you want, 'cause you can get anything.”

Lets see what he sees...

The brick walls of buildings speed past, with the occasional blurred bit of greenery. The train stops as it reaches a station, and his attention is grasped by an old man sitting on the platform, his tanned, weather beaten face etched with an expression of sadness. His clothes are tattered, and he clutches his frayed and billowing jacket around him in a desperate attempt to ward off the winter chill.

The song changes...

“It doesn't matter to me
It doesn't matter to me
I'll sit home and watch you all on my colour TV”

The train roars on, the sound of its passing drowned out by the music. Into a tunnel now, lit by fluorescent lights. The walls are covered in graffiti, hastily scribbled tags that seem to blend into one another with the speed. The train slows at it rounds a bend, and his eyes widen as a huge artwork is revealed, the other more mundane graffiti leaving a reverent space around it.
Beautifully painted vines, covered with leaves and blood red flowers, seem to grow out of the wall itself. The word “Resilience”, entwined by the vines and painted in black and gold copperplate writing, glimmers in the dim lighting of the tunnel. He frantically pulls a camera from his bag, but it is too late. It's gone.
He slumps back and sighs, replacing the camera, as the train emerges into the bright light of day.

The song changes...

“Perfect by nature, icons of self indulgence,
just what we all need
more lies about the world.”

A billboard comes into view, a pouting female model advertising a product, saying,
“Life just gets better and better.”
Scrawled across her face in spray paint, are the words: “Sincere lie.”

And now the train stops again. He glances up at the sign on the station, and stands, taking his bag.
The doors open with a hiss, and he steps out into the open air.

Is religion the most destructive institution in the world today?

Religion

Noun

1.a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, esp. when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.

Is religion the most destructive institution in the world today?

What a question.

I, for one, am not religious. Although many of my friends and the people I know are. So I will try to answer as best I can.

Religion, like so many other institutions, is hierarchical and sexist. Religious doctrine was written by men, and religious texts are read and interpreted predominantly by men. God is male, Allah is male, Buddha is male, Jesus is male. Eve was made from one of the ribs of Adam, implying that she is inferior to, and controllable by, him.

Religion is based on the separation of man from nature. You can be a Good Christian, or whatever you may be, and still destroy the world we live in. The world was made for man, and therefore he can do as he likes with it. I have heard the argument that humans are superior to animals etcetera, because, after all, have you ever seen an ape owning a house, a dog driving a car?

And my response to that is, is that necessarily clever? Cars, amongst billions of other man made inventions, are immensely destructive things. Is it clever to destroy? To kill without thought? To divide the world into tiny squares of land?

To roughly quote Douglas Adams' “The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the galaxy” from memory:

“Man believed that he was superior because he had created atomic bombs and waged war on his fellow humans, while all the dolphins had done was have fun and play in the water. Funnily enough, the dolphins believed that they were superior for precisely the same reasons.”

So, is religion the most destructive institution in the world today?

Richard Dawkins claims so in his documentary “The Root of All Evil.”

But to say that religion is “It”, is an oversimplification.

Education. Science. Corporations.

What of them?

Education serves to turn children into unquestioning, subservient little workers.

Science is a play on the religious separation from nature. Oh yes, they say that humans are animals too, but man is still superior, isn't he? They experiment on animals, create bigger and better ways to help global warming along, and to kill other humans.

Corporations continue the cycle of consuming and work. Earn more, buy more, and then you need to earn more in order to buy more. Round and round and round we go, until finally the Wheel of Fortune clicks to a stop at the spoke marked “Death”.

And there is so much more.

So, no. Religion is not the most destructive institution in the world today.

Then what is, you ask?

The institution to rule all institutions.

Civilisation.

The most interesting person you've ever met.

Her name was Draya. I first met her when I was on the bus going to school. She asked me if she could sit next to me. I said yes, of course. I was rather the School Jerk, so I was happy for anyone that wasn't a bully to sit there. I didn't notice the cat ears and claws until it was time to get off.
I don't know how many people meet their imaginary friend at the age of fourteen. And she was so real.
Draya, I miss you. You were my only friend. Come back. I'm sorry.
The day I lost her was the day my mother died.
I'd known that she was dying. But nothing had prepared me for the reality of her not being around any more. The phone call came at ten o'clock in the morning. My father answered, and when I heard him crying I ran downstairs. One look at his face and I knew what had happened. Draya lay a hand on my shoulder as he walked over and hugged me.
“I'm sorry.” She whispered into my ear as I stared numbly at my father's chest. He said I didn't have to go to school. I shook my head. I would go, because if I stayed at home I would have to think about her, and I couldn't bear that.
On the bus Draya didn't speak, just lay her arm on my shoulders and purred. It wasn't like her, usually she couldn't stop talking, and part of me wished she would start one of her pointless conversations with a question like: “Which would you prefer: To be eaten alive by ants, or be burnt alive as a witch?”
But I was also glad for her silence.
Perhaps I should take the time to describe Draya properly.
She was a little shorter than me, which meant she was fairly tall. She had long black hair, that ran wild and free of the torment of any brushes, combs, or shampoo. Her skin was dark, almost chocolatey in colour. She always wore the same frayed denim skirt and a matching vest , over a black T-shirt depicting a snow-leopard. She had pure white claws that she kept razor sharp with a nail file. Black cat ears would twitch back and forth as she listened to everything going on around her. Her eyes were yellow, with slits for pupils during the day, becoming orbs in darkness.
Her favourite sort of music was heavy rock, which was strange, because I hated it. Can imaginary friends have different likes and dislikes to their imaginer?
She was a wild girl. And the most interesting person I'd ever met.
I know, I know, I 'm talking about her as if she was real. But she was. At least, she was to me.
While we were at school I was teased for talking to myself when I was speaking to her. It was Brian Harrison of course. He's always trying to make me look stupid and uncool, and invariably succeeds. I won't go into the details, but I ended up with a blood lip and a black eye because of the encounter. My emotion levels had already obviously been running high, but now I was furious as well as miserable.
And I got mad at Draya.
She asked me if I was okay, and I blew up.
“Of course I'm not OK!” I hissed at her, quietly so that no-one would hear. “I've just been beaten up because of you, and you're not even real!”
I knew I shouldn't have said it as soon as the words came out of my mouth. She gave me a hurt look, and then just... Disappeared.
Draya, I'm so sorry. Come back. I'm all alone now.
Draya, I'm so lonely. I miss you.
I lay down my pen, and feel a single tear trickle down my cheek. I lost my Mother, and now I've lost her. I look at my watch. 12 am. It's time for bed.
As I crawl into bed and turn off my light, I suddenly sit upright. There is a noise at my bedroom door. And it sounds like cat claws, scratching to come in.

A children's story

A children's story.

We are the unborn children. We are walking down the beach, gazing around us at the other people here. Our feet sink into the warm sand. Ahead of us a group of adults are playing with a beach ball, throwing it from one person to the other, and each time the ball seems to be a little smaller. As we come closer we see that the ball is a tiny Earth. Many people are joining in with the game now, children as well. We call out to them, telling them to stop, but they laugh and throw even faster. The ball keeps growing smaller and smaller, and it's really obvious how much damage they're doing. We start to shout at them, and now we're joined by all the people who care about us. Here are all the ghosts of the animals that they've brought to extinction, all the people that they have destroyed and enslaved. We crowd around them, pressing closer and closer, and there is fear in their eyes. But they do not stop. As the ball diminishes, the swimmers in the water come onto shore, coughing and choking. The trees around the edge of the sand are shrivelling and dying. The creatures of the sea beach themselves in a desperate attempt to get away from the acidity of the water. Our tears pool at our feet, lapping at our toes, and even those are polluted now.
Finally one of us leaps for the Earth, now the size of a golf ball, and all of us join the struggle in a life or death game of keepings off. The tormentors throw the earth higher and higher. The birds swoop above us, and now one of them catches the earth in its claws, and flies far away, keeping it safe.
We all leave the beach, staring at the destruction. And the question that's beating a frantic tattoo inside our minds can be heard in the lamenting wails of all living things.
Why?

She looked in.

The window opened up on another world, a place she had never seen... She looked in, and fell into it's depths.
She was lying in what she knew to be a forest, having seen pictures of them in their last days. The leaves above swayed gently in the breeze, turning the ground into a great pattern of filtered sunlight. Flowers blossomed all around her, filling the air with a perfume that didn't seem quite right. Somehow, it was fake. A scent like something you might spray from a bottle.
Ignoring this flaw, she got up from the leaf litter she had been lying on, and watched as a four-legged creature stepped daintily towards her. Deer, she thought, and stroked its velvety nose. Birds tittered in the trees above, their melodic calls awing her.
She had never heard birds before.
The deer walked away, then glanced back, as if willing her to follow. Its soulful brown eyes appeared slightly glassy, but that didn't matter. She strode after it, following along twisting forest paths. Eventually it stopped before a bubbling stream. The water was clear and pure, and the sound of it rushing over the rocky bed was like millions of tiny bells. Wrong, said a voice in her head, but once again she ignored it.
Small fish darted toward her as she stepped into the stream's depths, tickling her bare feet. The deer bent its head and drank, and she had a sudden urge to do the same. But she couldn't, she knew she couldn't. If she did she would be thrust away from this place, and she didn't have enough money to return.
The world around her had already begun to darken and disappear. She sighed, annoyed. Surely it hadn't been fifteen minutes already?
"I'm sorry." Said a metallic voice from above, "Your session is over."
The Virtual Reality booth materialized around her. She pulled off the VR goggles, and stepped out into the world of plastic and metal. The world where there were no forests, no birds, no deer, left. She exited the Arcade and looked up at the sky, comparing the swirling darkness to the bright blue of the fake forest. Had it really been like that, all those years ago? Or was it, like the Politicians said, all just a tale told to make the human race seem evil?
She supposed that she would never know.