Status: In Progress
Zeitgeist.
II
In the beginning, Goths created heaven and Earth.
This is the beginning of the memoirs of Monica Jane.
My title however, lied. This will not be the beginning. Who is to say when something truly begins? Is it at the implication? The result? The conception? The spark of electricity before a brain wave? The general nostalgia which had lingered for years before?
All of these points are arguable, so I begin somewhere in between the start and the middle of these suggestions. At the beginning.
The town of Zeitgeist was born in odd sort of fashion. It had no Georgian explorer proudly dipped in bronze lacquer with a plaque affixed to its base explaining why the passers-by should take notice. It had no noble heritage at all; no history of queens and kings and rulers and revolutions. In the midst of an open plane and due to its happy self- containment, it had no reason to concern itself with contemporary matters. It sat undisturbed by the rush and buzz of the 21st century beyond, and time stood still by running in circles.
In its oddity, there was normalcy in its inception. A bunch of people who thought themselves very important all got together and signed some emulsions of wood pulp with the blood of replicated blueberries. This business was all very secretive, but all quite innocent, I assure you. You see, the dissatisfied had before simply contented themselves with being dissatisfied for years, letting their woes be known on wit-filled soapbox blogs and in corrective annotations on bad grammar. But none had actually done anything.
Sometimes you hear of tribes of people who have taken to the introverted way of life, like the Amish or the Savages of Brave New World or, singularly, the legend of John Swartzwelder. This was along the lines of our intention on the day the town code was signed. We were to be cut off, isolated, stoic to the surrounding explosion of technology and pace. We had no need for the rush, nor the products sold to help us rush more efficiently, and like hell, the road to Zeitgeist was paved by ignorant Americans.
To be honest, I had grown ill from a society where one is seen and lazy or unambitious if one doesn’t yearn for a fruitful career. I wanted to be a wife. But the feminists know best when they tell me I must live to their standards and throw away my choice to become part of the plutonium in the nuclear family. Not be a docile woman and succumb to the part of my brain telling me that this is what I wanted in my life.
The capacity for young children to believe in anything is fascinating. Their sense of logic can easily by swayed and as their minds grow they may be taught to be a certain person, be a certain way. Unfortunately, children are the most unbiased, untainted form of being and they aren’t as corrupt as the latter half of society. They wanted justice, and we wanted the Earth to stand still. Unfortunately the Michael Rennie in all of them decided that it was time to rescue morality from the hands of the adults and save the world from themselves, stop their Earth standing still, and push progress ahead.
We had but one vision: To keep the Santa-esque myth of timelessness alive through our children. We were never to tell them, and for all they knew, there was no outside world. No-one knew, except for the Board. But we were fools to think that our time warp could be danced for centuries. What progress and revolution have combined, we were powerless to put asunder.
Oh, my dear reader, I am not your missing piece of that jigsaw. I am the painting on top of it
This is the beginning of the memoirs of Monica Jane.
My title however, lied. This will not be the beginning. Who is to say when something truly begins? Is it at the implication? The result? The conception? The spark of electricity before a brain wave? The general nostalgia which had lingered for years before?
All of these points are arguable, so I begin somewhere in between the start and the middle of these suggestions. At the beginning.
The town of Zeitgeist was born in odd sort of fashion. It had no Georgian explorer proudly dipped in bronze lacquer with a plaque affixed to its base explaining why the passers-by should take notice. It had no noble heritage at all; no history of queens and kings and rulers and revolutions. In the midst of an open plane and due to its happy self- containment, it had no reason to concern itself with contemporary matters. It sat undisturbed by the rush and buzz of the 21st century beyond, and time stood still by running in circles.
In its oddity, there was normalcy in its inception. A bunch of people who thought themselves very important all got together and signed some emulsions of wood pulp with the blood of replicated blueberries. This business was all very secretive, but all quite innocent, I assure you. You see, the dissatisfied had before simply contented themselves with being dissatisfied for years, letting their woes be known on wit-filled soapbox blogs and in corrective annotations on bad grammar. But none had actually done anything.
Sometimes you hear of tribes of people who have taken to the introverted way of life, like the Amish or the Savages of Brave New World or, singularly, the legend of John Swartzwelder. This was along the lines of our intention on the day the town code was signed. We were to be cut off, isolated, stoic to the surrounding explosion of technology and pace. We had no need for the rush, nor the products sold to help us rush more efficiently, and like hell, the road to Zeitgeist was paved by ignorant Americans.
To be honest, I had grown ill from a society where one is seen and lazy or unambitious if one doesn’t yearn for a fruitful career. I wanted to be a wife. But the feminists know best when they tell me I must live to their standards and throw away my choice to become part of the plutonium in the nuclear family. Not be a docile woman and succumb to the part of my brain telling me that this is what I wanted in my life.
The capacity for young children to believe in anything is fascinating. Their sense of logic can easily by swayed and as their minds grow they may be taught to be a certain person, be a certain way. Unfortunately, children are the most unbiased, untainted form of being and they aren’t as corrupt as the latter half of society. They wanted justice, and we wanted the Earth to stand still. Unfortunately the Michael Rennie in all of them decided that it was time to rescue morality from the hands of the adults and save the world from themselves, stop their Earth standing still, and push progress ahead.
We had but one vision: To keep the Santa-esque myth of timelessness alive through our children. We were never to tell them, and for all they knew, there was no outside world. No-one knew, except for the Board. But we were fools to think that our time warp could be danced for centuries. What progress and revolution have combined, we were powerless to put asunder.
Oh, my dear reader, I am not your missing piece of that jigsaw. I am the painting on top of it