Tuesday, January 29, 2008

The Story That Changed The World Forever And Marked A New Beginning For Mankind; Saved By The Bell The People Linked Arms And Embraced Their Future With Rosy Cheeks, White Teeth And An Overwhelming Sense That - Perhaps For The First Time - They Were Alive, Truly Alive And Everything Up Until This Point Had Just Been A Strange And Arduous Test To See If They Were Ready For Such Freedoms, And They Were.

I tried to write a story that would appeal to all of mankind, a story to unite the nations.

This would be a story that would end all wars, that would resurrect all the good people who died young, that would make money, debt and credit moot concepts.

It was a story that would burn the gallows and disarm the firing squads, a story that would catch George Bush with his dong in an animal, only the animal wouldn’t mind because this was a story of love, a story where the only victims are those who didn’t heed the warnings, those who just kept pushing and pushing when all the world was screaming for them to stop, those who just got greedy and drunk on power and lost all sense of time and place, right and wrong.

It was a story written in the sky with vapour trails, carved in the golden sands of all the continents, sculpted in cathedrals of ice at both the poles, painted onto a grain of sand by a smiling China man who survived communism, survived book burnings and beatings on the soles of his bare with bamboo sticks, survived being buried neck deep in the dirty in the midday soon.

What a story it was. A real victory lap of words, a klaxon of approval; a story that read like all the world’s champagne corks popping at once. It was the story that marked the beginning of a new calendar for humanity, a clean slate. It was moment when humans awoke from their deep slumber.

This story – it made people switch off their televisions, cut up their credit cards and burn their paperwork. They flushed their pills down the toilet and made monuments from discarded mobile phones, all of them ringing and vibrating at once. Suddenly they realised they were free – truly free. The illusion was over and this was real.

As a result of this story everything of beauty was worshipped and because beauty is in the eye of the beholder everything became sacred: the trees, the ice shelves, the animals, the woodlands, the people. True equality – the likes of which was previously unimaginable by a species whose understanding of it was limited - pervaded and the people began to laugh. They laughed long and they laughed hard, each in their own unique way. At that moment cynicism died along with all the other diseases.

They re-read the story and then they ran out into the streets, laughing. “What the hell were we even worrying about?” they said to one another. “We were taking life seriously for a moment there.” Then they rolled in the grass and they swam in the Lakes. Some of them stayed indoors with the curtains shut, but that was OK too, because this new-found sense of freedom was limitless, and people could do whatever it was that made them happy so long as they weren’t hurting anyone else. Things were neither exclusive nor inclusive; they just were.

Idealism, naiveté and charity became things to aspire to. God died, but no-one mourned him because he never existed anyway, and even if he did he had died for the people’s sins, so even those of a religious bent felt good about it.

They kept the cathedrals, temples and churches and synagogues open anyway because they were building of beauty and beauty was all that mattered.

I tried to write a story that said all of this and implied so much more. I sat there thinking about it, then I wrote it down.

When the story was read and the world had changed, they said “Who wrote such a story?” and others replied “It was no-one, just some guy. I think the point he was making was, it was all here under our noses all along.”

“We should make him a God,” said someone. “Such vision deserves deification!”

“No,” said another. “You’re missing the point. It’s not about false idolatry. It’s about an appreciation of the real, a great levelling of everything. Besides, I met him once and he’s really nothing special. He just sits there all day drinking coffee and scratching his balls. He’s pretty anti-social.”

“OK,” they said and they ran outside laughing, to smell the flowers and kiss the dirt.

And the rest – as you know – is history.

Ben Myers


xtx said...

that was so great.

Joseph Ridgwell said...

I thought it was good as well.....

the bomber

Guernican said...

I rather liked it.

Although, strictly speaking, you probably should have prefaced it with "After David Eggers".

Ta, R.

Sarah said...

"At that moment cynicism died along with all the other diseases."

haha. I really enjoyed the story and the whole idea of everything wonderful already existing if only we realize it. Although, personally, I think the last line weakened everything preceding it.