I can’t tell you how relieved i was: something was happening all around me; relieved of what? that Jesus was coming? Or not? Frankly i thought Jesus was actually a person from the other side that was experiencing fatigue, and, to make things right, he was going to drive human history to a precipice—he was going to tell humanity a story that would help them understand the way the afterlife works. He wasn’t, in fact, a real person—he was this hologram of a person, a person that lived in our perception but was really just a projection of our imperfections: he was unloading the weight of his group’s sins, and, in so doing, he’d transfer to another world—a different afterlife; one that would consume him—one that would erase him, once we, and by we I mean my family, paid for our sins, the sins that made the projection of this man so seemingly real.
But this man told us about our free-agency—a concept that, for many, is hard to understand. We choose, he told us, to believe in him and what he was doing (dumping his back and shifting to another world where he probably wouldn’t ever see his friends and family again—as if, that is, that he was real). That’s what he was really doing, but in his mind he was teaching us that through one person’s sacrifice, moving, that is, to another world, his group and the group he was joining in the new world would experience levity and unbounded happiness for a long time to come. That was the natural way—that’s what he taught us, and that’s what those that followed him (impressed by his other-worldly energy that made everything he did a miracle) taught us, too. If we are obedient, however, and don’t opt out of a life that involves some degree of study or self-improvement, then we live free and without fatigue.
It was both a moose and a happy face that i saw, then, for the democrats had secured a little power and momentum to counter the aging Jack Daniels and his plan to get away with everything he possibly could (no doubt, that, if he got the chance, he’d gas immigrants or those that were too poor to keep up—he’d gas his enemies, too. Those, that is, that he perceived his enemies—people that actually would have helped him find his way if he repented—and complied with what his doctors told him to do). But the real person—the little kid that Jack Daniels held for ransom every night, was what he feared the most—he was the person that would make the meaninglessness of Jack’s life most apparent, and, in short, he’d make him pay for his crimes in one way or another. The death penalty was out of the question—and prison was inhumane, boredom was inhumane, but the things that Jack would have to do to release his inner child would have been punishment enough—he’d eat nothing, for a while, but invasive thoughts.
But what am I thinking and feeling? i wondered if Ursula was testing me—and i might have said, “O ye of little faith” and told her, but instead i asked her what she was thinking and feeling. I live amongst flowers—everything is flowers; and what else? I see our moose on the horizon. It is huge. yes, it seemed the elitist democrats that only did what served them best and strayed from the party otherwise, were going to be forced out. That was another thing that we were incredibly happy about. We not only had a democratic governor presiding over the state of Virginia, but we were focused, now more than ever, on serving working class families—the people that have their lives stolen from them, that are forced to work mindless tasks over and over again for money that doesn’t pay the bills.
but then she said she was sad—and i assumed that the only that thing could make her sad was an argument with somebody she loved: so imagined that some conflict emerged between her and her boyfriend because he wasn’t as excited as she was—but more than that—as if he didn’t like her when she wanted to celebrate. but overall i’m happy and that’s great, I thought. She might’ve been quite different than me—or the person i’d been, when i argued my way out of relationships that were my best shot at a family—despite the fact that the real me (and them) made a poor match. No—i knew, now, that there was a partner out there, if, in the end, that was what i wanted.