twenty sixty seven, page 1

twenty sixty seven
a.v. zeppa
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.
Author's Disclaimer: This book is a work of fiction. It is a story written entirely from the author's imagination. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real locations, is used fictitiously. The characters and events in this story are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Copyright ©2023 A.V. Zeppa
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 9798858704522
and when blind winds fan the firestorm
humanity becomes an illusion
izhinaagwad
look a certain way
Once there was a time when the earth was alive Birds sang and rivers flowed and the green grew into fantasy lands that welcomed every new creature to come and enjoy The sun was a welcome entity that sang in the sky instead of burning skin and dreams and knowledge like a black hole incinerator The electromagnetic structures of the universe were still hidden from innocent misinformed reason Families were self contained spheres helping one another realize the dream of simpler times Beyond the reach of kings totalitarianism oligarchies pseudoscience prophets But it did not last Slowly everything decayed like autumn’s fallen leaves Living in harmony with nature with one another one day to abusing everything in sight Rotting from the inside out They scorched it They scorched everything that was once perfection on a grand scale Oh the arrogance of the mindless powerful entities who wanted control over every other carbon entity It happened so easily The brainwashed humans were programmed with mindless technology and that technology let the humans play endlessly in virtual worlds thinking they were connected to each other Technology had become the ultimate empty orgasm Technology pulled the wool over their eyes by telling them to use it so they could feel relevant So they could be a cyber celebrity everyone would love So they could have their twenty one point one two seconds of fame So they could have thousands of likes So they wouldn’t feel so lost But they were lost and never knew it Mirror mirror in your mind show me the empty love of the blind They looked in the mirror thinking they had made it to the next level in the labyrinth but they had no reflection Oh the shame of it all Lost Lost Lost So Lost . . .
the great grandfather
And the gray had hidden what used to be young, emotional, intelligent—a clear blue sky—a place where laughter and innocence once made their mark. Now lost.
Arthur dove into long lost memories trying to make sense of what was going to happen. He didn’t know why it was happening, but then having control over one’s life had disappeared way before he was born. He was part of the flow of technological impulses that connected him to a reality he wanted to destroy. But he had no power—or knowledge, like in the olden days when there was true freedom—when people wrote books, composed music, looked to the stars, and had differences of opinion. Those thoughts, those ideas were only memories from when he was a little boy.
They were stories,
like fairytales.
To go back . . .
Six years old—
Memories of his great grandfather flooded his mind.
He lived with Arthur’s family until he died.
He was kind.
He was mysterious.
His deep set eyes frightened Arthur because truth always radiated from them. They were eyes that knew the history of the world long before everything had changed, long before the minds were placed in neutral, long before real emotion was taken away without anyone even realizing it.
Arthur admired his great grandfather, but it confused him to see someone so old—the wrinkles, the white hair, the fading voice, the slowness, the smell of ointments and medicine—and yet he was fascinated by his warmth and the stories he told. Arthur wondered why he could still remember the stories. His great grandfather told him it was a gift no one else knew about. In turn, the great grandfather enjoyed Arthur’s curiosity, passion, and innocence.
His aloof sister did not like the great grandfather at all. She was too self-absorbed. She could care less about an old wrinkly storyteller.
She only cared about herself.
She was a social media queen.
She was nine different platform’s dream.
She was the ultimate sexual fantasy for young boys and old predators.
The great grandfather was invisible to her—a nuisance—already dead in her mind.
Arthur remembered standing near the bedroom door many times looking through the crack to get a glimpse. Like a mystical magician, his great grandfather always knew he was there and would invite him in. “Come in grandson,” he would say. Arthur felt embarrassed about getting caught, but that feeling would quickly pass. His great grandfather was always looking out the window at the smoke and haze and city squalor.
“What are you looking at today?” Arthur asked.
“Nothing really. Actually, I was just thinking about simplicity . . . and elegance.”
Arthur didn’t understand. “Can you see them?”
His great grandfather laughed. “No, no. They’re just concepts that have been lost for years.”
“What is simplicity?”
He took a sip of cold tea, adjusted his body in his faded worn chair, and began. Arthur knew he would be going on another journey. “Once, a long time ago, the earth was not crowded, not squeezed into cities like it is now.” He pointed at the decrepit skyscrapers that filled the window. “My grandmother, your great great great grandmother, was indigenous—three quarters Ojibwe, which makes you and me indigenous. Sadly, your mother has forgotten this past.”
“I don’t understand,” Arthur said.
“It means our ancestors were the first people to inhabit the land here. They roamed free for thousands of years and were stewards of the land. And in return, the land fed them and protected them from the harsh elements. It was a peaceful existence for the most part. But even back then the land was divided into territorial regions among the different indigenous clans, which caused many deadly territorial confrontations. Sadly, wars and killing has been an ongoing part of human existence. No culture is immune to war. And then it got even more aggressive. Our indigenous ancestors’ way of life changed when our other ancestors came here from Europe. A new way of living took over the land. They were not kind to our people. Our European ancestors ended up claiming the land and dividing it up into smaller plots, which caused many deadly conflicts. Our indigenous ancestors were looked down upon—not seen as fully human—just uneducated savages. The Europeans took advantage of our generous nature and took our land through corrupt treaties and clever stealing of the remaining land we did own. Eventually our indigenous ancestors were defeated through territorial wars and were moved to reservations. Control and humiliation were their new devices to eradicate their way of life. And then the government and European religion, primarily the Catholic Church, took indigenous children from their parents and sent them to boarding schools. They called indigenous children ‘savages.’ Parents were not allowed to see their children—they were stolen. Those children were no longer allowed to speak their language. They were humiliated and threatened into assimilation. Their long sacred hair was cut off—their heritage and dignity were cut off. They became slaves through forced labor. Many indigenous children were beaten, sexually abused, and killed, all in the name of a European god. They dug up thousands of bodies at those boarding schools as evidence. All of the carnage and psychological scars were evidence. The survivors of boarding schools told their stories as evidence. Indigenous children were adopted by European people as evidence. The carefully planned eradication of the indigenous way of life was evidence—evidence that was denied and hidden from history, pretending it never happened. But it did happen. The graves are there. The stories survive. The Europeans destroyed the entire indigenous nation all in the name of god and country—pure cultural genocide.”
Arthur didn’t know what he was feeling, but something called anger rose from the pit of his stomach. He felt ashamed. “How did we become European?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
His great grandfather sighed. “Assimilation and coercion for the most part. Part of survival is something called love. Our culture still existed on a small scale. Some people fell in love. It was a natural part of being human. But many indigenous women were forced into marriage by white men.”
“What is love?”
The great grandfather patted Arthur’s head. “It is a strong emotion that brings people together. There are special bonds between people, and sometimes it is love. Unfortunately, that emotion has been lost to drugs and technology. Instant gratification and brain numbing is the new love. Being lost in virtual reality is the new love. It saddens me.”
Arthur looked puzzled.
“I know you don’t understand, but an example of real love is when you visit me and we talk and share stories. I love when you come to see me.”
Arthur finally understood the connection they had. “I love you, great grandfather.”
“I love you too, grandson.
“Great grandfather, please tell me how you lived when you were young. Where were you born?”
“I was born on a farm . . . 320 acres of land . . . meadows, forests, streams, ponds, and all kinds of different animals. My own slice of heaven on earth. I can still smell the earth and the animals that I woke to every single day. The other thing I remember was the freedom. How elegant it was.”
“I don’t understand what acres are, or what a farm is,” Arthur said.
His great grandfather looked sad. “An acre is a measurement of land. An acre is 43,560 square feet. It’s a lot of land.”
“I know that’s something called math,” Arthur said. “My father said they used to teach it in school, but they don’t anymore. It sounds mysterious.”
“I wish they still taught math. People need to know about mathematics and science. This world needs mathematics and science, especially on a farm. Everything in the world is math related. And science? People need to know how the world and the universe works. They need to know about physics. They need to know about biology. Math and science answers all of the questions about life—how we came to be.”
“I’d like to learn about them, but they won’t teach them.”
“People in powerful positions don’t want your generation to have that kind of knowledge—that kind of power. I could be eliminated for saying that, but I don’t care anymore.”
Arthur could tell his great grandfather was getting angry. “Tell me more about farms.”
“Farms were wonderful places to grow up. Many families like mine lived on farms before everyone was forced to live in cities. Our farm was beautiful. We raised cows and chickens and pigs. I wish I had pictures so you could see what the animals looked like. We planted corn and wheat and rye on acres and acres of land. We had a forest full of trees. I know you’ve never seen a tree, but believe me, they are beautiful, and they’re still out there beyond the city. They are the givers of life. We used to chop certain trees down to make furniture and to heat our house. Our farm was a Garden of Eden, unlike the city we’re living in.”
Arthur had a hard time understanding what his great grandfather was saying. He couldn’t visualize having fields or forests to play in because he had only known a tiny part of the city where he lived, where he was allowed to exist. There were no trees or open land or mythical animals or closeness of family. It was like a fairytale in his mind.
He started thinking about the concept of freedom. He had all he wanted. He only went to school three days a week, and it was only for four hours. It was where humanoid educators taught everyone how to play video games and the benefits of total immersion into the world of virtual reality. They taught him how hand-held communication devices, social media and video games were pure freedom. They taught him that the other reality was just an illusion—a cynical world that polluted the mind with trivial concepts like knowledge and individuality.
And then Arthur remembered another story his great grandfather told him. “The dusty books on the school shelves were reminders of being lost in worthless philosophies—in worthless imagination. People stopped reading books and listening to music years ago after video games and social media took over the neurotransmitters in the brain. Libraries closed down. Book stores went out of business. They stopped listening to music, so it disappeared along with musicians. They just faded into nothingness.”
The past two generations could only read basic words—enough to verbally communicate. Reading had been eliminated in school. Real knowledge had become extinct. In its place people communicated with basic language skills approved by the government. Emoji hieroglyphics were the other form of communication approved by the government. The government provided free drugs to get high. It became mandatory—part of the master plan. The drug treatments began at the age of five. The humanoid educators at school injected students with a precise cocktail of drugs each morning to help their minds experience virtual reality at the most intense level. That was the real freedom according to the educators.
Arthur was sad. “I wish I could live like you did when you were young. I wish I could read books like you once did, but they’ve mostly disappeared.”
His great grandfather hugged him. “Me too. Somewhere it all went wrong.”
Arthur sat next to his great grandfather’s chair. They both looked out the window and sighed. Ten minutes later his great grandfather had fallen asleep.
Arthur quietly slipped out of the room and went outside to think.
The memory slowly slips away.
human algorithms
they were so easy to program—like fishing with a sucker on the hook—dangling shiny objects of desire so they would bite with a frenzy. and they did bite over and over hoping to be as relevant and happy as the influencers they followed. they kept clicking and clicking without even realizing they were doing it. the addictive pleasures of dopamine, the neurotransmitter that made their bodies tingle with euphoric pleasure—
click click click,
like like like,
notice me, notice me, notice me,
because I’m noticing you.
the chemical messenger of arousal and the depression that followed kept them coming back for more.
It was so easy—
Arthur
Arthur sat on the front stoop listening to sirens echo down the streets, and helicopter blades chop chop chopping while hovering in the sky. His two older children were out and about, as usual, meeting up with other influencers. They had stopped going to school because their indoctrination had taken hold almost instantly. They were completely immersed in virtual reality life by the age of twelve—another government success story.
The morning drug truck had already made its way through the neighborhood. The second truck, a van that held certain secrets, driven by humanoids, was close by. Routine was important to the Plugged In society.
Late morning was in full swing, as usual—delectable drugs being given out and certain humans being taken away, one by one, for government reasons. Arthur’s wife had been taken away two days earlier along with seven other neighbors. He missed her, but didn’t quite know why. Sorrow was a new emotion he was experiencing as a side effect of weening himself off the mandated drugs. He discreetly began his quest to unhook from drugs a few months prior after he heard a declaration that was issued by Emperor Vikram, the supreme ruler. He felt pings of emotional pain as he watched them take his wife away. One of the humanoids was logically matter of fact, “Sorry Arthur, but our goal is to enhance society. It is becoming the new normal.”
He knew he would never see his wife again. Arthur lit a cigarette and looked up at the sky, like he was hoping something magical would fly out of nowhere and change everything to the time when his great grandfather was a boy.
The emotional pain that had been numbed for years was now front and center. He felt it in his bones, but refused to take the pills and smoke chemically laced joints, hoping for clarity, whatever that was. He knew he had to pretend to be plugged into virtual reality because it was mandated.
They had all been sucked in, enticed through instant gratification.
No bombs had to be thrown.
No bullets had to fly.
No knowledge of the past was required. Everyone gave up their emotions and individualism and integrity and dreams, and they didn’t have to fire a shot. It was only a matter of time before their brains were parked in neutral.
Windows were wide open on all of the neighborhood buildings as the hum of virtual life leaked out. The enticing sounds of virtual games and futuristic sounds could be heard from every decaying structure that people called home sweet home.
Arthur listened as an intense conversation was taking place down the block. A group of people were discussing the latest virtual reality spectaculars that kept them plugged in twenty four seven. One woman said it was so real that she felt like she had been transported to another dimension. The cadence in her voice was similar to someone being on a first date, fakingly shy, holding back within a contrived innocence, hoping to spin the sticky web that would bind them into a perfectly intertwined ending. She said she couldn’t get enough—her body needed it—she loved having multiple partners and couldn’t wait to play again.


