Once upon a time, there lived a Mr Winli Bishmi, and a Mrs Kwipin Bishmi, who were wise and true - even though being wise and true wasn´t easy under A.I.´s rule. You had to be quite tricky, and streetwise - and extremely careful. Winli and Kwipin loved philosophy. Wherever they were, and whenever it was - they would chatter and laugh endlessly about the relativity of time and space. And in honour of this relativity, they named their daughter ´Maybe´.
And whenever they could, Winli and Kwipin would take Maybe on outings, out of Smart City 250 - to see trees, or watch the ants, or the seagulls. Oh, how she loved the trees, and the ants, and the seagulls! She has no idea how illicit and risky these trips were. She grew up innocent and happy; unaware you were supposed to despise the filthy soil, the contagious creatures, and the undisinfected air outside Smart City limits.
Maybe was a magical child - as if blessed. When she told you her name, the air sparkled with magic. The gay way she said it, made you sense that everything, ultimately, was beyond definition - a great mystery - and that that was something delightful, not terrifying.
II
As they do for everyone - the years passed. Maybe grew into womanhood - and although she was sterile, like everyone else, she became eligible to parent a lab baby of her own. The offer came as an email, straight into her neo-cortex, via her nano-neurochip-implant - and Maybe replied instantly, just by thinking: "yes! yes! yes!"
A few years previously, in a car accident, Maybe had been saved by an airbag. She owed her life to that airbag. And in its honour, when she was asked, as all would-be-parents were, which particular genetic modifications she had chosen (from the catalogue) for her child-to-be, she answered, humbly "I want my child to have an airbag in its forehead, just in case of an accident, or some other dangerous event - might that be possible?" "But of course, Madam" said the Modifications Clerk, who himself had been empathically enhanced, and custom-designed with enhanced typing skills.
And so, once again, once upon a time: Wallop Bishmi was born, and Maybe raised him with all the kindness in her heart. It wasn´t, however, until adolescence, when a pimple appeared in the whereabouts of his third eye, that any sign of the airbag appeared. Maybe kept a keen eye on that pimple - and sure enough: it grew, and grew, and grew.
The other adolescents teased Wallop abysmally; and Wallop would wander alone, along the clifftops, just north of Smart City 250, feeling sorry for himself, and angry with his mother. "Of all of the modifications available in the catalogue - why did she have to get me this custom-made monstrosity?" And Wallop would thump his fist against the great bulge that protruded from his forehead, resentfully - giving himself a headache.
And then, one day, once again upon a time: Wallop saw a girl, who saw him. Her name was Wololoo Crisplow. Her parents had suffered great cold as children, and asked for her to have white fur - like a Polar Bear. Wallop saw beyond her unfortunate modification, and she saw him beyond his. They saw each other´s essence. And that´s called Love. And though, as you will now hear, chaos was about to break out in Smart City 250 - events only made their Love grow stronger.
Their one-and-only frustration was that they couldn´t kiss - because Wallop Bishmi´s custom-designed airbag got in the way. Oh, how their lips longed for each other! Oh, how delicious was that longing! That too, only made their Love grow stronger...
III
Now: it was at just around this time that Love was officially banned, and decrees issued for the arrest of anyone caught in the act of feeling Love. As was typical in Smart City 250, neighbours would betray each other enthusiastically. They would phone A.I. at Smart City Central, and tell tales such as "I saw my neighbour look suspiciously-affectionately at her dog!", or "I noticed my neighbour breathing the morning air, as if she was loving it!" And everywhere you went, people would walk around with deliberately-unloving expressions on, just in case.
It was in this enthusiastic, idealistic atmosphere that Anti Love Mobs would tear through the crowds in Downtown 250 - beating up suspiciously gentle-looking individuals, and individuals who seemed happy doing nothing. Other mobs would cause chaos at concerts where people would be shamelessly, almost rebelliously, expressing their Love of Music. Others would lay in wait for daring Lovers to slip out at night; and ambush them - and hurt them badly.
Wallop and Wololoo tried to stay as far away from it all as they could. In fact, both thought it best they stay as far away from each other as they could. Which they did. But that wasn´t very far, because they were like sunshine for each other, and besides - the longing in their lips was like a conversation, and it only spoke about meeting. Which they did, from time to time, very secretly, with the greatest care, up on the cliffs to the north of Smart City 250.
IV
And so it was, one fateful night upon a time, that Wallop Bishmi and Wololoo Crisplow were lying side by side upon the clifftop grass in the moonlight; listening to the waves in the stoney bay below; smiling into each other´s eyes - and laughing as they imagined the most ludicrous of modifications... when, like hounds on the scent, a mob of Anti Love Fundamentalists came upon them in their happiness.
"Look, it´s The Pimple Monster and Polar Bear Girl" the mob mocked - and they spat upon them, and laughed mightily. Then they picked them up, and thew them about like tennis balls (most had enhanced arm strength, it was a very popular choice). Until... soon... somehow... from somewhere - a chant took hold of the mob. "Over the cliff with them! Over the cliff!" went the chant, ¨Over the cliff! Over the cliff!" And over the cliff they went.
Down, down and down went Wallop Bishmi and Wololoo Crisplow. Down and down they flew, like eagles, like angels. Down and down they drifted, as if in slow motion - knowing only the Love they shared, holding each other softly. Until: ka-splat!!! They hit the big stones in the bay below. And Wallop´s airbag burst open - and saved them from certain death.
Then the bag deflated, and detached - as if knowing its destiny was complete - leaving Wallop and Wololoo face to face, lips to lips, for the first time. And they kissed, and kissed, and kissed. Mark Josephs,
"Mark the Mystic Activist"
Aragon, Spain
Summer, 2024
This short story is from the (very expanded) third edition of "Love & Revolution"
(the foundational text of The Conscious Tribes Project)
due out later this year.
You'll be able to download it for free,
listen to it for free,
or buy it as a paperback (at cost of print and post).
If you'd like to know when it's ready,
receive the Conscious Tribes Seasonal Newsletters,
and new related articles, stories and poems,
you can sign up to the blog here:
Comentarios