I didn’t get sick until 2001. That’s when I wrote the book that became true, and I woke up to realizing I was living it. It was supposed to be an allegory. Here, I can write it right now I’ve memorized it:
*Once, people believed that time was something outside of them. That was before the revolution was complete. Nothing was left but a frayed book, that she threw into the sea. With it was her story, of how the world disturbed her in all its terrorism. She lived in a floating city, one closed within a prison, but that longed to reach out and unlock the doors. No one understood why she was disturbed, why she would wake up in cold sweats with burning limbs and fear the temperature dropping and rising with each tick of that false clock on the wall.
She recalls that night when she ran her fingers upon that book, the world unraveled its pages and showed her something that could not be destroyed. Her brother was taken in the night, by soldiers in submarines, and she and her sister ran from the settlement to find him as the soldiers were taking the children, and turning them into murderers like they’d grown to become. That’s what the new world had ordered, slaughter and war–a pancaked face smiles down at the innocent kids in the massive institution.
I went to the institution. I went there at first, thinking it was to see the truth. I was brainwashed to believe that I was a human, but then I was visited as the seconds drew to an end and stars burst into finite shards of existence. In that instant, between the knowing and the drawing closer to the end-you can’t forget, you become a falling star, and so I hung on to those threads woven across the skies. Her brother leads the 3rd World Revolution, after he is taken–4 years later–he escapes and with him, the wings of our future civilization-one where humans are not animals or savages, but pound fists on their chests, with the strength of champions.
Every third year, the whole world celebrates with humility, and respect, to remind ourselves of who we are. We are not savages, we are not animals, we are the fallen angels of the universe. Thus begins the longest stretch of peace humanity has ever seen, over a decade of advancement, achievement. We know now what it means to draw a line in the sand, and we are the sand–because to be called a coward means more than shame. It is a different time than now, which centuries have looked back in awe at the corruption and tears at the bravery of those who stood for peace.