Dream: Bohemian Groove
I dreamt that I had managed to infiltrate the Power Elite, a white male who had successfully convinced other White Males that he was worthy to be one of them in ruling the rest of the world. I wasn't trying to rule the world, mind you; I just wanted to understand what these people were doing, how and why. So I was transported to their secret ceremonial lodge in the woods, where I would go through the investiture ritual or ordination or whatever they called it. The ceremony was melodramatic but forgettable; I cared only about picking apart their process to understand what made them tick.
"So," I ventured into conversation with one of them, a young financier behind the next generation of brilliant-weapon arms contractors, "are we deliberately encouraging the unrestrained growth of population in the third world and in countries like India so that there is a ready-made supply of disposable fodder to fuel our profit engines with?"
He looked at me, blinked a couple of times, and I wasn't sure he'd heard me.
I pressed on: "Are we deliberately enforcing their brutal poverty so that even our shittiest alternative - to die in a factory, or in our mercenary armies, or from a drug overdose from something we need tested before deploying domestically - seems like a golden ray of opportunity by comparison?"
He cocked his head, brow knit in bafflement: "Man, you've really been thinking about this stuff a lot, haven't you? " He hefted a mug, looking a little worried. "Don't you want a beer or something?"
In that moment, I realized it really is true: Nobody is at the helm. And only then did a real Fear for the future set upon my heart.
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For consideration: the planet is ruled by a shadowy cabal of six billion completely clueless idiots
"So," I ventured into conversation with one of them, a young financier behind the next generation of brilliant-weapon arms contractors, "are we deliberately encouraging the unrestrained growth of population in the third world and in countries like India so that there is a ready-made supply of disposable fodder to fuel our profit engines with?"
He looked at me, blinked a couple of times, and I wasn't sure he'd heard me.
I pressed on: "Are we deliberately enforcing their brutal poverty so that even our shittiest alternative - to die in a factory, or in our mercenary armies, or from a drug overdose from something we need tested before deploying domestically - seems like a golden ray of opportunity by comparison?"
He cocked his head, brow knit in bafflement: "Man, you've really been thinking about this stuff a lot, haven't you? " He hefted a mug, looking a little worried. "Don't you want a beer or something?"
In that moment, I realized it really is true: Nobody is at the helm. And only then did a real Fear for the future set upon my heart.
------
For consideration: the planet is ruled by a shadowy cabal of six billion completely clueless idiots