I’ll tell you a secret if you promise not to be upset… Or worried. Ok?
It’s not the truth – well it’s not the truth right now. Not here. But it could be – and it sort of is. Ok?
There was no wheel.
No fixing of spoke to Axel.
We missed a very small, very important window.
Motor neuron skills disintegrated.
The species evolved with an acute bend.
Our thumbs dropped off.
We struggled and strived and lost many battles with our bare hands. But there was an air of honesty that permeated the simple and handcrafted work we created, to the transactions we engaged with, by ourselves.
Trust was placed in creatures that else would have been eaten or skinned or interbred.
We learnt to speak to the insects and the wind.
Our hind legs shortened and our centre of balance sloped forwards.
We sacrificed global warming for primitivism.
And we were not savage.
But we failed.
We died out.
The race weakened and other species ate the young.
The planet moved to the top of the food chain.
An organic apocalypse.
We fertilized the ground.
The Earth stole the power that we used to make the mechanical, the structural, and it won.
And it will continue to win.
It’s very strong now.
It will continue to grow and change and shape itself, without anyone to enjoy it.
It’s like a perfect representation of a world that seems like heaven.
A full museum with no doors or viewing platforms. Void of catalogue and brightly coloured educative packs.
And it’s beautiful, it’s true.
But how can something be perfect when you can’t experience it to deem it perfect? Or better than what you have, right now?
You can’t call it perfect.
You call it different…
You look worried.Written by Tom Christophersen.