humanity
The evolution of humanity, from one advancement to the next.
The Anti Christ Trials and Tribulations, Schizophrenia in the 21st century
THE ANTI-CHRIST Trials and Tribulations are SCHIZOPHRENIA IN THE 21st CENTURY HOW THE HELL DID I GET HERE Everything had always been over for me. Hi, welcome to the cuckoos house. I'm being strapped to a hospital bed. Those dammed white suits. They code whited me. They had me completely surrounded. Holding me down. My legs. My arms. Even my head. But I'm not even resisting. Like what the fuck. I'm completely still. Holding back the urge to go nuts and start throwing knock out punches. Women and men without prejudice. Imagining pleading self defence in court. Explaining to the judge how it was all over a cookie wrapper and thus justified by them getting physical with me, for no reason. I could have knocked them all out. It's easily done with practice. I’ve had lots and done it at least twenty times. Out numbered. Fighting mad crowds of people all by myself. One time I knocked seven guys out one after the other until I got a cheap shot from some gubbly eyed bouncer twice my size who couldn't possibly take me on his own. One good hook up under the jaw just rubbers the legs right under you. Instead I'm not doing anything. I'm remaining stoic. Playing it victim style as i was. The fucking cookie wrapper wasn't even mine. Maybe it was. Who cares. It's still no reason to attack someone calmly writing in bed. The real reason was that I was refusing medication for schizophrenia.
By Darren Bouchard5 years ago in Futurism
Emerald Oasis Prologue
Joyce Patrick saw her first fairy when she was five years old. She fairly young and had a golden dress up to her ankles. Her wings were so big for her frail little body that it seemed to weight her down. Joyce couldn't remember the conversation very much, but she remembered swapping her falling tooth for a shiny coin. It made Joyce so happy, that the coin was never spent. She never saw another fairy since.
By Chloe Gilholy5 years ago in Futurism
Emerald Oasis Four: Rodger Bentley
There was a baby on the floor. Joyce had seen many bizarre things happen since she moved into Emerald Oasis Nursing Home, but this was beyond a joke. Joyce picked the baby up and tried to comfort it. He was still crying. Poor thing, she thought. The baby had nothing. His frail skin exposed to the cold breeze from the window. He didn't even have a nappy. Joyce removed her lime green cardigan and wrapped it around the baby's body. The baby's mother had to be young or somebody new to parenting. No decent parent would ever leave a child on the floor naked by the window.
By Chloe Gilholy5 years ago in Futurism
Emerald Oasis Chapter Two: The Rabbit That Turned Into A Wolf
It was Joyce Patrick's first night at Emerald Oasis Nursing Home. Her room was number eighteen on the red unit. Joyce didn't quite understand why it was called the red unit when the walls were white and the carpet was purple. The other unit appeared to be the same. That was known as the blue unit.
By Chloe Gilholy5 years ago in Futurism
Emerald Oasis Chapter One: The Fairies In The Garden
Today was the day. Joyce did her best to do everything she was told by the hospital to ensure a speedy recovery. She wasn't allowed to go home, she couldn't remember why, but she remembered the staff trying to tell her so many times. Either way, she was glad to be leaving.
By Chloe Gilholy5 years ago in Futurism
The Day
Today is the day. No one thought it would ever come, yet time has brought us here. The news outlets keep blabbering on and on. I turn off the television and turn on some music. I turn on orchestral music radio and walk outside. The sun is rising. Today the low is 20 with a high of 97. As I feel the warmth wash over me, I smile. Sunlight has brought the new day in with a beautiful tempo as the climax to the 1812 Overture plays in my ears. I pick a rose from the bush pressed against the wall of my house and breathe in its soothing aroma. I look around. It appears I am the only one awake. I decide to take a walk. The park across the street is filled with cobblestone paths and the best beaches money can buy. The dome shape and the glass on the wall refracts just the right amount of UV rays so that you can swim and feel the warmth of the sun without the burn that is usually accompanied with it. I go to the park, a perfect 82 degrees with a light ocean breeze and the smell of animatronic fish reminding me of how the ocean should feel. I check the interface and I change my clothes perfect for a morning at the beach. I wade into the comfort of the lightly chilled, perfectly salty water. The breeze washes over me bringing a slight chill as I walk against the back current up to the sand where a server bot greets me. “Sir, would you like to sit at the overlook today, we are at our peak hour, 11 AM, yet we are nowhere near capacity. You are the only one here, sir. May I show you to your seat and offer you a beverage?”, I take a soda from its selection, grape, my favorite flavor. I crack it open as the beautiful scenery around me, birds, ocean, and sunlight offer perfect harmony on the most outstanding of mornings.
By Michael King5 years ago in Futurism
My hope for humanity
We are early intelligent lifeforms on a rock we call Earth, in a possibly infinite universe. I often feel gutted by how small we actually are. Some say that there is nothing we cannot do, `like duh`, we have been on the Moon. In real terms, given the scale of how big our Galaxy is, one should only be entitled to say there is so much more that we need to do because we have barely been on the Moon. Our Solar System is one of the many billions in our Galaxy and we have not been outside of it.
By Vlad Nicolae Ghioroaia5 years ago in Futurism
The Scribhneoir
All was silent save for the relentless scratching of graphite on paper and he turned a frustrated gaze on the young woman. She made no sign of stopping and so he let out a loud “ahem” expelling this with a puff of air that shifted her shirt collar. She gave no sign of acknowledgement only gave a gentle sigh and snapped the small black notebook shut.
By Michelle Kudell5 years ago in Futurism
