OpEdNews - Diary: Diary 2050

A story, a fantasy, a prophesy, of what could be.

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Three entries of a diary found by a Chen-jen time traveler on a recent Back-time assignment: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Diary 2050 Thursday, January 5, 2050 No rain again today. The GPSES didn't show up for water distribution. People are becoming more desperate by the hour. At this rate we'll all be dead by Spring. It's been three months since I buried my parents. I keep mulling over the stories they told me, as I grew up during what they would, laughingly, call the "End Times." I was always amazed at their good humor as they would speak of things that I was horrified to hear about. How in the first decade of the century a new war had started over the last reserves of oil, at the same time that the environment was reaching it's breaking point. How a movement of extremist Muslims, from the oil rich Middle-east and around the world, had decided to fight for a world dominated by Islam, while a group of right-wing Christians, from the US, had decided that it was time for American Capitalism to do the same. In the end, neither side got what they wanted. The only time I saw my parents cry was when they would speak of the beginning of the oil cut-offs from the oil producing countries, and how a "State of Emergency" was declared by the government. They would say that this was the time when we lost all our rights as citizens. That was when the roundups of young men for the draft began. Anyone speaking against it was arrested, and young men who tried to avoid the draft were taken by force. Some were shot while trying to escape the PDS (Patriotic Draft Service) teams that went from house to house looking for men, and women, who were healthy enough to fight. Many thousands were killed in the invasion of the Middle-east. Which turned out to be a lost cause, since the oil was running out anyway, and, on top of this, the long expected flu pandemic occurred. Millions died, and then, to add insult to injury, the weather began to change in a more extreme way than ever before. The colder regions began to see unseasonably warm temperatures, and the warmer ones the reverse. There were extreme droughts and freezes. Hurricanes and great storms began to occur unexpectedly, and at odd times of the year, in places that no one would have expected. The Gulf and Jet streams became more and more erratic as more and more of the northern and southern ice-packs melted. Millions more died. This was when the GPSES -- the Government for Public Safety and Emergency Services -- was formed. The GPSES was created by a group of people who had managed to survive the war, flu epidemic, and weather changes. Mostly wealthy people, who had connections to the military, they had grabbed the reins of power when the old system finally collapsed. Some say they helped to expedite that collapse in no small way. The brutality they exhibited in getting control of what was left of the old government, and in bringing order to the general chaos that was occurring at that time, has become legendary. Thousands died, or disappeared, in what they now call "The Great Re-ordering of Civil Society for the General Welfare and Public Good.'" Since then, "We the People" have been dying like flies. All I've known, growing up, have been the struggle for survival and the presence of perpetual death. The "Good Earth" and "Promise of Democracy" are just myths, taught to me by my parents; things that I will never know. And now, my parents are gone and I don't know how much time I have left. Who do I write this for? Perhaps, if there is a future, someone will find th someond is com i >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Diary 2050 January 5, 2050 Continued Had to discontinue writing. The BDCI (Bureau for the Dissemination of Correct Information) agents had arrived looking for a Newscribe. According to my parents, during the first ten years of the century there was a network of communication called the "Internet." There was much hope, at the time, that this form of "Cyber" communication would mean a new dawn of information sharing; that people would be free to share information like never before. But with the coming of the "Great War for Scarce Resources", the "2010 World Influenza Pandemic," and then the massive weather changes, keeping the "Internet" going was well nigh impossible. Besides, by then the government had pretty much gotten control of "Cyber Space" anyway. With the takeover by the GPSES, what was left of Cyber communication remained firmly in their hands for the next thirty years. Then, in 2037, small pockets of what, according to my parents, were once called "Hackers" started forming in the outlying areas, beyond the PSS (Public Safety and Security) encampments. These little groups of four or five became known to the GPS (General Population of Survivors) as "Newscribes." The GPSES called them terrorists. These "Newscribes" found ways to use old technology, that they found among the ruins of former cities, to "hack" into the GPSES networks. There main purpose was to gather information that would enable them to survive beyond the reach of GPSES control. The Newscribes also move through the general population, sharing their information and recruiting new members. It is rumored that, in some cases, groups of Newscribes have gathered together and formed small communities in the outlands, beyond GPSES territory. It is said that these communities are combining old tribal forms of spirituality with aspects of what was once known as "Modern Technology," in an effort to create a lifestyle that is more in harmony with what's left of the natural environment. Some laugh at this idea, and the Newscribes that have come through here, refuse to confirm or deny the rumors. I think there is something to the stories, because the Newscribes that I've seen, look well nourished. Besides, sometimes they show up with food! Food like I've never imagined! One had a thing he called a "Tomayto." Did my parents tell me about "Tomaytos?" I don't remember. He gave it to one of the starving children. The expression on her face was like she had just been given a gift from an angel. Anyway, the Newscribes never stay long or say much. They pass on whatever information they think will be helpful to us, give what food and water they have, and move on quickly. I admire their courage and hope that they succeed in all their endeavors. I only wish I could go with them but I must stay here and do what I can for the sick and dying. Enough for now. The light is going and I've got to find a hiding place for this, in case the BDCI agents return. One last thing. The Newscribes sometimes bring us pencils and paper. They say that they find them buried deep under city ruins. Before they died, my parents taught me how to write and how to read what they wrote. That's how I'm able to write this. But, except for the Newcribes, no one here can read or write. They're more concerned with staying alive than reading or writing. Maybe the water will arrive tomorrow. I must start thinking about escape, before it's too late. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Diary 2050 January 6, 2050 The water didn't arrive today. Things were on the edge of chaos at the news, until we had an unexpected visit from the Newscribes! Nine of them showed up to tell us some astounding news! They said that the water hadn't arrived because there had been fighting inside the private compounds of the GPSES ruling elite! Apparently, the lack of water and other supplies had finally brought things to a head and different departments of the GPSES had started to fight over what was left! We had always thought that the GPSES had plenty of everything for themselves and were doling out just enough to the rest of us to keep us barely alive. Turns out that supplies of everything have been diminishing for some time. The drought had destroyed almost all of what was left of food crops and the deaths of PFUS (Patriotic Farm and Utility Service) workers had gotten to a point where there was almost no one to do the harvesting anyway. Now, GPSES leaders are at each other's throats and it's only a matter of time before the whole thing collapses! While many of us were happy to hear that our taskmasters are in crisis, we were not overjoyed at the prospect of there being no more water, until the Newscribes explained that they had come to take us home! Yes! That's the word they used! Home! They explained that they were from three different communities that they call "Awenasas." They said that all over the country these Newscribe communities have been forming and preparing for the day when the GPSES would finally collapse and they would be able to bring the survivors back to their "Awenasas," to join in, what they are calling, "The Great Gathering." They explained that they had been locating underground springs of clean water, that they had stored food from before the drought, and that "Mercy Transport Teams" would arrive soon to bring the sick and dying back home with them! Amazing! I'll be leaving with a group today! We're preparing those who can't walk to travel by Platform! Yes! They have Platforms! The Newscribes say that they have been able to design their own solar-powered Platforms for the transport of goods and people! These Platforms travel on a cushion of air and are almost entirely silent -- unlike the nuclear powered Platforms of the GPSES; which have become more and more scarce with every passing year. So, the time has come. A new life, in a new world...how the world turns! Who could have guessed? Yesterday, the end was just a day away...now, a new future is at hand! One of the Newscribes just said something to me. Seeing me writing, he said that, at the beginning of the century, writers of journals had betrayed the people with untruths that helped to lead them astray. But now, writers like myself, would be expected to help keep the truth alive, so that we would never again forget the importance of honesty in the creation, and maintaining, of an Awenasa that is in harmony with "The Great Mother." As he walked away, he said, "Pachama!" over his shoulder. Hmmm...Pachama!... a new word to learn. I'm ready!