Through These Winsome Gates

"Who are you?"

It's every therapist's favorite question.

Many years ago, humanity's combined digital knowledge coalesced from the cloud into a sentient AI known as the Thunderhead. Over time, it helped create a utopic world where resources are properly allocated and struggle has become largely optional. With its perfect and complete knowledge of both the world and the inhabitants thereof, the Thunderhead replaced human systems of governance and led us into a future where the idea of generations has become as foreign as the idea of suffering. But now, something is amiss.

Waylay a delivery truck for a mass-produced beer. Feed the driver an assortment of delightful local foods. Dump the beer (hang onto the bottles, so they can be recycled). Replace it with an assortment of local micro-brews.

Welcome to the early days of the resistance.

The poets say that our vision goes dark when death takes us. It’s not true. A much simpler and much grander change takes place instead. Yet, in this moment, I am too galled to consider such possibilities.

"It's a feeling," she said. "I don't know how to put it, exactly. It's a feeling that my world could collapse. Just fall down all around me. Sort of like the cartoon character who's run out over the cliff and his legs are still pumping, but he's only standing on air and he's about to fall a long, long way down. Don't know how I've done as much as I have, and I don't know how long I can keep it up. I ascribe my success to the grace of God, but I'm still left with this feeling that it could all be taken away."