No matter how much I screamed for help, no voice would come out ... or so I thought. In truth there was simply no-one left to hear, or rather no-one with the capacity to respond.
There were no windows. Only--one, two--five seats; four lined up on the long side of the rectangular prism and one sitting opposite. The first noticeable thing was the utter lack of motion. It did not feel like any sort of future tech, it felt like the back of a truck. It was barren, smooth, it appeared as dirt brown walls in the lack of light, with sharp corners at the vertexes; but where was the motion? Those only objects within the box where the chairs, the only occupants were those sitting within them, and me; within the lonely chair.
The others were asleep. Three I knew: John, Dean, and Sam. The fourth I didn't, sitting to the far right. She was some young excitable girl, just kinda tagged along; I never knew her name. I sat there, harness pulled taught, in the groggy state that occurs after being woken from a deep sleep. I didn't have time to register any sort of fear or darker thoughts. I was still mystified at the lack of motion and the then growing presence of complete silence.
In that broad daylight was a sense of serenity, a peace that invited itself into the soul and made itself at home.
Avery whispers into the breeze, her eyelids fluttering closed as she breathes in the briny aroma. Scrunching her toes, she feels the softness of the sand, still damp from the retreating tide. She wiggles as a shiver cascades down her spine and her eyes burst open.The sand blurs out in a blissful trance, the shore fading into liquid gold, vivid in the brilliant light. Her pale lips curve upward.
Avery bestows her gaze to the far off horizon, the flaring hues of the sun melting into the sky and ocean like a divine painting. The forever stretching sea is masked with an apricot colour, that beautiful umber flowing into turquoise. Through narrowed eyes she watches as each wave overlaps one another, sending the white bubbling crests descending, masking the shore with the transparent fading water.
Sometimes a cough is a sign of healing, that a sore throat is on the mend and all will soon be well. At these times fresh air can work wonders, especially in the evening and early hours.
To break me, you must show empathy. Yelling and shouting your frustrations about my lack of work, or need to shape up, won't help your cause. I'll only stand firm in my resolution to not give in to your tempestuous voice. To break me, you must show kindness. If I have a low performance on tests, "Are you okay?" instead of, "STUDY HARDER, YOU IDIOT!" will make me try harder. I want to please those who care. I want those who love me to see me do well. If you love me, and outwardly show it, you will break me.
If we are going to solve the madness of the world, we can start by respecting the human brain as an organic computer that works best with logic, emotion, creativity and self driven passion; though we have the capacity for random access memory, it is a poor way to educate and the reason our schools damage our innate genius capacities.
She's only five years old and unaffected by death. A little innocent light with so much joy. But that will soon change and I hate it.
"Hey, why are they burying Aunty Carla? She can't bake those yummy cookies in the ground! Stop!" she screams. The people who weren't already crying allowed tears to drip down their faces. "Stop it!" She screams, tears streaming down her face.
Unexpectedly, Levi bends down and hugs Dina. "Dina, she's going to sleep." Levi whispers, "Don't be so loud or you'll wake her." Dina cuddles Levi and wails. He strokes her hair and her back lovingly. That just overpowers me. I start crying loudly causing a chain reaction in the small group. Soon everyone who loved Carla are sobbing uncontrollably.
I walk up to the makeshift stage and begin my little speech, "Mam was kind and didn't hesitate to help someone in need. Her helpful spirit got her in trouble a few times but I don't think she ever regretted it. I-"I pause clearing my throat from the tears, "I won't ever let her out my heart, she will stay in here in peace. I love you, Mam." I place my hand on my heart. AOT SALUTE. My tears soaking the clothes I'm wearing.
"Don't cry Eren! Aunty Carla is just asleep," she cries trying to make me happier. I give her a sad smile and nod while walking off the 'stage'.
Slowly her coffin gets lowered into the hole. The closest relatives take turns with the spade, covering her inch by inch with dirt.
Bye Mam. I will miss you...
Artificial Intelligence, AI, is only unbeneficial if we are stuck-on using humanity as machines instead of as people deserving of happiness and joy. And if we are using humanity as if they were robots, in the original Czech sense of the word, there are much bigger questions a humane humanity needs to explore.
In our evolutionary transformation from genocidal ape to empathic humanitarian, it makes sense that aggression is a vital ingredient of passion in all its forms, in all the ways art seeks to bring us to love.
Upon the insect armour, in the growing light of dawn, was a perfect sphere of water that looked for all the world like our Earth.
