As the World Turns

The circularity of events, the repetition of life; this is when history becomes the future.

We always make the same mistakes, don’t we? No matter how much we think we have learned from our past, the future always brings new opportunities to prove us wrong. We remember the lessons we have learned from our mistakes, but never the events that lead to those lessons and to the subsequent mistakes.

It’s circularity, repetition, history.

It must be a plague to our species, this lack of memory for the things that matter. Wars seem to multiply—they’re repeated, cloned, doubled, tripled. Different men in different times find the same excuses to violently destroy other men in the same positions. The gruesome details and outcomes are blurring and mixing and combining all of their pain and truth into a big bowl of shame. Salads are made, mixed and prepped by many countries and many men. In them, shreds of human dignity, chunks of forgotten flesh and a diverse seasoning of emotions flavour the taste and thicken the texture of our collective forgetfulness. It’s a shameless process, clean and shiny, as it’s planned and executed. The whole world watches, oblivious, as these chefs of destruction create a disgusting, colourful bowl of sickly and sickening diversions. We oooh and aaah and let them do to us what they have been doing to us for centuries. Then, when we’ve eaten it all up and are too ashamed to face the indigestion we have caused ourselves, they take off their masks, aprons and gloves and show us their true claws, fangs and rotting insides.

That’s when we get scared, and that’s when we regret the power we gave away; but we must all lie in the mess we have made, embarrassed by our gases and bloating, all of us lying back, staying down, apologising with no meaning.

Repetition, history, circularity.

They’re stories of success and failure, these lives we create for ourselves. We crawl, walk, talk. We love, lose, crash, win, land. And then we do it all again, in reverse order. What we once cherished as children renews its treasured value when we’re old. And everything in between is just a crazy ride, always unstable, always unpredictable, always a repetition of everything we did before and will do again.

History, circularity, repetition.

Now these men in their pure, white chef hats and their clean, blood red aprons are running our world, as they always have, as they always will. This disease—this insanity—that we have allowed to take rule of our world must be, then, a conscious product of our laziness, must it not? These men, with their beady eyes and whiting hair tell us what to do and then do the opposite. Follow as I say, not as I do. We follow as they say; but why? What they say is wrong. What they say is a lie. And what of what they do? What they do is worse: what they do is dirty, scary and bloody. What they do is also wrong and it is what they have done forever and will continue to do forever more. So why do we allow it, do it, let it? Because we think more about our stomachs than our tongues and are willing to swallow these dirty salads just so we don’t have to cook or wash up. As long as it fills us up…

It never changes, this world of ours. Not really. The outside changes, even her insides are angry, as well they should be—we have given her an irritable bowel. But us, us who inhabit, use and destroy her, have never changed and never will. Not really. Everything is always the same; filling and unhealthy; brightly lit by rechargeable batteries.

Now is the time. The time when history becomes the future; we are witnessing the circularity of events and the repetition of life.

And we do nothing to change it.

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Chaos

I want to tell you a story. It is a story very few people know, and even fewer believe. I have decided to tell it now, to you, because I fear my time here is coming to an end, and this is one tale that needs to be told. You might wonder why I didn’t tell it before the way I’m doing now—so openly, I mean. Well, like I said before, very few believe this story, and the ones who have heard it and disbelieved it have shunned me from their lives. You can understand, I hope, I did not want this story to come out while it could still come back to me. But now…well, things change.

So why don’t I tell it myself? Ah, I have lost any courage I had in my youth. But you, you still have the power to change history, and what a wonderful power that is. People must know what really happened, and why we were left in such a disgraceful state.
Well, there is no point in keeping you in suspense any longer. My story begins just before the chaos did. You have to understand, I have always been a believer in the power of chaos; just like bush fires, chaos is regenerating. But you see, it is usually ignited by the people, when they are oppressed. That is what made this such a terrible ordeal for us all: the people didn’t revolt, the government did.

It was 2025 and there was a world-wide sense of frustration and fear. Our planet seemed to be breaking, crumbling, as if trying to get rid of us, pests on its back. The governments of the wealthy countries had allowed their greed to overcome the good they had the power to do. Petrol—the Black Gold—was a weighty memory from the past; all the reserves were dry and its consequences on the environment, economy and even, dare I say, the sanity of the rich leaders, were beginning to show deeply, just like the sharp ridges cracked in the soil.

At the time, I was young man then, I was working for what remained of the former United Nations. It had become a small organisation, not even a shadow of its former self. Funds were scarce and support almost inexistent. The United States had coerced most participating countries into withdrawing from the UN; you might ask why. Well, the answer is simple and recurring: money. The United States had become so rich, they could do anything. And I mean very rich, they held around 50 percent of the world’s money. This isn’t surprising, of course, when you consider all the effort they put into getting that money…the countries destroyed simply to be rebuilt by the companies the US owned. The ‘help’ they offered to suffering nations, later demanding their money back plus ridiculous interests. They exported anything and everything, giving even China a bit of a sweat, and would then charge immense taxes for any goods crossing their borders.

The UN condemned their actions, their behaviour, and finally, expelled them. The few countries that still had representation agreed to their expulsion, though we all knew this would bring trouble. But, we figured the worst of it couldn’t be as bad as it was then.
The first year after their expulsion everything seemed to have calmed down. People were sceptical but beginning to have hope. Several countries rejoined the UN, no longer fearing the United States. Looking back on it, I must laugh. It was just the calm before the storm—and what a storm! Even Mother Earth wasn’t as angry at us as the United States after being shunned in such a manner.

Exactly a year after their humiliation, it was July 30th, 2025, they decided to take matters into their own hands. I’m sure you know of this date and have heard more than one version of what happened. But all the textbooks are wrong: the historians were paid to lie, and those who would not comply were either blackmailed or killed. You know how people say history is written by the victors? Well, in this case I can’t say they were the victors, but they definitely held the power. The only truth about that date is that it was indeed the Day of the Millions Dead.

The US government till this day sticks to their story: they swear and promise they had nothing to do with it. Over the years they have blamed the Russians, the Germans, the French, the Israelis and the Arabs. They wouldn’t blame the poor countries, of course, but in trying to deflect the blame, they have re-gained enemies who were hard-earned allies decades before. They can’t deny it was nuclear waste, they can’t deny the explosion. But it was so big and expanded across so much land, that no one has been able to find its origin.
That is where I come into the story. This is why most people don’t believe me when I say I saw what happened; what led to the explosion, I mean. I saw who was behind it, and I know why they haven’t been able to find the explosion site in the United States. This is what I need you to pass along, and please do after I die. People need to know the truth! I apologise, I become…agitated. You do understand, though, don’t you? Living with this burden, this secret that shouldn’t be one, for over 60 years, hasn’t been easy on me. But the truth deserves an outlet, and those millions dead deserve justice.

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