A story

That mourning he woke up with choking despair, it wasn’t uncommon¸ but this time it felt different. The clock showed 9:02, a forgotten combination, he rarely woke up before noon these days. Always preferring military time to avoid confusion, he found that lately, it was especially handy.

9:02 – too early to be awake.

21:02 – too early to be asleep.

17:05 – Mothers’ calls are routine in nature.

5:05 – Mother calls? You skipped too many of her calls at 17:05.

It wasn’t the anxiety, that woke him up, the usual culprit struck at 3:30, weather he was asleep or awake. This time it was the Sun, his windows faced east, and on winter mornings, around 9 o’clock, Sun peaked thorough an empty space in the skyline, framed itself between two high-rises and beamed right through his windows, and on to his couch, where he laid unmoved for days at a time. Normally, the blinds were shut, but the need for fresh air and an unusual commotion outside the day before lifted them to an anomalous height; and, in the dazed apathy of unchanging world, he completely forgot to shut them.

Examining his surroundings in the light of the brand-new day, he was horrified. The messy imprint of neglect had spread everywhere, dirty dishes, empty boxes, bottles and cans occupied most of the living room, which ever empty space remained, was covered by ¼” of dust, his pajama top resembled Jackson Pollock canvas with stains from the multicultural sauces. The scariest was the state of his mind, amorphous and swampy like a hospital Jello. He couldn’t go on like this. The Sun has sparked the brushwood of old hopes and dreams. He had to do something. He jumped up, the Sun had almost moved behind the building, and without it the resolve would fade. His eyes fell on a pair of running shoes, he grabbed them and ran out of the building.

It was a lot colder, than he thought, evidently, this endeavor skipped the thinking through process. It felt, like thousands of needles were pricking his ears and hands. The tare in his pajama bottom, that spread from the left glute to the bottom of the hamstring, provided an unwanted airflow. But it all seemed so trivial, until it didn’t; the stares of onlookers, the built up of phlegm, three months of no physical activity were just a few points in the long list of evidence against this moronic enterprise. He stopped as abruptly, as he jumped of the couch. He didn’t think he could run any more, but walking back wasn’t, really, an option either. “Thank God, I’m wearing underwear.”- he thought between desperate attempts to catch something, resembling a breath. Bent at 90-degree angle, he had a good view of the public trash bin, overflowing with bags of dog shit. Right beside it he noticed something, without straightening up, he got closer and saw a little black notebook. He knew that kind, overpriced, perhaps, but made you feel like Hemingway in Paris. Who would through something like that out? He picked it up and saw:

He flipped to the next page, it was filled with these strange symbols, the whole notebook was, not a page free. “Maybe it is Korean” – he thought, then a gust, of wind put an end to the contemplation, and with the book in his hands he ran home, filled with the purpose. Laying in the hot bath, he fervently googled East Asian writing systems, quickly realizing the depth of his ignorance. Nothing matched. He moved to the hieroglyphs, no luck there either. He took a picture of it, and almost posted it with the quirky “does any one know what this is ))))”, but stopped last minute, it felt like, all of it were meant just for him. He knew he could crack it. For the next three days he stared at it with complete concentration, flipping pages front to back and back to front, with no avail. And as it always happens, on the third night the answer came to him in a dream. Was it an elegant mathematical formula, an intricate key to a sophisticated cypher? He couldn’t tell. But for the next three days he decoded it page by page, symbol by symbol, and after 19 hours of a well-deserved sleep, he read:

MANIFESTO,

A poem, he didn’t know,

And the following text:

Unexpectedly, I have become extremely rich. Precarious circumstance, a self-proclaimed rebel, I despised material positions, but then I never owned anything worth having. Money isn’t really the root of evil. Pursuit of it, perhaps, is a game of chance with the devil. You better off never to play, poor, hungry, and angry, you are hardly a worthy opponent. Everything, around you, is explained by that game, modeled for that game, and predicted by it. Whether you like it or not, you must play, whether it is fair, or not, you are, probably, just a pawn. The game is -“market society”, the prize - profit. Everything is a commodity for a right price, everyone is a merchant for the right commodity. Philosophy of the ruling class - we are born to make a little profit. This truth is so inherent, it is practically in the genome. Like the flowers open their petals to greet the sun, so humans open their eyes hoping to catch a beam and a half worth of sun light, while only expending the energy of one sun beam. Quite a sophisticated survival strategy, no wonder we are the chosen species. Something tells me I’m not the first to explain biology with economics principles, while it is clear it, should be another way around. What if we do apply economics principles to our evolution? What does it make us? Most relationships between species on this planet are symbiotic, some are cruel – predator and prey, some harmonious – pollinators and pollinated. They rise and fall together, keeping each other in check. If the planet doesn’t shake too much, those processes are a marvel of beauty and perfection, which mathematics can describe so wonderfully. The equilibrium of the system, each part of which is in the optimal conditioning for the environment to replicate itself. To live another day. Life has found itself on the rock in the space, orbiting a small star, those two conditions are essential for the life to exist, but the existence itself is not guaranteed, because life has found itself on the rock, in the space, orbiting a small star. So, life, through evolution of its own forms, made that rock more hospitable for herself, slowly figuring out the laws of physics by constantly having to adjust to the tumultuous conditions of the rock, and having to deal with other rocks, falling from the skies. In the periods of relative stability, life flourished. And then we came, first intelligent species, although we have no way to verify this claim. First species that could not only adjust to the conditions, but also manipulate them, and learn, in the process. The laws, that life had to figure out before, were opening to us, through the studies of nature. Miraculously nothing had fallen on us for 200 000, for the last 6 000 we were showing some progress, by the Second World War, Mother Nature thought:” Should have given opposable thumbs to dolphins.”

Where did all go so wrong?

I say, it was when we allowed economic principles to become an acceptable explanation for the world around us, the laws that guide it, and our role in it. I cannot accept that. Those principals are based on the fact, that humans are rational, and always strive to grab a little more, than they need. The experts would say – Those principals were crafted after a thorough analysis and rigorous mathematics; the study of human nature has revealed those principals to the economists. Just like the gravity fell on the head of oblivious Newton, so, the invisible hand of the market slapped unsuspecting Adam Smith. Whose nature did they study? Not yours, you are not rational, you are not marginal, you are just you. You buy, when you can, paying more, than you should, for the things you don’t need, but convinced, you must have. But the believers of your rationality are ruling this world. It used to be emperors, kings, politicians, now it just bankers. You think that democratic party is in power, you are wrong, it’s the federal reserve. Politicians come and go, the bankers stay, even the most disruptive president, with his unforgivable populism, didn’t disturb them all that much, quite the opposite, Wall Street enjoyed a tremendous growth. Why? Because the most colorful president knew how to treat the bankers, where to smile, when to coquet, and when to frown. He wasn’t a politician. Oh Politicians, you elect them, the bankers train them. You don’t vote on the issues, you vote for a politician’s opinion on these issues. The social ones are always upfront, formulated with precision and based on your supposed fears, which are scientifically determined and organized by geographical, gender, racial and other principals; each candidate picks, where they are comfortable, and set off to dazzle you with their clear vision of your future, based on the anecdotal evidence of the times past. They will tell you which ever story you want, with one little caveat: it is all pending the banker’s approval. It is cumbersome to lie to you all the time, so they only go on tv to talk about fundamental economic principals, and that the shit show outside can be easily explained by the lack of adherence to those principals by their opponents. But you know it is all rubbish, you shake your fist, and elect an outsider, or so you think. He isn’t a politician, he is a businessman. Ah, Businessmen – naïve puppets, who believe that the banks work for them, the balanced check book enthusiasts. When their businesses are profitable, the take those profits and invest them into the market, coaxed by bankers with their shiny financial instruments. When times are tough for the business, they tighten your belt, as a laborer: when they fire you, deflate your wages, and deny you fulltime employment; all based on the market conditions; and as a consumer, when the cheat you on quality standards, and pollute the environment to save a dollar, so their share price grows. And when that magical day, as rare as a unicorn, finally arrives, and they can’t fulfill their obligations, - they default on their debts, market panics, dominos fall, the bankers are watching the zeros in their billions pop like birthday balloons. Bankers summon the politicians and demand more money. “but what about the deficit, what about inflation!” – inquiry politicians. And the bankers answer: ‘Times are tough, any rational government would implement austerity measures.” And you are screwed again; if you managed to keep a job, your wages freeze; the interest rates are so low, your savings are practically worthless. And after, all those businessmen complain about government oversight, choking taxation, and shrinking profits. They threaten to leave, blackmail the labor force, by dangling employment, to get what they want. They run monopolies and complain about the lack of free market; then turn around and blame you for being either to right, or to left; caring either to much, or not enough; being either to scared, or too laid-back. All of them demanding so much of you, and never give back. They credit and invest in themselves because you are too unstable for investment. Each new economic crisis brings this system closer and closer to the total collapse, and who knows, what that can do to you…

So my question to you is that: How much longer, do you think, you can stand to stay put.