“What’s supposed to be brewing?” John asked with growing interest.
“Fucked if I know. Nobody ever really said more than that, so I made sure to get a seat at this here seminar. One thing I learned from the streets is you gotta get to the source, otherwise you end up chasing your tail.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more,” John replied, quickly growing to enjoy the company of the stranger from New York. He could tell he was the sort of guy that wasn’t going to waste time mincing words, and probably wouldn’t be afraid of saying what needed to be said. Now, he figured, it was his turn to hazard a guess at origins. “So Joey from New York, I’m picking up a little Spanish when you talk.”
“Nah, you’re just hearing the Cuban in me. Easy mistake to make.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t sweat it.” Overhead the soothing symphonic scales began to fade away and in response the din of the conversation across the room began to dip lower. “So did you hear about this all the way back in your country?”
“I guess you could say that,” John said with a sip of his wine.
“Well brother,” Joey grinned with a twinkle in his eyes, “it looks like it’s time to find out what this is all about.”
All the lights in the room dimmed down to usher in a darkness that was broken only by a spotlight focussed on the lectern and the organic red glow of the candles. A strange anticipation rolled across the tables, bringing with it a muted silence tainted with the occasional clink of glass against glass and a few muffled coughs. John guessed there was close to a hundred guests now seated, and all had their eyes cast upon the empty stage ready for the unknown.
He slowly indulged in another mouthful of wine and joined them in wait, which turned out to be remarkably short thanks to a sudden flash of colour to the right of the lectern. At first he wasn’t sure what to make of it, but as his eyes adjusted he found himself captivated by a holographic image of a slow rotating Earth that seemed to float above the carpet of the stage. He had to admit he was impressed at the detail it displayed, with wisps of white clouds decorating the blue oceans and subtle green brown land masses.
A lone figure appeared from the left and elegantly glided to the microphone, long red dress sparkling beneath the spotlight so that her every curve reached out for easily obtained admiration. A silk scarf of soft gold decorated her neck and fell upon bare shoulders and arms that revealed starkly contrasted ink. John saw that Klementina was wearing glasses this time, which only managed to enhance her striking appearance. He had in no way expected to see her emerge onto the stage, but now that she was there he felt somehow comforted by her presence in a dark room of virtual strangers. From the little time he’d spent with her on the boat he had suspected that she was probably part of some sort of leadership, and now he knew his hunch had been right.
He watched as she swiped at a screen only she could see before looking out across her captivated audience, concentration etched across her soft but firm features. He was tempted to steal a final glance over his shoulder to see if casino luck would offer a sighting of either of his targets but quickly decided the moment would have to wait. There would be time later, he was sure, to wander amongst the guests, but for now he was content to focus his attention on the woman who seemed so very comfortable as the centre of attention.
“Welcome ladies and gentlemen,” she began with a firm but soft voice, “to the final induction for what is the chance to obtain a true sense of purpose. Welcome to the Hallucigenia Project.”
Slow, tentative applause spread across the room, though for the moment John chose to keep his hands resting upon the table. Klementina offered a slight smile as the silence returned and gently gripped the edges of the lectern.
“Tonight is particularly special as it will be the last opportunity we have to open our arms and welcome new members to our family. Of course, not all of those here tonight will make the decision to take the final step over the edge but that’s okay, we respect the choices that are going to be made. All we ask is that you consider what we have to say with the weight that we feel it deserves.” She paused for a beat to give her words the chance to settle amongst the candle lit shadows. “Unfortunately, time has become a most formidable foe and the breath from her lips is brushing against the back of our necks. Before we know it the tipping point will have injected itself into the very fabric of our reality and the world you know so well will be flipped upside down and inside out. By joining our family however, you are giving yourself a fighting chance to continue to build memories.”
Now the holographic globe shifted from its position on the stage, lifting higher and floating forward until resting between Klementina and the audience, forcing them to search through the blue and green for her face. It was obviously intentional, and John noticed that looking through the projection created the illusion that she was closer that she actually was. If she was hoping to make an early impact, it was definitely working.
“Right now,” she continued, “you’re looking at me through the only home you’ve ever known, a terrestrial space craft carrying us through the overwhelming loneliness that is the cold dark of the universe. She has a heart of red molten rock with a body drenched in life sustaining water, and spins the perfect distance from the sun so that biology can draw energy and create new vessels to carry information through time. We arrive on her deck as new souls that learn to reach out into the majesty of the global garden with electrically charged flesh and bone, and in return for the chance to touch reality we spit into the eyes of creation.” The hologram rippled ever so slightly. “With every setting sun come stars to shine down from the darkness with the promise that there is so much to learn, so very much to strive to understand. It is a canopy of distant dreams that whisper the revelation that the universe doesn’t have to be a lonely place. Too bad then, that as a species we care only about those things that leave our planet weeping as she races across the galaxy.”
John looked across the table and saw that Joey was completely transfixed by Klementina, and it could have been the form fitting dress or the words that flowed from her mouth but which he couldn’t be sure. He had no doubt if he asked he’d get a straight between the eyes answer but now wasn’t the time for conversation, so shifted his attention back to the blue and green soaked stage as Klementina lifted her voice a little louder.
“What I’d like to do is offer you some numbers. Some might say it’s futile trying to describe situations of magnitude with emotionally barren symbols but it will have to do for our purposes.” She took a moment to look across the room, ensuring she had the right level of attention. “Taking an extremely reserved approach to quantifying things, let’s start with possibly humanity’s favourite pastime. It’s estimated that in the twentieth century the number of deaths as a result of war is in excess of one hundred and twenty three million. Remember, we’re approaching these figures conservatively. Now there are plenty of wars across the planet that keep no record of the dead, so it’s safe to assume one hundred and twenty three million is a glaring understatement. That’s a lot of life lost in the pursuit of winning the right to raise a piece of cloth to the top of a pole, and more lives are being lost with every second I stand here.”
A new colour began to appear on the holographic globe. Across various continents the deep red of simulated blood spread across the geography like thick paint brushed with unseen hands. As John became absorbed with the light show he tried to imagine the enormous number as once living people with lives and families but he just couldn’t build a perspective. The scope was far too big. Klementina continued once the vivid spreading red came to a stop.
“When it comes to fellow humans being denied the most basic necessity to sustain life, food, and the right to family, the number is equally staggering. It’s been estimated that the twentieth century witnessed more than sixty eight million deaths due to starvation. Again I’d like to emphasize that this is a low estimate, and as you can imagine the governments of the countr
ies that suffer so much don’t exactly want the world to know how many bodies they were forced to bury.” A pained sadness fell upon her face as she swiped again at the screen. “In the last one hundred years we have seen infectious diseases strip more than one point six billion souls from this planet. The proliferation of cancer requires that total to be increased by a heartbreaking five hundred and thirty five million.”
Suddenly to the left of where she stood another floating hologram appeared, somewhat smaller than the Earth and this one static. It was the moon, with craters marked with shadows and a surface of silver and grey that projected loneliness.
“Numbers of that magnitude are truly terrifying,” she continued, “but it’s the smallest of numbers that should spark fear into the hearts of us all, and that number is twelve. Not twelve million, not twelve thousand, but simply twelve. That is how many human beings have physically travelled beyond our orbit and danced upon the ancient floor of our constant companion for the journey across the galaxy. If we’re to believe the reasoning that’s been offered then it is a case of not enough money and far too much risk for life. The blood of our children, it seems, can spill down upon the soil for the pursuit of wealth and political dominance but the chance to extend our race beyond the only home we’ve known is not worth the cost. I think you’ll agree, something isn’t adding up.”
“Damn, she’s got one hell of a point there,” Joey whispered as he poured another drink. “Kinda makes you think doesn’t it?”
“It’s a different way to look at things that’s for sure,” John replied as quietly as he could.
“If you ask me there’s a whole lot that we’re not being told about up there,” Joey added as he studied the surface of the moon.
John was curious what he meant but didn’t bother finding out. Klementina had definitely managed to grab his attention, and he searched through the beamed images for her eyes as her voice filtered across the room.
“There are other numbers I haven’t included when it comes to the culling of our species, things like automobile accidents, drug wars, murder and addiction. We wake every day to a world that is determined to kill us and yet we struggle through and do what we can to survive, only somewhere along the way the reason why has been lost. The speed of light links our voices, our images, our fears and our beliefs and yet we still grow to identify ourselves as belonging to a geographical location or a belief system based on an ancient interpretation of a creator. With all that we are capable of we still seem to shy from a declaration that we are actually Earthlings, born of the same sphere and ignited by the same sun.”
Sprinklings of digital golden dust washed across the floating planet as a new level of concentration shaped the contours of Klementina’s face.
“For the first time in human history we can access the knowledge of all who have come before us in mere seconds and yet invisible lines are still scrawled across the Earth to create the illusion of inherent separation and desire for economic dominance. Unfortunately, pull the curtain enough so that you can peek behind and you find that this illusion is driven by those that require obscene power for their every breath and to create distractions that keep your eyes and minds from the stars. The danger, it would seem, lies in a society that suddenly awakes with the yearning to search for a deeper meaning to this blood and bone soaked galactic ride. Whether we like it or not, we are assigned a role based on the holders of supreme power in a particular geographical location the moment we are expelled from the inner lining of our mothers. Caked in blood and bile we arrive into the majesty of the universe only to learn that the stars are mere decorations.”
Suddenly the holograms shattered into tiny pieces and began to fade away, replaced with the glow of the spotlights that centred on Klementina as she brushed at hair that had fallen across her glasses. Red lipstick matched the flickering candle flames and her tattoos seemed so much more vivid now that her stature was no longer distorted with projected digital colours. The palpable silence that blanketed the room assured her of the attention she held.
“So let’s be a little honest here tonight and pull back the curtain to get a glimpse of what’s really going on,” she continued. “Before we look up to the stars let’s look down at what it is to be a cellular, carbon based life form. Take the gut for instance, the slippery and winding acid bath that demands a constant supply of food, whatever the cost. Don’t succumb to its demands and you’ll soon find your every thought and desire overtaken by the search for sustenance, driving you to do whatever it takes to sooth the hunger pains. Philosophers like to explore the concept of free will, but go without food for twenty four hours and you’ll soon discover the idea that self control is fleeting at best.”
She took a moment to look out across the flame lit guests, her eyes serious and sparkling beneath the spotlights. The room was awash with complete captivation, the physical surrounding irrelevant in the throes of her voice.
“Then there’s the special place between our legs and the different kind of hunger that grows once hormones begin to surge deep in our blood. The need to fuck underlines so much of what we do it’s easy to fail to realize that the pleasure we seek comes from a force we cannot control. Deep inside our cells there lies a sequence of codes that drives the need to share fluids and create new blood and bone machines. This overpowering desire to fuck is but another necessity that we have misinterpreted as a sign of freedom. Sure it feels good, but then so does a warm shot of heroin. Looking at the moving parts behind the curtain, the illusion of free will begins to find itself exposed. The pursuit of happiness seems less sure if you strip away food and procreation. What would be left standing without these two primal urges?”
John took a moment in the candle lit darkness to consider the speech so far and wondered where it could possibly be leading. If there was a point to be found in the death toll numbers and the need to fuck and eat he hadn’t quite found it yet. He was no philosopher, of that he was certain, but it seemed to him that without food or sex there’d be no chatting about some vague concept of freedom. From where he was sitting he figured the only plausible alternative would be death, and that didn’t exactly make for a good position to be in. He took another gulp of wine and brought his attention back to the strange discussion.
“It’s difficult to think of happiness and violence going together,” Klementina suggested, “but a peek behind the curtain sure seems to say otherwise. How else can we possibly explain the blood that’s spilled each and every day? The absolute reality is that the human race is addicted to war. Justification flows in an endless, slippery stream. The different interpretation of ancient texts, the desire for dominant political systems, acquisition of land and resources, drug policies and narco disputes, the reasons are endless but the results remain the same - human beings doing all that they can to kill other human beings. That’s it, plain and simple, and we love it. New tools of death are created every minute of every day. Weapons that defy imagination are shuffled across borders as part of a blood soaked trading reality that has only one fundamental outcome, and that is for people to die. The reasons don’t matter, because ultimately, when the dust from destroyed cities and scorched bones has settled the cycle of eating and fucking begins again.”
John sipped at his wine as the speech sent his thoughts into a dizzying spin. So far, he had to admit, there’d been nothing he could disagree with, and if the goal was to heavy the hearts of all in the room then it sure seemed to be working as she continued to weave her hypnotic spell.
“War and destruction is something we seem to adore so very much considering it can only lead to the point at which it began, completing the strange cycle that represents our existence on a uniquely liquid planet. We feed, we fuck and we fight, occasionally looking for some meaning behind the demented merry go round before using the beliefs we discover to justify the cycle once again. If ever there was a case of a snake eating its own tail, our species is surely it. If humanity were to end tomorrow, what would the eulogy read? Wha
t testaments would mark the brief pulse of intelligent life that emerged at the cooling of the planet? Here lie the ashes of humans, content with war until the very end and eternally bound by the inability to agree on neither land nor origins of life that cries out to the cold silence. The battle of gods was never in the heavens. It was always a battle of flesh, chemicals and steel right here on the blue planet. Well,” she paused and brought her lips closer to the microphone, “the need for a eulogy is closer than you can imagine.”
A low, uneasy murmur bubbled across the room as John gently tapped the stem of his wine glass. The only reason he was there in the first place was because he was being paid to be, and technically the only thing he should have been worried about was finding Sebastian’s wife, assuming she was somewhere in the casino tonight. And yet he found himself thinking about Klementina’s speech and some of the implications that it carried, tempting his attention from the task at hand. Somewhere deep inside he sensed she was probably right. If he had to suddenly attend a funeral for the human race and say something nice, based on the limits of what he’d experienced up until now he wasn’t sure he’d have much to say.
He looked across the table to Joey and wondered what thoughts were going through his mind before looking back to the stage, suddenly very interested in what might be coming next. His attention was sharper than ever as her voice drifted across the room like a floating velvet blanket.
“I know what a lot of you are thinking. What about love? Through all the trials and tribulations of life, isn’t the very existence of love something that makes us special and maybe give reason to think of ourselves more than just animals? The short answer is yes. Love represents a glimmer of hope that there are some of us are looking to transcend the boundaries set before us. But we need to ask, what is love really? Well, when you break it right down to the very core you find there is something that is needed in order for it to exist, something that lies at the heart of all that is good and evil in the world.”
The Hallucigenia Project Page 20