12th webisode * Movin' in the dead of night

  Something shifted after that night. The glow from the gift of the hard cover book, Fubar and a tranquil lush forest with its luscious sounds and delicious fecundity marinating me while sleeping broke any restraints left on looking fondly back at my life as Jenna, just human. I understand that another story is unfolding and I’m part of it. Well, everyone is and must take part in it as well. Things are starting to melt together. I’m not sure how everything is connected yet, but it is a priority.

  As the days pass my lens widens, allowing more information and sensory knowledge. The farm isn't just an old fixer upper farm, my situation isn't just living on the edge of extinction, my partners disappearance isn't the unexplained heart felt loss and tragedy it once seemed but a developing extraordinary ever shifting drama that puts me at this spot, in the center of the vortex. I can feel the power of the intention that is hell bent on reversing our situation.

  Workouts, walking, writing, gardening, reading with heightened senses and interruptions from the new strange emerging world.

  The days heading into official summer are filled with new information coming to light, making more raised beds, using the water from the barrels sparingly and digging a small pond next to the garden for a water supply. The CROAK went off once for a fire alert.

  I’ve been texting a young woman refugee from Guatemala who is traveling in a caravan up through the Mexican furnace. I told her if she is able to get here, she and her two daughters can have shelter and food for as long as they want. They have gone through hell over the past weeks but that things are starting to improve. They’re getting drone surveillance and protection, water and energy bar drops every few days as well as promises of a medivac station and meals at the border that will treat any problems and help relocate to habitable places.

  This connection for me closes the circle, on a personal level. A mother with her two daughters surviving unbearable conditions for a continued chance at life, as improbable as it sometimes seems. Not in a protected bubble as I seem to be with weekly think food drops, shelter and the luxury of free electricity, a bed, hose showers and the time, space and comfort to sit down weekly and examine my life. At times, I wish we could switch places. At least maybe to offer her a home.

  The whole idea of these mile long caravans of climate refugees had always been on my radar but only recently, emotionally catching my attention. And now when that happens, I understand it’s like filling in a missing piece that’s core and that I should understand how it relates to me. The new lozenge opened up this opportunity of two way exchanges and I am grateful and yet horrified at some of the stories she tells! Cannibalization is a real thing, meat hunters that lure children away!

  I finished the book and had one huge epiphany, that the military must have a post nearby. That’s what the sounds coming from the good forest must be. I believe I am in a quarantined area protected by a security shield that doesn’t let people in or out. At first thought, there’s the prison I felt but after hearing others being in a similar location enjoying the benefits, I feel more secure. They must be the ones dropping food, listening on my requests, doing the holograms, and giving me the good reception. But how can Magdalena and her daughters get through if she makes it? Simple, I guess, just wish it!

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Between the book and stuff I’ve learned from stories from the WORD the installations are all on high ground in mountains across the planet for both climate and security reasons. They are all a part of the consortium that was formed after the world wide scientists protest joined by millions of people and supported by the wealthy and tech firms. The last thing we heard before communication was shut down was the rumors of a last chance Hail Mary project to reclaim the planet for life as we know it.

  I’ve been wishing for any rain for a week but nothing yet. The flowers on the beans are already falling off showing tiny pods and the kale is close to ready to eat. My spit is like a super growth hormone that speeds up seed to eating time allowing me to grow more, store more and not be at the whims of a long, weird weather season which now with the greenhouses should be all year long. Still have to figure out high wind and cold strategies.

  So many thoughts and ideas and planning. My mind has been on fire, going to places never dreamed, all the time on who I’m slowly becoming. I reached a point a month ago when I had to face the hard reality that I was a work in progress, that I had just plain accepted everything as true in the box, that I may have done this to myself despite Bobby not wishing it and that and here’s the new epiphany, that I’m on a slow burn, changing a lot slower than him, but changing tho in another direction or way.

  I thought that maybe I had stopped because I am comparing my time line of upgrades to his. But with each new thing, I know now that the changes are much slower and I’m not sure but think, not entirely the same. My intuition app, lol, has always been a strong point. But now it’s becoming stronger with an added feature that fills in the blanks. And my strength has increased enough to double the weights.

  When I was watching on The Word four people my age sitting in their A-frame arguing about the meaning of the book I just finished, I could profile each one, know what each wasn’t saying, what the body language was saying and how it would turn out. And I was right. There was a dynamic going on between those who were smarter, wiser, more creative, and of course acting out for a number of reasons. I enjoyed the male called Oryx, his nickname probably from that great book I read years ago, because he waited until everybody made their stand and then came up with a compromise that included all of their points. ‘The book isn’t science fiction, read it like a bible, it doesn’t matter if anonymous is dead or reported to be dead and don’t try to find him. The point is we are the ones who save this damn planet, Capiche!’

  Early morning walks continue naked with Fubar, longer and further through the unburnt part of the forest despite the possibility of seeing someone. My body is getting more use to the heat. Yesterday, I broke off into a sprint for a couple hundred yards without me thinking that’s what I wanted to do as if the body wanted to show me something, and it did! I ran so fast that I was able to keep up with Fubar, to the tiny trickle creek, not out of breath and almost needing much more.

  So, one more discovery. When I assume that I can’t do something, I’m disabling myself. Not anymore! Last night I looked at myself in the full length mirror, for a long time, studying me to the point of having another out of body experience. The changes in three and a half months are both a study of the physical effects from Bobbys spit and also from my human perspective, awe inspiring! I isn’t as though I’m getting bigger which I am but more definition with the smaller muscle groups, more noticeable with my legs.

  We got to the old stone bridge and saw that it had collapsed after a part of the hill had given way to flooding. We climbed up to the top and sat there, me completely drenched and Fubar already with his ears bending in different directions. That means both sides are cut off. The smoke wasn’t bad so the shield may be keeping some out.

  At times, I feel as though this isn’t half bad, if only I had someone, maybe a Guatemalan mother and her two daughters or all of that small caravan in a Pod. I’ve somehow connected with her and feel her suffering.