After a long day, to sit at the old farm table with the laptop, looking out at the last light, casting my world in stark contrast between dead and still alive, the existential threat and the solution, a piece of ground and a work in progress beneath a protected bubble while goddess knows how this grand experiment in restoration is playing out, muse Fubar lying on the printer, with enough stuff swirling through my head to shake a stick at, and all that constantly being audited, edited, understood in a much wider context every day, that it feels like the expanding universe in miniature.
My human constantly has ah ha moments punctuated with intense near surreal epiphanies where I have to stop and go into deep meditation which not only reorients me but puts things where they belong. I breath deeply, pat Fubar if he is close and let go. WHO’s presence was exactly what I needed when I needed it and verified how the larger blocks had shifted, allowing some solid ground. Jenna understands this but hasn’t gotten past the sheer awe of what’s happening so in my promise to self I don’t swear anymore or hardly and instead use a couple of exclamations I remember from my mother and Nana, as in, well, butter my biscuit or jumpin' Jehoshaphat!
Another thing, I’ve been wondering. Am I a successful hybrid? Of course, Bobby didn’t pass on his spit intentionally, in fact fought back the urge to do so but from his description, was intentionally inoculated with the super spit. If it’s what’s described in Book One, why his caution and why all the hoopla over being invaded? Unless there are grains of truth in a lot of those conspiracies. I want WHO to come back for a Q and A!.I’ve been watching more of the WORD and stuff on the Lozenge than usual because I want information on the hybrids. We always kidded about them like some freakish monstrosity like Weeders big, long necked pterodactyl with a human head, but always took it with a grain of salt, it being the height of fake news on steroids. Every day pictures and stories of gun nuts organizing Mutant hunts with selfies next to their kill strung up before the internet which we always thought was just crap from the image generator craze.
Since I have resources now for information, here’s what I know or have heard. One of the many things that the Consortium is up to is using the nano genetic tech in creating species that might weather out the transition easier or adaptations to already existing species including us. I won’t get into the rumor mill, only to say that there is carefully conducted research with a few species now wild and mating in certain protected designated wilding areas and the rogue dark labs that allow mistakes to live if they’re not considered harmful, into the environment which, I guess, is a very loose interpretation of harm to humans and not condoned by other scientists which also have been known to mutate and become much more aggressive.
The conspiracies on these mistake hybrids is currently running hot with video on the Word with mostly descriptions of things people have seen usually in their backyards. There is enough to make for a cautionary walk through the woods even though I’m in a Node with surveillance. I wear the lozenge around my neck but refuse to take the gun. If necessary, I might be able to outrun, climb a tree or hold it off with a large branch until help comes. None the less, my empowered senses are on full alert, offering not only a defensive strategy but allowing me to pull more information from further away, understanding my habitat in greater detail.
Now that I know there is such a thing and there is a possibility that they’re here and could elude the military’s own defenses, my niggling paranoia has come back to roost, more for the safety of Fubar and damage to the garden. Despite the drops, growing food and storing as much a possible has become a top survival issue so anything that smells it out, it will look like a grocery store and decide to make here its home until everything is eaten.
Maybe Fubar is a mutant cat with human intelligence. He always is there when I become love sick, lies on the table when I’m writing this and can read my thoughts. Maybe it’s a cat with Bobbys brain. Too bad it can’t talk. Could he warn me of something in the garden when I’m sleeping or inside. I’ll ask him. Maybe I’m being studied with my new developing third strand to see how I adapt to changing conditions.
What’s hard to fathom is how anyone at this point could ever be against restoration and yet, despite being on the very edge of massive extinction, there is a movement called DarKarma that has, they say, millions of followers. So far, what I’ve been able to piece together from Word and chatter on the Lozenge, is that a group of rogue countries not participating in the Alliance that began the Hail Mary project, have developed a force to not just resist their efforts but gain world support by developing their own webnet using satellites, to attack it.
And they’re doing this with information gathered by, they say, a ‘volver who for some reason gained enhanced senses but kept the worst of its personality, a rogue me. Of course, not verified and maybe another conspiracy but some of the stuff is half true that feeds into the fear of an alien takeover.
I don’t believe they pose a real threat but still, the WORD has decided to show the series so we know what they’re ‘up to’, and of course it’s total trash, enticing viewers to turn anyone exhibiting special powers in, to submit locations so their eyebots can go take video and include it into one of their episodes and become a free member with ‘growing status.’ The problem with this is that at a certain level of enhanced auditory function, we can hear not only the muffled sound of the motor, the high-pitched propellers but also, even though designed for minimal air turbulence, the air movement, all marking them with a specific sound print easily identified from a half mile away
Why wouldn’t anyone be for survival, for the continuation of life as we know it, for a reversal of conditions leading us to extinction. What can they possibly expect than slowing a last chance effort down! From my human vantage point, its maddening, from the other, dissonant. My human believes that they’re gamming out what they think is the end times with a pay to play narrative, my other, just a continuation of mental illness that seemed to intensify as social media dominated everything including news. Thank the goddess that we don’t have fake news anymore, but the old crap still lingers out there like a toxic fog.
So now those who aren’t protected by a shield must stay in their higher frequency while outside or if required to go human, only for a few minutes, unless with a group which can increase the chance of one hearing it. Dissonance!
As it gets hotter, my tolerance to heat seems to increase. Yes, more sweat but otherwise normal for all other functions. I can still work all day with a few shade breaks and fluid replacement, still eat the same amount and still get the same amount of REM time. This week I'm going to do a day walk through the good woods towards that ever-changing sound. Oops, it's Word, time.
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