Thick fog muffled outdoor sounds in the late night. No one heard the wrecker pull in and park behind the Mercedes sedan. The operator worked quickly, quietly. He jacked up the car, removed the mag alloy wheels, set the car down on cement blocks, and silently drove away.
The following day, a neighbor came home for lunch; saw the expensive, violated car sitting on blocks, knocked on his neighbors door and wondered whether anyone noticed the theft of their neighbors wheels. “What kind of neighborhood are we living in that something like this could happen?” It was near noon. He knocked on the owner’s door. She was shocked, but not entirely surprised to see her car sitting as it was.
Several months earlier, she financed the expensive wheels and tires, but failed to make payments. After many unsuccessful attempts to collect, the finance company repossessed their property.
The car owner shrugged her shoulders, “I didn’t make my payments, so they came and got ‘em. I’m getting them back, I just have to go down and make a payment.”
Dark nights still bring in thick fog, the atmosphere is still eerily quiet, and there is no vigilante group to keep watch for furtive thieves. The Mercedes owner has her wheels back and all is as it should be in the Deep South neighborhood.
Life Forms Evolve
Greed, Power, Money
Godot Defined for one species
Knowledge Shared Among Machines
Opposable Thumbs Irrelevant
Artificial Intelligence Evolves
Cooperation, Collaboration, Communication
Higher Knowledge Unnecessary
Life Forms Irrelevant
Silicon Chips Disintegrate
That one place…a place that feels like home…the place I belong?
It’s been the quest of my adult life.
As mysterious as the darkness beyond the reach of the car’s headlights on a pitch-black night
racing to punch through into the light
maybe around the next bend
that one place…
…my place in the world?
Almost noon in the middle of the night where time has never been
Ripples sneak across the surface without moving in space that never was
Light bends its waves in a continuum that will never be.
I’m flying a Piper Cub; the airstrip runs between the uprights.
No matter how steep I climb, no matter how high I fly, the power lines keep me hemmed in, they restrict my course.
Even at the edge of space it seems; they’re always in the frame, obstructing my photo, ruining artistic opportunities.
There’s no room to reverse course. Flying a Piper Cub at the edge of space makes breathing difficult. I begin to fall…panic…awake.