What I did on the New Journey ...

I died.

Turn My Ship Around

Well actually, tomorrow I will die. 

It’s okay ... it’s time, Tomorrow I turn 95. I know you’re asking about 2050 while it’s now only 2040. But, I’m delighted to be part of the New Journey and think I’ve done as much as I can. So, I’m moving on.

The mandates were put in place in 2035. They were simple: NO DEATH … NO BIRTH.

The end of life celebrations began ramping up at an amazing pace as lots of us oldsters were willing to gift our life-ticket to a young couple who had passed the baby bar and were deemed qualified to guide a new life on the New Journey.

Sarah and Thomas took me into their home and doted on me for three years until it was time for my celebration day … today. What a party ... my favorite foods, buckets of ginger ale, key lime pie and friends listening to endless stories of my past and the “good old days,” … although there was too much war, hate, racism, and greed. Finally though, we came together, said “Enough!” and started making things better. I am proud that I got to be part of that global transition.

Now, with friends surrounding me, I’m holding a bubbling glass of the send off champagne. Such a great day … perhaps the best of my life. I sip and taste gratitude on my tongue as I feel the release beginning … 

***

It was a great day but how surprised I was to wake up again, here with my own AirStreamer on my lap transmitting stories of encouragement back to Substack HQ, prime keeper of the New Journey’s Planetary Brain. 

How fun to be part of this wise, all-seeing, post-Earth-life crew. All of us here take our responsibility seriously. We know how important it is to keep the flow of stories of inspiration and wisdom fresh. People forget so easily. I should have known that the New Journey folks would have figured out a way to keep the wisdom stream flowing.

The New Journey inhaled breath when we began to wake up to the damage that was done by the dark stories told by faux news channels. Plato tried to warn of us of the danger of stories but we were already enchanted ... addicted you might say. So when the power-hungry and greedy ones discovered the intoxicating brew of “the other” and served it up daily in every home and sports bar, people became dopamine drunk, bent on vomiting up the vile they had consumed.

Of course we tried facts and truth, only to see them bounce off the walls of the now-ingrained story of the monsters at the door, a story that needed ever increasing levels of fire power against the growing shadow they warned us was creeping closer to our shores.

Here at Nirvana News, we put away dead facts and statistics long ago. Now all our stories are about campfire conversations. The buildings are gone, of course, and the Earth population is down to about two billion if we count the night fires accurately. 

They gather in the long night to share the stories they remember … and the ones we stream to them through the global consciousness. There are billions of us here, but we don’t take up space so it’s okay. We gather and sort through our memories and nod when we hear one that’s important to send back to those trying to create a future. 

We have the benefit of all the wisdom since the beginning; we just hope the Earth-ones don’t think of us as gods when actually all we’re doing is learning from our mistakes and trying to create a wise do-over.

We are working hard and our fingers are crossed, but it’s going to be up to them. There are some positive signs: there are more bees buzzing and wolves howling, but we hear that one clump of campfires sacrificed a goat to protect them from a rumbling volcano. It could begin all over again.

Signing off now … more tomorrow with the rest of the story.