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"Welcome to Paradisia. A place of peace, a place of goodness." That is what the gleaming white sign perched at the entrance of the city reads. Lately I've been questioning these words. Every city has the same sign, only different city names. Euphoria, Celestia, Ambrosia... if every city is perfect, does perfection not lose it's meaning? My ancestors lived in a world of war and destruction. There was conflict, crime, and disagreement. The authorities drill stories of this lost land into children's heads to scare them. To most, these stories are terrifying. People stay awake all hours of the night wondering if a world of rape, theft, and murder is capable of recreating itself. Me? I almost wish it would. Excitement to end the boring days of Paradisia. If only this excitement was possible. Somehow, genetics have reversed themselves since those dark days. Instead of purity being learned, it is born unto every human. We have superb consciences, and wickedness seems merely impossible.
These thoughts trickled through my mind as I strolled through the freshly cut grass on a perfect Saturday morning. Suddenly, the world went black. I don't know how long I was out. Maybe ten minutes, or an hour, but when I awoke, I knew things would never be the same. Looking around, I noticed a large gathering of people nearby at the opening of the woods. When I approached, the world seemed to disappear, save for the ghastly image of a woman in red. Blood seemed to seep from her every pore. Within a matter of ten minutes, the entire world was aware of this tragedy. This was the first death due to a cause other than old age in over ten thousand years. The worst part? There was no doubt in anyone's mind that it was murder. Taken with shock and dismay, I began sprinting back to my beautiful one room apartment. Not too big, but not too small... perfect. Once inside, my brightly colored walls began to spin. As soon as the door shut behind me, I hit the floor, but instantaneously I was back on my feet. I began wondering what was wrong with me. What misstep in the universe was causing the perfection I had grown so accustomed to crumbling to pieces? Over the next week, the blackouts continued. The crime rate began growing exponentially.
Finally, one day, I awoke atop a large building. Standing at the edge, an omniscience washed upon me, and I was suddenly aware that I was the one causing the crime. My blackouts were simply me choosing not to remember my wrongdoings. This knowledge surprised me, and yet I was not disgusted with myself. Slowly, I tiptoed to the edge of the building, and within seconds I was flying. I soared and flipped, singing out to the world below me. After what seemed like a lifetime, there was a crash, cracking, darkness. Finally, I did not question my happiness.
Not everyone's idea of a Utopia is the same.
Article posted December 19, 2011 at 05:54 PM •
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I love my friends, spend plenty of hours at dancing every week, and allow homework to consume my life every now and then.
"For me, writing is exploration; and most of the time, I'm surprised where the journey takes me."