Lessons...as told in the Thirty-Third Century by Blynda

The Death of Existence - The Book of ZION the Lion

I wanted to dive deeper into the book, so I quickly turned to another chapter, The Death of Existence.  I’ll return to the Rebirth of Existence at some point. Here’s the thing, I swear the book itself, seems to be growing. It gets more voluminous with each page I read. Maybe it is  updating itself? 

The Death of Existence Lesson #6 Excerpt #1

Blynda’s thoughts….

Immortality was possible when the first words were spoken by our far ancestors. 

By the year 2222, the road map of Hue-man evolution was already written. The manner in which hue-manity were to evolve, was evident to those with clear eyes. It was well documented in music, literature, films, art, social media, individual’s thoughts and written text. The first carvings on the walls of the caves by our far ancestors, were guides to immortality. Most were happy to label all as creativity, or creative licenses, and bestowing the title of art and artist to some. The first time hue-mans saw a self driving car was in cinema of the Twentieth Century. To enjoy this illusion, one needed to suspend disbelief. Yet when self-driving cars became a reality in the Twenty-First Century. The hubris of our near ancestors, celebrated it as just another technological achievement. The majority of thought leaders failed to connect the dots. Perhaps, it was ego, or lack of courage. The opportunity to differentiate or elevate oneself from the masses, was lost. To some, resurrection was the only road to immortality.  In 2021, some thinkers from the Brilliant Mind Sept, embraced the idea, that there are people already walking the Earth, who will never die. To them immortality was achievable without death and resurrection. The untutored mob treated such thoughts as piffle. 

The following is from the personal diary of one of the last person rescued  from the Northern Hemisphere in the Twenty-Third Century.

The Book of ZION the Lion

Twenty-Third Century

My name is Zion. My late friends called me Lion. I believe, I am eighteen-years old.  Too many things have transpired to make the number irrelevant. I lived in Brooklyn, New York. Who will bear witness to my testimony? I pray someone, or some living being will. This question I can only imagine have been asked since human existence.  Luckily, there were many who came, investigated, learned, then created the discipline called history.  The future is becoming increasingly in doubt. If for some reason, some form of intelligent life is watching this, then I asked you to bear witness to my testimony. Witness the end of human life as I know it on planet earth. 

It is difficult to comprehend that the entire Northern Hemisphere of the planet is now deemed uninhabitable. The virus, so far, is still unidentifiable. Unlike any other before, the virus first attacked the earth, without affecting any of its inhabitants. It began by transforming the land mass into a metal unlike any seen before. Many thought is was iron. It transformed and laid across the infected ground much like concrete. The oceans, rivers, and lakes were dying too. Plants are dying. The brightest minds worldwide have failed to provide answers, if only for comfort.  Now, it is taking its toll on the habitants of the planet.  There is life, but nothing remotely similar to what once was. This is not global warming or green house gas effects returning. Those issues were solve almost 200 years ago. 

Once afflicted, death was imminent. No one knows what is poisoning the earth. Even the Little Genius from New Jersey, who single handedly made life livable after the war, has no answers. I am convinced that human beings, homo sapiens, people, persons, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, friends, and neighbors have increasingly become victims of a mass homicide, genocide or pandemic. We are on the brink of extinction and no one has answers.  The only thing known with certainty. Whatever it is that is extinguishing life on Earth, was not contagious. Some refute this proven fact. Skepticism, is a human trait, still in abundance in our final hour.

If you happen to see film footages from back in the day with any shots of the vibrant JFK airport, you would not recognize it now. Millions passed through here on a daily basis. The lines stretched endlessly not so long ago with people hurrying to change from one environment, to another. Airplanes were ubiquitous back then, waiting for their turn to touch the tarmac or soar into the sky. Now, I can only hope that one would emerge from behind that oddly obtusious cloud. The ashes of my mother, which is resting comfortably in my arms, and I, are like a nat in this vast, empty international way station. Tragedy has befallen the earth and her inhabitants. It is utterly frightening to think that all that I have known is gone. When you don’t believe in the afterlife, death is the ultimate finality. 

I can only hope that I can catch the sliver of hope that still exist.

So far so good! It was pure luck that I was spotted by that army helicopter.  Its even more luck that I am here when considering how blindly the pilot flew. I have great respect for the pilot, who is a one-man rescue squad. He is searching for others right now. 

“Most days, I start at the southern tip of Brooklyn,” the Pilot said. “Swing left to Staten Island, fly over the Statue of Liberty to South Manhattan, up to the Northern reaches of the Bronx, over to Queens, then to the airport if I found some lucky soul.” I think I am one of those lucky souls. He found me in Bed-Stuy at the corner of Nostrand Avenue and Fulton Street. This was one of the busiest corners in Brooklyn. It was a microcosm of the spirit of the great City of New York.  Even thought most people I knew were transformed and died, I wasn’t looking to be rescued. I was honestly content in the hood. I never gave much thoughts to being the only one alive, but each day or night on my daily walk, I have come to accept this reality.

My mother died about two years ago. Her dying request was that I relocate to the Capital Paradise of The Americas in the Caribbean. Her only sibling, my Uncle Oliver, apparently is alive and well down there. I had no desire to relocate. I feel like the King of Brooklyn. No one else I knew was alive, so I claimed the title. 

I was on my daily walk with her urn in my backpack, when I heard the unmistakable hum of an army helicopter. It was heading north from South Brooklyn. I was positive it was heading to Manhattan, but it started to hover. It soon began to descend. I thought of running, but I stood motionless.  My paralysis was partly due to my apprehension. It has been at least nine months since I last saw an unaffected person. 

I was accustomed to seeing the bodies of the dead, transformed people, and the E. Class Robots running around doing the job they where re-programmed to do; cremating the dead. 

When the pandemic started, the government ordered that the robots be re-programmed to collect and dispose of the bodies. At first, they hauled the bodies to city incinerators.  As more people became affected and expired, it wasn’t unusual for me to happened upon the E-Class Robots starting bond-fires in the streets to burn the bodies; sometimes, multiple bodies are engulfed in the same flame. Ghastly!  On occasion, when I sent by drone flying, it wasn’t unusual to see several fires on streets after streets. Eventually, to preserve my sanity, I stopped flying my drone.

As the chopper touched down on the top of the low-rise building, I noticed that the pilot was alone. He emerges from the helicopter and climbed down the fire escape on the side of the building. He looks like an alien creature as he approaches me with his army issued helmet with its dark visor. 

Maybe he sensed my uneasiness because he removed the helmet when he was a few feet in front of me. It was Digital! One of those new digital helmet that communicated directly to the owners brain. I’m not sure how a digital helmet affects the brain, but, a technocrat, I am not.

The Pilot was a skinny dude with the best waves I have ever seen, in his hair. He certainly was not looking or walking like any soldier I ever saw. He struts, dragging his boots as he comes forward. He smiles as he extends his hand.

“Hey man, I am Lt. King,” he said. He wasn’t much older than I,  maybe 21-25 years old. As I looked at his hand, I wasn’t afraid to shake it. At about 18 years old, I have run over guys much bigger than him. I can tell I am physically stronger.

I am Zion, I said, as I shook his hand.  “Good to meet you. You are the first person I am rescuing in New York City,” he states. Did you say rescue, I heard myself asking? “Yeah! Are there others, he asked?” I don’t know! I wasn’t aware there is an evacuation, I said.  “Yeah! There is daily broadcasts on all frequencies for the evacuation of North America.  I think it’s for the entire Northern Hemisphere of the planet, he adds. Do you believe the shit that’s going on bro? This is like a fucking movie. Or sum-tin! The last days are really upon us.” What if I don’t want to go, I asked?   “Well, I am not gonna force you bro, but I will have to let Command know about you, he said. Others will come, because the whole Northern Hemisphere might get nuked.” 

I guess my expression asked the question before the words could come out of my mouth. 

“They gotta try some shit bro, before we all fucking die.”

I found some agreement in his uninformed theory. 

“So you haven’t seen anyone else,” he asked again?   No, not for about a year now, I replied.

Like the cowboy his persona portrays. He whips out his teaser, spun and fires electrical pulse on an E-Class Robot that was moving just out of his periphery. The E-Class Robot was immediately immobilized.  

Why did you do that, I asked?   “I have to take a few samples back to Command for testing. Apparently, they are doing some weird shit, he replies. You haven’t seen no weird shit with these Robots have you?” Like what, I asked?   “You wouldn’t believe it if I tell you. Shit I don’t believe it myself, he said.”   Well, now I really want to know, I said.  “Apparently, a few of them have been opening the skulls of the dead and harvesting the brain, he replied.” Yeah right, I said. “I know, that’s what I said, he replies. That’s some unbelievably wild shit right there,” he states.  They don’t even have digestive systems, so they not eating the brains, I heard myself saying.  “You should come with, bro. Every life is truly valuable now,” he said. Ok, I said. “Do you need to go back to your place,” he asks? No! What about the robot, I asked?  “The chopper is outfitted with a magnetic laser. That will pull him on broad. It’s all automated.” Before he completes his sentence, the E-Class Robot began to rise from the ground. It floated towards the chopper.