Lost in the Wilderness

A Serial

I am still stuck here on this planet with these monkeys who have learned to dress themselves. This rudimentary ability has given them a most inordinately high opinion of themselves. They are, by and large, thoughtless, cruel, selfish, and deceitful creatures completely indifferent to the suffering and destruction their existence causes. Hopelessly fixated on the acquisition of more and more material wealth and the satiation of their own carnal pleasures they bring death and suffering wherever they go. I can only hope I will be done here soon so that I can move on to a better assignment as there is nothing redeemable here. The planet itself has potential, but these monkeys will need to be removed or eradicated before it can be utilized. And the sooner this happens the better it will be, or I fear this planet will be rendered useless by these pathetic and juvenile creatures.

I have been stuck in this lousy assignment for over three cycles (90 of this sad little planet’s revolutions around its star) and have grown extremely weary of expecting any improvement from these monkeys. If anything, I fear they are regressing and becoming even more unmanageable. Every time I am queried by the Home Office about the status of this situation, I have to remind them that contacting these creatures, and revealing ourselves and our civilization to them, would be as foolish as attempting to make friends with two rabid and vicious targras as they are fighting one another. In short you are going to gain nothing, and lose an appendage or two in the process. Frankly, I am at a loss as to what to do and fear that this may be a lost cause requiring some pre-emptive action by us.

These creatures are an enigma, both confusing and contradictory. If you review their art and literature, much of it would seem to indicate that these must be some of the most selfless, compassionate, and noble beings in all of creation. However, the reality is quite another matter. In their actual day to day lives, I have witnessed nothing redeeming in them. They damage one another, and the universe around them, with nary a second thought, or sometimes even notice. I do not think there is even a quantum of altruism to be found in any of them. In fact, in the course of some of my explorations, some of their “teachers” have told me they do not even believe in the existence of altruism. Imagine that, an entire race of beings that does not believe in selflessness or kindness without reward. Surely they are insane.

They are a most remarkable (not in a positive way) species, these so-called “humans.” You would not believe it but this word they call themselves, “human”, actually has connotations of compassion, kindness, and civility in their languages (yes believe it or not these creatures still speak many different languages). They often admonish one another to be more “human” if someone is being particularly cruel or selfish. Ironically, they are actually being more human when they behave cruelly and selfishly, rather than pretending to live this fictitious ideal they have developed to characterize themselves. But I digress.

They are remarkable in their ability to not mature as a species one iota since their ancestors first evolved over two million of their years ago (approximately 66,000 cycles). Oh, to be sure they have become more technologically sophisticated and developed written and spoken language (although they still seem unable to settle on one language); however, as a people, as creatures, they differ in no significant way from their ancestors. They still react to anything different or unknown the same way their ancestors did two million years ago, with fear, anger, and ultimately violence.

Additionally, they have no tolerance for anything that interferes with the gratification of their immediate desires, and this makes them dangerous. Dangerous to themselves, and dangerous to anyone or anything around them. Some of their philosophers and scientists have even theorized that their primitive aggressive survival instincts may be driving them to self-destruction, and yet even after hearing this they continue with the same behavior while seeming to expect a different result. They are clearly either insane or mentally defective.

Anyway, that is more than enough for me for now, I will continue with my latest outreach attempts. I submit this latest missive and eagerly await further instructions from Home Office.

Your most humble servant,

Mr. Hamon, Chief Envoy

Planet: Earth/ Sector #479832-an43/gg88

Galaxy 23497a – Dimension 333999

Mr. Hamon pushed the transmit button and let out a breath in exasperation at his current, and likely future, situation. His desk hummed under his hand and then indicated a successful transmission with a pleasant “ping” and a brief flash of green light. Mr. Hamon pushed his chair back, stood, and wandered into his kitchen in search of some liquid refreshment.

#

"When Jesus was sent to us he came primarily to save us. His tool for our salvation, as is it still is today, was to be education. His intent was to teach us to take ownership of our lives and our eventual end; specifically, to begin to be responsible for the obligation that our gift of sentience places upon us. The fact that we are a sentient species sets us apart from other creatures in that we are aware of ourselves, aware of our place in creation, and most importantly aware of our own mortality.

This gift of sentience places a special duty and responsibility upon us and this is what Jesus was attempting to teach us. We have a responsibility to make creation a better place by behaving responsibly through the following of Jesus’ teachings. We are to behave in all things with caritas. We have a duty to care for one another and to act with kindness, compassion, and most importantly with understanding in all things. This is our responsibility due to the wondrous gift of sentience that has been given to us; and reason tells us we should do this because in the end it is better for all. After all, behaving in a manner that damages creation is in effect destroying our own home. Actions of that sort are indicative of a shortsightedness bordering on insanity.

The fact that there are still many people who hoard material wealth, at the expense of others and creation as a whole, demonstrates one of two things: either Jesus was not entirely successful in his ministry or not all people are human. Now, given that Jesus is God (i.e., omnipotent) I find it difficult to believe he was unable to execute his will. This leaves the second hypothesis that all people are not human (of course this begs the question if they are not human, what are they?). If this is true, it calls for a significant change in how we deal with the selfish, aggressive, and sociopathic among us. We do not allow roving bands of wolves or rouge bears to prey on our communities, likewise we should not allow non-human people to do so either. Just as we are capable of humanely and compassionately managing our wild animal populations there is no reason we cannot humanely and compassionately manage our non-human people populations.

There are people on Earth right now who have hoarded so much material wealth that there is no possible way they can utilize what they have in their life time. Indeed, in some cases these individuals’ grandchildren will still be utilizing the same pile of material. This is sick and sad on its face, but when you add in the fact that there are large swathes of our population who struggle just to achieve food, water, and shelter each day this extreme selfishness becomes criminal and sinful; and like all sin, ultimately juvenile and childish. There are countless instances where Jesus specifically admonished us that as humans we cannot put material wealth before the well-being of fellow creatures and creation in general. This is further evidence that all humans are people, but not all people are human. No human could behave in such a blatantly callous and uncaring manner towards fellow humans, or for that matter creation itself. It would render any human sick with guilt and remorse to possess the means to help others, and waste that means on superficial and materialistic desires.

So, this leaves us where we are today with a world spinning out of control with violence, suffering, and death. A world almost completely in control of people who are clearly not human, people who have hoarded the material wealth of our planet and are utilizing it to extort the humans to abide by their rules and thereby solidify their position of control. This is a vicious cycle that must be broken if there is ever to be justice in creation again. It will not be easy as the non-human people will not surrender their lives of control, comfort, and leisure at the expense of others willingly..."

“That’s all very well, Max, but what are you going to do about it?” inquired Mr. Hamon.

Mr. Hamon was, as usual, impeccably dressed in a dark gray three-piece suit complete with a deep burgundy silk tie and natty silk handkerchief protruding from his jacket breast pocket. An appearance somewhat incongruent with his current perch sitting in the aspen tree beneath which Max was reclining while composing his thoughts, by typing them into his laptop, in an effort to make some progress on a philosophy paper due in two days.

Max sighed after repressing the urge to jump out of his skin due to, once again, being startled by Mr. Hamon’s sudden appearance. Mr. Hamon first appeared to Max three months ago on the very community college campus they currently occupied, and since then had made a habit of popping in and out of Max’s life with a seeming randomness Max had yet to make sense of. It was clear Mr. Hamon wanted something from Max, but other than constantly plaguing Max with questions and conundrums relating to human existence, Max was damned if could figure out what his game was. In fact, Max often wondered if Mr. Hamon was nothing more than an elaborate delusion cooked up by a stressed-out mind, a suspicion bolstered by the fact that no one else seemed to be able to see or hear him.

“You have made fine progress in grasping the nature of THE PROBLEM of creation, but I fear it is past time for some action,” continued Mr. Hamon. “The clock is running, and as the great one once crooned, ‘a little less conversation, a little more action please.’” Mr. Hamon smiled at this last bit, evidently pleased with himself for his pop culture reference or perhaps having a fond memory. “Max, my boy, I have a proposition for you.”

#

It was raining in the city by the bay, a hard rain, the kind of rain that washes the scum from the gutters… Max’s inner monologue paused, as he adjusted his hood in a futile effort to keep dry and warm in a San Francisco summer. He looked up and down Powell Street before darting across it and into the office building he had been instructed to visit for this mysterious meeting. He was still not sure if this whole thing was legit, or if he was being played for a fool, or even something more sinister. However, the potential gain from this proposition was far too great for Max to ignore the invitation he received after his numerous meetings with the mysterious Mr. Hamon while studying at the local community college. The idea this Mr. Hamon had presented to him has the potential to revolutionize the current state of human existence and change the course of history, hopefully for the better. When Max thought of the current sad state of human existence, he simply could not pass it up, no matter how slim the chance or suspicious the circumstance.

Max paused in the foyer and surveyed his surroundings. The building’s floor was tiled in black and white and the foyer walls were wood paneling. An old and somewhat dilapidated elevator stood across from him and a door way to the stairs was on his left. On the wall next to elevator he spied the building’s directory and proceeded to carefully navigate across to it being careful not slip on the wet tiles, as he was still dripping from the rain outside. Scanning the list of person and business names, Max spied the name of his destination: Haven Enterprises located in Room 1138. Sighing, Max decided to risk the somewhat disconcerting looking elevator rather then walk up 11 floors. Max pushed the call button for the ancient elevator, half expecting to be electrocuted for his trouble, and listened as the elevator made its way back down to the lobby. The elevator groaned to a stop, and after the door slid open, Max stepped inside and surveyed the button panel on the inside to his right. He had to use the damp sleeve of his rain coat to wipe the grime from the metal plaque in order to locate the number eleven. With no small amount of trepidation, both for the condition of the elevator and for the nature of his errand, Max pushed the button next to eleven and awaited his fate. A small groan, and a somewhat louder creak, and then the elevator car began rising smoothly enough. As he rode the car up Max thought about what Mr. Hamon had been hinting at during their last meeting on campus. Unless Max missed his guess, Mr. Hamon seemed to be insinuating that his company had made some head way in achieving the holy grail of computer technology; specifically, the creation of a fully sentient artificial intelligence. Max mused that Mr. Hamon had convinced him, or perhaps lured was a more accurate description, to come to this meeting with vague promises of a possible solution to the current suffering on Earth through the exploitation of the advances achieved by Mr. Hamon.

With a final groan the elevator slowed to a stop and pinged as the doors slid slowly open and revealed a corridor of a similar décor and design as the downstairs lobby. Max tentatively stepped out the elevator and attempted to read the numbers on the door across from him in the flickering florescent lighting. 1136 said the somewhat grimy and askew number plate. Taking a chance Max turned right and began carefully squeaking down the tile hallway with his still damp shoes. Sure enough the next door’s plate read 1138 and managed to look just as dilapidated as the rest of the building. With a final, but ineffective effort to reduce his nervousness, Max sighed, reached out grasping the door knob, and opened the door to office 1138.

As Max entered office 1138 he first noticed a peculiar burning odor, but before he could explore this he was distracted by a slamming inner door and the approach of Mr. Hamon who was impeccably dressed as ever with a smart looking white lab coat complete with embroidered name above his left breast pocket.

“Ah, Max so good of you to come, I have been looking forward to our meeting. Have you given anymore thought to what to do about THE PROBLEM?” He asked.

“Well I am not even sure where to begin; I mean are you seriously suggesting we can somehow solve human nature?” Max replied.

Mr. Hamon’s only reply was an enigmatic smile…

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Lost in the Wilderness