They waited for help, knowing it may be a while. In the meantime, they pondered on what was, what is, and what will be, almost to the point of insanity.
It was curiosity about the history, it was observations about the present conditions, and it was concerns about what was still to come.
While we were carbon, we knew we were more than that; If we were only carbon it would have been much easier, but animation manifested a deeper meaning than mere existence.
Help was coming, sure, but we were not just our carbon forms to be lifted from the present suffering; No energy is created or destroyed, that was a given, so how did existence come to be when it was all recycled and we’d lived on the ark for as long as we had? Was the goal to save the carbon or the energy, and how did that actually happen? Were they coming to save the carbon or just the energy, and what did that mean for Them?
Were we, generationally, recycling energy in an inbred fashion, or importing from the planet we destroyed? Were we doomed or blessed?
Everyone on the ark were trained to forensically investigate their atomic and spiritual components. Everyone was someone before, but they became them through the energy transference that, on earth, had been naturally evolved through death, decomposition, and reinvention via the soil and atmospheric recycling. On the ark it was a more mechanical process, of the plasma and CSF fluid being integrated and transferred into the new carbon, a recycling process that resulted in a New Same of the old energy. History books from earth never considered this process, apart from early barbaric renditions of organ donation, a mad-science collage of hacking and tacking parts from one system to another. What would they have thought of our survival if they only knew?
Everyone They had known on the ship had either had 1800 CE midcentury dandies or neoliterates of the 2000 CE as their dominant profile, while a few were archaic Egyptian Pharos, and others still were 1980s pop stars; all had been reincarnated as the carbon they were today, and many still were amalgams of many energies; a strange, convoluted contradiction of energy that made sense when looking at them as themselves, but when explained made no sense at all. This had been determined by a genetic phenotype, some had called it eugenics based off of a misunderstanding of someone named Darwin’s observation of how the species had survived up until around 2000 CE, or something like that, and it was still a cause for debate, between the cause or correlation of who is and who would be, and why.
Genetics play such a small part in what makes someone who they are, and while the “class” structure had been discarded long ago as an ineffective means of measuring intellect, strength, or other desirable traits, it was still a root principal for some of the Elders, not that they were held in high regard when so many of them were either ignorant to current experiences or physically and/or mentally “feeble”; underdeveloped, retarded from the expectation, or otherwise “inadequate”, as would have been said when comparative judgement was the dominant emotion.
We respected them, but paid them little mind, as they refused to adapt to the reality of the current ark life, instead choosing to relive past moments which resulted in them trying to force the youth of the ark to replay their experiences in traumatic circumstances, despite the obvious disadvantages. Barbaric, from ignorance and ego.
Did it really matter at all who we were? Whether a “new” spirit or an old soul, all were as they were, all contributed what they could, and for what? When the organizations that held monopolies on the old planet, one They had never set foot on regardless of their spiritual alignment, they chose personal greed over survival, to their own detriment and eventual demise.
If only they had chosen otherwise. Was it a choice, or a fundamental inability? Did they just need a teacher, or did they need to develop empathy? If only They could go back to tell those conglomerates that the arbitrary 1s and 0s of their bank accounts were nothing but a curse on their metaphorical tombstone (because when The End came, there were no burials, no memorials, no memory of their 501ks and YOY values), maybe They could have helped keep them from selling themselves into an early passing, a painful and unnecessary death, taking the planet they knew along with them.
But that was long before Their time. They were waiting for the help they were promised by the pod.
Alone and bored, They decided to take a nap.
PIXLEY.DESIGN 