Did You Reset?

 


It was very strange. He had never been so relaxed in all his life. He slept a lot. The hotel was cheap, as were the restaurants. Occasionally they would say something, we have never been human, just the odd murmuring, but mostly there was no torrent of words, just an enduring, repeating, beautiful image of pterodactyls circling in an ancient sky, a prehistoric landscape, beautiful, the lot of it.

Now, he was in Vung Tau, a beach resort south of Saigon. He wasn't up to much, editing a friend's book, that was about it. 

His fingers, indeed his muscles, felt fractured and broken, his heads empty of ideas. Because he didn't want to think about his own country, he watched endless podcasts on American politics from virtually every angle, and in more recent times had been hypnotised by the fracturing of the MAGA movement, the so-called conservative side of American politics. It was theatre. It was distraction. No one had to think.

Having arrived back in Australia, he had come down with a filthy dose of the flu, more than likely caught on the plane. A bad flu was sweeping Thailand, he read, in this realm of instantaneous world news.  

There was chaos in the realm. The was war amongst the tribes. The old certainties died away in an instant. The political class, meant to serve, theoretically, had so disgraced themselves that all Western democracies, destroying themselves with mass migration, were hitting a terminal point. 

He was just waiting, for the moment to arrive. Watched. Preyed upon. There was no secret now. They told the truth out in the open, and everyone ignored it. They spoke of a spiritual war, and nobody paid any attention. He gathered his strength, and waited. And wished for a vicious flu to depart. 

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