Where I’m from, the “fortunate” live in tall towers, separated from nature and those who live below. Their towers glisten in the sun and stand stoically against any storm. Yet, those living there have no feeling for the warmth of the sun or the smell of a flower. They are disconnected from nature. Nature is too chaotic and unpredictable. This detached elite seized control of our time narrative. They broke it before they knew they controlled it. Now, they’re shredding it to pieces as they try to fix it.
They are efficient. Things they do happen quickly. I guess it gives a certain satisfaction to press a button and achieve a predictable result. They continually press one button and move to the next. We call them “button pushers.” They have fully automated lives covering food production, energy creation, waste disposal, construction, health care, education, and entertainment. Their lives are as blah as a list.
They lead isolated lives. They don’t take time to interact with one another. You would think they would engineer a way to interact for pleasure. It turns out, this is too tedious. It’s amazing how often we interact out of necessity and how much fundamental pleasure we derive from our necessary encounters with one another.
The games button pushers play, develop and resolve faster than you can yawn.
When things happen quickly, and you’re focused on details driving automation, you lose your imagination and attention span. Those things are necessary to create and grasp a narrative. We need personal narratives to connect us with the world around us and one another. Narrative helps us find purpose and meaning for our lives. Competition can provide a shorthand for narrative and button pushers like to compete. However, their games develop and resolve faster than you can yawn.
Button pushers live in 2/2 time. They can’t see beyond mathematical cause and effect. Meaning is not personal. They feel no connection or obligation toward one another. This is how the existential angst problem began. It was solvable until they found a way to shred narrative beyond repair.
I’m Raven Blackhope. Max Hope is my brother. I left the Towers and my brother long ago to find simple meaning and satisfaction. I found others like me in the world below the towers. It’s far from dystopian here. It’s pristine and nature is free. The button pushers are not interested in nature. They’re neat and thorough in everything. That’s fortunate. Even when they exploit a natural resource, they don’t leave a footprint. They expected us to die. Now, they’re amused we live here.
We rejected the towers to follow a wisdom beyond our construction that lives in nature and in us.
We found what we were looking for by leading simple lives in harmony with nature. The wisdom that sustains nature lives in us. It is beyond our construct yet is accessible. It’s every person’s personal responsibility to access it. This is how we escaped the existential angst we felt in the towers.
The button pushers aren’t funny anymore. Recently, something evil has been going on in the towers. Waves of depression and existential angst from the towers have battered us. We’ve organized to defend ourselves. I recently learned the waves hitting us come from the destruction of time narratives.
When someone travels back in time and changes something. The old time narrative gets destroyed. This sends shock waves through time as old lives and memories are revoked and a new time narrative is created. No one remembers the old narrative. However, revoked actions and their effects leaves us feeling less connected to reality. There is less faith that what we do matters when our actions can be revoked by a button pusher.