OF TIME AND SPACE

This little story is designed for a laugh in the midst of troubling times, set in Melbourne Australia 

2020

2468 Somewhere in the Heart of Disaster Drive

A Now Laughable City, 3---, Australia

Dear Mr Parker, (or do you prefer Nosey?)

You have found and are reading the thoughts of a woman persevering with the unforeseen circumstances evolving from a worldwide disaster affecting my chosen home.. Whether brought about by climatic change, ignorance, Divine warning, arrant stupidity, or some evil power; to this date, no one knows the real reason for the disaster, though there is speculation. However, you, should you be one of those living in a more enlightened future, might have a better idea than I.

This is how a complete stranger to you, feels about the world in general, in this year of worldwide disaster. For, having been wrongly accused, by reason of supposition, of misconduct and therefore imprisoned for my sins, there has been so little to do. My view of the world through any other means, save that of other folks opinions and desires, (all in the name of concern); has been spiced by moral indignation, media speculation, hype and fizz and a smattering of the high and mighty who having never done an evil thing in its life, rubs its hands with glee, in the same manner most of us sanitise our hands against contamination. This occurs most when the leaders of the world, have proved their human frailty; you know, depression, fatigue, fear, the plague itself, and worst of all faults, a different opinion, to that of knowledgeable public. Unless you are prepared for it, as those of a solitary life persuasion are, it is hard to accept this new world. Admittedly the first few months was easy, but there is only so much time you can devote to tidying, organising, sleeping, reading and filling your face with homemade delicacies, without being bored and or… I hate to say it, obese. 

Alas, Mr Parker, you will have a different impression of this era, being either a part of it, or one of the fortunate millions who having placed our present days in history, still have not learned from our mistakes. In that you will not be alone. You would think after histories pages of war, plagues, political or religious domination, we would have grown up but alas we have not. I digress

No, I must admit this prison is much better than most. I have the love of my life close by, my fur child watching my every move, nutritious meals and dare I say it wine with the evening meal. Compared with most prisons this is a breeze, until you want to go outside but can’t because venturing further than your front gate requires you to wear a mask. For health reasons I cannot wear a mask comfortably, my asthma recurs with the moisture that develops in this now fashionable and detestable piece of attire. Further, we cannot go out shopping because I chose not to drive, and two people shopping for mundane things like groceries is superfluous. I am therefore stuck between a rock of concrete and the hard place of boredom.   One Two Three! “Poor Little Old Me!”

Communication has always proved to be a useful tool. Authors, poets, painters, orators, mothers with exasperating children, and likewise school teachers with classes of exasperating children, all find ways of communicating, except when you are alone; when your own company is all you have and family members are forced to treat you as though you had the plague, rather than being part of a system which demands obedience, and isolation the prevention but not the cure. 

Fortunately, through means of modern technology, we can if we pay the price, communicate via computer. This of course creates the good and the bad; let me enlighten you.  Good, you hear voices that make their presence felt, bad, you notice that you are not the only one who needs a haircut, or heaven forfend, colour. Good you don’t sound ill, bad, you are scratching your nose, and the pandemic vigilantes are watchful; you might have IT… you know. Good, the love of your life is there beside you, bad you have blasted him for some misdemeanour that in ordinary circumstances would not be noticed. Yet your frustrated volcanic explosion is heard in the prison, by your neighbours and indeed by your fur child who scurries outside, because he can without wearing the blanky mask. He dares to wag his tail at you, the fur child equivalent of thumbing his nose. Ooh did I say that?

Oh, yes, the prison sentence; foisted upon me a few months back. You see, I am a member of the oldies group (hint beautiful shiny (dyed) brown hair, osteoarthritis, and an extreme dislike of fake news, and liars). Our illustrious leader makes no exemption for the oldies; those not senile, docile, ancient and locked away, just those who because of age are susceptible to the disaster. "Hello, Sir, may I remind you Sir, that this is spring time and the allergy season. Some folk sneeze if they are allergic to dust mite, pollen, pet fur even chilli pepper. It does not follow that…." oh, never mind, who will listen anyway? Those with mobility issues who can’t wear masks (as I mentioned) don’t appear to need exercise. Everyone who is young, virile et cetera can go for a walk, but not the gym, you might spread IT, likewise, if you venture further than 5 kilometres from your prison, you might spread IT, if you want your business to succeed tough you might spread IT. 

Yes, this wonderful city where we live had been branded even by the rural community as terrible. I can’t blame those who were exercising their civil liberties, for I think at time of writing it is not a police state, who knows what might happen if the puppet like populace don’t wake up.

So, Mr Parker, allow me to share with you how I hope the world might be but better yet the country I call home might be, when all the lies lockdowns and laziness is over. Instead of hatred we should show love, tolerance instead of ridicule, patience rather than impatience, respect rather than disrespect because over time these traits have developed in a world that has allowed primarily because of selfishness, and an inane sense of importance, subservience, and control. 

I said at the beginning this was written at a time of perseverance. It is also a time of health issues no one dreamed would exceed plague proportions. As you are the one to read this cry for help, I recognise it might be too late for me, but not you, your family or your friends. Never take anything for granted Mr Parker, your health, wealth, or lifestyle. Know your enemy, if possible and beat him at his game, if you can.

With all good wishes for your future.

F.E.D. Up (Mrs)

I did not realise my son was watching me as I wrapped this letter in a time capsule.

“Mother What are you doing?”

“Something for the future, darling; after all  in medieval times, messengers from the King always brought the Royal  message in a scroll.”

“Yes Mother.” replied my long-suffering son “but toilet rolls were not invented then.”