Failure

[Arafelis]

I wasn't sure where to post this. (k) me
------

This is a work of fiction.

Once upon a time there was a war.  It was a big war.  Although many men died (men being the sex principally used to fight wars at this time), there were so many fighting that quite a few managed to live.

These men were scared and scarred and proud and sad and haunted and optimistic.  Like many people who are scared and scarred and proud and sad, they were beautiful and they fucked a lot.

These men had ideas, and Ideas, and children.  Many of their ideas were shaped by the war that they had fought in, and more than a few of their Ideas, as well.  It perhaps goes without saying that their children certainly were: because to the child the father and mother are God and Goddess, and their God was a War God.

Like all children, they grew up and hated their parents.

Some of the men had another war later on, and their children hated it.  Oh, how they screamed!  Oh, how they marched!  But the men who were now Old Men did it anyway.  The children lost.  And they learned.

They learned what it costs to eat when their Old Men stopped feeding them.  They learned how it hurts to love when the people you love change.  They learned how it hurts to fuck, because a lot of them got sick.

They were scared and hungry, and did what they had to do.  They worked.  Because if there was anything you could say about these War Children, it was that they worked for what they wanted.  Even if they lost, and no matter what it cost.  And most of them swore to themselves that they would never stop loving their children, like their parents did to them, so their children would never stop loving them back.

They didn't know that every parent ever made the same oath.

One of them made a prophecy (actually more than one, but all that mattered is that at least one of them did).  This was how it went:  "Things Will Change."

So they worked hard and they made money.  And they didn't fuck as much, sometimes because they were scared of it, but they fucked and they had children too.

These were the Money Children.  When they were young was when computers were invented.  Ok, not really, but it might as well have been as far as they knew.  And as far as their parents knew, too: their parents often could hardly make the machines do what they wanted, but the Money Children seemed to them to dance on gossamer threads.

Nobody noticed how many of these children had dark-coloured eyes.

So these Dark-Eyed Money Children danced in their childhood and their parents were Gods.  They were Gods of Money, but they used to be Gods of Fucking and Gods of Acid and Gods of Weed and Gods of Cocaine.  And the Gods remembered.  They remembered how much they hurt themselves and they loved their children so much that they took them all away.  They loved their children so much that they swaddled them in wrappings of the finest plastic.  They were tethered with the finest leashes.  They were Finally Safe.

What they did not remember as well was that when they were young they were angry, and later on they were scared.  And if they hadn't been angry and scared, maybe they wouldn't have worked so hard.  And mostly their children were good workers, but they weren't always hard workers.  They smiled and they did what they were told, and then they went back to the gossamer threads.  And they smiled, and their eyes were dark.

And eventually the War Children got old and died.  And the Money Children were in charge.  And they didn't know enough to be scared, because everything had always been safe.  And they knew so much about the gossamer, but so little about the power plants and the way to chart courses and what kept up airplanes.  Some of them did, of course, but not enough.

And they didn't know that mostly the world was very large, because they always thought the gossamer tied it all together and they could go from one end to the other in the time it took to read this sentence.  But there were a lot of places without almost any of that gossamer that they had hardly ever heard of, except sometimes when the War Children were trying to protect them from these places.

There were fires.

They didn't know how to put them out.

They tried.

They failed.

And Things Changed.

This would be a good place to end the story, but it's a story about the world, and so if I didn't tell you a little bit about what happened later, it might sound like the world ended.  But that's not what happened.  Here is what happened:

The World Kept Going

[Corvidia]

I like. But explain the 'dark eyes' thing.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Clapclapclap

I was all prepared to hate it, and for a minute I did hate it, but the ending redeemed it. Nice work.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

I like. But explain the 'dark eyes' thing.

It's because he's racist.

[Arafelis]

I like. But explain the 'dark eyes' thing.

There isn't a really good explanation.  The phrase "dark eyes generation" popped into my head a couple years back and refuses to leave.  So sometimes I mention it in things.

Or because I'm a racist.

[Nast]

I actually liked this one too.

Good job!

[Roaring Biscuit!]

i likes it

would you mind me uh... borrowing it in aid of http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=20538.60?

x

[Arafelis]

I put up a Kopyleft notice a little while ago.

[East Coast Hustle]

I tried not to like this and failed.

My only criticism would be that IMO it needs just a touch more "flowery" in the language to contrast with the starkness of what it appears to actually be conveying.

[Bebek Sincap Ratatosk]

That was fantastic. I approve and nominate it for some Intermittens Issue somewhere.

[Dove]

Why would anyone try to hate the piece before reading it.

I appreciate your producing this work and kopylefting it for distribution.

Another excellent read!

[Dysfunctional Cunt]

I am curious, what age group would you consider the "dark-eyed" generation to be?

[LMNO]

Why would anyone try to hate the piece before reading it.

Because the Gun is good, and the Penis is evil.

[hooplala]

Why would anyone try to hate the piece before reading it.

I appreciate your producing this work and kopylefting it for distribution.

Another excellent read!

sigh

[Triple Zero]

Why would anyone try to hate the piece before reading it.

Be happy that at least they TRIED!


stupid dove. i hate doves. anyone ever see an entire dove? there's always bits missing. urgh. they're like a fucking collectible carbon game or something. and don't get me started on the fucking shower cream...