The Delicate Balance of Terror 28

“Tacitly the Party was even inclined to encourage prostitution, as an outlet for instincts which could not be altogether suppressed. Mere debauchery did not matter very much, so long as it was furtive and joyless, and only involved the women of a submerged and despised class.” George Orwell

The Detective steps back from The Tree as he is overcome by a blinding light emanating from its bark. He places his hand upon the bark in an attempt to understand the life flowing within it. He begins listening to The Narrative so long forgotten. Swirling whirlwinds of dark energy form above him. Wings begin forming on his back, pushing through the lining of his trench coat. In a burst of darkness and light, the wings flap uncontrollably. Throughout his blood he feels a screaming unending pain. He is aware he was sent here to help everyone remember, yet all he can do is forget. Whispers within the wind enter his mind-The Narrative is within you-A flash of the old man with the beard comforts his endless thoughts. The life of The Tree pulsates into his hand. He closes his eyes as the leaves fall from above and he sees blood and hears screaming and the whirring slowly approaching. Colonel please, Colonel, please no. It never seems to work. Her safety was never safe. The Detective can no longer move his feet as chains wrap around him, securing him to The Tree. The Colonel places his bullet hole ridden book of fire on The Detective’s forehead. He closes his eyes and shakes the burning narrative away. The Colonel straps The Detective to the floor of the helicopter. They take off as The Detective reaches out for The Tree. A burning bunny pushes The Colonel away and gains control of the helicopter. The Detective looks into The Colonel’s dark eyes-Why couldn’t it have been the other way? Why couldn’t you study love instead of keeping people in a constant state of fear. In a dark flash The Colonel and the helicopter dissipate into the dark clouds. The Detective is floating above The Town without control of his wings. The Town looks so beautiful up here even through the lens of her eyes, as her tears and the pain fall on The Town below. He blinks her eyes and sees the burning pages and a wall of enflamed darkness. Another blink and a sense of beauty and love rains down on him as he falls into the gentleness of his own heart. He sees himself walking side by side with her on top of the hill. You must remember, she says to him. In his mind his hand is touching The Tree and he can only feel her pain. You must remember she screams as she points to her pain, it’s only a distraction…We must all remember. Maybe his mission becomes clearer to him, yet he still has no control of his wings. His mind is split as he chooses to walk through the middle. Remember, you must remember, if this is as simple as a battle between good and evil, you gotta pick a side.

“Just a simple choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love instead see all of us as one. Here’s what we can do to change the world, right now, to a better ride. Take all that money we spend on weapons and defense each year and instead spend it feeding and clothing and educating the poor of the world, which it would pay for many times over, not one human being excluded, and we could explore space, together, both inner and outer, forever, in peace.” Bill Hicks