Dream Farm Part 1

Dream Farm Part 1

J.R. Burns

Imagine, if you can another world, one in which the entire world has been ravaged to fuel monstrous machines. The machines have polluted air and sea and sky and even the heart of man. Still more bleak yet in this quest for a better world, conformity has reigned for 500 years.

Within a life time we will have no more power. Society and the earth itself will let out its last great groan and cease altogether. We who have been its faithful guardians for these past generations cannot conceive of how this came to be.

Then came the day when one stood, in our midst, he was an aesthetic, one of great contempt, he was one who lived outside the law, and yet we could not touch him. Worlds he had, worlds within him that we could not hope to understand or think to enter into. And yet we did hear his voice, his rebel tongue which he oft used to fuel-fire the cursed individuality dream which the masses clamored upon as senseless drowning rats, the daft fools following a larger fool.

He spoke out “This world need not altogether die.” A loud shouting and murmurs arose and all but smothered his voice “Blaspheme!” the common thread between them. His voice rose still higher, and yet more resolute in patience.”This world can go on, I know well a source of power which you cannot rival with all your splitting and burning, combining and consuming.” The assembly hushed when the revered world was spoken, power, even from the tainted likes of he, the word in itself pulled tight the strings among the faithful.

“What is the name of the new source, and what is the riddle of its combination.” I demanded to know, being of one mind with the sensible present.

“Imagination.” was his simple reply. In my ears I heard a great tumult, a tempest of contempt hurled upon him. And yet silence was all that was outside. This loss of sense was jarring; in all the worry I must have forgotten my tranquility pills. All leaders took them, they were our source of clarity to numb the mind and make us alike, of one mind.

The others looked to me, as I had asked, so should I continue to interrogate, as is but proper ordinance. I gathered my wits and set them aside and questioned as made sense. “And how exactly can this outlaw venture, this great divider of peoples, turn into a source of…” I paused as not to say the revered world in sentence with that which is unclean “of a solution to our situation.” There would be no way he could respond, and I knew the meeting would go forward without further incident.

No more had I thought this then he replied as if expecting what I had said. “I have found a machine which can convert novel ideas into energy which can run these things on which you depend.” Again the room took in breathe as such taboo words, novel ideas…and energy bound together to defile the sacredness of machine. “This cannot be,” I said without thinking as makes only good sense “You will prove this theory or be gone at once.” The crowd grunted agreement. We were of one mind again and would crush him once his postulation proved false.

Then from his bag a glowing orb appeared. “Light!” was the awed word which echoed through the gathering. “This is a receptor.” The heretic said “As I dream of new things, as my mind visits other worlds this picks up my thoughts and coverts them into light. However, one must un-shield their mind in order let it function to full affect.”