Bedtime Stories From The Future

The

Waters & Other Bedtime Stories From The Future

A “Little Book” by Max Singer

The Waters

During times when the sky is black as blood, we preserve our batteries by dimming the lumina panels earlier than usual.

At these times, the darkness may scare the youngest. So we tell them old fairy tales to soothe them to sleep. “The Waters” is one of their favorites. Other tellers may tell them differently. I can only tell them the way they were told to me.

Blue

Long ago. ages ago, beyond living memory, before the waters turned dark and dangerous, the waters were as blue and clear as the light from our lumina panels when fully charged, and as bright as the eyes of a creature caught in the light of the moon.

And like creatures transfixed by the light of the moon, people were entranced by the blue of the waters.

Drawn hypnotically, irresistibly, to their edges. Whether waters called lakes or rivers or something as improbably vast as what they called the oceans. There they would remove their clothes and run pell-mell, straight into the waters to be engulfed. Were they crazed? They must have been.

Mustn’t they?

Did they want to leave this world? They must have! But no! The tale does not end like that.

Because, unbelievably, the people would frolic and splash and laugh in the waters until the darkness loomed and they would emerge and leave.

Only to return again and again and repeat the same ritual.

Yet, no matter how often they returned, their skin still did not turn black nor begin to fall off in strips!

Flesh-eaters had not attached themselves to their limbs or entered their bodies through openings or cuts! Did some unknown deity protect them? Did they possess some lost knowledge that protected them?

Does this tale even contain a kernel of truth? How should I know!

I cannot vouch for its truth or falsehood. It tells of a time long before everything we know existed.

Long before the ferns grew to hide the sun and fire fell from the sky to cover everything in a blanket of black.

Creatures

The waters were full of creatures.

Hundreds of creatures.

Thousands of creatures.

Of all shapes and sizes.

Scaly creatures.

Creatures with armored skin.

Fleshy creatures who hid in rocklike shells.

Snake-like creatures. Sharp pointy creatures.

Creatures with their eyes on one side of their heads.

Creatures with eight arms.

Creatures you could see right through.

And the people would gather these creatures and eat their flesh.

Cooked or raw! It mattered not!

For however the people consumed them they would not sicken and die. It has also been told that the eating was pleasurable.

The flesh being moist and delectable.

In a way our food is not.

Ritual

It is said that back in the ago, villages engaged in a ritual exchange of waters.

Every village would fill containers with water from their own supply.

And then have this water delivered to a another, different, far-away village.

Meanwhile that other far-away village would fill their own containers with their own water.

And arrange to have that water delivered to a yet a third far-away village.

And that third village did the same. And the fourth. And the fifth.

And so on and so forth.

Until, at any one time, there might have been hundreds of containers of water from different villages criss-crossing the land at the same time.

So that, in the end, no village either gained or lost water.

And what was the point of this seemingly pointless endeavor?

Why devote all the energy and resources to this ritual?

How this ritual began is lost to us.

The answer is hidden in the past.

Dead.

With the peoples of the ago.

Who might well have also been performing this ritual for millennia. And were themselves uncertain about it’s origins and purpose.

Boxes

In the long ago, the People did not live together as one and share hearth and home.

They lived apart.

Just one father. One mother. And their offspring.

They lived in boxes made of various materials, some known to us and some unknown. Some boxes were called apartments.

These were stacked one upon the other.

Until they reached up to the sky.

To reach their “apartments” people would enter into a smaller box called an “elevator.”

Which would carry them up until they reached the level their box was on and they would exit.

Often they would have to share the “elevator” with other inhabitants who were ascending to their own boxes on different levels. They would not speak to one another nor acknowledge their presence while ascending.

And... each of these apartment boxes had their own hearths. Their own living spaces.

And their own waters.

In fact… ...four different sources of water.

One to bathe in.

Another to cook with.

Yet another to drink. And still another to carry off their bodily waste.

And there were other boxes called “houses” These were spaced far apart and surrounded by walls or fences, perhaps to protect them from their neighbors who lived in another house box adjacent to theirs.

For all these “house”boxes, there was yet another source of water devoted solely to wetting the ground between the boxes and the walls that surrounded them.

Some say this water was used to feed some sort of plant that would grow to cover the space.

These plants were not a source of any sustenance.

It is believed these plants served no purpose other than providing a surface for some sort of outdoor games.

(Or perhaps to merely provide decoration.)

Feel Free To Leave Your Scythe By The Door

Please come in.

Can I take your robe?

No? Okay.

(But, please, just feel free to leave your scythe by the door.)

I was expecting you. But not this soon. Not this late.

(Seriously, You can just lean your scythe by the door.)

It won’t be in my way.

The fridge is empty but how ‘bout a beer?

No? Okay! Make yourself comfortable.

(You know you’d be more comfortable if you left your scythe by the door.)

No need to stand there holding it. Thought inviting you in might cheer you up.

You look so grim.

Get it? Just a joke!

Don’t get it? Not laughing.

Okay. Not a haha kind of guy?

(The scythe looks pretty heavy to me?)

You sure you don’t want to put it down for a while?

Quiet type, huh?

Job got you down? Huh? The work?

The hours? The boss?

Just the whole idea of it?

(I can put your scythe by the door!)

…so, is this your busy season?

(You could come back later if you want!)

Off season?

Season of the witch?

Anyway how did you get the job?

Family business?

Any chance for advancement?

Time off for good behavior?

Just kidding.

Not one for whimsy of course.

Not in your line of work

(I’d be really happy to put your scythe by the door for you!!!)

What about when you’re on vacation?

Kick back? Kick loose at all? Get a little wild?

Huh? A swinger? It’s not good to hold it all in. Gotta let it out once in a while. Anyone you can talk to?

Not that kind of guy, huh?

Keep to yourself a lot. Kind of a bringdown at parties.

(Why don’t you just lean your scythe at the door?)

Nice scythe though.

Specially made? Family heirloom?

Had it a long time?

Bet it’s seen a few things.

So how’s this work anyway?

You seem uncomfortable.

What’s next?

(Sure you don’t want to at least put your scythe down?)

Kind of old school. Is it symbolic? Just for show? A prop, right? Seems a bit unwieldy.

Ever consider an alternative?

Would you prefer me not to talk about it? So what about those Yankees? Mets? Mongols? Neanderthals?

Seen it all, huh? Nothing new under the sun. Moon. Stars.

Dark where you’re from of course.

Doesn’t matter if it is… (Scythe looks pretty sharp, ever cut yourself?)

Whatya do just in case?

Self-healing?

I’m just supposed to sit here?

The suspense is killing me! Is that it? A heart attack?

Cerebral aneurysm?

Well fine if that’s your attitude go fuck yourself.

I’m going to grab a beer —

(Why are you raising up your…)

Letter from a Dinosaur

To All Dinosaurs of the Future

[Assuming there will be any]

There are two kinds of we dinosaurs.

One kind craves a raw bloody piece of meat.

They are always running about, frantic. Hunting for their next meal, for something to sate their hunger...

Scanning the forest floor.

Waiting for some tasty morsel to scurry into view.

Grab. Chomp.

Swallow.

Belch.

Begin again.

The other kind, my kind, on the other hand, are just fine with some nice greens.

We are content to bask in the cooling water of a tidal pool, raise our beautiful long necks skyward and nibble at the choicest leaves at the treetops.

While the other kind scurry about in their frantic searching.

So, perhaps what we see coming

—

& the others don’t — is not because we’re smarter than them.

Just the difference of perspective that the leisure and care-freeness of our lifestyle has afforded us.

The time to look skyward and contemplate the heavens.

Whatever the reason, some millions of years ago one of us noticed a speck in the sky that hadn’t been noticed before that seemed to be heading our way.

Just a speck.

Barely noticeable at first.

Noted in in our collective memories.

And forgot about it.

But as the millennia passed by, the speck kept getting bigger and bigger.

More and more of us began watching the speck.

It became an obsession. Our cri-de-coeur. So we asked…

What is it? Just a speck or something a whole lot larger?

None of us knows for sure. The odds are it’ll probably pass us by a million miles or more.

But might it come closer?

If so how close?

Maybe very close?

And, unlikely as it seems, might it even hit us?

If then, what would the consequences be?

Minor lifestyle disruptions?

Something more dire?

Fire? Floods?

Panic? Deaths?

This is the subject of our post-prandial ruminations.

But whenever we bring it up to the others they snarl at us with fangs bared. We are called frond-huggers!

Occasionally, in the heat of argument, some of us are eaten.

But generally we’re just ridiculed.

The Earth is ours the others say. It’s been ours for hundreds of million years.

What could possibly happen to change that?

And once every few million years, they’ll gang up on us.

And make us recant what we said we saw.And we do.

Small price to be paid for not being ripped apart from head to toe. Especially when... a lovely fern salad... ...is close at hand.