John Thomas Rourke, the SURVIVALIST, sits on a boulder outside the Retreat; a thin cigar hangs loosely between his fingers. The wind is blowing but with so many objects surrounding him, it’s hard to tell exactly from which direction it originates. It flows around the rocks and through the canopy of trees above and around him, whispering, and then loudly gusting to a roar.
Although the sky is filled with a scattering of clouds, Rourke can still make out the sun’s slow descent. The evening chill will soon follow. Alone, he contemplates the state of the world. The days of savage wild men and cannibals may be long gone for the most part but other evils still remain. The taste for power has never been stronger. Some take and hold power through brute strength, some through financial wealth, and some through control of the media.
Safe homes are filled with women and children hiding from abusive family members who use their power to control their lives. They have no money of their own, may not speak the local language, and are kept isolated from the community. They live in fear of physical abuse but are not even aware of the psychological damage done to them. For some, the cycle continues. For some, they are able to break away and find help. Rourke thinks of Natalia and of her uncle’s intercession in her abusive marriage. He wonders if good people still exist.
Money is power. It buys material things that keep families afloat. It buys influence. Money buys people, their hearts and souls. Money is a drug that some people can never get enough of. Money buys political support and influential jobs. Money buys love.
He wonders why is there such diversity among reports of news. Shouldn’t they all be telling us the facts instead of swaying the story to fit in with a particular agenda by adding or subtracting to the original, or with the insertion of additional comments? Why do you only hear good things about certain persons or companies on particular news outlets whereas another venue may have an entirely different point of view? It’s noticeable particularly when it concerns politicians.
Talking screens have taken control over common sense. People we don’t really know tell us how to dress, what to eat, and what type of bathroom tissue to use. The screens applaud the virtues of some and attempt to destroy those of others. The masses stare at the screens and never see what is right in front of them. The real world is in one dimension, the screen draws them into another, less complicated one.
People hurt other people with no thought of the consequences. They hurt with their words, their fists, their guns, or their vehicles. They hurt people they don’t even know just to satisfy their anger or inability to cope with racial, religious, and philosophical differences.
After all the world has been through, why do we still have wars? In the end, no one really wins except the ones who supply the weapons. The people who start them don’t get bloody. They don’t even get dirty. The soldiers get hurt and die. The medical personnel get hurt and die. The war correspondents get hurt and die. The women and children get hurt and die. Homes, schools, and hospitals get destroyed. Civilizations crumble. For what?
Rourke reminds himself that there are still good people in the world who love their country and respect law and order. These people are trying to raise their children to have questioning minds and value the rights of all, not just those who hang on the farthest edges of the left and right. Much is expected from these people to clear the excrement from the arena and do battle to save humanity from itself.
The sun has set and the temperature is dropping. A nighttime hush has settled in and the creatures nearby have found their way back to the cave, their nest, or their burrow. Rourke pulls out his battered Zippo from his jeans and lights his cigar. He inhales and watches the smoke curl up into the air, contemplating the state of the world and what a mess it’s in. Can life go on like this, he thinks? Have we finally screwed up things beyond compare? He stands up, stretches, and heads back inside, already thinking up ways to put things back in order. He won’t give up and neither should we.
Sharon