The Big Show

The Big Show

June 28th, 2021

As we neared the end of the world, it seemed that nobody noticed or even cared.

It was business as usual, and the sound of endless beeping became a familiar sound as the final hour approached.

There wasn't any fanfare; all just stopped.

Away in an interstellar space colony, a group of universal executives watched reruns of a popular show titled 'Earth,' but because of relentless use of violence and hate, the powers that be decided that 'Earth' was entertaining but decided to cancel it anyway.

"We will continue to play reruns for your entertainment. Indeed

'Earth' had great potential...."

__________

She was a beat reporter for a large, powerful (in real-time) news syndicate that explored threats to the planet and its way of being. Much like the massive sign in the hub of financial reporting on the universal debt, her job was to track the rise of hatred and violence pervading every crack in society. Her watch began to beep that it was time to take her medication for a severe form of schizophrenia. The drug had terrible side effects, but it allowed her to work and take care of herself. No one knew at work that she struggled with all her might to stay on point, illustrating the imminent demise of our way of life. An insistent beeping sound was distracting her from her work. Damn, she thought to herself, maybe she needed to increase the dosage of an anti-psychotic she had great success with. She decided to call her Psychiatrist for a pit-stop appointment for counsel.

She sat in the doctor's empty waiting room looking at pictures of the planet from away taken by a space traveler many-many years ago. The beeping was slowly getting louder akin to a frog in water not knowing it was being boiled to death. The doctor came out with a genuine, big smile and asked, what's up, Lucia. She literally shot from her chair shouting at him, what the hell is that insistent beeping sound? The doctor looked perplexed but was trained to go along with a schizo-affective person's delusions. Come in, he said and showed his concern for her obvious back-slide in treatment. Lucia, I don't hear any beeping. In fact, I have been aware that it is hushed, unlike most days.

Lucia fiddled with a 24kt gold heart-shaped locket she wore loosely around her neck. The locket was her worry –stone and always signaled that she was onto something that pertained to her work.

I'm losing it, Henry, aren't I? The Psychiatrist knew that showing his concern would only alarm her even more. Lucia, you may be experiencing a hyper-sense of awareness that usually precipitates a psychotic break. "I'm going to ask you to stay here with me till you even out." She felt safe when she could address the doctor by his first name. Henry, I must go home to check in on my pets. Lucia, take just a little time here with me; strange but true, all my patients called in saying they had to cancel their appointment on short notice. He continued, Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket or something. Lucia thought this occurrence had special meaning and continued to rub the shiny-smooth golden locket. Silence pervaded the doctor's office, but the beeping sound was diminishing, and this alarmed her. She felt like a frog in a pot of water slowly being boiled to death.

Henry gave her a small dosage of a mood-enhancement drug waiting to see if her compulsive delusions would subside. The seconds, minutes, and hours passed as the medication made her sleepy. She drifted off to a place in her memory when the world seemed more straightforward and safe. The rise of violence and hate in the world had managed to create an evolutionary, second skin for humanity, some sort of ethereal protection against our thirst for bloodshed and death. Once, she had been a carefree child, unaware the world was on a death march to our own self-induced Armageddon.

Something stirred her to come back from her dream state. The locket was in the palm of her hand, and Henry was gently gazing at her. How do you feel, Lucia? Better, she replied. Do you still hear beeping? He asked in trepidation? The beeping was just the beginning of what was to prove a day of consequences. She needed to go outside, and Henry followed with two chilled bottles of fancy-designer water. It was a beautiful sunny day out, and it felt more like a casual Sunday afternoon than a later in the day Monday early evening. Lucia commented to Henry that the mood-enhancement drug helped, but the beeping sound is alive and well, apparently in her own head. As with most psychotic episodes she lived through, this episode would probably quiet down according to its own schedule. In the meantime, she tried to divert her attention elsewhere. This little technique Henry had taught, and usually, it prevailed over hysterical ideations. Usually was the keyword meaning it was to be taken with a grain of salt? For some really odd reason, she remembered the biblical story of Sodom and Gomorrah. It was from an old black and white movie that elaborated on the end of the world. The film had been made hundreds of years ago and in its time had been a big-time movie theatre hit. "Don't turn around was a saying at the end of the movie. When fleeing from a despicable city, if you turn around and look at the city coming to an end, you will turn to a pillar of salt. You really don't want to become a pillar of salt, she said to Henry. What's that, Henry, asked disturbed by how quiet it was outside. The usual; sounds of chirping birds and ambulance sirens were disturbingly quiet. Lucia looked up at the purplish, grey clouds, and somehow they seemed biblical in nature like in the old movies of the end of time. Slowly she reached for her writing tablet and wrote the ominous words, "A change is upon us…." Henry had wandered from her side and was tapping his expensive Rolex watch. Damn, he said to her, I think this damn thing is a knockoff. I should have known not to buy on the cheap. Lucia laughed and mentioned that it was costly looking all the same. It's time I get back to work, Lucia said to Henry. The world may be coming to an end, and I'm here worrying about what I do not know or understand, but I feel like maybe you should go home to your partner and relax; nothing much is going here for you to be concerned about. Henry agreed, went back to his office to lock up while Lucia waited next to her motor scooter.

Henry had discerned that Lucia was doing better and felt easeful returning home. They traded pleasantries and best regards. The patient/doctor thing saved her skin once again.

----------

Lucia returned home to check in on her French bulldog and Mainecoon cat. They were inseparable since she had adopted them from the shelter on the same day. Where one went, the other was not far behind, and they were the one constant in her life. No matter how she felt, they were there for her with unconditional love. Why can't we get along like you two she mused out loud? The message machine, which usually had a slew of frantic news leads, was oddly empty. Standing in the kitchen, she made herself a triple espresso with a touch of semisweet chocolate. She went to the computer to write down the day's events and dutifully decided that all she really wanted to do was write her favorite thing, a 100 word (exactly) story. This seemed to always calm her down. Logan, her dog, was upset that Lonnie, her cat, was always by her on the table while she wrote. In a perfect world, she would write on the carpet alongside him, he yipped at her. Twilight was her favorite time of day. The light always captured her creative spirit. The beeping sound continued to persist, but she had managed a least not to be bothered by it for the time being. Dang, she suddenly became aware that she hadn't eaten anything all day. She trudged back to the kitchen, sipping espresso, and did a 'search and destroy' assessment of the fridge. Ah good, she had cold pizza with artichoke hearts and leftover Szechuan noodle chicken to choose from. She decided to not make any decisions and took both out and nuked them in the microwave. The smell of the two-day-old medley was wonderfully enticing. She shot the remaining espresso, went over to the pet food, and decided it was a good idea to give her buddies the V.I.P treatment by giving them more food they the veterinarian had suggested was good for them. What the hell, tonight will dine like royalty and go to bed fat and happy.

Lucia was beginning to feel the uplifting effects of caffeine mixed with fatty oils from her wonderful dinner. Logan was now resting on his back with his feet up in the air. Lonny was sitting at her feet, grooming herself, pushing one paw over her muzzle, and then changed sides. Before beginning to compose a story, she always liked to thank her creator for all the good things she usually took for granted. Life is a gift, reiterating to her inner-sanctum, and don't you forget it. The days of suicidal ideations were relatively behind her, but as she learned from experience, take nothing for granted. Her hard-earned empirical cocktail of medications had provided her with a new lease on life. The buzzing suddenly flared up; the happy furry duo looked at her, wondering what that annoying beeping sound was. You hear it too, she said and for a brief respite felt that at least she wasn't alone. She sat in front of the computer, hoping that the creative juices of her despair in life would let her write an excellent flash story of a dystopian society that was trying to rise from the ashes. She remembered the first time she had been given the 51/50 notice issued by Henry. It basically was a verbal last-ditch warning from a qualified psychiatric professional that you present a danger to yourself and/or others. When Henry felt that her behavior had become so cognitively impaired, his issuance took her back from the abyss.

It only took one time for her to come to terms with her mental impairments and take control of her life. She committed herself to the fact we all are infirm in some way or another. Our terminal interest in computer technology mixed with social media rants and ravings will always capture our most primordial instincts. She blinked and looked at the screen. She had apparently written a 100-word story without even knowing it. How cool is that she said to her snoozing friends. She rubbed her golden locket and began to read:

Once as One:

They come from all ethnocentricities and have one thing in common. Their ancestors were participants in 'The Tower of Babel.'

This mythic story tells of a time when all people spoke one language and strove to build a tower to heaven.

They were dispersed to the four corners of the earth, each with a different language.

They wanted to enter heaven with the air of ownership. Technological advances are once again screaming 'Babel.'

Our technological advances are verging on entering the heavens once again with arrogance and impunity.

A scientific speaker reiterated,

"We can and must do better this time."

She read this story from out of nowhere and thought to herself, not bad but needs work.