The Fall

It was inevitable, I suppose. For the world as we recognized it to perish. For life with any semblance of normalcy to simply cease to exist. Because for years tensions had gradually increased, threatening to annihilate any false belief we held about our dominant social systems.

The end had arrived slowly, a decay of humanity so gradual that it was not immediately identifiable. And it was not caused by a singular catastrophic event, as though some would have hypothesized it would. A meteor causing an imbalance in orbit. A black hole enveloping all that we ever knew and loved. A shift in energies causing the Sun to darken. No, it had been a buildup of havoc over many years, going undetected for it feigned an air of normalcy; it was, of course, designed to do so. Yet nobody understood the intricacies of societal construction during this timeframe; no one recognized yet that evil was present among us, living in the bodies of our friends, our neighbours, or our family.

The plan had not been created with the intention of destruction; rather, from a motivation that housed a deeply rooted desire for power and control. It had begun merely with a presented and purposeful narrative of anthropocentric ideals, taking place at the hands of our ancestors during a time in which animals were regarded as majestic beings, meant to be respected. Eventually, consistent rhetoric postulating notions of animal inferiority meant that the anthropocentric narrative progressed into the dominant belief upon which our societies were formed. And though this shift away from reverence towards subordination took many years, as many in those days had regarded their animals with a sense of familial relation, this practice was now woven into the psyches of current generations as though it had always been this way.

We were better than animals, smarter than animals, they had said. Eventually domesticated creatures became a thing of the past, for humans had become convinced that animals existed solely as sustenance. This change marked a shift in humanity. We had once existed in the ways of earthling egalitarianism, respecting Mother earth and all of her inhabitants; in exchange our surroundings were safe. Beautiful.

Power differentials were not extant before the shift. There was no hierarchy of respectability. And there existed a harmony between earth, humans, and animals. But the introduction of anthropocentrism into our souls had awoken something in human beings, and that harmony was lost forever – largely unknown to the generations that followed, as though it had never been a reality. Eventually, as time went on and stories were not passed down, those uneducated on the history of our land scoffed at the notion of a domesticated animal; some refuted that they had ever existed within our society altogether.

Human beings had become competitive through this change, aggressing upon those whom they acknowledged as a threat. To their livelihood. To their capital. To their ego. And where the violence had once been reserved for humans inflicting suffering upon animals and earth, they began to cause harm to one another. The societal makeup was now hierarchical, with some flourishing in privilege and others suffocating under oppression. Some wondered how we had gotten into this place of disunity. Others vehemently denied that a problem existed. But now, how could one deny the very existence of a phenomenon so toxic that it thrust destruction upon the beauty that remained extant in humanity, molding it instead into a sinister reality – breathtaking not for the splendor but for the iniquitous devastation that ravaged our communities? Our earth started to show signs of decay, pollution so vast that our air was thick and difficult to intake, a grey tinge existed constantly hanging low overhead. The inhabitants started to get sick, dying off at alarming rates.

We found out as the end neared, that the devastation had occurred at the hands of one group; in existence for generations, they called themselves The Soldiers - a nomenclature so generic that nobody knew initially if they were here to protect or destroy. Perhaps that was purposeful. But what was revealed, in the days leading up to our last, was that their malevolent actions had spanned from generation to generation. In fact, they were the founding fathers of the aforementioned anthropocentric movement. But, alike millions of other human beings, past and present, I had unknowingly fallen prey to the fallacies of logic posited by this group. Because while the egalitarian system our ancestors enjoyed had long since collapsed, they had built systems that worked, to an extent, to ensure fruitful lives for most. Of course we did not know that The Soldiers had built the societal systems we lived and functioned within, for a façade of democracy was extant. These were systems of inequity, systems of marginalization. And now their existence was threatening the existence of humanity altogether.

And once the state of the earth’s atmosphere had deteriorated so significantly that people were collapsing if outside for mere moments, The Soldiers tried to exhibit deeper control over humankind, as if their original actions had not caused this vast destruction. Moving everyone into dormitory like buildings, guarded fervently by men with guns, we were separated by assigned gender at birth, and age. Certainly, they did not presume that this action would prolong our lives upon this planet; they merely wanted the miniscule amount of extant resources for themselves, for their families. And they hoped to train us for subservience. They wanted us to make their final days comfortable, supplying them with whatever they desired.

I had come to terms with the fact that death was imminent, for humanity had wreaked havoc upon Mother Earth for far too long. Years of carbon emissions and deep destruction of our surroundings, all starting with the fall of the virtuous animal, meant that we had created at atmosphere that would no longer house us. This, I could understand. But what my soul could not accept is that I was going to die apart from my daughter. That at 8 years old and within the confines of the children’s dormitory, she was without her mother. And I was without my world. I had tried to escape, many times in fact, but each to no avail. Yet with each passing day, I became more resolute in the fact that I had to see her. To hold her. To smell the scent of her golden-brown hair. To run my finger over the scar upon her nose, care of a dog bite when she was 6. To watch her carefully curl her small fingers around her heart shaped locket, a cherished gift from her grandfather when she was a baby. And to assure her that Mama was here, that we did not need our earthly bodies to spend eternity with one another. These thoughts were so constant that I felt like I was in a dream-loop, continuous false awakenings bringing me back within the same dream, the same nightmare. But why couldn’t I wake up?

On the morning of September 9, 2199, after 155 days living within these rooms, serving the men and their families as though royal blood pumped through their veins, the finality of earth was coming to fruition. I knew something was amiss, as we had been awakened by what sounded like catastrophic explosions. The other individuals within my dormitory began to scream, to cry out with fear. But while I tried to make sense of what was happening by perusing my surroundings, I was inclined to emote joy. While everyone in my proximity was rife with despair, I began to feel hope. For there were no guards in sight; the spot where they once stood was now glaringly unoccupied, and the door to the outside world appeared to be ajar. I took a deep breath in, knowing with unrelenting certainty what I was about to do. Arising from my spot on the floor, albeit cautiously at first for fear that someone would try to stop me, I made my way through the crowd. And once I reached the door, I simply bolted – running faster than I thought physically possible. They say a mother’s adrenaline will provide them with herculean strength when posed with detrimental circumstances surrounding their children. In that moment, I believed it.

I held my breath so not to intake the toxic air. The surroundings as I ran were grim, blatant destruction evident in every direction. Despite being within the hours of dawn, it was as dark as the night, with only balls of fire lighting up my path as they floated down upon the asphalt. It was as though the sky was falling down around me.

Reaching the children’s dorm I ripped open the door, running and yelling for my daughter, pain ripping through my heart, fearing that I would not find her. I knew she was alive, our bond so strong that our souls were connected. I felt her. But their dormitory was expansive, housing thousands of children. I made my way through the hallways, a woman on a passionate mission, with no guards to stop me. Likely, they had all gone home to their families, a desire to spend their last moments with kin overtaking the importance of tending to their hostages.

And then I saw her. Though the events of the preceding days were written like a journal across her face, sadness within her eyes where there once was a glimmer, she was there before me. The embrace that ensued is a memory I will carry with me into the afterlife. We clung to each other for life. For death. For all of the hours we had missed one another. And together we waited for the end, which appeared to be mere moments away. The fall that had started with anthropocentric values being programmed into the lives of generations past, all in the name of control, was now coming to an end. But we were not afraid.

We had each other.