Rebel Against the Machines
It started with a note of honor,
It started with a note of honor, a note of beautiful perfection, and a note that some said came from heaven.
This note sounded so clean and pure. Even though it was a single note, it was uniquely crafted to speak to the ears and eyes of those who witnessed it. It spoke of the human and spiritual argument of praise without ending.
When people heard it, whenever the composer played it, it healed, it cured, and it spoke with authority.
So many nations were touched by this note; it reminded them to lead in peace, govern rightly, and defend the defenseless.
Many praised the writer of this note, paying homage, following, and dropping whatever they were doing to listen, even if it was played in a distant land.
People often heard of what this note could do and were soon busy trying to replicate, repeat, and recreate what the original composer meant it to be.
Soon, everyone was so distracted by trying to reproduce the sound of this note that they forgot where to listen for this original composer, where he was, and where it could be heard.
They thought that if they could obtain the feeling of the note and manipulate its properties according to what they wanted, it would be used more effectively to meet their needs.
At first, inventions to try to reproduce this sound were clanky, loud, and somewhat hilarious, but every initiative was taken as a step forward in innovation.
It was the new norm as the distribution of compromised sound machines mimicked what was heard long ago. Everyone believed and was deluded that their own noise was above everyone else’s.
They claimed it was a new era; they saw fit in their own eyes what was right and would get offended if challenged about their sound being more like the original.
This obnoxious sound that could be heard throughout the earth was transitioning into a harmony of war, distraction, and unrest.
These instruments of machines would sound more and more like what a madman would say to listen and obey, deceiving the masses.
Until a book was uncovered, written, and left behind by the original author. It was like he knew of the humankind he once captivated by his composition.
As soon as this book was studied, it made known the intention of the note in the first place. Everywhere, people’s eyes were opened, and they knew how foolish they had been.
But they were so psychologically dependent on their machines for so long, they didn’t know how to disconnect from this artificial sound-making.
They knew that they had to make a decision that would bring them back into the stone age but would kill off this horrid disgrace of a dependence which was their life support.
It was final, they flipped the switch, an effort to silence once and for all this horrid noise of metal and volts which now they knew was just an immoral imitation.
Everywhere, all at once, bright flashes, done, over with. Now, there was nothing, darkness. No attention distracted them. And they waited in the cold, dark silence…
But the dawn came. The morning spoke. And because everything was silenced, they could now hear a distant sound. It was the note that set the captives free.