Hey kids, it’s Beckley. So Josh mentioned Saturday that he, I, and Big K had lunch. It may have also been mentioned that I was a pig. So a couple clarifications: First, I’m not normally such a glutton. But I never thought I’d see another cheeseburger again before I moved here. I guess I still treat each burger like it’s the last one on Earth. Second, I hate the fact that Superman would win too. Superman is boring. He’s a boy scout. But he’s also invincible unless you have kryptonite, which you don’t. So what can you do? I like Batman too. He’s complicated and dark, but these are the rules of the universe. It’s like playing war with a five year old who always insists he has forcefield armor. You’re not going to win. Just accept it. Superman wins. It sucks, but you’ve got to deal with it.
Needless to say, it was a great
time. And it got me thinking about life. I realized later that day, while my digestive
system took me down for the count, that this was the first time I’ve lived
since the fall. Actual living. See, I was always in survival mode. In fact, I initially hated the concept of
settling down, of trying to rebuild a life.
I saw it as decadence, as creating a hope that could only be
shattered. How can you try to build
anything when there are still zombie heads to smash? So I lived on adrenaline. Every one of my actions was directed at keeping
me alive in the moment. The things I’ve
done since the fall, the things I needed to do, they were all calculated on
what my need was. I tried not to screw
over others, not to ruin their chances of survival, but if it came down to your
life or mine, I would live.
And now, since coming to New
Haven, my entire world has opened up.
Take the hamburgers for example.
In the world that was…no, scratch that.
In the world that still is, I love to cook. I haven’t gotten to do it as much since The Fall,
but it’s still something I love. So when
I got to actually grill my own burgers?
Goddamn, son! That was as much of
a thrill as eating them. Later on that
day, I realized there’s nothing to stop me from following this love. I could talk to the Burger Couple about
expanding. They make burgers, but what
if I helped them do more? What about
taking a brisket and turning it into corned beef or pastrami? I’d always wanted to do that before the end
of the world, so why not now? I’m not
saying I’m going to do that, or that they’d want to, but just that I can. For the first time I was thinking beyond just
survival. You can survive (somehow)
without pastrami. But why live without
it?
This sounds like such a basic
realization now that I’ve had it, but there are so many out there who still
live in survival mode. There’s no hope
because by definition hope has no place in a life lived only day to day. Hope is the expectation that there can be
more. When you live just to survive, it
takes a toll. And in the end it’s not
sustainable. Here, let me tell you a
story to illustrate that:
Once upon a time there were a
group of punk-ass soldiers in Richmond.
These guys were tough and resourceful, but when The Fall hit, they
didn’t know how to live. They just
survived. They ate up their own
resources, so they turned on their neighbors.
Now, they’d have been better served to ally themselves with the people
around them, but that would have involved planning for the future. No, the Richmond Boys wanted to survive for today. So they eventually took over New Haven. Once there, they ate up their resources again
because all that mattered to them was the present. And because of that lack of focus, they got
their asses thoroughly and rightfully handed to them.
But the story doesn’t end
there. People were oppressed during the
reign of Richmond. When New Haven was
reclaimed, some of these victims retreated from the community they’d built, the
community for which they lived. Now they
focused only on survival because their safety had been so shattered. Any time they felt they weren’t heard, they
threw tantrums. When they felt they
weren’t getting enough, they stole. When
there appeared to be the slightest hint of a threat, they screamed out for
blood. No more group, no more life, just
survive at all costs. And thanks to
their reversion back to survival when the community around them had evolved
beyond that, they were exiled. And
still, they couldn’t move on. They
coupled their survival with hate. In
order for me to survive, you must die.
This hatred, this need to be strong, led to them embracing marauders and
so they were subjugated again. By the
time they realized that they needed to move on, to settle down, they were
broken and fragmented and they had no friends.
And now they’re all dead.
Survival keeps you alive, but
it’s not sustainable. And when you
couple hate in with that destructive way of life, you accomplish nothing but
your own destruction. Because what does
hate get you? I despise the marauders
out there, but I don’t hate them. I
think the UAS is out of control and misguided, but I don’t hate them. Hate takes up so much energy, invests you in
the life and behavior of a person you can’t stand. What’s the point? So when you mix that with trying to survive
day to day, all you get is people existing to nurse their own grudges.
And that’s where this comes back
to you. Look, I don’t give a crap who
likes me and who doesn’t. Who trusts me
and who doesn’t. I’d like to walk down
the street without getting spat at, but whatever. Seriously though, look at yourself. If you truly hate the UAS, if you truly hate
me, if you hate those UAS soldiers that saved your people the other day, then
what good are you to anyone? Do you
think hate makes you a better fighter?
Because it doesn’t. Ask any of
the professional soldiers that New Haven has operating on the front. You think they want hotheads or people with
something to prove? Do you think your
hate makes you more motivated? Maybe,
but just for your own selfish goals, not for the group. Because, again, survival doesn’t involve the
group. It involves you. There’s no loyalty there. There’s no friendship. There’s no cheeseburgers. There’s no pastrami. There’s no life.
And you in the UAS, you’re
scared, I know. Your government, your
military, may seem out of control in their behaviors. But you can’t depend on them for your
survival any more. It’s time to build
yourself a life. Because there is life
out there. There is so much more. I found it.
Those soldiers the other day found it.
So can you.
So if anyone wants to start
living life instead of just surviving, now is the time. And you know, even when I was out there, just
surviving, I think I knew there needed to be life down the line. I started collecting luxury items. Useless stuff that would only be good for
trade if the world started to rebuild.
Some cans of soda, jewelry, spices, even porn. The hope had to be there, otherwise why haul
the stuff around? And it’s time I finally
cracked it out, because what good are luxuries if you don’t enjoy them? It’s time to live, not survive, and not hoard
for some unrealistic expectation of a future.
So if you want to trade something for a taste of expired Dr. Pepper or
you’ve found the lack of internet porn intolerable, stop by and we’ll
deal. But more importantly, if you need
to stop by and talk, please do. Survival
and hate become comfortable like a pair of filthy jeans. But it’s time to change and put on something
fresh and new. Change is hard, but
accepting it is necessary. Sometimes it
helps to just talk. So please, stop
by. We can all start this new life
together.
Hiya Beckley, will drop by for a soda as soon as I return from the front. What you want in trade, know where I can get some twinkies,:).
ReplyDeleteSee you soon
Capt. Gavin from New Sunderland
Twinkies work, most definitely. Or if by chance you come across any of those oatmeal cream sandwich cookies because those are the bomb. Still, it's the apocalypse, so I'm not choosey. Stop by and we'll figure it out.
Deletewill keep my eye out for the oatmeal but might be a little distracted for the near future, but if I find any will send them back under armed guard
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