Simeon

March 28, 2022

Simeon

March 2073

Dear Simeon,

I had to write to you. I’m calling you Simeon, but really I don’t know who you are - but I love that name; it's what I would have called you. Your the last child I would have had after Maya - if I could have had another. So you are 'everychild' in the future. It’s too late for me to know you - though I know you’ll recognise this message. I waited in the forest, at my house for so long for people to come; a rescuer, that was no longer 'intransit' to wake. I thought they’d arrive soon. I know you will recognise this letter and what I am trying to say to you …this is to your future world. Listen - I’m telling you this, you need to know it – what’s happened.

When I was 36, I went at night, to the gallery to see paintings, but what I found were humans, a little younger than me: gently side by side dangling, beautifully unmarked with no wrinkles on their faces. Young adults: ready for life, for war. Greta ordered them to remain 'intransit' . What she meant is to wait until a new world was created for the ones they could not kill. They set about anihilating all others over that age, to kill the likes of me.

The gallery floor inside was alabaster. It was so beautiful. They burnt rose oil in there, to calm those who viewed them. I noticed their chests - their fresh skin, their hands, strong and able to take up weaponry – like the Statue of David. I saw how they muted so many - froze them, hung them up, displayed them. These wall hangings of people, just like paintings; they just said they hadn’t been activated yet: until Greta could think of a way to neautralize them. The ones she loved, she couldn't bear to betray.

That’s when they tried to grab me, take me for atonement too: to be placed in the gallery with them, to be frozen/intransit – to not age – to not become a ‘potential threat’. I’m not that. I was at one with them. Why can’t they understand that, that I wouldn't change and betray them?

Tell me this didn’t happen.

I’m writing though this seems odd to me – how strange – I’ve had this pen and paper for 5 years but never used it. I still remember how to make the marks. Now children's muscles in their fingers and arms have atrophied and no students can handwrite: it's because there was no play - they didn't care - they said there would be no use for handwriting in the new days ahead: childcare took all the babies and said it's not neccessary; said mothering was redundant. Not efficient.

Listen. There’s little time left for me, for us now. I’ve had this rod embedded in my skin for years. It listens, it follows, it secretes the flax oil into my system and soon emerging from me will be the nucleoside analogue which resides in it. It has been made to flourish and take me over, like this overgrown place I live in. Small poc marks trail up my skin to the insertion point. You could see it clearly if you were here. They’re white – like breadcrumbs, leading up my arm, remember that fairytale where the children were lead into the forest and left by their father? Do you still get read that one?

The the cordyceps sinensis glows; it makes my veins glow. Have they done this to you? You will surely still know about it – Maya told me it’s repelling the cancers and inflammations and not to worry - but I am – I sense my end, that they've lied. It's to get rid of me. Of us. The old ones . It’s disintegrating my body into the fungus it's made from – I know it – I studied botony – so there will be no carbon emissions. Greta Thumberg wants none. Noone's buried in coffins anymore, or cremated. It's the ozone. To preserve it. That's why I have this in me.

I stopped writing for awhile, because I thought I heard someone coming and I needed to hide. I’ll keep going. I must.

Thumberg was right when she said they wouldn’t forgive us. They didn’t. The teenagers didn't forgive us. They took matters into their own hands. Of course I remember my time at Rosny College, when I was 16. We damned them all then too. The adults. But we didn't kill them. We were the Goths. It's funny: I dreamed Robert Smith was my boyfriend. He sang to me each night in my room. I'm humming that tune.

I waited hours for this

I've made myself so sick

I wish I'd stayed asleep today

I never thought this day would end/

I never thought tonight could ever be

This close to me

You know what - I did wake up. That day did end. We didn't become what they said we would. We didn't betray them. There was some of us who stayed true. I'm one of them. I'm hiding. From the teenagers.They said they began to fully understand their betrayal. At least that's how they saw it. I taught them too well. They started to fight us. The teachers. That’s when the murders started. But the teenagers called it 'atonement', 'neccessary'. Redemption. Something had to give they said. Some they showed mercy to and they made them 'intransit' -that's those in the gallery.

The schools have been shut for years now. After the pandemic. Teachers are abolished – they lynched many. The young teach themselves. I've been in hiding in the Ferntree forest for thirty years now.

I said to Maya not to come here, but she found me. She tried to explain it to me - she didn’t want to do it to me, but she had to, she said – my own daughter! When I was asleep (and I trusted her), she drugged me – that’s when she inserted the flax seed implanon – I couldn’t speak properly – it affected my speech – how dare she. The ability to communicate verbally is lost by all adults now. They shut us up, shut us down. . That's how they do it. Then I saw the trail of dots on my skin, like I was telling you before, leading to the insertion point. Please tell them. Tell them to stop.

Anyone over 35 doesn’t exist anymore. They don’t trust us. My classes saw the footage of Woodstock: the hippies in the 1960s, the youth who grew up and betrayed them: my generation – they knew these young people just ended up turning into the corporate owners whodestroyed the planet in the first place. The 'transition' wasn't fast enough for them.

The HH = hypocrite hippies. That's what they called them. Us. We're the starters of wars they said – the deniers of the truth – You know how it goes; you would of heard about all this. Greta told them; " the usurpers become the despots" and so on. But I taught my students too well. Orwell knew it - they read 1984, that's how it started.

Thumberg kept preaching and her followers grew. Now that’s their understanding of us – the adults- to find us and... insert us with the nucleoside analogue . Greta screams ‘The Revolution is a lie!’

I need you to help me – to make the future understand – they need us – the old people.

Goodbye Simeon.

Yours,