She’s big enough to see before I even feel her pulling. Sweet blue green, then bits of brown and puffs of white come into focus. The blue and the green diverge. I can see the familiar oceans and continents, not just as flat representations or three-dimensional masquerades, but as livid features of the living breathing Earth.
There are no borders of countries and no words scrawled over her surface. Just the scribbling of rivers, the silver peaks of mountains, forests popping up like spines on a hedgehog. There’s the sheets of ocean. There’s the lakes that freckle her lit face like mirrors.
She is clothed in roads and cities. Magnificently straight lines and rings and diamonds. There are no people from up here. No one owns these things. I cannot tell the White House from the Moon here, the Federal Reserve Building from the North Pole. Looking at the Gulf I can’t see the oil staining it. It looks as pristine as the rest of the globe. For all of humanity’s pollution, there is not a mark of the Earth out of place.
No, the world looks like one of the adorable art projects of this girl I had a crush on in college. It’s all bright greens and yellows, slivers of wood and genuine grass. There’s no obvious meaning in any of it, no way to know that there’s a hole in o-zone. No way to see the insanity of the central banking system. I spring away again. I’ll kiss the edge of the Moon before flinging off towards Mars. From this distance I can not even see the Pyramids, just the Great Wall, and even that fades to a blur as I turn my sights to the Moon.
The grey surface should not bore me. There are plenty of craters and shadows. There’s an American flag to look for, if that ever even really happened. You never know. Certainly, we have the technology. Certainly we could land on the Moon. It’s just the same whether we did or not, I suppose. I’ve never been there. I’ll never be there. Not in the flesh.
To get to the Moon you need a record as pristine and her surface, more ambition than Mars, and enough money that if it were ever converted into pennies you could make a space elevator if someone is willing to lend you enough glue. I curl around the Moon and arch away again. It still amazes me that money works the way it does. At some point in the past there was a link between money and value. You could take one of those dollar bills and get a dollar’s worth of gold.
Of course the people who own all the gold, the same ones that bought out the deposits from Fort Knox, the same ones that sit on the board of directors of every central bank in the world with no government oversight, these people released us from the gold standard. In America they used Nixon, the stooge. Now the whole economy is based somehow on what part of the massive national debt is represented by the slips of paper in your hand. And counterfeiting is illegal! What precisely would you be counterfeiting?
The government could be printing its own currency, like it says in the constitution it’s supposed to. Like Lincoln did to win the Civil War. After Jackson the Fed got fed up and decided to just start offing presidents, you know. Then they got the income tax instituted. We’re not paying off the debt with our taxes at all. You go to the IRS building and you’ll see signs exclaiming how high the debt is, the implication being that we’re supposed to buckle down and pay it off. We’ve all got to tighten our belts here they imply, with the assumption this debt is even being paid off. Well the government can just keep borrowing as much as it wants, its just a matter of making payments on the interest. What else are taxes for?
I have a perfectly reasonable solution to the debt crisis. Just seize the assets of the Fed. It’s been masquerading as a legitimate branch of the government for so long. Might as well make it one. Banks can foreclose on houses. I say we foreclose on them. Anyone objects, just chuck ‘em in prison with the drug offenders. Jesus God! Is that Olympus Mons? Pull up! Pull!
Gotta pay attention to where I am. I burst through the asteroid belt like it was a finish line before I even knew it. I am moving too fast to continue letting my mind wander to the traitors to humanity that have been holding us back. They killed Stanley Meyers when he replaced oil with water. They put us on the central power grid. What is this power they crave so much? What is the purpose of such power? Such hideous strength. There is no end to the effort taken to maintain it. It doesn’t provide anything, only changes the positions of what’s there.
It’s inevitable that every ruler will fall, whether they rule from the top of the tallest mountain or from its shadows. There is always someone who will topple you. Age weakens people like it does machinery. In the end age wins out and the machines fall apart.
He’s like a gentler sun. Surrounded by rocks of every size, some larger than the other planets. I am plummeting towards Jupiter, dodging around asteroids and moons swept up in his wake. I move faster and faster. I surpass light, I am sure, I surpass thought. I am aimed straight for the heart of golden planet. Every turn I make and make hard and still that is the only direction I go. I’m going to die...
I can shoot straight through. I move with the currents, faster, and faster. I thin myself, increase my speed. I am shapeless, massless. The universe stands still and so do I. The impact is like putting a pillow through a wall. Every chronic atom I am squaring my speed. I am speed. Back into space and there is only a flash before I hit Saturn the same way.
Then there are flashes and hums of different hued blues. Then reds. Yellows pinks stars shapes sounds. I am a hum through every conceivable color and some that cannot be conceived or perceived and then nothing. Everything.
I am the black heart that beats the Milky Way.