Tuesday, May 16, 2017

El Golpe de Estado Capitulo Uno

Las Memorias de Nadie
Capitulo Uno
¿Por qué no estoy escribiendo en español y no en inglés? Porque realmente siento que las voces que conformaban este país, el “país de la libertad” han caído bajo la dictadura que fue elegida en el 2016 bajo la elección del colegio de electores. Ese fue el momento de la caída del Imperio, ese fue el momento que no hubo vuelta atrás y Rusia termino consolidada como la primera potencia del mundo más arriba de China.
Se preguntan ¿Por qué Rusia? La razón es muy sencilla, Putin terminó orquestando la caída de los Estados Unidos y solidificando la Revolución Marxista en China y tumbando el pseudo-gobierno libre de Hong Kong. El golpe del mazo de la Unión Soviética le dio fuerte al mundo, pero esta no es solo la historia del mundo y de cómo los Estados Unidos cayeron en el desespero, es la historia de la gente que vieron la ascensión de un nuevo poder económico y los nacionalistas blancos cristianos de la extrema derecha.
Esta historia no empezó en el año 2016 con las elecciones presidenciales y con el país dividido, esta historia fue el proceso político, económico y social que empezó a tomar forma a finales de los años 70 cuando la extrema derecha cristiana cuando de por si eran un grupo minoritario, pero con un poder hegemónico que se concentraba en el “cinturón bíblico” de los Estados Unidos de America, específicamente en el área de Virgina.
Tenemos que entender que, en los años 70, solo sucedió el pináculo de la ideología en manos del Reverendo Jerry Falwell y la fundación de la Mayoría Moral o Moral Majority como se conoce en sus ciclas en Ingles. Hay que saber que el movimiento no se inició con Jerry Falwell pero es aún más viejo que un viaje psicodélico, la idea de que el Cristianismo y sus diferentes denominaciones estaban perseguidas o condenadas ha estado relacionada con el desarrollo expansionista del país y con la introducción de los medios de comunicación como la prensa y sobre todo la radio difusión que dio pie a los movimientos del avivamiento que trataron de influenciar la política a principios del siglo 20 pero solo fue el Reverendo Falwell el que a final de siglo impulso el movimiento en conjunto con el Christian Broadcasting Network.
Fue en los años 80 que los Bautistas Sureños empezaron con la propaganda y con la influencia populista de meterle a los feligreses ideas políticas que estuvieran relacionadas con la interpretación literal de la Biblia del Rey Jaime en una sociedad que no necesitaba ideas de antaño, pero una influencia modernista sobre los derechos humanos y expansión económica.
Los años 80 fue la época de oro para promover la idea que el cristianismo como tal estaba condenado, estaba siendo perseguido y estaba siendo diezmado. Promover la desinformación y justificar el odio contra las minorías raciales y de genero e identidad sexual estaban a la orden del día; la idea que el SIDA era un castigo de Dios para la comunidad LGBT fue promovida por ellos, y el odio justificado contra la comunidad gay era casi un deber en la programación y en el mensaje mediático que estaban mandado
Algunos dirían que los tiempos cambian, porque en los años 90 y con el año 2015 las actitudes cambiaron, al menos en teoría. El matrimonio igualitario se posiciono como derecho fundamental y el intercambio de talento humano creció exponencialmente, pero llego un punto en el año 2010 en el cual las teorías descritas por el autor de ideología neo-nazi Alain de Benoit en el cual la influencia contra el establecimiento político, el multiculturalismo y ser políticamente correcto influenciaron a dos generaciones Americanos sobre “el poderío Imperialista y como los únicos que deberían estar sobre el poder son los Americanos blancos y Protestantes”
Las memorias sencillamente son de nadie, son descritas para luego olvidarse, para repetir los mismos errores y rechazar lo que hizo al país grande que fue la inmigración, pero al mismo tiempo lo que extermino a las poblaciones aborígenes de la parte norte del continente. En si las memorias estas ligadas con el Excepcionalísimo Americano y con la Doctrina del Destino Manifesto, que de pronto explicaría en parte el odio como personas como Donald Trump y Steve Bannon le tienen a los mexicanos y otras poblaciones Hispanoparlantes.
El odio no es nuevo, ha estado cultivándose por diferentes generaciones, creciendo lentamente, pasando de padre a hijo y poniendo siempre la idea de que una raza es superior a la otra pero que no se puede comentar en voz alta, hasta el año 2015 cuando la carrera a la presidencia empezó y de repente esas voces del silencio y odio tuvieron un canal para comunicarse abiertamente y un grupo de políticos que los representaban.
Es escabroso pensarlo, pero se veía venir. Se vio venir y nada pudo pararlo, el mismo Trump le dio un nombre El Tren del Triunfo o Trump Train como era conocido en Ingles, casi similar al slogan de la Segunda Guerra Mundial para promover el fascismo alrededor de Europa, ese fue el pináculo del Nacionalismo Americano, vino en un traje y corbata hechos en China y con unas palabras que al final del día no significaban nada a favor de un desarrollo económico y social.

Ahora ha pasado un año y dos meses desde el inicio de la presidencia y la situación económica y social ha desmejorado; realmente ya no se puede hablar mucho de la “tierra de las oportunidades” y de la libertad de expresión; realmente no hay libertad de expresión. No se puede criticar a la Presidencia porque uno puede parar a la cárcel por traición, no se sabe que pasa en la Casa Blanca ya que la prensa no está permitida… pensar que El Washington Post cerró sus puertas porque fueron considerados subversivos por miembros del congreso, pensar que estos son los Estados Unidos del siglo veintiuno.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Hold onto Me

Hold onto Me

Short Story
By: Gustavo Simmons
There was a moment where time just became a mere illusion, the perception of self was another mirage which was linked to the sensuous system of the brain. Yesterday comes today, and the future becomes a tangible thing that ceased to exist. Understanding time can be a complex theory, especially when you aren’t attached to it.
Just to think on the multiple timeliness and suddenly “jump” from one point to the other and even recreate the universe when the universe reached the point of extinction. He was a “god” among men, with an impossibility to avoid death, just by resetting the “switch around him” but there were two flaws towards his recreation of the universe the first one being that no matter what, he would return to the age he was on the year he leaped and the second flaw it was that the three people he treasured the most were preset to be lost in the time-stream.
At first he just started to jump on different timelines, different places across the multiverse, it was just an adventure, then he fall in love with a guy who lived in a small countryside town, a very nice guy whom he visited on several occasions; then when tragedy happened and the guy who he fall in love died in his sleep, it was the moment that he realized he could turn back in time and space; essentially creating a new timeline in the preset universe.
The first morning that he went back, he went back further in time, he went to 1996, he was back in Colombia and he found himself back on the sixth grade. He couldn’t believe that he was so far in time, mostly because when he traveled between different coordinates it was only days apart but on different historical settings. Traveling around the continuum always gave him different ideas about how history could turn to be, but doing the feature of resetting a timeline, his own timeline was something he never imagined.
He knew he was born with that ability and every time he traveled he never influenced on any outcomes of the timelines he visited, he just was there to learn about history of the world from different perspectives. What if with the creation of a new timeline, the repercussions would be catastrophic? One life that you save would equal a life that would die? Or for every action you take when the timeline resets you are destined to live a life of misery and solitude?
Yet, he didn’t care, he just wanted to be with him, he wanted to be there for him. He became his anchor to reality, no matter what reality he created he always recreated him. Him, became the person he tried to save, to hold onto after he met his death thousands of times, was alive in each recreation and new timeline.

Still, he was alone, alone in between a sea of people he met and interacted with, and with his out of the world powers he always wanted to go back to him, because with him he was only happy, happy as he never was before.

Saturday, February 11, 2017

A Slice of Pizza

A Slice of Pizza

Short Story

By: Gustavo Simmons


A long time ago, there were seven beings who were manifestations of the inner darkest emotions of humanity. Intangible beings, who had the ability to manipulate the emotions of beings… at the end, these beings were sent to the mortal plane to live an existence of life and death because of the sins the committed and the sins they turned.

Lust, Wrath, Pride, Gluttony, Envy, Greed and Sloth were among us, among humanity. The cycle came every 90 years; all of them would live and die on the same day and time, the only exception was that all they were going to be born on different locations around the world but after 20 years of living they would gather on one random place and live near of the same city or country.

That was the mythos of the Seven, a mythos that everyone over time forgot. Yet, two of them were eating a pizza on the outskirts of Tampa, Florida.

It was a Sunday, January the 6th of 2002. They didn’t have a name; but they were old friends and brothers, part of the cabal. Two of the they, Pride and Wrath were sitting as they did for eons. On this life, Pride was born in North Carolina, while Wrath was born in Colombia. They look as they could be related but their flesh was far away from being related. Pride was tall and skinny, he had many tattoos based on Star Wars and The Legend of Zelda; Wrath was short and stubby, almost physically inept. Yet, they were two of the most powerful beings in the universe, each of them able to manipulate emotions and life beyond death.
“It’s been a while my brother, how did you discovered this place?”
“Cappy’s? I used to come here when I was younger on this life. Probably one of the best pizzerias in Tampa”
“I see” Said Wrath while eating a slice of cheese.
“Do you think the population will accept the new order in world?”
“No, they will revolt again. It will happen a similar scenario that repeats itself every 110 years”
“Explain yourself” Said Pride.
“Franz Ferdinand, Kennedy, just to name a few. Humanity, even in some way we are part of it, it always finds a way to go forward, we as beings who are able to exist beyond death, beings who are agents that manipulate humanity to achieve certain future, we can’t control them, we can’t even control the outcomes” Replied Wrath while cleaning his mouth.
 “You are right, much of the time, we can only sit down and enjoy this show while we eat pizza. I wonder what is on the news right now?”
“Who knows, but I heard there is a bloody protest on Washington D.C. and Ereshkigal is having a feast of souls right now”

Wrath just simply smiled.

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

The Dharma Incentive

The Dharma Incentive

Short Story
By:
Gustavo Simmons
There was a cosmic order between the chaos that ruled the universe; yet, dying seemed to be impossible. The memories of thousands of other lives, where we achieved conscious were still there, the problem became that a being who had no name, a being who ruled the principles of the multiverse, “the one who was above all” placed as a rule No being would remember, unless that person has achieved some form of Nirvana, even so that being was beyond the Samsara.
Why I can remember? Every single dead, every single moment of agony, the moment of birth, even so this Kami was playing a cruel joke as there was no faith, nor enlighten coming from my part. I was a man who lacked faith, a man who believed in the principles of entropy and chaos as a standalone concept beyond any divine principles; nevertheless, every single memory of my life was as a playback.
There was a catch, every single moment of reincarnation I was again myself. I was the person who was, the person who remembered from the experiences, the person who committed suicide and the person who died in the riots of 2017 while protesting in the White House on December 12th. I was sent to the same point in time, April 22nd of 1984, it was fixed, it was set, born in the same city in Colombia, born near the ocean, living the same point in time for 23 years.
23 years in which there was some form of prison, a prison without walls, just a prison with geographical boundaries. The rules of the cosmos where punishing me for something that after reliving the same moments over and over but with different outcomes before death.
Death is such a sweet treasure, is such a beautiful moment in which we are not bounded to the planes of existence, we just cease to exist on the flesh and we transform into a metaphysical concept that is just far away beyond comprehension. What a beautiful moment, indeed it is, yet birth is more painful, is such a pain; the overload stimuli is just worse than anything else.
After death, there is birth, the world is brand a new, the world is such an amazing place when you are child, still when you have the memories of a 37-year-old man inside a 7-year-old body, no one will take you seriously even if they consider you past beyond your years. What a burden is to live, but what a burden is to always remember everything, yet to live to the fullest and not to fill emotions.
Why this being that knows everything keeps punishing me? Sending me back to the same moment in time to make me have faith and “help” achieve the precious gift of death? Probably is an eternal punishment because I didn’t hesitate to take the precious gift he gave to everyone, life. I never minded, I seriously never minded life. You could take it with just a bullet, a knife or your hands. You could ruin a life by playing with someone’s emotions and feel no remorse.

I violated the Dharma; at least that is the term I like to use, the basic principles of the cosmos that were given by Lord Buddha, and they weren’t that difficult because “it” hated when someone denied his existence… I was punished because I was an offender of the Dharma, of the Commandments or whatever you want to call it.

Monday, January 30, 2017

When We Were Forgotten

When We Were Forgotten
(Short Story)
By: Gustavo Simmons

It wasn’t impossible to forget, they rose to the power through hate and fear. They divided the friends and families through their rhetoric that “invisible enemies within us” were going to destroy the fabric of the nation. Who were they? Nobody knew, the only information was that they came from the different regions of the country and used cyberspace as a channel to spread their message and conquer adepts.
The future that wasn’t, many people theorized that the timeline split and we became Earth 295. As if Lord Apocalypse rose to the power and created a new system of power. Could be it as easy as a comic book explanation? No; the idea of a new world was far more complex than any point in fiction, far more tragic in which a demagogue and his team found a way to exploit the inner fears and emotions of a population that was on the verge of a civil war.
The first week came with the goal to bring a glory that was already there but people couldn’t see it; people were blinded by the idea that the country was in the need to be great again, all because they saw people who were running from a way that was happening far away as the “real enemies of the nation” as the “real enemies of their own religion” as “barbarians who didn’t deserved a dose of compassion”
The second week came with an invisible wall, no one could go in or out of the country, airports and seaports were ultimately closed. Citizens were asked to refrain from flying as there was an imminent fear of a nuclear strike coming from China. Refugees who arrived fearing from their lives were sent back to the places they were running from; the ultimate action, it costed the lives of 3,250,000 million people in only a 12-month period, as the newly elected President and his cabinet saw isolationism as the ultimate truth to “save the country” from the enemies that weren’t there.
The fourth week became the last in which the country was standing still, it became the point where the government cut funds to health and education; it severed ties in which let each State to do whatever they pleased. Human rights were violated everywhere, basic principles of the constitution were just ignored and it gave a form of fundamentalist Baptism that started to rule over the public institutions.
We became a theocracy within a 14-month period; science and human rights became for a while a philosophical aspect from the past, the Federal State turner into simple and mere anarchy, where even transmitting news that weren’t approved by the White House was punishable by law. In two years, we were living under the shadow of the phantom government, where the dear leader was a mere puppet of the 12 masters that controlled different aspects of the population.
12 masters, 12 corporations that organized education, infrastructure and regional politics per their own means. They start spreading lies which eventually became truth, police became an LLC that responded to the interest of a private creditor. There was no more free press and the idea of net neutrality was from the past; people running blogs became the source of information outside the State propaganda.
We, the free press, we became forgotten, we became a secret; the population became forgotten of who we were; we weren’t as organized as we were. We just turned into shadows that became enemies of the “fallen empire”. Walkers as if we were zombies of the Walking Dead mythos; nobody wanted to be near us but we became the people who opened the dialogue to throw the dear leader outside the power sphere and make the shadows to crumble into ashes. Yet, our lives when they ended became erased from existence, nobody could have remembered us, who we were, who we are, what we did; our blogs and collective stayed online, some of them ended up in the underground nets called Cobra and Thor in case the powers that be decided to shut them completely.
Two years later society as it was, it was a mirage of the empire. There were more theme parks, no more entertainment, nobody could travel far away as gas became a luxury, people started to die as the public health system collapsed and anyone who dared to do public protest was in risk of being executed on the public sight.

How terrible society turned to be? It wasn’t the land of the free anymore, it became just another dictatorship. What the braves who fought the wars? They were left to die on the streets as they represented a negative profit on the earning margins of the government… what had we become? A land of nobody, a land of the blue, a land where desolation is everywhere yet no one has a voice...