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The last human

[The Last Human, 893 words, Genre: Realistic Fiction]

* Image courtesy of Dirk de Bruyn

He sat at the bar, with glass in hand. He was the last human, not the last human by any biological representation, but the last human in a metaphysical standard. He sat at the bar drinking, swishing whiskey down his gullet. The world had gone mad, yet in a world where the mad rule, he was truly at a deficit. His was the voice of reason and was cast in an ocean of insane ramblings. Yet, marked as insane there was very little he could do except voice his opinion. And voice his opinion he did.

“You’re all mad. This generation has foregone it’s human voice and adopted a mechanical one. Even I am subject to its atrocities, caught up in the mandates of my particular generation’s madness. A generation of men that foregoes reason, in an effort to legalise illicit substances in the name of health, all with the support of some nameless statistics. A generation of women that foregoes reason, in an effort to achieve an equality that already exists, all with the support of some nameless statistics. Too focused on the statistics to realise that your present circumstances, through your own choice, have created your own immediate world. And if others seek your world, you will naturally welcome them into it. A single snowflake naturally rolls itself into a ball as time continues on. Look at you and what you’ve become. But on a more general basis” he motioned around to the bar that surrounded him, “you’ve all given way to a wave of apathy. You are all caught up in trying to reconnect with the past, a fragment of time that has already passed, or a person from it, and come to ignore your immediate surroundings through this fascination. I look around and I see a generation at war with itself. Too determined in your own selfish gain to hear the pleas of help that are happening all around you. Forgetting your immediate surroundings and so convinced by a virtual world that only exists between circuits and energy currents. Forgetting the tales of your youth that taught you that family trumps all, instead to pursue a meaningless career. A career that for all intensive purposes exploits your own ego to fulfil yourself with an unrealistic sense of self worth. So caught up in self gain and triumph of the self over reason to understand the consequences of your long-drawn out apathy. Marked by a pre-dedication to entertain yourselves to that point of apathy, you have not arrived at it easily. Masturbating to a computer screen, afraid of human contact and the pain that comes with human relations. Or there is the artistic fascination with fame. That fascination that has sold out anything artistic, all of your integrity, to gain that adored focus in the spotlight. Scrambling amongst one another in a bitter battle of back stabbing and criticism to achieve the ultimate orgasm, ejaculating all over the populace and their beliefs to fulfil your destiny as somebody special. Well, congratulations, because only somebody special has the will in them to do that. The cowering for cash and manipulation of each other’s emotions to fulfil some primal need for supremacy. I once thought the human race was better than that, but look at you. That it was bound by a love for its own special distinction of humanity. But look at you, you have grown, spread and satiated your base desires. To the point where you have had your fill, and like a fat man on Christmas eve you sit there in apathy with a bloated gut. It sickens me. You fill your head with facts that are meaningless in your present vocation, foregoing your own train of thought and replace it with the voice of another. Filling your head with directions from an intelligence that does not exist in your immediate surroundings, but comes from an alien and foreign place. You should know that all the upper classes own is a duty to the lower classes, but they have foregone their duty of care and the world has spiralled into a seething abyss that turns a blind eye to suffering with its cult of positive thinking. Depression is no problem of the individual, it is the symptom of the sickness of a society that has failed to reconnect with its immediate surroundings. Endless streams of information pervading from all different directions that numb the mind and fry the skull. I may be ranting through a vocabulary of self-knowledge, but this is a self-knowledge of my generation and the sickness it suffers. The apathy, ignorance of reason by the overpowering endless streams of information the internet has burdened us with, the lack of consideration given to your immediate surroundings and the people closest to you in the present circumstance, the drive for self-empowerment and self-fulfilment with no respect to the duty to those around you. Apathy. Apathy. Apathy. Is anybody listening to me?” He felt parched and threw another shot of whiskey down his gullet.

A single man replied, who hadn’t really been listening to anything the raving lunatic had said. “I’m sorry, I was reading something on my phone.”

The lunatic threw his head back and laughed, “Farkin’ hell!” He truly was mad, being the last human in a race evolving into mechanical form would do that to you.


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