They Know I’m Feral, and They’re Watching – Paranoia #B11

Posted on November 24, 2010

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Today the newscaster said that every wild animal and monster has officially been tagged or is currently being tracked by satellite. This concerns me because I don’t even listen to the news, the newscaster called to tell me — to make sure I was aware. After we hung up I could not shake the fact that nothing is wild anymore. We know where every condor and every werewolf sleeps, breeds, and eats.

Someday we will realize how dreadful this is. I think we will eventually be so scarred from our time of orderly content that we will have to hire people to go around acting wild. It should probably be part of the next economic stimulus. Or maybe not. Maybe we can save that money and find a woman whose fated true love died at a young age, who is alone forever now and suffers random bursts of feral behavior. We’ll give her a chance. If things get out of hand, we will have to put her and her kind in the zoos where we can go and monitor the wild, forlorn women and other crazies at a safe distance. We will do this when the boring, mundane existence of a carefully aligned, predictable world brings us to the brink of our own insanity. We’ll wave at them with our planners in hand, yell down into the pen, or tap on the glass windows. But no matter how much we want to, we will not feed them. We may even ask an attendant if we can toss in a few peanuts but the attendant will point at signs that say no.

I worry about the day they tag and track me. That will be the day the tiny bit of chaos that makes life fascinating is mapped out and avoided by a robotic voice from the GPS, or by a phone call from the nice, well intentioned newscaster.

(I apologize for my absence… secretly writing a book of short stories in the spare time.)

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