CW 42

To no one in particular,

On charlatans, saints, lords, and the sublime

Life as I've previously explained comes at you hard here. The people are beautiful. Nature is gorgeous. This is a planet of colors. And a planet of drama. Everything is a story. A small insect will drag a hatching insect up a wall back to its lair to eat it. This happens everywhere of course. But you're usually unaware of it. Except that here,  for whatever reason, the insect will drag his small prey in front of you. Up the shower curtain. While you're taking a shower. Some sort of disease-ridden rodent will climb on your chest and wake you out of a deep sleep. You're likely to contract the Illness. 

The first settlers on this planet faced impossible odds against nature given the technological capabilities of that time. They developed a belief system that reflected the wondrous environment around them and its capriciousness. The gods were very much in that image, and in turn, the people became like their gods.

When I made my way to this planet I knew it was because there might be opportunities present here that might not otherwise have been available to me back home. There was plenty I did not expect. Plenty I got wrong. Plenty that frightened me. Plenty that disappointed. And plenty that stunned me.

At home, the gods are dead, supplanted by reason, wealth, poverty, and busyness. Here, the gods exist in everyone. Saints walking down the street everyday. Demons lurking in the shadows. 

So when you meet someone who tells you with a straight face that they belong to the royal family, that they were a runway model on several of the planets in the old system, and that they are now busying themselves helping the less fortunate of the various galaxies thanks to a small, self-sufficient station in orbit above us, you have to look at them and ask yourself if they're crazy or if you are. You have to ask this question seriously, especially when several people you respect tell you that this is a very serious person who has now become a rishi, an enlightened being, a saint, recognized by many of the high authorities on this planet. I was born at the very center of the known universe, New York. Cynicism comes naturally. On this planet, in this system, sometimes you have to believe. I told you: the people here are like their gods. They are colorful. The stories they tell are superlative. The station sounds like a new paradise. I want to visit it. I want to bring my family. Maybe I want to believe that this man truly is a rishi and that he is helping the less fortunate. I want to see more of the universe and see all of the crazy beings that live in it. Already I'm trying to figure out how to get to this station. Let's see. It wouldn't be half bad to spend a little bit of time off-planet.

In the meantime, I also had an interesting encounter with a notable of the planet. It happened by accident. I'd been meeting with the new director of the Alliance and he invited me to the opening of a photography exposition in an old art gallery of the city. The ambassador to Corp. was set to present photographs taken with an old machine. Networking has never been my strength. I have some powerful allies. But it's mainly because I ask little of them. Now, I've begun to ask a lot. There's no way I'm playing the grind until I die. No way I'm taking part in that fucking grift. Anyway, I went to the opening because I wanted to meet the ambassador. The ambassador was of course accosted by many looking for a snap to impress their friends, a favor for their business, the skinny on something. Personally, I didn't have any favors to ask but I did expect that he would have a quick chat with me seeing as we're both from Earth. Instead, he shook my hand and walked away. On the other hand, I did get a chance to meet a great joker. Someone as capricious as the gods. It turns out that this person essentially owns the habitat I live in, the structure the habitat is located in, the ground on which the structure is built, the land on which Corp. runs, the holding that owns and runs Corp. The ambassador was his guest. And now, the host is my friend. He initially told me that he was a nomadic farmer. He's the lord of this planet. 

Tomorrow, my family and I will have lunch with good friends, people whom I hope will be a part of our galactic community. Tomorrow,  I have another appointment with a spy. I hope to meet more charlatans, more saints, more lords, and more spies. My life is now being woven into the sublime narrative of this planet. My stories are becoming superlative.