Mindscape

Here is why the Earth is already the perfect place for us to be. It might kill us but its still the best place at the moment.

He opened his eyes and beheld a scene so perfect that he could not have consciously designed it himself. Everything seemed catered to his taste. The land was lush, but not wild; beautiful, but of the kind that naturally grows into place without the intervening hand of a human. Grass that grew only to the length of a lawn freshly mown but with trees that reached into the heavens. A clearing with a lake of bright blue and perfectly clear and clean. It tasted sweet. The sky was never just one colour. It never seemed to be just one sky. Half in darkness, with a multitude of stars, half broad daylight, with a sun both bright and not dazzling.

                The other inhabitants, if that’s what they could be called, lived as though to serve. They did whatever he asked of them. They danced and played instruments to please him, brought him whatever he wished, though how was a mystery as he never asked for anything, they just knew, instinctively what he wanted. They pleasured him in other ways. Always delightfully.  Always knowing when and how. And they were as bizarre and beautiful as the place where they all lived. Skin of differing hues, of different colours. All beautiful, mostly female. The men were masculine and showed incredible feats of sportsmanship, all for his entertainment. His days…although days was probably the wrong word, his time �" days never seemed to come and go. Time did. Well it must have done. There was a time he was doing something and a time he was doing something else. So time must move but…thinking about it…was hard. It was the only thing that was though, so why do it? He didn’t, at least he tried not to. Thoughts didn’t work well here. Not that he cared, though sometimes, when he could think, he wondered why he didn’t care.

                Thought was not the only thing that didn’t work here, though he didn’t complain. They were things he…remembered…ish. He knew they had once existed, and happened to him, but no longer had any effect. Pain, cold, sadness, loss, hunger, boredom, tiredness, burning…none of them. All of them burdens that no longer had any meaning to him. He felt pristine, at all times. He laughed, loved his “friends” that seemed so set on making him happy, loved this place that had become his home. And for, well time, he stayed there, content. If bliss could become matter, then this paradise was bliss. That was what he called it; Bliss.

                Time passed, and while he was as delighted with Bliss as the time he arrived, he did feel a strange restlessness. And with this restlessness came a new addition to the land. Though, in one of his rare moments of thought he knew that this addition was not an addition at all. It had always been there, but not so close. It was a mountain range, but whereas everything in Bliss was beautiful and breath-taking, these mountains looked barren and dark and even dangerous. A powerful thunderstorm raged around it. Flashes of lightning continuously bombarded the land. It looked like the anti-thesis of Bliss…anti-thesis??? Complex word that! Whatever word you choose, the place look incongruous. Another complex word!

                It bothered him of course. It was a tarnish on an the otherwise Utopian plain. And more than that. Sometimes he stared at it for time. He spent time. Lots of time. Simply looking at it. And part of him yearned to go there. He was confused, something he was not used to. Confusion was something that belonged to the other time. Frustration and anger followed. He knew what he needed to do, he simply didn’t want to. But he knew he must. He had too. Once he decided on his course his friends, without being told of course, brought him things. Clothing �" which he had not worn since he had arrived in Bliss �" and ropes. They were sad as they handed him his things. They kept their heads down and their eyes averted. It made him, think? Feel? Sadness! That was it! He felt sadness! It had been so long. He didn’t like it, but he never let it stop him. He dressed, the knowledge of how to came back quickly enough. And, with much nerves and hesitation, he stepped from Bliss and walked out. Thinking returned, as though ice water had been thrown into his face. JONATHAN! His name was Jonathan!

                Jonathan turned and stared at Bliss, still beautiful, still a delight and as he looked at the clearing his servants, friends, slaves, whatever they were. Still danced, happy. Jonathan felt sick. He had been happy with having slaves! Sex slaves no less! For god knows how long he had been there. He would change things when he returned. He had too! The guilt was suffocating. But for now, he knew where he had to go. The mountain looked no less menacing but SOMETHING was there. Something that needed discovering. He walked.

And walked

And walked

And climbed

And walked

And fell

And limped (pain had also returned)

And cried

And climbed (slower this time)

And climbed more

And more

And more (stronger, more sure of himself)

And reached the peak of that mountain. Jonathan was exhausted but elated. He still had no idea what he would find but with each step he felt more determined to succeed. He KNEW something was there, in the same way that a man looking at a large expensive vault knew that something valuable would be inside. At first, he saw nothing but then, through the darkness, he caught sight of a figure. A human, old,, male, ragged, sat with his back against a rock looking at him expectantly with a toothy smile on his aged face.

“So, you are here? Finally!” he said

“Who are you?” said Jonathan.

“A part of you,” the old man replied, “like those people in Bliss. I am just a part of you that must be denied here so that you are happy here. A part of you that you have kept away because I can tell you what this place is.”

“And what is it? Where am I? What happened to me?”

“I don’t know the answer to your third question. Maybe you are in a coma. Maybe you are dead and this is supposed to be heaven but I doubt it. But this place is both nowhere and fake. Everything here is built for you, by you.”

Jonathan breathed out “tell me more.”

“You believe me, because you know I can’t lie to you. I am the analytical part of your mind. The part that questions everything. I would have convinced you that Bliss was too fantastical and otherworldly to exist. But when everything is perfect you don’t want to question it, but the imperfections are ESSENTIAL to reality.”

“Just because everything is perfect in Bliss doesn’t mean it is fake,” said Jonathan feeling indignant.

“Perfection is an illusion. An unachievable goal. It does not exist because the effort to get perfection is difficult, full of self-sacrifice. Things that, by their nature, negate perfection. Life is full of good things and bad things. And without bad things…you haven’t got a full life. Sadness, pain, loss, they’re just as important as happiness and love.”

The old man fell silent, literally allowing Jonathan some silent reflection.

“Why isn’t this heaven?” said Jonathan eventually.

“Where is everybody else?” said the Old man.

“You. The people in Bliss”

“They don’t exist. I don’t exist. Not as a person anyway. There is only one mind here and that’s yours. And besides, heaven, for you to be happy, would, by necessity, have to be almost identical to Earth. It’s the only way you would believe it sufficiently. This place is a construct. A very metaphysical one at that. You had to make a physical effort in a mental construct to reach me, a conclusion. How is your memory? Your job, your family?...”

Jonathan could do nothing but shake his head, only now wondering why he had not considered those things before.

“…perhaps they are buried somewhere under a lot of sand perhaps?” said the Old man with a smile “do you think you could find a shovel somewhere?”

“What do I do now then?” said Jonathan

“Either return to Bliss, or find a shovel. That is your choice but remember that while starting the journey here sharpened your mind, your wits, the journey back will dull them again. Once you enter Bliss you will once more become a dullard. Masturbating with parts of your brain. Being waited on hand and foot by constructs of your mind. Never questioning, never wondering, only this time it will be more so because you will have made a conscious effort to choose that existence.”

Jonathan stood, looking out towards Bliss. He doesn’t move. Not yet.