IDEA - 10-8-2020
by
Patrick Ryan
1,603 Words
Some time ago, disease, war, racism, starvation, water shortages, climate change, and government corruption devastated our city. The news became overwhelming and depression rampant. From nowhere, like a cool breeze in a heatwave, Dr. Pangloss began preaching his theory of "everything happens for a reason." This low anxiety, don't worry, be happy philosophy, was an oasis in a desert of pain. Pangloss’s observations penetrated the masses when millions of people no longer wanted to engage with the nightmares they experienced daily. The government, criminals, and skeptics persecuted the community. Pangloss himself was beaten, imprisoned for months without a trial, and besmirched by religious leaders who believed he was brainwashing their parishioners. Nevertheless, Pangloss retained his philosophy, "everything happens for a reason." The group of optimists remained faithful, and, being sick of seeing his devoted harassed, Pangloss revealed his ambitious next move, Project Harvest. Pangloss declared in the plan that he was moving the group south to rich farmland where they could expand and become self-sustained. When revealed, he gave an ultimatum to followers, come with the group, or stay. Pangloss wouldn't reveal where the new society would reside, built outside of the populated world; there was no way to join later. Pangloss repeated, "if somebody's supposed to be there, they'll be there." And one day, the group was gone. Not all members left as some had careers and other responsibilities, but many accompanied Pangloss out of town on their pilgrimage to their new home. Things in town only escalated after that; protests, vandalism, and arson persisted as citizens' rage hit an all-time high. It wasn't until the police disbanded, and the government bureaucrats had no one to protect them that the city degraded into chaos. People feared for their lives, and many regretted not accepting Pangloss on his request. With the city practically collapsing around us, a few of us decided to take the rumors of where the Pangloss settlement was and migrate. The rumors were random; for instance, walk to freshwater, if you see the house of the rising sun, head in that direction. We agreed that the house of the rising sun had to mean brothel as many interpreted the song that way. We decided on two possible locations with research and compiling family retellings of the pilgrimage, which ended up being an arduous trip, walking mainly because lyrical directions led us to places without roads. The last stretch was the toughest; on that last hike, we lost 10 of 22 people — most succumbing to heatstroke and old age. We eventually saw dead crops, dead bodies, and infected animals. There was a small village north of the farmland; we went there. As we entered, one of the tents was talking. Pangloss, delusional, malnutrition-looking, and dehydrated, was within the tent talking to himself. He looked up at us and smiled, "I knew it; everything happens for a reason."
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