Just under the wire!

A disarticulated day. When I woke I had no will to get out of bed so I laid there and thought about a hundred things. There were late morning dreams of being in a broken zone in a large building's underground where botched procedures were being sweated over. Desperate people in hopeless situations. Twitching and leaderless, confused clusters of misdirected heroes worked randomly in dim light with clumsy shaking hands to forestall lethal outcomes.

People were only beginning to suffer. If these circumstances persisted, and I was only seeing the tip of the iceberg I fear, then we'd have to rely on time to cover the stumbling tracks of those misguided saviors. I'm not sure that telling the story would serve any beneficial purpose. If its horror were paraded and understood by the multitude, it would only serve to provide the population with an accurate and hopeless view of the hell that awaited even the mightiest of them.

Instead, it's better that we allow our fellows to doze in peaceful ignorance of what awaita them. It's better that we let them think their missing families passed peacefully from our living presence into whatever awaits. This is the kinder course.

Besides, what words would we use to convey the unnatural scenes if we were to be truthful and who could stand to listen to even a diluted telling of the acts that took place. No, it's better to say that they were all taken in a raging fire that began without warning and swept everything with it to some nothingness.

If we say nothing, the scene will remain hidden. No one will stumble onto the truth. Wild imagination lacks the capacity to reach the depth at which this reality lies. For that sad truth, we should be thankful.

More later,