The Fate Of Friends

The science of the soul?

Gordon's descent began shortly after his favourite 'ex-Beatle' had died, or maybe it was just that he had had difficulty adapting to 'life in his sixties'.

Nothing in recorded human history had ever affected the consciousness of humanity more than this single event, and it affected different people in very different ways. One never could have guessed who would adapt, and who would not. 

Gordon had been an ageing carpenter. Someone whose wisdom and technical savvy should have given him a default position as one of the village elders here in Nova Avalon. Being a 'good man', he had always believed in 'all the right things': mortgages, paying ones taxes, and a proper social safety net for the poor. 

It's hard to say just what exactly it was about our inevitable rendezvous with destiny which so adversely affected him, and we may never know for sure. He had developed a bad habit of demoting old friends to an undetermined purgatory in his time-honoured blacklist. In the end, this character flaw may have proven to be his undoing.

His girlfriend at the time had tried everything she possibly could to snap him out of his self-induced catatonic state. She had accomplished this several times since they first met five years prior, on a dating site called 'Plenty of Belugas' (or did they meet at that café 'Lilli and Wally'?). At any rate, this had often been the fate of those (and there were many like him) who had made the ghastly mistake of having had everything 'all figured out'.

I can remember having had lady friends, in what was then both Berlin and Adelaide, who had also suffered similar fates.

My friend Patrick was a fellow house painter, renovator, and real estate mogul. One could have presumed that the paradigm shift we experienced during our inevitable rendezvous with destiny would have been a hard mistress on good ol' Patrick. 

Patrick was a purveyor of the 'white lie', and had also made a very good living for himself, and his lovely family, leveraging real-estate while extracting handsome rents from his struggling tenants. 

Patrick however, possessed a remarkable quality which allowed him to adapt better than others, despite the dramatic and traumatic turnaround he would be forced to endure (along with his newly and substantially lowered standard of living). 

Conversely, my friend Maurice was a landscape designer and humble family man. He had a comprehensive knowledge of plant life well beyond most, and he was definitely a person whose talents would become invaluable in our new world. 

But the profound implications of our inevitable rendezvous with destiny had shone a harsh light on certain 'deficiencies' which made it very difficult for him to cope with our new paradigm. Fortunately for us all, his wife was able to get her act together, swoop in at the last minute, and save his sorry butt once again.

Julian was able to cope; perhaps because he was a prolific writer, musician and mythologist?

My cousin Cicely adjusted quite well too, despite the community's loathing of her insipid nagging, and whiny nasal voice. Her ability to adapt was mostly due to a series of synchro-mystic experiences she had had many many years ago, combined with her previous involvement in six of the world's major religions, and her profound love of dogs (both alive, and dead!). 

Her old boyfriend David had welcomed our inevitable rendezvous with destiny with open arms (and sore shoulders). He later admitted that the experience had freaked him out somewhat, but in the end, he actually adapted to it much better than most. 

What he didn't adapt well to, was the intense physical labour and cooperation necessary in building Nova Avalon. 

Here, there would be no room for administrators, managers, or capricious ex-rock stars. Standing around and slapping ones tummy while everybody else 'worked their collective butts off' was deeply frowned upon, especially during those difficult early years.

Given the heavy physical workload demanded by our new community, David instead opted to sign a contract with an Israeli led expedition to terraform and colonize the planet Mars. He had taken an Orbit Shuttle* to Space Station 14** where he was to have boarded the Mars Express Rocket***, and then onward to the red planet, to help manage the details, and planning, of an intricate sound and entertainment system being installed on the martian colonies. 

Sadly though, equipped with only his Les Paul, a bottle of black hair dye, and a mandatory self-euthanasia kit, David was never heard from again.

note:  Orbit Shuttle*, Space Station 14**, and Mars Express Rocket*** are generic terms used to describe names of things not yet invented in during your time period.

Future CT  Village 5, Nova Avalon.   Year 17 P.T.E.