“Call this war by whatever name you may, only call it not an American rebellion; it is nothing more or less than a Scotch Irish Prebyterian rebellion.” — Anonymous Hessian officer, 1778

The past is behind us is a phrase that’s behind us.

Birds drink and bathe in the shallow plastic bowl on the glass topped table on the back deck.

Chickadees and tufted titmouses together, always alert to predators.

The goldfinch looks for seed and flies on.

Late afternoon sun.

The cats asleep in the bedroom.

My wife surfing TV channels for mind-numbing programmi to watch while she handmakes greeting cards.

For how many of us are blogs flat files, containing every outburst of thought, organised,disjointed, observations, grocery lists, book chapters, lyrics, travelogues, critiques, DIY instructions, secret codes, adverts, ASCII art,…?

In 2020, as in 2100, as in now, life is familiar.

Surface features change.

One-hit wonders fill the airwaves and thought patterns of the idle young/old.

Peace and war are abstract terms at odds with each other.

Fossils fascinate us.

Wrens call out from the top of deck umbrellas.

Life goes on.

Spiders are spiders.

The sun shines.

We perceive change because this part of the universe doesn’t sit at absolute zero or below.

And I, carrier of thousands of years of wisdom, carry on.

Traditional values are always relative to the environment in which they were conceived and carried out.

Today’s radical, you know, is tomorrow’s traditional value.

We use solar power the old-fashioned way – trees – to cool our house.

No need for fancy automated heat exchange units, solar panels or electric air conditioners.

The pure, unregulated essence of nature/God/gods in action.

States of energy changing shape.

(And sometimes changing states!)

We can’t imagine ourselves as a temporary species giving rise to som thing/one else.

The wind blows in the galaxy, not a single coyote’s voice calling out.

The thing about holding the past and future in your hands is seeing how little any one moment is but how ultimately important a moment becomes.

We lost our last fearless leader so I have picked up the pieces and am moving us forward (as if we have anytime else to go!).

The last leader was under the influence of the god of comedy.

I don’t yet know who influences me.

However, I am much more serious in advancing our revolution, using the people for and against themselves as it suits me to achieve our ends.

Wrath and love are just words to me.

The means justify the end.

All for the sake of the cross-species entities that will wipe us all out on their way into the galaxy and beyond.

I am but a temporary vessel.

I do not exist.

I carry the traditions, memories, desires, disappointments and dreams of our ancestors to compute the futures for our descendants, direct or derived.

You read these phrases translated into your language.

My language you cannot understand because your bodies have not been modified for such.

Some with neuroenhancing accelerants might barely understand me in the nanosecond it took to compose this letter to you in your century.

Time travel is an illusion between a simple and complex society.

I am you, the person you imagine is watching yourself from an omnipotent position.