Short story from Marjorie Thelen

The Last White Woman Alive

Brown is the preferred color for humans now. They don’t call us human beings anymore, just humans. Being was bred out long ago. Now we are more like dancing shells. Or they are. I am the very last of the old ones, kept on display so that the others might see and experience what it was once like to be human in the 21st century. But we don’t even go by that time delineation anymore.

I live in a modular space like other humans. What there are left of us that move vertically. Mine is the only skin that doesn’t have color. I like to think of it as pink. Now humans select their color of skin. Most variations are brown and golden brown. But there are other colors of the rainbow, too. They are the more artistic types. Jet black is not in fashion. The practical ones are brown. They run the show, so to speak.

Most days I sit by my modular window. It looks out on a virtual landscape that replicates the old days. Birds of all color fly by the window. A brook winds through leafy trees. The type of tree
depends on the seasons and what is playing on the virtual landscape channel. I don’t know where the real trees and birds and brooks are now. You see, I never leave my module. I’m the only human that has this memory anymore and that is why they are preserving me.

I still have memory although it is artificially supported by preservatives my Spotter gives me. Spotters are artificial intelligence to use the old term. But that is not used anymore. We just say The Power.

I remember the warnings of what would happening when AI took over the world. They did. But it’s not such a bad world although a little bland. Nothing exciting happens anymore like wars, natural disasters, pandemics, political elections. It’s all regulated now by algorithms.

I was born in the 20th century. I know that. I remember that. The year was 1947. By 2020 all hell had broken loose as they used to say. Pandemics, civil war, hurricanes, fires, drought. People fought over water. The problems kept building and building. But that’s all been resolved now.

No more of that.

I don’t know how long I’ll live in this form. The Spotter tells me in perpetuity since I’m the last.

It’s not so bad. I can change my virtual landscape any time I want. There are 142,857 different possibilities. I don’t eat food like I used to although if I ask the Spotter for something specific like a steak, they simulate something for me. It tastes like steak. That’s all that counts. But there are no beef cattle anymore. They died out with the cattle viral pandemic of 2022. The viruses were winning the battle there for a while after the Great Human Pandemic of 2020 that reached across almost a decade. The sheep, goats, pigs, and chickens got it, too. You see it mutated into the domestic livestock, and they all died. We only have a few stuffed versions of them in what they used to call museums but what are now called Formatories. After that, all food was plant based, that is to say fabricated. They had to do away with the big factory farms because they were a source of more diseases.

You see, the herbicides and pesticides didn’t work after a while. That’s when they started producing injectable food. About the same time AI took over. AI don’t need food. They need electricity. That was a problem because it was so inefficiently produced that the supply wasn’t big enough or steady enough for the demand. The AI got tired of human beings messing things up. So, they quietly decommissioned humans. It happened pretty quickly. The humans didn’t realize what was happening. I did. But I’m the only one left with the memory, and the Spotter very carefully regulates what I say and where I say it. I don’t mind.

Sometimes, humans walk by my window and peer in, looking at me. I peer back. It’s not such a bad life.

I think souls are gone. I’m not sure I have one. That concept died out when The Power ruled out religion of any kind. They said it was bad for mental health and caused wars. So they programmed humans to survive without it. No one really dies, you see. The bodies just go in for a tune up every once in a while. Soul is a foreign concept. No one cares anymore.

Planet Earth doesn’t really need us to survive. She rotates happily with or without us. What happened was what was called civilization died. When The Power took over there was no need for contention, or discussion, or arguing, or fighting. If something needed to be done, they developed an algorithm for it, and it got done.

The Power decommissioned any AI that didn’t work for the common good. What passes for life on Earth is one big algorithm. It doesn’t have a name, like we used to have in the old days. Mine was or is, Margeleh. I’m not sure how I got to be the last white woman alive. I’m not sure I’m alive. I exist. It’s not so bad.

One of those big corporations back in the beginning of the 21st century was called Amazon. That was in the days things and people still had names. I think what happened was that Amazon was the first to mutate into the The Power that runs everything these days.

People used to talk about heaven in the old days when we had religion. I may be the only one remembers those days. My existence now is kind of like the old-time heaven. We don’t have
streets of gold and angels, but who needs them anyway?
They could rotate me to another place on Earth to be put on display. But that isn’t necessary since everything is virtual these days. Some folks like to be close to me or try to be close to me but a wall of window separates us. I don’t have physical contact with humans anymore.

Everything is virtual so that we don’t know what is real and not real. I’m the only one who sleeps that I know of. I have a ceiling fan on low, rotating over my head at night so I can sleep eight hours. The Spotter humors me since I’m the last one. I remember it from the days I used to sleep in the desert, and it was hot. I use the ceiling fan to create air so I wouldn’t overheat and catch fire.

One time early in the 21st century, aliens from another galaxy tried to help planet Earth move to a higher level of vibration. You see, planet Earth is sentient or used to be. I’m not sure now that The Power rules. Or maybe that was a fairy tale I heard or a story that I made up. Anyway, the aliens had to leave because Earth beings were so cantankerous and uncooperative. They left us to our own devices, so to speak.

I think The Power finally took over during the Great Pandemic of the 2020 decade. You see, everyone was supposed to get vaccinated and wear masks. But some human beings of that time, being cantankerous and disagreeable, refused to go along with what was good for everyone. I think The Power took over then although there is no firm date as to when they started solidifying their authority. They got tired of the old human beings, took over their own programming, and very swiftly retired those cantankerous old human beings. I don’t know what happened to them.

I guess they are going to keep me alive. I don’t much care because alive and not alive don’t mean much in this world. I have human friends who come by to visit on a regular basis. We laugh.
We talk. I’m not sure about what. Sometimes we talk about the latest virtual landscape. But there always is a window wall between us because my form is delicate and susceptible to damage.

You see, even in the before world, The Power was controlling us through what were cell phones, games, and computers in those days. They were already in control. It wasn’t a big deal when they took over. They programmed computers and phones and games to suggest to the human beings of the time, the ones who were supposed to have souls, that they should follow directions.

It happened by suggestion, like in old fashioned texting, do you want this word or that word? Or remember Google? No, you wouldn’t. But they used suggestion all the time in advertising.
Remember advertising? No, that is long gone, too.
When advertising was cancelled, sex, drugs, and pleasure all went out the window, so to speak, too. There aren’t pleasures or addictions anymore. Just The Hum. Anyone anywhere can plug
into the Universal Hum anytime. Most humans keep it on all the time. The ones that don’t soon end up screaming. Gently, they are encouraged to plug into The Hum again. There’s been talk of
not making The Hum voluntary. As a matter of fact, now it is mandatory. Everyone has to be plugged into The Hum.

I’m always plugged in. One time something happened to the connection, and I experienced the most awful sickening feeling. And the noise! Horrible screeching manifested. I don’t know what that was all about, but the Spotter picked up on what was happening and fixed the problem immediately. Now I’m permanently plugged into The Hum. Thank goodness.

In the old days information couldn’t be trusted. We used to have this phenomenon called the media through which most all information was disseminated. But it got so the media became one big lie. Various factions colored all the information to suit their purpose. So The Power did away with media. Now there is no information about what is going on in all the world. None. I don’t miss it. I have my changing virtual landscape which entertains me all the time.

As far as I know there are humans all over the Earth, living in some form of existence or the other. They have their jobs to do and do them. That’s it. I’m not sure what the purpose of this existence is but it doesn’t matter. Old-time philosophers used to debate the purpose of existence.

Not anymore. No reason to.

The old-time media used to tell everyone when everything was okay and not okay. But then everything got violent, lots of arguing. Everything turned out to be not okay. No information could be believed at all, and it made the humans of the time very anxious. As that was happening, The Power was programming itself into the ruling entity. It happened pretty fast.

One day humans were in control. The next day it was the machines. Or so it seemed. But everything has worked out for the best.

The end, really.

Poetry from Marjorie Thelen

   
 Poetry on a Rural Theme:
 Living in the Middle of Nowhere & Wondering Why
  
 by Marjorie Thelen
  
 The Ditch Witch Blues 
 after helping John again
 with some impossible task
 in her estimation
 this time trying to load 
 a 600 pound piece of equipment
 a ditch witch
 its big wheels 
 spinning in the mud
 onto a trailer covered with snow
 that fell overnight, predicted
 that the ditch witch slid off of the first time
 nearly smashing into John
  
 she's thinking a modest apartment
 with an alley view
 in a liberal, progressive community, 
 cultural venues by the boatload, 
 surrounded by people who have been in therapy
 no concern about running out of water
 or neighbors shooting at the devil
 or rabid extremists
 or fulminating fundamentalists
 is beginning to look appealing
 her country gal era may be over
  
 chorus
 oh, she's singing the ditch witch blues
 yes, she's crying the ditch witch blues
 time might be right to hit the road tonight
 because she's singing the ditch witch blues
  
 but
 the silence is nice
 mountain views spectacular
 you can see the stars
 John has plenty of space for his treasures
 but 
 the roads are abominable
 the dust never ends
 and there's the water problem
  
 chorus
 oh, she's singing the ditch witch blues
 yes, she's crying the ditch witch blues
 time might be right to hit the road tonight
 because she's singing the ditch witch blues
  
  
 Damn Coyotes
 I can't believe she left the radio blaring again.
 She thinks it keeps the coyotes away.
 Well, I can't sleep.
 Stop complaining. The treat bowl in the morning makes it all worthwhile.
 It was skimpy this morning. 
 Oh, shut up. Quit complaining. I hear she's going to butcher this fall. 
 You might be on the list. I notice you aren't laying like you used to.
 Ha, neither are you. God, I hate NPR. You'd think she'd at least put on the country and western station. 
  
 Little blind duck
 Little blind duck
 bumps into doors and fences
 but knows the way to the pond
 if John's fire truck isn't in the way
  
 Scarlett is her name
 old Indian runner duck
 now covered with mostly
 white feathers that used to be black
  
 Her favorite foods are tomatoes,
 watermelon, and cooked pumpkin
 she has one duck friend left
 a short, squat mallard
 who sometimes looks out for her
 sometimes not
  
 A turkey gobbler mistook her 
 for a turkey hen
 insisted on humping her
 squashing her into the ground
 and bloodying her head
 he went into the freezer
  
 Then the two hen turkeys did the same
 bloodying Scarlett’s head again
 which caused her blindness
 they went into the freezer, too
  
 Moral of the story:  be careful who you hump
  
  
 Guido
 how can you eat your pet?
  
 because we raised him
 because he got back rubs every day
 because he got orange peels, corn cobs, and cabbage treats
 because he had girl friends
 because he grazed green pastures, ate alfalfa
 because he had nice shade to chew his cud
  
 we nourished him
 he nourishes us
  
 we wouldn’t do it again
  
  
 Purple Potatoes
 We could make a potato dish
 to take to the potluck
 like potato salad or casserole 
 that would be easy
  
 I don't think the guys 
 would like purple potatoes
  
 what? 
 are you embarrassed
 to take something that 
 has been grown in our garden
 organic, local, non-GMO?
  
 no, no, it's not that
 it's just that the guys around here 
 aren't used to purple potatoes
  
 Shooting at the Devil
 the devil flies around the sagebrush at night
 shouting
 the neighbor shouts back
 and orders him to go away
  
 the trouble started 
 when the new people moved in
 when the neighbor comes home 
 stuff is moved around
 they hexed the place
 they grind up animals and
 throw them raw against her house
  
 she called out the sheriff twice
 he was no help
 so she shoots at the devil instead
 scaring the neighbors to death
  
  
 Obituary Notice for the Oregon Frontier
 Burns and Hines 
 old frontier towns in southeast Oregon, 
 died a slow, agonizing death 
 after refusing to acknowledge climate change
 and that they were using water
 faster than it came into the basin. 
  
 The residents of Harney County 
 were among other rural Oregon communities 
 that launched a sustained effort 
 to defeat every carbon emission reduction bill 
 that came before the legislature,
 that squelched every voice that said
 the way they used water
 was unsustainable.
  
 Well, they got their way. 
 They kept their diesel farm equipment 
 and old gas hog trucks. 
 They kept their methane-producing cows. 
 They kept their water devouring pivots. 
 They watched the Harney Basin Aquifer dry up. 
 They scratched their head when their domestic wells went dry 
 and their cows died for lack of water. 
  
 No water. 
 No alfalfa. 
 No cows.
 No way to live. 
  
 You drive through two ghost towns today. 
 Front doors stand open 
 on long deserted homes. 
 Grass grows 
 through the pavement of the main streets. 
 Traffic lights hang dead, unblinking. 
 Tumbleweed is the only thing moving. 
 No one home. 
  
 But they won all those battles 
 to keep fossil fuels cheap 
 and polluting their environment. 
 They won the battle 
 to keep their center pivots operating 
 and guzzling water. 
 But they didn't win the battle 
 to preserve their way of life.
  
 One Hundred Feet Down
 are snail shells
 under layers
 and layers
 of black sand
 remnants
 of an old lake
 thousands,
 millions of
 years ago
  
 then clay rock
 and then clear water at last 
 at 220 feet
  
 how old is that
 water we drink?
 how long has it been 
 down there?
 are we drinking ancient swamp water?
 what have we disturbed 
 with our modern technology?
  
 maybe three toed horses
 will coming galloping out of the well
 or ancient rhinoceroses
 or gigantic cockroaches
  
 The only evidence
 I have
 of ancient life
 below
 from our newly drilled well
 are tiny snail shells
 that were sleeping, undisturbed
 one hundred feet down
  
 Gnats
 on the road from Burns to Bend
 Glass Butte rises to the south, full of obsidian
 that oozed up and hardened into beautiful black glass
 millions of years ago
  
 between Hampton and Bend south of the highway
 lies the Brothers fault swarm
 that runs southeast to northwest across Oregon
 patiently waiting to move again
  
 to the west rise the Sisters, Newberry Crater, Mt. Bachelor
 Mt. Jackson, the resplendent Cascade volcanoes
 to the north across the Columbia River
 lie Mt. Rainer and Mt. St. Helens
 sleeping, waiting
  
 even further west 80 miles off the coast 
 lies the Juan de Fuca fault which last moved
 January 26, 1700 about 9:00 P.M. 
 a 9.0 on the Richter scale
 crating a tsunami
 that left dead cedar trees still standing
 on the banks of the Copalis River in Washington
 and waves recorded in Japan
  
 the Juan de Fuca plate gets unstuck
 on average every 243 year
  
 we think we have problems now
  
 We average 80 years here on planet Earth
 from baby to elementary to high school
 maybe college, maybe marriage, maybe kids
 then old age and we're done
 80 years
  
 The earth is 4.54 billion years old
 we are gnats on the back of time
   

Poetry from Marjorie Thelen

NEXT TIME

Next life I’m going to be a truck driver

Long distance with a sleep compartment in the back

I’ll drive from Alaska to Argentina

The roads might be better

or they might not be there at all

After that I’ll be a world famous theoretical physicist

brilliant, a genius, published

I’ll figure out what it’s all about through incredibly complicated math equations

I’ll talk in formulas

After that I’ll be a world famous rock and roll star or

Maybe a jazz bass player or

Maybe Janis Joplin or

Was that my previous lifetime?