Seething, Burning Waves

One hundred years ago there was none of this fog which has overtaken the world. Nothing beyond the sun. But time brought radio, radar, television, electricity, computer screens, cell phones, wifi, garage door openers, satellite radio and TV, children’s toys. We bathe in a steady thrumming of unseen frequencies. We have gotten used to it gradually, reaped its benefits and never questioned its cost.

Do anything you will, but leave me my smartphone. We called them “crackberry” addicts. Now the Blackberry is gone and seems almost quaint. More than ninety percent of us own cell phones, our eyes and brains riveted to them every waking minute.

There is no peace anymore. No one wants it.

No one except Esther. She grew up in the home of a small-town industrialist in rural Maine, closer to the sea than any transmission tower. Within the walls of the estate she was free of all of this, as it swallowed up the rest of us. Ignorance, truly can be bliss, until it lifts, and splashes cold reality across our lives.

When it came to Esther, no one was there to help or guide her. She was the last. Her only sin was, she was the last. So she is condemned to life, while the jets come in from the sea, driving seething, burning waves ahead of them, cut the fog and boil her blood.

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