A Homo Sapiens' Journey

 

As I look at this white page in front of me, a scene comes to my mind. I don't know if anyone saw or read  1984 by George Orwell. The scene where Winston Smith opened his notebook and wrote about Ingsoc, the party, and so forth... In the corner, away from the TV and Big Brother, he tried to have a thought; he tried to say something to someone, or perhaps no one, about the state he was living in. However, that act alone was a crime by itself. The damage a simple thought could cause was meant to be a satire, but in the eyes of people who live in the House of Cards, it is unimaginable. 

Today, which is October 30th, 2023, I feel like Winston Smith. Even though the end result of his actions is a nightmare for whoever lives on Earth, and full of weakness of muscle, bones, and nerve system, add to that the psychological damage that they could incur must be enough warning to stay away from that outcome.

On the other hand, I feel numb about all this. Maybe, if I was privileged and the best-selling author in the New York Times, I would be busy writing something mundane and sugary novel romance for the readers now instead of this. I spent seven years writing that novel, yet it was a slight noise of drops of water against the crushing noise of the waterfall or a stormy sea. Who had time to read that book when there was a tragedy unfolding itself? The people were afraid of coming the next day. Confusion and fear reduced most people's brains to that of a lizard. 

Just to survive.

And here comes my book in the midst of all of this. 

To tell you the truth, I don't know. 

I don't know what decision-making in my life brought me to this side of the world. Naively, I thought I was getting away from all the drama that I was facing every day and every moment of my life. There was always a program or talk about Iran's war against Iraq, and in the eyes of people in power, we were fighting against the whole world. 

How is that for propaganda? 

After those programs, there were movies about that war, either fiction or nonfiction; it didn't matter. It was accessible for every age and demographic. A child no older than seven could see that last breath and twitch death of solder. The empty gazing that looked nowhere. The body that didn't want to die. A child who couldn't write his or her name correctly was watching that scene. 

Perhaps they are watching now, too.   

If it wasn't that, it was about the time of the reigning Shah and how Khomeini, with the help of people, primarily thanks to Khomeini and his gangs, which they made sure we notice over and over again through the TV or history, society, and religious textbooks to remember that, to overturn that regime. If not, there goes your good mark in three subjects in school.

If that wasn't enough, there is a matter of people who died, killed, or murdered over a thousand years ago. As a good citizen, you had to accept all the teachings and the dogma without any question. 

Now, we don't want to be infidel, right?

The punishment for the audacity of questioning that dogma was a chance of getting disappeared. This is what the parents taught their children from the moment they dropped them off in kindergarten to graduating from university. 

Don't ever ask the question of why a child who doesn't understand the concept of death, let alone honor, had to be sad or cry for a person who was unjustly murdered or ambushed over a thousand years ago.   

That aside, now that child had to understand the injustice that happened over a thousand years ago to another kingdom, or shall I say empire, between the promise and will of a prophet who promised his seat to his son-in-law: reminder, no question about the craziness of fighting over something that happened such long ago. 

Then, in the same breath, they preach that Allah is mercifully and forgiving, but not that mercifully and compassionate, you understand?

Now, kid, cry. Cry and don't ask for the injustice that happened over a thousand years ago, so that great person in heaven who has nothing better to do but just watch who is crying for him or not, so he could vouch for you after you die. Cry, hit to your head by two hands, hard and firm, role in mud for that injustice. As long as you believe in Allah, not God, you end up in heaven. 

Then, what is the Heaven that they are promising?

How the Hell could they know? They didn't die to know that, they say. However, there is a passage in Holy Literacy that they claim, which describes something like a beautiful place such as New Zealand, Denmark, Finland, the Scandinavian region, European countries, and such and such, or even a piece of land if you care and look after it.

Don't ever forget about the castle that by doing every good deed, you'll add one brick to it and vice versa. After all, you must have that much space to be comfortable, right?

Forget and don't ask why in this world you are expected to live precisely the opposite of what is promised after your death if you are a good servant; remember that you aren't a slave, no matter who says so, to the higher power in religions, politics, and at the end Allah. Remember, not God, but Allah.

Scaping that craziness, and mandatory military, on that side of the world to a twenty-three hours flight to this side of the world, only to be involved in different types of craziness.

Remember, they were propagating about the war between Iran and Iraq, in which I was involved when I was a two-year-old boy.  

In here, they even go further; they talk about the Great War, and cherry on top of the war they can't get enough of, World War II. They even make and use the Roman number to make it cool. The thing that only brought horror and nightmare to the survivors, it is a cool and best propagating tool to raise the patriotic blood of that young man. 

They made a system as a PG to reduce or increase exposure to violence, as the age requires, unlike the savagery of Iran, which doesn't care who sees it.

In here, thoughtful people are looking after their citizens, right?

After all, they want you to have that extraordinary and unimaginable experience firsthand. They want you to feel and experience the warm blood of enemies or friends on your face, to smell their guts when they spill out from the wound, to hear the moans and agony of a person whom you befriended a few days or month ago, the begging and tearful eyes, who see you as the only savior; those shaking hands that grab you for dear life which speaks volume that beg you not to let go of him. 

Oh, such an experience, wouldn't you want it?

Then you see a child who is no older than your young sister or daughter; her blue or dark eyes remind you of your own sister or daughter, crying in the rubble. A place where it was her home just last night now is a grave to her parents and her siblings. She looks at you, the face of yours, which is full of the blood of enemies or friends you achieved and unlocked like those video games. She cries and mumbles in a language that you don't understand. You get closer because she reminds you of that dear one in your home, only to see her in more distress and louder cry. 

Then your surgent yells at you to get it together because you are a soldier, not a human, right?

To the next mission and achievement, right? It was for a good cause, and there was no other way to avoid it. Doesn’t that make everything OK? There was no other way, they said. The most honest to the God people in power told you. They tried everything to avoid it, but those bastards warmongers only wanted war. They could put their hands on the Bible and swear, in the same breath when they take office, that they are telling their people the truth, and only the facts.

That young man wears the uniform, listens to those trustworthy politicians, not the veterans, and goes on this adventure. He wants to go and snipe out people's heads with .50 Caliber BMG, just like a video game. How could they be different than those pixelations on monitors or TVs? In the past, he hunted some animals. How different could it be? Both of them bleed (The Batman vs Superman joke, probably in his head). It could be an awesome adventure. Until he sees the bullet wound on his uniform. The bullet wound that broke his leg bone, the same fractured bone, punctures the artery. Now, he understands the fear in the eyes of his supposed enemies. The reason his enemies don't want to die. Not like this, or any form. He is going to heaven, at least, isn't he? His friends can't help him now; first, they have to remove the threat; that’s what the training required them to do. The reason is that if the threat is alive, he could add more bodies to their burden until the group gets overwhelmed. His brothers and sisters, the people he call who trained with him every day, would take care of him, right? He consoles himself that way until a bullet, or maybe an RPG, screws that hope as well. It is only at that moment that he allows himself to ask a simple question. Where the hell is he? Why the home seems to be too far away now? Why is he here? Is there an afterlife after this? Why is he asking these questions now? Why didn't he ask them earlier? He understands the fear in the eyes of his enemies now.

The civilized politician on this side of the ocean, unlike the uncivilized barbarian counterpart, wants to protect their young ones by blinding them to think or understand this ugly face of war. Show them how glorious the war is. It is fun. You could get the girl of your dreams if you joined the army. How could she resist you if you showed her all the muscle you made in the military, which you could get in the gym as well? This is what they offer in their advertisement. They tell you that you could be that Rambo,  that Commando, or the top of the food chain, that guy in Top Gun. Meanwhile, behind the doors, they shake hands with their investors or those who "Donated" to their farce campaign. Those weapon manufacturers want their guns used like last quarter. The numbers, their numbers, need to go up. For how much or how long? That is an irrelevant question. By the way, if you continue to ask such questions, unlike their counterpart that calls you an infidel, they call you socialist, communist, neo-Nazy, the good old Nazy, imperialist, authoritiest and add so many other ist, that you need whole dictionary memorized to understand the label they put on you.

You were brought here to work, not ask questions, they say to me. 

They say to me that if I have so much extra time in my hand to ask these questions, why don't I work more overtime to pay more taxes? The taxes that they take away from my paycheck, from every bill that I pay, from the food and groceries that I buy, from every orifice that I use, from the parking spot that I use for work, from the parking spot that I use in my home, from the house that I think I bought, from the insurance for the messed they made in bank, For the phone and the service that I use to be called by my company to come to work and for that little time I found in my schedule. For the sake of my sanity, I just end it there.

All that for what? For not having even a train to go from my city to others, for that two-way traffic road that I have to travel for four hours in summer and winter to get to the job that I am assigned to. By the way, I have to pay taxes for the carbon I made for that travel. 

Paying all those taxes for what? For a prime minister who wants to be adventurous by my tax? For paying his Luxrious and Secured travel to warm countries just to rob it off? For bailing out a corrupted company, by the way, that killed the EV, which anyway I am paying taxes for. For showing his generosity by my money to other countries that we have no business going to war for?    

Now that we have established how civilized and reasonable the politicians are. How about the religious thing? Do the people have that kind of freedom of thinking, or is it another dogma?

They say; that as long as you believe in something, it is alright. 

Well, when I tell them that I only see other religions as dogma and another cash grab for my pocket, they look at me as if they found a new species, a Yetis or something. Their pitch meeting was that the age of Earth is not over five thousand years, and in response, of course, I told him, Dude, I know a tree older than five thousand years old. 

As they say, they usually answer sagely, as they say.

I ask them what this religion of yours gives you in return for being obedient, not slave, as the God, Allah, and other Gods agree not to call their obedient such a foul name.

They answer immortality and peace.

You have to kiss your political career goodbye if you think and ask, how? Or even Why?

You see, we cannot endure each other for a few years without going to the war; the cause of it, is mainly out of boredom. 

Your better other half always tries to get a rise out of you. They say that they love you; however, not ten minutes after their confession, they bring up a stupid argument only to see if you are still in love with them by banging your head to the wall or pulling out all your hair at once.

From the smallest unit of society, which we call family, to the biggest, which we call the whole society or country, it is the same. The only difference is the scale of it.

If, after many hours, I could cross and communicate my concern to that religious guy, what would they give me as an answer to that question? Well, God is all-powerful, and surely he can purify you and anyone else from that temptation. 

You see, they don't even see the trap. If the Omnipotent God removes the smallest part of me for the greater good, Let us say a small amount of my personality. Like forgetting something or forgetting about that part of my desire, then as well He or She may continue and make a completely different person or a clone. That person wouldn't be me. It could be anyone else who looks like me and talks like me, but still, that thing isn't me. Do you want me to show you an example to drive home my argument? Well, look at the patients who have Alzheimer’s; they are the same people that we grew up to love, but are they the same as well? Do they see us as before? Or, to them, in their world, we are just strangers. Isn't it cruel to have that part of memory removed from them? They wouldn't know that they had children or how important and strong feelings they had for them. Isn't that cruel for any reason? Even if the cause is to make them forget they had children because their children ended up in Hell and burning for eternity, as their teaching says, makes them sad. Show me a parent that, from the bottom of their heart, wants to see their children burned forever or, even worse, not knowing that their memories can be relied on because of that possibility. Even Ivan the Terrible mourned until his deathbed for killing his son accidentally.

All I am saying is that what makes me an individual is because of all the memories and thoughts that I have. This mess of imperfection is all me; remove a partiality of that memory, thought, or even desire, and that person wouldn’t be me.    

Also, doesn't this throw a stone at that pond of that magnificent designer whose designs are all perfect and to the point? Tell that to that plastic surgeon who patients come to their office to have an improvement on that perfect design.

I don’t want to go deeper than that because the ones who know what I am talking about know all about this, and it would be boring for them to continue on that path. The ones that don’t understand, as little experience that I have with them, no amount of evidence, no amount of thought experience, no amount of documentation or logic can convince them otherwise. Therefore, I copy a page of attitude from that French mathematician, Fermat, and say this, maybe I explain later.

Now, to that freedom of speech.

 

To Be continued…