Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Captain's Log Stardate 9282016: My Epilogue to the Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury

Epilogue:


The sun set upon the finest apartment in the finest building of the dead city. The sounds of dinner being prepared, the pots being filled with boiling water and rations being boiled to stew, rang out in the dead air. Not quite dead: in the other streets of the city were nine other apartments lit up, hustle and bustle.
“Mom, can I have some more stew?”, asked Texas.
“Of course, honey.” said Julia, their mother.
Later that night, Texas and his twin sister Brazil, went out in the red sands to explore. There was always something to find among the crumbling houses scattered across the deserts. They found pots and pans, dolls and pencils, shovels and pictures. Who left all of this here?, they would wonder some days.  But they did not think too hard along this train of thought, because there was no one here now and this was their playscape.
Washington, their older brother, stayed behind to continue his education with his mother.  Among other things, she taught him the history of Earth. Washington understood that his grandparents had come from Earth, that it was a little planet many miles away, and that he would never see Earth in person. Mars was his home.
“The Civil War was fought over slavery. People were being treated like livestock... remember what livestock are? Yes, so anyway, the Confederates wanted to keep their slaves and the Union wanted there to only be free people.”
Washington asked, “Why did the confederates want to make other people work for them?”
Julia, pausing for a moment, said, “they weren’t the only ones.  Slavery was very common in this time period in earth and it continued even when your grandfather Tim was alive.  It’s all about greed, and money.  People on earth would do a lot for greed and money, including treating other people badly. Of course, we don’t have money now.  We just share what we have and we’re still alive, so it’s worked out, hasn’t it?”
“I guess so.”
“We’re done for tonight, honey. Could you go get Tex and Brazil in a few minutes?”
Washington climbed down the staircase, spiraling on and on until he reached the floor.  Walking out onto the sands that had blown over where the city roads used to be, Washington walked into the desert to look for his sister and brother.  He knew he would find them soon enough.  Their screams of delight at all the toys they found could be heard from far away.  As he trudged along absent-mindedly, Washington thought of Earth.
Why had they all been so silly?  Why had they fought one another?  Why had they always argued about their differences?  Why did they think that people of different skin colors or women or those of different religions were that different from them? Washington felt that if he had been in charge of Earth, he probably could have done a better job then all the supposedly brilliant people that had run the planet.  
The sun was setting, making the sand shimmer like his mom had described the oceans on Earth. And why did they always use up too much of their wood or their coal or their oil or their water and fight over what was left?  Didn’t they see the end coming?  Didn’t they know that their water should have lasted them forever?
He heard them.  They were over there, in that little Martian House.  He walked up to the house, calling “it’s time to come home!”  Their little heads popped out of the house, followed by their running bodies. Soon they were at his side, panting and laughing as they tickled each other.  Washington thought, “what the Earth men would think of us?  Did they know that this was all you needed?”  

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Captain's Log, Stardate 9142016: The Time Machine by HG Wells

The Time Machine by HG Wells was written in 1895. Let's review our history for a little bit. This was during the "2nd" Industrial Revolution, where electricity was being used to help with labor such as in conveyor belts at factories. A little over a hundred years before, the first mechanical loom had been invented. In terms of history, a hundred years isn't that much. It stands to reason that many people during this era were freaked out by technology. Also, the factories in which much of the population of countries such as Britain (the leader in industrialization) had terrible working conditions. Picture dark, underground sweat-shops (the kind of places where your Nikes are probably made). Some people, the capitalists, were getting really, really rich off industrialization and living the sweet life, but most people, the workers, were making a solid two bucks a day by working in the terrible factories. Humans in a nutshell. Now to the book.

First-off, just so you know, I've only read a small portion of The Time Machine, so that's all I'll be talking about. The book is narrated by a gentleman from Richmond, England in 1895 who tells the tale at a dinner party of his travels in his time machine to Earth in the year 802,701. He meets two species of creatures who evolved from mankind. The first are the Eloi, simple, beautiful, child-like creatures who live in the sunshine. The second are the Morlocks, spider-like creatures who live underground. As he is reasoning out how the two species evolved, the narrator says that the Eloi must have evolved from the capitalists by becoming lazy and stupid over time, whereas the Morlocks must have evolved from "the Laborers," the guys working underground in sweat-shops. AND, long-story short, the Morlocks raise the Eloi like cattle and EAT THEM. How's that for a moral.

HG Wells saw the stark contrast between the factory workers and the factory owners. He figured that someday the factory owners would get so fat and lazy and stupid that they would eventually be prey to the factory workers, which is ironic because it was basically the other way around back then, with the owners, the "Capitalists," controlling the workers. I can see how someone with a crazy imaginative mind like Wells' could envision that back then, but now things are different. About 22.9 % of the world is middle-class, with another 8.4% being upper-class, according to this website. That still leaves 68.7% of the world, true, and a number that will increase as falling birth rates affect the middle and upper class population, true, but in terms of poor people controlling rich ones, I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon, especially with the fall of communism. However, I can see Wells' point about not treating your workers like sh*t. It's inhumane, and that bad karma will come around and bite you where it hurts.

I'm a middle-class American teenager who's lived a privileged life in many ways, not excluding having a reasonable yet totally sufficient amount of money. I have a lot on my mind these days, but it's all homework and friends and practicing guitar and stuff like that. For me, that stuff is very consequential and important, and it fills my thoughts. But this excerpt that I read from The Time Machine made me think about the people that are still working in sweatshops for two bucks a day. It's not a fun life-style, and survival is a hell of a lot more important to them than if they will be stuck in traffic again. I can't do a whole lot to help their situation, or more accurately I DON'T EVEN TRY. Most of us don't even try. We go on with our lives.

So here's a final moral for you. Just don't forget those people living in the shadows, and every once in a while try to donate some time or money to help someone. We get to live this wonderful lifestyle, so why not try to help those people out every once in a while?