The First Trumpet

A dirty old man stirred in his dirty cell.  Murmurs of an inhuman language echoed softly on the walls.  The stones were smooth from centuries of human hands searching for some weakness in the mortar, but there was none.  There was a barred window high on the wall.  It was enough to allow the prisoner to detect the passing of days, make the nights chilly and the days uncomfortably warm yet never allow a glimpse of sky.  A shaft of golden dawn light fell on the far wall just above the iron door.  The old man jerked in his sleep and cried out, "Madori!"

The language was hard on his tongue and evoked an image of Light--of a place lost.  No! Not lost, but Exiled.  The ever present comfort of the All Knowing.  No doubts.  No hesitations.  Only absolute certainty.  But then came the Command... and then the certainty was lost.  This retched world made little sense without the Guide.  It made precious  little sense while she was in it, but no more.  His dream shifted briefly to a face long gone.  Her eyes.  Her smile. A feeling new and raw and distracting.  But she melted away in to the Light.

He was running from the Great Light.  It had finally found him in this forgotten dark place.  The Light haunted him now.  It's glare blinding in judgement.  It's brillance glorius in anger.  It's radiance resplendant in justice.  He turned and ran.  He could feel the heat on his back rising, the voice reverberating and then... The single pure tone of a great horn resounded.  His heart stopped and trembled in the harmonic for a moment and then exploded to oblivion.

Awake!  Gader'el shot up from the squallid mattris the sound of the horn still ringing in his chest. The First Trumpet! The Trumpet has sounded again!  The Horseman is awakened.

11:47 PM January 1st, 2050

Mathue coded the new formula in to his prediction module.  His head still vaguely hurt from the post New Year's Eve celebrations last night.  The late night had meant sleeping in which consquently left him restless and active late again tonight.  His final project for Christian Science: A study in religious mechanics wasn't due for months.  He had the code framework finished and was planning to finish the program through the rest of the semester, but early this morning he'd had an odd dream.

His plan was a program to predict a date for the end of the world using all the revalent data he could find from various sources.  The program was further going to predict various sign and milestones.  The whole thing would be a hoot to present to the class.  He had records of various calendars from various cultures around the world and had been attempting to sycronize them. 

In his dream he stood on the top of a Mayan temple during a particularly gruesome holiday.  The dream was so vivid that he could see the position of the stars and idly thought, "Hmph... that's wrong this is the Summer star placement and this is a Winter festival."  Just then the King stepped up with his most powerful shaman to the sacrifice table.  The King seemed to ignore Mathue completely.  But just before the shaman stabbed the young maiden between her exposed breasts he paused and locked eyes with Mathue.  The Shaman had stark blue eyes.  His gaze pierced him and he felt himself shiver.   Mathue woke to a painful hangover.

"That holiday was celebrated in the summer?" he mumbled out loud.  Later he checked his sources again and did indeed find a conflicting reference.  Intrigued he began replotting his calculations.  The program was churning now factoring in dozens of religious predictions.  Went the output displayed, Mathue looked over the 50 or so dates from over 1000 years ago out to the year 18,492.  Each date was given a percentage for how many cultures overlapped.  Most were only tiny slices.  But one date stuck out.

Date of the First Sign..........January 1st, 2050 11:48 PM.....100%

Mathue glanced at the clock on the computer just clicking over to 11:48... he shivered.

Ramblings

This blog is going to have no point... don't try to find one.



A strange day of futility... Ever have one of those days where you start off asking "why me?" only to answer yourself with "cuz that's life and you're nothing special."  You'd like to think you've been singled out for torment, but in reality you are just another person going through their day with their own trials and tribulations.  If you were singled out... at least you would have qualified for special treatment and being something worthy of divine notice wouldn't be all bad.



But I'm really not that special.  My life is exceedingly "not bad".  I'd like to think that wanting to drive a spike through specific co-workers is a great problem, but it is nothing.  My greatest problems are nothing.  My life is so shaded with blessings I have trouble getting really fired up about anything.  It is the "not bad" thing that probably keeps all of America asleep.  We have few fears of real danger.  We have more than we need in most cases.  In a pinch we can help each other.  How could we really complain about anything.  How absurd we must look to the world.  What would they think of our insipid blogs (if they had computers to read them).



I suppose is boils down to what is a person.  Compared to society, I'm just a middle-class working husband father of 3.  But who am I really?  What did I do on this Earth?  What did I enjoy?  I wonder if anyone cares.  If I am carefree or worn with worry, in the end will anyone have noticed?



I think many struggle to leave some mark on the world.  Odd when you consider the world will end someday... what will all the marks of all the people who have lived matter to the Universe?  They seem important to us--to our children.  They make up stories we tell.  So for a while we will be remembered.  Always this need to be remembered.  Of course billions go unremembered today.  But some how if we are "great" we will have some longevity in the minds of those that come after us.  However, none of us is really great or really small...



Many have hit on this notion.  All men are created equal... Love thy brother... We will be free... All of them shades of the same... that we are all the same with our own collections of strengths and weaknesses--but fundamentally the same.  So perhaps remembering one of us is like remembering all of us.  I suppose all of us are products of the sum of human learning.  None of us grew up isolated on an island.  We've all learned from someone who learned from someone else... all that we know we have taken in from one of us back to the begining.



So in that sense I am the living Mark Twain... the living Jesus... the living Mohammad... the living Martin Luther... the living Einstein... all that I've learned from those that have passed.



Ramblings... ramblings...



I wish it was easier to know yourself... and also easier to show yourself... and that no one would attempt to judge the greatness or smallness of who you were.  Since in the end we are all great and small.  That what we are is what all of humanity has been and is becoming.

Holidays

The holiday season has really arrived.  There are two radio stations that play all christmas music starting in November.  The shops are bursting... decorations are going up.   Oh yeah, it's christmas time.  Ah... to be a kid again on Christmas.  Could their be anything better? 

Anyways... I got lots to do and so many things to catch up on.  I'm sure I'll be all hustle and bustle.  Although, I like it.

So, Merry Christmas!  Happy Holidays!

Don't worry about the shopping. Just enjoy the sights and sounds.