Unable to cry on the even of the apocalypse
It was such a strange day, a beautiful day in many respects, here in McLean. But it was overshadowed by the terrible fires that burn just beyond the horizon, fires that reminded me of that terrible marriage of the human brain, in its three contradictory modes, cognitive, emotional and instinctive, with the computer, massively-parallel, but incapable of holistic thought.
I often wondered what the third world war would be like. A war between the United States and Russia, or China, using nuclear weapons, or other outlandish weapons. I had lots of hints from movies and books as to what that war might be.
But it was only very recently that it occurred to me that the war might be a conflict between a handful of the super rich and their supercomputers calculating profits every millisecond on the one side and our precious Earth on the other side. The rest of us, although we might be caught up, or maimed, or killed in various battles, would ultimately be on the sidelines in this terrible war. And of course none of this true war would ever be reported to us in newspapers or on television.
Let me write here again my poem from December, 2017
Ash or Steam?
August 25, 2019
Some say our world will end in war
Some say it has a steamy fate
From what glimpsed in man’s core
I go with those who fear for war
But indifference to our children’s’ fate
Is, in its own way, cruel as hate
So horrific what lies in store
The hour being late
That doom requires nothing more