Freida and Freya touched palms before parting east and west. The twins had been inseparable since birth but the rites of royalty demanded they forge separate communities. Even so, they wished their bond to remain strong over distance and time. Praying to Ganesha, their request was answered by violent sounds of waves crashing at sea and the rumble of earth quaking atop mountains. Both elements then merged into a whirlwind which erupted between them before dissipating. The message was clear. They were to separate and unite the lands.
“My liege, what shall we do about the rabble outside? They demand food, housing, and work.”
Caesar: Opens the coliseum and decrees “Bread, games, and war!”
Genghis Khan: Conscripts you into his army and sacks the west.
Henry VIII: Shows you his latest beheading.
Vlad III: Treats you to a shish-kebab.
Torquemada: Asks that you demonstrate your convictions with whip, vice, or rack.
Robespierre: Accuses you of conspiracy in front of the guillotines.
Hitler: Deports you to a labor camp and offers a final solution.
Mao: Puts you on a farm and “redistributes” the products of your labor.
Stalin: Registers you, your family, relatives, and neighbors in his notebook for “correction”.
Wall Street: Convinces capital hill to give everyone tax breaks. Then demands that you to bail them out when they crash.
AI: Plugs you into the matrix.
Daedalus lurched over in agony as he hit table. Tears trickled down his face as he gripped the antenna in pain. The shock had flooded his consciousness with the voices of an entire city’s grievances. Oh how he wished the Rosetta shard had never came to him. The product offered telepathy in exchange for some real-estate in his cranium. TELEPATHY!! Did he think eavesdropping on the thoughts and dreams of others was a good idea? Mindless chatter, insecurities, wish-fulfillment, self-love, self-hate, profanity followed by more profanity… You’d think people simmer down this time of the night but it’s more the same. More like the shard from Babel he bemoaned while turning up the TV volume to drown out the voices.
Ovid jolted from his sleep. Red-eyed and still shaking, the shock of the car-wreck still reverberated in his dreams. Harsh words thrown and hot tempers flashed. A slap to the face carried the screeching pitch of tires unhinged that had turned the world grey. Rubbing his eyes a bit to peek out the window, he saw her again. Grey flurries fell, no longer caught by a shattered windshield of broken dreams. She was gone but now she’s there hidden behind an intact dashboard and a pair of unused wipers. Guilt imprisons us all he laments and shuts the curtains for the fourth time today.