Posted: Fri, April 04, 2014 | By: Activism
A news bulletin is flashing through your speakers. An army of people and weaponry is marching on the city. They’re from the Humans Should Die Council and they come, by some accounts, backed up by 7 legions of reapers.
You spring up and run for the door, grabbing your weaponry - copies of Ending Aging, Longevitize, and a list of research opportunities, with a stack of cards with key website links - along the way. Having been practicing effective rebuttals to the hordes of knee-jerk reactions to this cause, you have the truth on your side, and the truth is sharp, like the finest sword of Noricum. You move down the street toward the front, and as you go, you notice people in your town are putting on their pajamas and tucking themselves into bed.
A few others are geared up and headed in the same direction you are.
You walk past some people getting groceries out of their car to take inside and you stop to ask them, “Why aren’t you in a hurry to join us? The city is under direct attack and faces mass destruction in no time.”As the people are walking in, they say over their shoulder that it doesn’t matter to them because the town is getting crowded and causing various challenges anyways, and that maybe if there is a higher mortality rate, they wouldn’t have to do things like upgrade their roads every 3 years instead of 5.
You walk past some old office buildings, as you make your way to the bridge, to cross over to the edge of town where a group of people are standing out back on break, smoking cigarettes and talking. You ask them why they aren’t doing anything, why there isn’t any sense of urgency. One of them sneers at you and tells you that the Carolingian followers have been decimating, pillaging and laying waste to the area for centuries and it’s not their place to change that. Another in the group tells you that it’s tradition for them to smoke here, work and then go home and do laundry and watch TV after work. Going to the front lines, “that’s not our tradition!” one of them tells you. The others half shake their heads in agreement.
As you continue walking, you hear one of them saying to another, “I heard about it this morning, people moving to the front lines. My friend said they’ll have to go to court because the people walking to the front lines are cutting across yards and were there walking before City curfew hours.”
There is a large amusement park on the front lines, with many roller coasters. As the day wears on, more and more of the citizens of town pour out of their jobs and make their way to the roller coasters.
Indefinite life extensionists and responsible big picture thinkers have to go beneath the roller coasters and amusement rides to get to the reaper legions and minions on the other side. They stand there amassing in numbers, staring down the opponents. The death army, with its harvesters of sorrow, rush forward, screaming, with their spears and swords in the air. These Conquistadors of death rip out the trusses of the roller coasters as the battle begins.
Arms still raised, a roller coaster car comes flying right toward a movement for indefinite life extension activist as they run toward the front lines. It crashes down in a splat of dirt and debris besides them and plows 30 feet along the ground before coming to a stop with its dead occupant hunched over the safety bar. You jump off of a large rock as you spin, decapitating a reaper with facts and evidence that diseases can already be cured, and books, and papers, and things like that. Ten more rush straight for you. Your comrades to the left and right of you let loose with a volley of well placed rebuttals, engaging the offenders in discussion.
by Eric Schulke