The Age of Apathé

I’ve been in a bit of a writing slump for a few weeks, but here goes! I decided to post in a creative style that I rarely explore. SCIENCE FICTIONESQUE. Anyway, in lieu of the election and all this political content, I decided to capture what our society might look like if bartering were to be a more prominent source of aquiring material and goods etc. Although this will be a short work, I am starting out small. I hope you enjoy part 1.

I woke up to the sound of an old song being lifted by the wind. I think it’s August now, but I’m not sure. I watch Phrederikk mend a Tristian while humming along to the sound-box in the corner. I don’t know the bands name, but the song goes something like “uoy evol ot esolc oot tsuj ma i ekil sleef ti dna/yas yllaer nac i gnihton si ereht/ erom on edih t’nac i, erom on eil t’nac i/ flesym ot eurt eb ot tog/ uoy evol ot esolc oot tsuj ma i ekil sleef ti dna/yaw ym no eb ll’i os…” I must have been dream of my childhood – when I could sing out the words to my favorite song without fear or consequence.

Pherderikk notices my consciousness, and turns slowly. He places a ticket in my palm and touches my finger in coiling motion. “Money is simply a tool. So why do we use it as a weapon?” I had no answer five years ago, and I have none now. Forcing a smile, I kiss his neck. “Do you want to hear a new song I wrote?” I say. Without waiting for his response, I pick up my battered violin.

Aloné is the only one that knows that without a voice I am nothing. He confessed this insight to me once when I was able to hear it. The strings have become my vocal chords. The alto and soprano melodies uphold my dreams and keep them alive – especially the ones that lived before Apathé did.

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