I’ll admit it: I typed nearly all of this post last year, back in August.
Here we are on this lovely first day of March, 2017, and it’s a lovely day because it’s March, 2017, and the world is still here.
Being a precog can make a person a bit paranoid sometimes, yeah?
Well, take my word for it: it can. Really. I spent months wondering, What’s the “scaled-down” version of the end of the world? Because the scale of things is always exaggerated in whatever I see. Even the thing with the duck pond.
So I’m very glad to be posting this. I’m glad we still have an internet. (Will be glad we still have an internet, when I actually post this.) I’m glad the United States didn’t elect a president whose primary goal was to bring about the destruction of everything good about this country. (See how much faith I have in the better judgement of my fellow human-ish people? Even though I’m typing this in advance, I can tell you — because I’m an empath as well as a precog, and past experience has taught me what to expect — November was a Very Bad month for me. Mid-October through mid-November, actually, and late January wasn’t fun, either. I probably spent early November hiding… maybe by deliberately mistaking myself for someone else, someone who isn’t an empath and thus doesn’t have to hear every damn stupid or hateful thing that a large number of people are thinking. OTOH, that particular “viewpoint shift” probably sent the precogniton thing into overdrive. *shrug*)
If you’re wondering why I ever worried, even a very little bit, that the world wouldn’t still be here today, let me explain…
As I said, I’m a precog. Yes, really. Today, I don’t even care that you probably think this is part of the “plausible diversion.” I mean, it is, but it’s also true, which makes using it as the plausible diversion even more fun, y’know? Anyway, being a precog means that sometimes I know about things before they happen. Usually it’s complete trivia, such as knowing what song is about to start on the radio (or my twin’s iTunes) or what episode of an old television series is about to air. Or precogging a tiny detail from something on television or in a movie or a book or… You get the idea. Knowing that if I go to a certain place in a few minutes, I’ll run into someone I want (or don’t want) to talk to. That sort of thing. Sometimes it isn’t complete trivia, though. Occasionally it’s something that matters a little bit, such as when I saw the town where Bea went back to college. I precogged meeting with my own twin again as an adult. (That was the “duck pond” incident. Would you believe I’d pinged off his name, of all things? Well, the name he goes by when participating in his creatively anachronistic hobbies, anyway.) There’s nothing I can do to trigger these precognitions, though; for once, Blue was telling me the truth when he said that precognition is the most difficult of all psi skills to use as well as the most difficult to identify in the first place. (He did not say it was the most difficult to trigger in someone, but that may have been because he didn’t want me thinking about how any such skills could be triggered. Gods forbid I should remember anything…)
Anyway. Cancelled apocalypse: good news.
I picked the date more or less at random. February 2017. World War III, known much later as the Five-Day War, but that was just for the more blatant parts of it: the bombs and stuff. (Did I seriously just type a semicolon instead of a colon? Even as a true typo, that’s terrible.) The biological warfare (even the parts that I knew about before my clone decided that the worst of the plagues was an import originating in a much older war — that’s a trope he’s quite fond of) took longer, and was far more insidious.
And for a long time, I didn’t care. It’s fiction, and I’m not inclined to be frightened by products of my own imagination. But…
That was before politics in this country went completely wonky, and there was serious talk of electing a rabid, stupid xenophobe as president (rather than, say, a not-as-stupid xenophobe, which are fairly common in one political party here and not unheard-of in the other). Even if this “Cheeto-colored shitgibbon” didn’t win, we were in trouble, I thought. His supporters were the sort of people who’d riot if their candidate lost… and riot if their candidate won. (Don’t think that sort of thing doesn’t happen. I lived in Lexington, Kentucky, when there was rioting in the streets because the local university’s basketball team had just won the national championship.) It seemed likely the Orange Thing and his minions would destroy the country out of spite if they didn’t get their way, and destroy it out of whatever motivates such people to be such people if they did get their way.
One way or the other, it seemed, the poo would be flung at the fan after the presidential inauguration in late January of 2017.
Today is the first day of March. So far, so good. Looks like someone decided to cancel the apocalypse.
Anyway. This means we’re not living in a universe where someone hunts demons in the post-apocalyptic ruins of Disney World this summer. So if you were looking forward to a chance to meet Daeren Drake… Well, I do happen to know one of his cousins, but that doesn’t mean I can arrange an introduction. (Hell, I can’t even arrange a meeting with the cousin. Dammit.)
Good to know Weaver’s weirdo sense of humor is still intact, too. (Didn’t you realize I was joking? Didn’t you also realize I meant every word of it?) Good to know there’s still a reason for me to occasionally refer to myself in third person on this blog. Good to know I’m still prone to throwing truths like dandelions at anyone who comes too close, because without that particular bad habit, who am I? (Who am I with it?) Good to know one of my alter egos isn’t going to alpha Cent. (I’ll probably be waiting for a letter from New York now… Much good that will do me.)
The part typed on March 1:
Now I feel comfortable quoting Shakespeare to express my disgust with the tendency for a high percentage of people to become politically polarized by current issues and to assume — nay, demand — that every person takes an extreme position to one side or the other.
As Mercutio said, “A plague on both your houses!”
I was wrong. Apparently a lot of Americans did want to elect a rabid, xenophobic idiot as president. Because the alternative would have been a woman with lots of political experience — or even worse (said Weaver with extreme sarcasm), an old dude who said everyone deserves a living wage and maybe even a chance to send their kids to college — and either of those options would have totally ruined the American Way of Life…
Still, civilization hasn’t fallen. No “feral plague” is killing ninety-nine percent of the population and driving most survivors insane. So I guess there’s still a chance that we, collectively, will still be here in another year’s time.
But just in case, if you go to Disney World this summer, be sure to take photos.