The Project - a fable

“Then tell me the story, how they used to live. Tell me how they could live and know everything without social media. No way that was possible. That Generation X that absorbed everything is nothing more than a myth, a fabricated fable.”

“We lived and had the freedom to go wherever we wanted,” said the donkey stubbornly.

“That only applied to those who were noble,” neighed the horse, which was no longer treated as a noble animal. “There aren’t many of us left. Man wiped us out just like the rest of their pets, the animals, nature itself.” She turned around and stared into the distance. Somewhere over there on the horizon were the steppes. Once her ancestors had been free, long before they were tamed and made into slaves.

“What kind of commotion is this?” barked the Rottweiler; unlike the German Shepherds, he had not forgotten his loyalty to the Council of Wise Owls. “Disperse, please, and be quick about it. The 15-Minute Region exists for a reason: safety above all.”
The snail nodded thoughtfully as he glided slowly forward. In fifteen minutes he wouldn’t get very far; the world seemed infinite to him, and he preferred to stay on familiar ground.

The earthworm poked his head above the ground and whispered as the Rottweiler walked away: “Even underground there is a 15-minute region reported the mole, but I can still get through the smallest hole – or otherwise my last part mutates into my second self. I feel and see everything my other parts do…”

His last words went unheard when the metal blackbird that walked past clicked and swallowed him in a gulp. Every sound fell silent. The fear was deeply ingrained. There were no memories other than what the black and silver screens, the voices of the social ones, were shouting.

All understood the buzzing of the screens.
Suddenly the world fell silent. Everyone held their breath when the robots also shut down and collapsed.

The day turned into night.

“What should we do?” said the bee to the goat. “No one said we could go to sleep. Shall we stay busy, on guard here?” The goat continued chewing quietly and slid away unnoticed. Why listen to the whining of bees, ants and the buck who could do nothing but bleat?

“Let’s see,” said the cat. She took a leap and disappeared into the night. Her eyesight had diminished over the years, but she still had her sense of touch, just like her claws. Nine lives provide a wealth of information; who needs a robot and media to be social? "I am a soloist and always have been."

Six kittens, black as night, followed her silently. Smart enough not to attract the attention of the eagle, who was on the lookout and circling at the first dawn.

Day and night merged into one another. The 15-minute region grew quieter and quieter. The smell of corpses intensified, although the vultures were still present and watching from above; they did not react. A heavy, unbearable atmosphere hung over the battered, who were no longer even able to take a step.

“It is an interesting project,” remarked the weighty Great Horned Owl. “Who would have ever thought it is so easy to break free will and a little initiative? I believe I have won the bet.”

“It is a bit more than just enslaving them,” cooed the gluttonous pigeon, the rat among birds. She was a deceitful messenger dressed in a pearl-white suit. Her appearance and fine words about safety and peace, being social, democracy, and safety for posterity had been dazzling. She had set everything in motion with the greatest ease. It had been a delight, but fair’s fair – the Great Horned Owl had not won the bet yet.

“Let’s see how many are left,” croaked the only remaining raven. A piece of cheese wouldn’t be bad, but unfortunately there was no robot at work, and what was left wasn’t really edible. "The air is unbearable,” he croaked. “Why don’t the vultures – or why don’t those hyenas – spring into action?”

Everyone was beaten down.

"Everyone is beaten down. No one has ever learned to work together. You have to be social in life to build trust; to be social and to be creative and come up with solutions, your instinct must not be ignored and your brain must be used!"

The eagle had seen it correctly, and because no one flipped the switch anymore to turn on the screens and robots, the only thing that was still alive – the flora – took over from the fauna. From now on, no beast would rule any more; we must learn from the past and not dominate others. The world is not a 15-minute region, and instinct is innate, meant to be used.

Follow your heart and live.

In the distance, a soft meow sounded, followed by a soft bleating… and the howl of a wolf.

While listening to the song underneath I wrote the fable above.

Kongxiang Zhi Miao (The Fragrance of the Orchid)