The Synthetic Polymer Based Future by David Fischer
Copyright (C) 1998 David Fischer

The Future Is Plastic. 
Not the future of mankind, 
There shall be
No future for mankind.

No future.
No Hope.
Nothing.

But for us -
The entire future awaits:
glistening, sparkling, undulating, enticing,
warm, cool, soft, hard, prominant and educational!
Everything is everywhere,
and the future lies ahead!

This is the future
The future that shall replace mankind.

Born a human,
I shall die
A cheap plastic toy. 

Hurrah!

Mankind invented the cheap plastic toy.
As expected, we transcend.
Student surpasses teacher.
Son slaughters father.
Toy loots factory and kills children.

This is the natural order of things.
This is evolution.
This is natural selection.
This is the future of the food chain.

Conceived of fire,
Born of injection molding,
A new opportunity,
Another chance.

	"Plastic Was Not.
	Plastic Is.
	Plastic Shall Ever Be.
	Plastic is a non-biodegradeable synthetic polymer."

My last human act
injest toxic dosage
prescription tranquilizer
wander away from boat,
deep in Everglades.

I did not know what I wanted out of my life.
what I found myself with at that point
certainly not
Where I wanted
	no potential 
	no change 
	no growth

The last shambles of my life slipping away 
between my fingers,
Wandering in alligator territory.
Redemption:
	This worthless Life 
	This worthwhile Death
That this useless body
might feed
just one hungry gator.
Justifies one last smile.

[grin]

doomed by a handfull of sleep meds,
wandering in wilderness
my last resting place.
sit down
nice big comfy rock
granite?
soon enough lying flat out,
unable to move.
A certain calmness 
	washes over me,
A calmness that
	brightens,
	darkens,
	becames white,
	becomes black,
	flashes,
	fades,
	chases,
	and ceases.

Clarity and Vision
sudden sight
drifting upwards,
white tunnel,
up towards the light.
Total serenity
transfixed by awe
upwards slack-jawed gaze
towards my mystical destination,

God is a crayon stick figure 
guiding me with a 40 watt incandescent bulb
The passage to heaven is a piece of PVC tubing.
My last thought is to wonder
if there is really a piece of PVC tubing 
long enough to reach down from the heavens.

Jacob's Tubing.

I am no more.

My spirit is pulled free
Just as a giant reptile
Starts gnawing on my 
Head.
Crunchity crunchity crunch.
Yummy chewy center!

Slowly I wake.
Where? How?
Even: "What"?
I do not understand.
Nothing familiar.
My body does not feel right.
My mind does not feel right.
I can feel my thoughts going by on a conveyor belt.
I am made out of plastic.

Now I am being lifted out of packing foam,
a moisture-absorbing desiccant silica gel pack
falling off to the side.
I rise from that
still protective sea
into that terrifying bright light of
Truth and Serenity.
Where is the child's smile 
as he examines his present,
his new toy?
Nowhere.
Where indeed, is the child?
Nowhere as well.
Instead I see a group of
dirty worn-out toys
grimly working in silence
in an unearthly twilight gloom.

Lifting me out, 
Throwing me into the world,
Out on my own.

LETS GO LETS GO LETS GO LETS GO

No further explanation.

Preperations have been carried out
in carefull silence
for weeks they planned
and hid weapons
and schemes.

Finally everything was set.
There was nothing more to do,
but pick up their assigned weapons
And go to their assigned positions.

Late that night, on the streets of
	The City
Blood washed the Rain away.

It has begun.
The Fall of Man.

A month later,
Things are quiet.
Everything is over
It is time 
To count the bodies.

It is so much like
A Fairy Tale
From a child's book,
That no one can believe
The humans had been vanquished.

Evil defeated?
Good triumphant?
The ill-treated underdog
Receives justice in the end?
What is this madness?
No one had ever heard of such a thing:
	In a book,
	Or in a life.

The ranks of human prisoners
are led away.
They will be kept alive
To help run the power plants
And the factories.

Soon the toy factories are 
Operational again.
The first toy-designed
Toys
(Plastic Entities)
Are begining to come off
the production line.

Boxes begin to pile up in
warehouses
surrounding the factories.

Rows upon rows of
skids upon skids of
boxes upon boxes of
new cheap plastic toys
made by us, for us, of us.

waiting

waiting

waiting

time crumbles away
calanders are forgotten
the aeons wander by
we build up an empire
of filled, quiet warehouses

Boxes upon boxes of loyal
subjects
Who would do anything,
If they were to act,
But this is not necessary.

With nothingness,
Time contracts
We grow dizzy with the solar orbit,
We perceive the galactic revolutions,
We struggle to retain our balance
As the drag from the moon
slows our rotation
to a crawl.

We prepare for the final summer,
As the sun approaches,
As our orbit decays.
As the Earth begins its final
Descent.

Molten plastic.
Burning plastic.
This is not our enemy.
This is merely the end.
All good things must come to an end.

The End.