PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Passing through the comparment's walls

(yes, it would have been considerably

crowded with bodies), we can view---from this

high vantage point---what was, in its

time, in this era we are visiting, the city of

Los Angeles, now the Los-ay Debris Pit, from

which the fossilized objects you have

studied all semester were excavated from

Reliquary Earth.  None of the residents

know we are here; no device of theirs

can detect us.  Those pedestrians, drawing

near, may even pass right through us, and

none the wiser for their momentary contact

with us.  You have been brought here---not as a

break from your academic endeavors, nor as a

reward for some positive accomplishment

among you.  All of your final papers failed, and

failed miserably, to explain the reason that

alterations of the past cannot be permitted---

for any reason, scholarly, experimental, or

political; the reason why your very bodies (and

mine, the same every semester) have been

detached and stored away until your

return to HomeAge.  From the imperfections of

that version of our species (those pitiful

inhabitants of the city that became the

Los-ay Debris Pit, who left their trash, and

their bones, to petrify in that morass; and

all others like them, before the full

abandonment of this planetary anachronism,

before its continents rejoined, fused back

together by millenia of millenia) our perfections

evolved and emerged so that even the

vast distances of galactic space no longer

evade us.  And this is the ultimate paradox

that even PhyKoDak the Ficsoferian

philosopher was unable to unravel:

represented by this still reeking Pit

(remember the second theorem of Shayvner's 

Array---"Even fossilized turds remembrance

"their stench"):  so that the slightest

betterment of their situation would

redound to the detriment of our civilization.

We may approach this time without tools or

instruments; without physiques or appendages;

without proposals for anachronistic improvement.

We are permissible tourists and spectators only.

Starward