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Tomorrow

An allegorical world in Second Life, built in the Spring / Summer of 2020

Welcome, Welcome and may you heartily enjoy your stay! 
However you are not quite there yet!

Where you have landed now is 'Yesterday' where all sorts of people are frolicking in an old garden, engaged in the trivia of their daily lives.

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Facing them however is a tent inhabited by two wise old Donkeyheads who have a worrying glimpse into what lies ahead. They know that the garden's occupants are free to stay where they are or walk into 'Tomorrow'. And they are worried that sooner or later 'Tomorrow' will exert its pull.

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As for the narrow valley ahead of you, that is 'Today'. Where the two hapless boys have just found the smart phone...

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'Tomorrow' is an entropic world in which nothing is expected to ever change. 

The trickster god Kokopelli and his merry tribesmen greet the newcomer with their pied piper songs upon first entrance. Follow them and they will lead you into a world of willingly suspended disbelief where you will have no choice but to fearfully accept all that you are being told. Which is the essence of tomorrow. Blind belief. 

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The place is owned by a pride of fat cats who hang out in their secluded boudoir and who have to be kept in good humor by a constant supply of all sorts of delicacies that appeal to their carnivorous palates. No one sees them or hears from them or even really knows that they exist, but trust me - they own it all, they control it all. 

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They live in exquisitely indolent privacy, having handed over the day to day running of the place to a gang of 'experts' who are holding a very serious meeting, while groups of 'innocents' hang on to their every word, which will imminently be transmitted to them through the smart phones that they desperately clutch in their hands.

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Walking further one meets two philosophers who have nothing to do but gossip all day long, and a group of piggies who listen in to their idle chatter.

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If one walks in another direction however, one will see that not everyone here is idle - business is in full swing as a group of athletically lean predators engage in a lovely game of poker - away from prying eyes, of course.

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Exploring a bit further in the opposite direction one reaches the statue of Catustus the Omnipotent, the illustrious forebear of the present day occupants of the fat cat boudoir.

There are some things that have been relegated to locations away from the mainland since they are deemed to be harmful influences that are best kept away from the innocents - things such as play, fun, frivolity, companionship, and beauty:

 

Thus a group of teddy bears is holding a picnic in a far off copse. The 3 graces inhabit a remote island and Fatso plays the flute with only a wolf for an audience.

 

You, dear visitor, can of course fly across to them but the frozen inhabitants of 'Tomorrow' can not do that. In fact, at this point they have already been made to forget that things like play or beauty or companionship or art ever existed. Thus, they no longer even have a need for such a journey across the water. 

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For absolute power to be maintained, surveillance at all time is of the essence, of course. Thus towers are occupied by static watchers with hawk's eyes turned in all directions, while additional ground patrol and drones diligently keep everyone under incessant observance and control.

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All is still. All is frozen. All is suspended. No emotion. No nothing.

 

Just a perpetual state of frigid 'safety' in an artificially persistent world. No one dies.

The price? No one is really alive either.

So, will this state of perfectly balanced entropy last for ever, you may ask?

 

Well, there is one more inhabitant of this archipelago. Hidden away behind the furthest island. Hidden away even from the gimlet eyes of the watchers, the drones and the patrols. 

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The fat lady!

 

She is sitting there patiently waiting for the moment when she will - oh so joyously - break into song and the sky will come crashing down on the fat cats, their experts, and all the rest of their retinue - breaking the spell that has been cast upon the innocents, uniting them once again with the teddy bears, the three graces and Fatso. 

Therefore, 'Tomorrow's hours are numbered indeed. Because as we all know only too well -

"The opera ain't over before the fat lady sings!"

 

And sing she will! So, 'Tomorrow' will inevitably give way to a 'DayAfter' into which everyone is led through her jubilant song.  

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