PJ Swift

Deep State

Deep in the lowest realms of the ocean reside mysterious, miraculous creatures—glorious, beautiful, yet largely unknown. Humans have studied them, but these beings have had minimal contact with us. One might think they know virtually nothing about us, except that we are odd, covered creatures who appear only sporadically.

In truth, the creatures of the deep know far more about us than we know about them. They are aware of humanity’s entire history and the full scope of its knowledge. Yet they choose to remain in their idyllic, prehistoric oceanic bliss, as if we were nothing more than a temporary irritation.

But down in the depths, they also serve as a serene repository—a silent backup of knowledge, in case anything goes wrong with the world above. And, oh boy, is that looking all the more necessary.

Open

M. was resentful and upset that doors never did open up for him.  Never.  He'd stand and wait, and allow himself to hope.  But no doors ever opened up for him. No great opportunity presented itself.  No unknown wonder graced him upon the light of entry. This was his life's most profound disappointment.

What M. did not understand, however, was that there were no doors.  Not in this land.  There were no doors because there were no walls.  In this land everything was open and accessible.  Everything was available.  Anything that one desired -- with a pure and genuine heart --  was attainable.  No door was needed.

And yet, M. waited for a door to open. Any door.  And waited and waited.

Statuesque 

The two men were bitter rivals, with Z. always getting the upper hand. He was the more accomplished, successful, and celebrated—year after year, decade after decade—while R., his overlooked nemesis, forever seethed in his shadow. Even in death, Z.'s legend endured. A grand statue, an effigy in his honor, was erected in one of the city's most prominent squares.

R. passed away in obscurity, and even in the afterlife was relegated to a lower tier of reincarnation, trapped in a timeless loop of near-rodent existence. Again and again, instead of rising to an exalted state, he returned to earth as a humble pigeon—which he loved dearly, for it allowed him to spend eternity perched atop Z.’s vainglorious marble head, sitting and shitting upon it.