Beyond Good, Evil and The Weather

Vix got up earlier than usual this Sunday. He was hoping to catch an earlier train out to the Village, but soon realised he'd be most likely to spend the usual small eternity trying to find a pair of matching socks from his laundry bag.
It was the same old story.
He didn't have too many clothes, just a selection of good t-shirts, some jeans, a couple of hoodies and a warm knitted sweater that he would put on on really cold days, then get totally claustrophobic and pull it off just as he was about to leave the house.
He had just about enough underwear. Nothing too fancy. After all, the meaning of any piece of underwear’s life was to make its host feel as comfortable as possible.
But then it was the socks.
He hadn't counted them, but there must have been a couple of hundred pairs by now.
Every time he did his laundry at the Laundromat up the road, he'd always return with everything heaped inside an old orange bicycle courier bag. This way, whenever he would need any clean stuff, he'd just grab it directly from the bag (except for the warm sweater, which would always lie in the corner where he'd thrown it after trying it on, then deciding it was far too claustrophobic to wear).
Whenever he'd get down to try finding a pair of socks he would almost never find a match, but instead spend 15-20 minutes looking through every single one. As this pissed him off thoroughly he'd always try to get rid of the problem by buying a new 5-pack at the market whenever he passed by on weekends.
Of course this only added to the confusion.
Even lately, when he'd decided he would only buy very colourful pairs, so they would easily stick out in the bag, it didn't really work out. The only thing it resulted in was that now he had such an amount of bright and colourful socks that the contents of the laundry bag looked like some kind of psychedelic puke, which only added to the whole messy situation.
He pulled out a yellow and violet striped pair from the clown barf and put them on.
It seemed he would miss the train he hoped to catch by getting up early anyway now.

”Did you see the thing in the paper today?”
Mr. Friend sipped his steaming hot black coffee and glanced above his glasses with raised eyebrows at Vix.
”The oil thing?”
”No, the maize thing.”
”You mean the corn thing?”
”Yes, the maize thing.”
”No, I didn’t.”
”The price of maize has finally started moving up because of the demand for it for bio-fuel production. Can you imagine what will happen now that it’s more tempting for farmers to sell off their crops for bio-fuel production than for food-production?”
”Eh, I suppose that’s exactly what they’ll do, then?”
”Most probably. And as they start selling larger and larger shares of their production to this sector, using maize for food will soon be considered a pure luxury with the price levels we’re going to see soon, and then what with the poorer nations who rely heavily on importing masses of it for food?”
”They’ll be in even deeper shite than usual?”
”As you so poetically put it, my young friend.”
”But how can they get away with it?”
”What do you mean?”
”How can these things be decided upon, and carried through by the people who are controlling this trade? The global corporations. Corrupted politicians.”
”Oh, this has been decided upon a long time ago. The minute the first merchant uttered the phrase ’free market’ to no public protest, all decisions behind these ongoing events today had already been taken.”
”It’s the same old story, then? A global culture of greed eating our world like a cancer. No stopping it. The blinded masses following the sheep-clad wolves to the edge of the cliff, where they’ll all be certain to meet their final deaths?”
”Ooh, we’re in a bit of a lousy mood today, are we?”
”Well, I just think those responsible for these decisions should suffer for what they’ve done. If it was up to me I’d make sure every single one involved in this scheme would die a very slow and very painful death – preferrably while being forced to face images of the pain they’ve inflicted on others.”
”And why would you do that?”
”Because they’re evil, that’s why!”
Mr. Friend looked at Vix as if he was thoroughly entertained by the answer.
”There it is again. Evil. Why on Earth is everybody so damned preoccupied with good and evil around here?" He didn't stop and wait for an answer. "I’ll tell you why. Because it is this preoccupation with good and evil that makes people so gullable. And being gulled, one can always blame someone else, and avoid personal responsibility for every little thing. Why can’t I hear people say ’divide and conquer’ as often as they say ’good and evil’, it’s a far more to the point cliché.”
”So now you’re telling me there is no good or evil either?”
”Of course I’m not telling you that. Only an idiot would tell you that, and I can’t imagine you’d be the kind of lad who would spend hours on end discussing serious matters with an idiot every Sunday, would you?”
”Of course not.”
”I’m simply asking why you are so preoccupied with this categorisation of good and evil, like everyone else? There’s a million other dialectic forces in the Universe that’s far more interesting than these two worn out concepts – and far more essential in order to understand what’s really going on.”
”Like what?”
”Day and night, male and female, life and death, home and away. And order, of course. Order and disorder, or chaos if you’d like.”
”Day and night. Order and chaos. Wow! I feel extremely enlightened.”
”Tread easy, my dear Victor. Arrogance and irony are two human capacities that are carefully balanced out by intelligent virtues like openness and sincerity - important tools you will have to rely on in order to evolve and attain any real knowledge of the slightest little thing. And you don’t want to miss out on your chances of evolving by being an ignorant little prick, do you?”
”No, sorry, it's just too tempting. Please go on.”
”You see, most people who decide things in this world. Big things. Those much talked about people with 'real' power whom you regard so highly. Most of these people don’t give a damn about good and evil during a normal day at the office. It doesn’t even strike them that anybody out there does care about such a silly concept. What they do care about on the other hand...”
”...is order and chaos, I guess you’re about to tell me, cause home and away it surely ain’t.”
”So it is, my bright young friend, so it is. But you shouldn't write off home and away so quickly. Never underestimate the importance of silly games and the thrill of a staged battle between different tribes. This stuff is ancient. Do you know who 'invented' football?"
"Haven't got the faintest idea."
"The Maya indians."
"No shit? Where they a British colony?"
"No. But never mind. We'll get back to them another time, I'm sure."
"So forget good and evil and don't underestimate football, what's your next big revelation?"
"The real battle in this world at the moment is between order and disorder, where order is defined by anything that is controllable by the human will, and disorder has to be defined as any kind of order that’s incomprehensible by the human intellect.”
”Like the weather.”
”Exactly. Like the weather. That's the real deal, and that's why people are so scared of it, especially now that it's acting a bit strange and even more unpredictable than before."
"Yeah. But most people still believe the greatest battle in society is one of ’the Law’ versus ’the Outlaw’, in my opinion. Like a western movie, or America's reasons to go to war."
"Sure. That's one of the biggest ’good versus evil’ myths that are around, but of course this is complete nonsense. Do you really think one the most popular tv-series in the world during the last decade would evolve around the lives of criminals if this was case? Don't you think it would be classified information?"
”TV-series? You mean like ’The Sopranos’, or something?”
”I do. The whole key to its popularity is that the scenario describes the lives of organized criminals. Or at least criminals struggling to stay in control of their criminal affairs. It’s not a game of chaotic, unpredictable crazies doing whatever pleases them at any time, or moving where the wind blows. They're not dangerous types at all.”
”Do you watch it?”
”Hell, yes. It’s a fantastic show!”
Vix tried to imagine Mr. Friend on the couch with a can of beer and a bag of chips, deeply engaged by a tv-show about New Jersey mafiosos battling with their marital problems and unruly children, but had to lay the thought to rest in order not to laugh out loud and make Mr. Friend turn all grumpy.
”In the real battle, ’the Law’ and ’Organized crime’ is fighting on the same side - against the real enemy.”
”Which is what? ’Sex and the City’?”
”Amusing suggestion, but in a twisted sense still quite spot on. The power of sex is probably the one human force that no-one can seem to come up with a recipe for total control of. So I wouldn’t hesitate to list it at the top end of the column that opposes law and order.”
”So now you tell me that world politics can be explained by watching the most popular tv-soaps? Sure you’re not just a raving old drunk with a great dress-sense and a talent for words?”
”Why do young people always want things to be so complicated? Do you really think the royals never let off smelly farts, or that politicians and ’the power people’ don’t watch the same tv-shows as the man and woman in the street?” Mr. Friend’s voice had become slightly high-pitched and a bit silly-sounding.
Vix wondered why he would get offended on behalf of 'royals' and 'power people', but soon let the thought lie.
”But sex apart. I was actually more pointing towards phenomenon such as disorganized crime, and foreign regimes with different laws than those of the dominant law enforcers of this world. There’s nothing more frustrating than unpredictable crime and unpredictable entities of power to those that prefer to be in control of the big issues.”
”So badly organised criminals. The weather, and sex are their real enemies?”
”Well, yes. The two latter subjects are some of the most talked about issues across the globe as we speak. And they have been for thousands of years. We are talking front pages every other day. The first category is usually far too scary to mention in public, although madmen like Manson turn up from time to time and make a lot of headlines.”
”Yeah, Marilyn is totally aw’some”, Vix drawled back in his badly executed impersonation of a broad american accent.
"Charles, Victor. Charles Manson. Go and have a look on your beloved Internet."
"Aha." Vix pretended to not know the difference.
”But actually sex is a real beast to the people who want control. Every attempt has been made to degrade sex - initially by making it shameful, 'wrong' or 'sinful' to the faithful citizen - and thereby less powerful. The Catholic Church thought they were onto a solution for a few hundred years, but even they seem to have started giving up this strategy now. After every measure taken - from burning their most vital objects of desire on a stake, to banning the use of condoms in modern times, and thereby making poor people scared of their sexuality due to the possible consequences of having another hungry child - sex still seems to continue to live a life of its own in the whole of society, like a river flooding every dike."
Vix tried to picture this. It left him with a strange tingling sensation.
Mr. Friend went on, ”Your sexual power is your own personal creative power in its most basic form. It’s one of the most powerful tools you’ve been given in life, thoughtfully bundled with the freedom of choice. A fantastic creative force, and probably the strongest you’ll ever have at your hands during a lifetime, maybe apart from the instinctive will to survive.”
”On one hand I guess you could be onto something there. But I don’t get it. Society is full of sex. It seems like it’s the only thing you see in the media, in fashion, in films. Why?”
”Well, I imagine the solution for now is to try to give the masses an overdose of the stuff, so they start getting a little bored of the whole thing. If you can't stop it, then try to make it cheap, casual and 'no big deal'. But this new strategy also seem to include to keep on focussing on those who’ve attempted to suppress their sexuality long enough so that they eventually burst, and go and do something terrible to some innocent victim somewhere. Sexually motivated crime can put most sensible souls off the whole subject of sexuality. Not that most people have any time left for being very erotic in their daily lives, anyway - being the slaves of time and money that they’ve now become. But there still seems to be hope here. It still has a force, at least amongst the young. People just need to become aware of this force, and start to use other aspects of it to express their personal power and free will. It could help change things.”
”’Fuck for the environment’ next?”
”Not exactly what I meant, but it has already been done.”
”Where? Surely in Sweden? Or Germany, or somewhere like that.”
”Norway, actually, but never mind.”
”Weird shit.”
”Not that weird, when you think about it.”
”Why?”
”Because all environmental questions are somehow linked to the weather, and the weather is the other great matter in the same category of uncontrollable forces, as I told you. And the weather in itself is even more scary to the power-hungry than people, even if they were fully in touch with their sexual power.”
”And why is that?”
”It is because the weather hints at something bigger than man. Something uncontrollable by - and - bigger than man.”
”Double scary.”
”Oh, far more than double scary, Victor. Weather is God! And such an unpredictable God is very scary, if you’re just a small man of flesh and blood, with both a deteriorating hairline and sexual drive, but still wants to rule the world.”
”I thought the idea of God was essential in order to rule the world. The one who managed to monopolize on God would probably hold the key to rule all nations, wouldn't he? Being the owner of www.god.com or God™ would be a great asset, right?"
"Surely, but you're talking about a man-made God. The myth of God. Not a dangerous, real, natural force-God."
"Oh, come on. It's all just bollocks, anyway. The whole idea of God is nothing but a well-designed system of thought to keep people obedient. In the world today, some religious fundamentalists have the ’patent pending’ status on God, whereas others make loud protests with the ’no you don’t, you oppressing faithless dogs’-rap. If one of them managed to break the code to win that great battle of who’s God’s best mate, there’d be no problem to rule the world, would there?”
”Yes, yes. That's all very good. But that’s still just the idea of God as in the ’man-made God of organized religion’. This concept has been working quite well in the past, no doubt. But I’m sure no-one really fears that old character anymore. Not when they’re at peace with themselves in a lonely room. I believe the whole world has made their personal faith quite a secular affair. At least when no-one's looking."
"I hear you say that, but I'm not sure I believe it."
"Don't underestimate people, Victor. These days most people can see the real behaviour of the men of the Church throughout history shining through. In our time information flows more freely, and it must be quite transparent to most that these belief-systems have been used by a chosen few to surpress, rather than enlighten the masses."
"You think God is losing his grip on people, aren't you?"
"Well, at least he doesn’t seem to strike as much awe in people as he once used to. I’ve even heard he’s starting to go soft on natural horrors like homosexuality, with letting openly gay bishops come to the surface. That’s not very much like him, is it?”
”Really? This must be in France.”
”No, Norway again, actually.”
”Ok, but I actually think you’d be surprised at how many still put their faith in this ’man made God in his image and pretended it was the other way around'-figure if you started watching more than ’The Sopranos’ and ’Sex and the City’”, Vix said, and felt great about himself.
”Touché.” Mr. friend smiled and scratched his white and almost perfectly trimmed beard. ”But let's focus more on the other concept of God, if you’ll excuse me. The one I started this conversation with, the one that is able to put such an amount of fear in even the most cynical global corporate leader that he goes at great lengths to make sure all his otherwise waterproof business contracts contain at least one special clause”
”Which might be?”
”What to do in the event of ’Force Majeure’.”
"Force Majeure?"
"An 'act of God'. Natural catastrophes, war, famine. Uncontrollable stuff like that."
”An intervention by this all-empowering weather-God of yours?”
”Exactly. The fearsome concept of a universal structure that humans are unable to fathom, and have to file under X."
"You watch far too much telly."
Mr. Friend ignored him.
"You see, in order for any power-structure to function well, it is dependent on that every one of its building blocks are made of solid material, and that they behave in a predictable way. It’s not so much a question of a chain containing a weak link, but more a question of whether all your bricks are made of solid rock, and not crumbling sandstone. This is essential to understand before you start building any kind of power-structure.”
”Bricks? Power-structure? Like a tall building full of powerful people or something?”
”Or a big corporate company. Not so much like any tall building, but more like a pyramid-shaped one, with all the power centralized at the top.”
Vix felt uneasy at the mention of a pyramid-shaped structure, but couldn't tell why he should be.
”One day you have to tell me more about pyramids.”, he said, vith a badly camouflaged hint of anxiety in his voice.
He looked at the old clock on the wall, which was placed next to a trememendously lousy attempt at an expressionistic representation of a bus-stop he thought he could recognize from down the road. He loved the painting, and decided that he would have bought it for a silly sum of money, if he’d had the privilege of parting with silly sums of money. Most of all, he'd like to do so in order to piss off the art market by making this untalented bugger a wanted artist, which in turn would make sure the rich and famous soon had their walls crammed with these horrendous creations.
It was five o’clock.
”Gotta dash.”, Vix said.
He put his jacket on, gave a firm military salut to Mr. Friend, who shook his head and then returned his attention to the paper he’d been reading.
”Till next time.”
Mr. Friend turned a page in his paper, and didn’t look up as Vix left.
"Till next time.", he answered.

The journey back was just like journeys back often are, quite uneventful and unexciting, and somehow much shorter than the way to somewhere.
He decided he didn’t want to try and find out exactly why at this moment in time. He felt tired.
The city had started getting the Christmas decorations up, and there seemed to be a million sparkling lights hovering above the streets when he looked out the blurry bus window with half-closed eyes.
It reminded him of a sample in a track by The Orb, and of the words of an American President.
He preferred being reminded of The Orb, he thought, and dozed off.

The bus driver kept kicking him on the leg even after he woke up at the end of the route. He realised he had to walk back to his neighbourhood, and wasn't pleased at all.
Back at the shelter he got into some fresh underwear, put the kettle on, and did his notes for the day.
Then he wrote the following on the blog:

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the messy job of cleaning up the Earth after the rich and prosperous have left the party.

He scratched his chin, and eventually added;

If the meek are still around by then, and there’s anything left for them to clean up. (If the whole malarkey hasn’t gone down the cosmic drain – or just exploded like the Death Star.)

He posted the track ”Solaris” by Emmanuel Tegel - it sounded appropriately cosmic, like the blurry Universe of the Christmas lights through the bus window on his way home, and he enjoyed the soothing spaciousness combined with those naive melodies.
He logged off, and had a last cup of tea for the night.
Soon Vix was floating in space.