Stalking the Average Man
It was nearly two o'clock when I turned onto Davie Street, so I stopped for lunch: sharp
thoughts snuffled from my nostrils until I was sedate enough to arrive at the ironic conclusion
that I had too much invested to quit one day before possibly hearing how her story ended. Or the
punch line, in which case I would have to find a way to make it look like an accident.
I arrived at Bonnie‘s a few minutes before noon where, without preamble, she led me into
the living area flooded by the light of a southern exposure, and softened by sheers covering the
wall of glass facing English Bay. An onshore breeze waved the diaphanous material above her
lethargic cat's head, keeping the room cool.
-It'll take a minute, | she said, sitting in the oversized oak rocker beside the fireplace.
-I‘ll be here, | I said as she closed her eyes.
Fifteen seconds later, she began rocking in her chair, followed by twisting her head from
side to side. A series of stilted breaths preceded pumping her arms, closely followed by deeper
breaths that seemed to synchronize her motions. Embarrassed for her, I turned my attention to
her cat, but Ginger wasn't any more at ease with me watching her than I was with watching
Bonnie‘s theatrics; she left the room to lie on the balcony.
Not a bad idea.
When Bonnie finally stopped moving, she opened her eyes to explore our surroundings as if
she were unfamiliar with them. Then her gaze fell on me with such calm assurance, not the stare
of mental vacancy I must've been expecting, that I felt undressed.
-We have been awaiting you, | she said in a sonorous, distinctly male voice, not at all like
her imitation of it. -All times are now, for the end has met the beginning. This does not mean the
end of times as you think of it. Rather, humankind has reached the end of a cycle of evolution
wherein your cultural experiments have gone as far as they can go within their current focus.
You are now repeating the essential events of your history. |
I felt mortified for the rational Bonnie I sometimes knew, and intimidated by the tranquil
idiot sitting across from me. Inspecting my toes took care of both feelings.
-Do not bow to us or to anyone. We are not your masters, but your servants, | she/he said.
I looked up to protest her interpretive error, but words would not come: her facial features
had become square—manly, and continued to change in subtle ways as she spoke with a simple
elegance I found compelling, even from within the turmoil of my skeptical fascination.
In part and paraphrase, as it will always be when I -quote | Bonnie, or the Universe by any
name, the K ha- lib persona said the aberrant ways of our world will come to an end by way of
cataclysmic events that have nothing to do with the wrath of God. Before encountering
humanity, spirit/energy/consciousness, hereafter called the Universe, had never encountered
malice. This concept was the antithesis of all that they knew about life, as foreign to them as
Aramaic is to an amoeba.
At this time in our evolution, he said the momentum of mankind's destructive path is
turning back on itself, accumulating energy at incompatible frequencies, like sound waves
exciting the natural resonance of a wine glass beyond its structural tolerance. This circumstance
was magnified by a cascading collapse of energies that exponentially propelled events into
physical manifestation sooner than would otherwise be their natural flow, resulting in life as we
know it becoming increasingly more dramatic.