Let us accept our own Armageddon at last…

Rust is here to stay, in our guts.

By Francisco Antonio Suing
[Field Report]

Bones, muscles and blood. Shape it like a human being and give it a proper soul and you’ll come across the greatest weapon, the greatest predator in the food chain, the greatest creation in the universe. Mankind, of course. Mankind above everything. Mankind with all its glory and all its chaos. But at the core, we are just flesh with thoughts about what we desire and hate the most. Soft flesh that can get old, get ill and will rot when its heart fails at last. 

And that’s what brings us today one more time.

One chance. One body. One life. 

One chance to do something to be proud of before our time runs out. One body that will be our tool to shake the very foundations of the world. And just one life that we take for granted everyday without knowing our own limitations.

I’m young.What more can I ask from the gods? Time is what the old man needs the most on his deathbed. But time is what a child rejects to accept because of their innocence. Today we can run and breathe without problems. But in a blink of an eye our world, our fragile life, can change. 

How fragile and weak can our flesh be? Our fists and muscles can cause pain and destruction around us. But at the same time we get back the reaction and consequences of our own will. We get ill and old with every step, with every breath we take, with every new day. Most of the time we fail to realize what we already have. Vanity, or just pure ignorance? We envy and desire what we see in front of our eyes. But we fail to smile at what we see in the mirror. We want everything we think can make us complete. But we fail to appreciate what makes us unique. We pretend to cover our weaknesses with more weakness and yet, we struggle to understand what makes us proud and strong. We are the biggest problem, and we are the most simple solution.

We fear death. But death is already here, with us. 

I’m young, yes. But the sands of time are already asking for their infamous part. Death doesn’t accept coins, gold or prayers. With drugs, pills and artificial instruments I can still be part of this society. But it will never be the same. 

A distant memory are the days when I can see far in the distance with my own eyes without problems. Genetics, the polluted environment, or just life itself. A common cold that comes and goes is one thing. But a permanent injury to the body is something to carry for life. Something we see and wish it never happens to us. Learning and adapting to the new circumstances is the only solution. Is this the beginning of the end for me? Today is my sight, tomorrow can be something even more tragic. 

The different illnesses and struggles that our bodies can face are beyond the achievements of science, beyond the endurance of suffering. Machines get rusty. Men get old. Machines are created to achieve a specific objective. Men are born so he can discover his place and duty in his life. Machines get broken and get replaced with ease. Men are forgotten but can be remembered by the weight of his actions in previous lives. 

They say the Armageddon will start when nuclear weapons rip through the blue sky around the world. But our end begins when our physical abilities begin to abandon us. Drugs, pills and artificial instruments will only help us extend the inevitable. 

Tell the gods we are not done yet, but we’ll meet each other sooner or later. 
Tell the man in the mirror there are plenty of opportunities out there yet to discover.
Tell the people there’s hope for a bright future despite the evil. 

To live forever is only a privilege of the gods. 
To live without scars and traumas is for the scared one. 
To live without knowing the true capabilities of our bodies is for the cowards. 

For those who once run free, seeing the sun from a cage will cause them madness and despair. 
For those in the arms of agony, the realization of wasted years will make them commit suicide. 
For those with enough time on their hands, realize you are living in the golden years.