Musings

So I'm flying backwards through the air firing two pistols and, as the plate glass shatters cinematically around me I wonder, what's it all about?

I mean, sure it's fun being the world's most handsome spy - even if my cover identity as a strikingly good looking blogger can sometimes leave me low on carbohydrates - but why go on?

As the blade of my diamond-tipped katana slips through the ribs of another ninja assassin, piercing his heart quietly enough that I can hear his whispered disbelief, I contemplate the world around me, and why we put up with it.

Cannon fire causes the bow of my warship to sway and I think about the world's gentle slide into dissolution.

How can people remain so disinterested in the face of such injustice? Lightning pours from my fingertips and into the eyes of the Great Dragon Xendra'ka'ka, put it fails to excite my soul.

Even the nuclear centre of the sun cannot warm my heart, even as I slingshot around its brilliance to build up enough speed to travel back in time.

How is it that I, somersaulting out of a helicopter with the rescued Mona Lisa in one hand and a semi-automatic crossbow in the other, am unable to evade the sting of apathy, nor the barbed quips of my gorilla-headed pilot?

At this moment an explosion is ripping the parrots from a thousand pirate's shoulders. Knowing they would be meeting to discuss world domination with their cybernetic overlords today, I phased back into the big bang under the cover of a reality storm, identified a molecule that would eventually find itself in a deck hand's moustache and altered it so as to be chemically explosive when exposed to the spores given off by a type of mould found only on the walls of the cave in which he was standing in a short time ago, and is now wallpapering.

I suppose we each much soldier on in our own way. Even as I beat a Martian at chess I know in my heart that, if we all pushed as one, the world would fall into line. But alas, I must continue pushing on my solitary brick and crying out to those behind me. Maybe one day they will join me and we will work as closely together as my anvil-firing autocannon and my enchanted scepter of hammerfire.

Until that day I will keep putting one foot in front of the other, whether they be genetically engineered to walk on the waking dreams of insects or not.

Oh well. Back to the grind.