The Man of One Thousand Years

I had waited around 60 years to meet a mythical man, a man so adored and favored, that he only spoke to impart wisdom once every one thousand years. He had told humanity he had found immortality and he had insisted he had been awakened. He claimed to be one of an elite race, from the planet Earth, sent by God to awaken the rats and allow them to tread among humans.

Born in 2100, he had shown his face 6 times to impart wisdom; I visited on the 6th time. I waited in a long line that day of around one billion people. I would say the lines were long, but our excitement had made the experience one of a sort of quickness. We shuffled, sneezed, wiped our sweaty brows, picked our fingernails, and before we knew it, I had the ability to meet him. 

I was taken to a sort of heavenly room. It contained warm lighting from the Sun, white chairs, white couches, guards in white clothes, white gloves, white shoes, white eyes;  everything was white. Sounds of a river of Earth played using speakers installed in the ceiling. The guards sat at the entrance and exit of the room. I was seated on a singular, fluffy chair, and an electronic screen appeared before me through the floor. "Hello," it said. I watched the screen sizzle and fizzle to life. "You are about to meet a man above God. Prepare your mind for awakening." The room became dark. I was grabbed by the figures blocking the exit and they forced me to swallow an odored drink of some kind. 

I had been drugged so as to not know the location of this man. I rose to consciousness due to a gong-like sound and a screen emitting a booming voice. "Gerald Incan, I await your question." My eyes wobbled, crossed, and focused on the screen. He lacked a human figure, as it had been replaced by wires around the room and fans that whirred and clanked. I was staring at the mythical man, and it was an odd sensation. I thought I'd be humbled, or entered into a frenzy, but after I saw him, I didn't feel much of anything. I stared at the screen, he was just pixels; it was hard to believe he was real. It quickly occured to me that even after all the waiting, I hadn't come up with a question. I thought for a moment, what could I ask God? "I suppose, I suppose my question is, how does one become enlightened?" The machinery around me clinked, clunked, and whirred as the man thought of a response. You could nearly hear a breath in as the speakers emitted a monotone voice. "To obtain enlightenment one must meditate everyday, abstain from desire, always focus on the positive, strictly wear robes, never indulge in sexual pleasure, he must never feel hatred…" he continued on for longer than one could conceive. I shuffled my feet as sorrow began to burden my weak shoulders. 

I was not him, but I wished to be, I could not abstain from desire, but I wished to. To look at the enlightened man, to look at the man who's lived thousands of years, to feel the culmination of moments of anticipation leading up to meeting God, I began to feel… disappointed. He rattled off dogma and lifeless quotes, "Never harm another," "Never meditate on a full stomach." I paused his pattern of speech, "Why should I do these things? How do you know these things?" The machinery sputtered and a silence filled the air. I look back now and realize I don't believe he could have answered if he tried. He had been so used to my peers accepting his "knowledge," without any thought. "Guards, take him away." I was drugged and taken away without any answers. I've lived my life since knowing at least one thing: he was no God.