Tags: human_race_for_the_future

hermy fan - 38gnihsurc

Your view on the human race in the future.

Hello, I joint the community yesterday and here's my opinion. If I've made any mistakes please tell me about them, my formation of sentence may be wrong at some places, I don't know, but please tell me what you think of it and i would be much obliged.

My view on the human race in the future.

The future...remains the same. Disasters occur somewhere; people who are unaffected can only pity them and do nothing else. Children will go to schools, people work, young people continue to fall in love...it all continues and sceince may develop to its utmost level.

Scientists wish to discover more, to make a new invention, to make the world easier. Wishing and yearning for more the people will continue to live, not at all happy with what they have. When the use of robots are common and are seen everywhere, people themselves become robotic and there will be a time when greed dominates all and emotions are nothing and can only be found in books.

The world may come to an end due to some explosion in a nuclear factory, or a fatal accident or a the blast of atomic or nuclear bombs, all living things are now lifeless. Everything will decay and come to an end. There will be total silence on planet Earth and slowly the air, water and mountains develop followed by the formation of an amoeba to the development of sea creatures. And then dinosaurs may evolve again; the process of life on earth will continue. You can say the earth is old when man rises again, like a small phoenix rising from its own ash to be young and healthy in the same way, man represents the old and feeble state of a phoenix and he will be the supremest creature again and he will be the cause of his own destruction. The world may repeat its stages.
three words.
  • vaya___

Your view on the human race in the future. (Tomorrow or 2,000 years.)

There is a constant clicking, and questioning of when? When are they going to find us? Find that in their age of repression, there are some who are rising up. We are rising up like vapor through the metallic floor boards. We are seeping through the steel doors. We are spreading thoughts to the dead faces of this dying planet. These dead eyes see sparks in the unheard of notion of, "Hope." Hope. Hope for the future. Hope passed the clicking, slamming of door ways, raids of men, rape of women, stealing of resources. "She is risen."

The women close their doors at night at 21:30 hours, and wait for the men to come in at 0:30 hours. The children below the age of 18 (the dividing age) come in at 19 hours. Dinner is promptly on the table at 17 hours, but all other meals are up for whatever time. The women dress in black and light grey. They will never speak a word of resentment for the husbands that they've been given to. (But, they remember when. When they could chose their own man, chose no man, chose a woman instead. When they had a small fragment of freedom. In their sleep, you can hear them cry, wail, "REVOLUTION! VIVA LA REVOLUTION!")

The dead faces, the women's faces, the dried tears on a child's face... these are who we are trying to reach. Misogyny runs rampant, we shy away from men now. No, this is a movement for the women and children. The women who have born children to men who tear their skin. Who tear their hair, their skirts, their hearts. No, we must revive these faces, these bodies, before it is too late. Before even this movement's hope has diminished. We must pass our message to the young, so that it will manifest with the growing men. We must preach our hope until our breath is gone (by nature, or by guns.) Revolution. Viva la revolution...
spring

Your view on the human race in the future. (Tomorrow or 2,000 years.)

Work to fall.
Speak to confuse.
Sleep to escape.


Outside, the ill-fated march of the machine era dominates, dictates - the resonating thud thump thumps tread the same paths over and over again. A never-ending cycle. The air feels heavy, thick with unspoken fright and redundancies. We degrade ourselves to cliché phrases ("baby, if I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put u and i together") and more than familiar stress-alleviators because 'change' is such a terrifying word. There is a strange kind of comfort in unoriginality - a defense mechanism, almost.

When did we become this desperate - for an escape chute - for a pill - for distracting addictions? The veins of technology are pumping faster than ever, and printing houses are suffocating underneath fat, intellectual arguments - but it cannot be denied that the once brilliant colors from individuals’ ritualistic passions are fading. The young and old are always eager for newer and better getaways. Reality is fantasy, fantasy is reality. Outside, the ill-fated march of the machine era dominates, dictates – emotionless. Robotic love, robotic sex appeal. Even now, writing these words, I can feel the metal body of my heart rusting –-