There's no Profit in People

Where does one go when the whole world is Mad?

My time in the Green Zones is spent as a Laborer. Without that Usefulness their Guards and guard Dogs would chase me right out. And if they knew my Mind they'd chase me out anyway. And so it was I found Myself walking through secret, endless Corn Fields, beautiful and Untouched. But for whom is this corn? Nobody. There's no Profit in People. Profit Lords deem it more profitable to leave food on the stalk in praise of the Pricing Superstition. In the Outlands is starvation but feeding them is against the Profit Religion. They bet the Lives of people on what they see as holy.

What is True profit? How is it to be measured in Reality? If we Exhaust this planet, who profits by that? And if we see profit in Doom, what Possesses us to believe so? Where are the Songs of tomorrow? But that's the benefit of any religion: it makes saints of Sinners and Testifies death is life. Religion will always be the Pervert's Playground. Everything we do is in the name of Profits, but the profit is a Myth.

I saw two men arguing, I was too far away to hear the Words. But the silhouettes Spoke to me as two figures fighting over a Last Morsel of food. It gave me a Vision of us Dying with our hands at each other's throats, refusing reality to the bitter End. And I thought back to my ex-wife who married a Profit Lord, and how she had Bloated so heavily I wondered if she was trying eat all the living food in sheer Desperation. We came to this Outpost over six thousand years ago and it seems we're devolving into Animals. I thought the plan was to evolve into Love.