Dark spheres and all their question marks.

They said we would never make it to mars, let alone out our front doors. But here we were, staring at a field of rotting corpses, the ground had turned red. Stones here and there in peculiar rows, fallen down burnt trees with half eaten headless rabbits. Strangely enough we had gotten used to it, to all of it, we didnt even notice.

There had been tales passed down for generations, going so far back we didnt even know where they came from. But somehow we believed them, every single word of it, every single tale. It was like the trails we walked down everyday with our callused feet, arthritic hips and limps. Like fingernails and eyelashes, we didnt understand them, their gloomy whisking.

There was a man though, that knew it all. Not the source but the information. He would recite it to us everyday, every hour, every time we looked at him. It wasnt until one man pulled out all of his eyelashes and fingernail publicly as we watched that it occurred to us. 

Maybe its all a fairy tale, maybe this wasnt earth, maybe those things arent feet, fingernails, eyelashes, arthritis? So what were they?

Over time, it was decided, that we had forgotten where all of this knowledge had came from. But we hadnt forgetten the knowledge itself. Maybe, that reciting man made it all up, maybe he was just crazy, maybe he had just stood there forever doing what he did? Maybe time is relative and perspective is just a way to cling to what we think is truth? 

So, what would that matter anyway? Would anything change?

Then it happened, the ground turned red, people started dying like seconds ticking away on the clocks. Then someone suggested that we destroy the clocks, burn the trees, eat the heads of all the rabbits. So we did, thats how we became Martians. 

Like that experiment, the one where the guy makes the dogs salivate with a bell, life was like that. It had become instinct some said, to walk the paths, drink from the fountains, eat from the tin cans. Dance in the smoke filled rooms with mirrors.

But, now the ground was red, the fountains greenish moth soup, the trails hidden by burned and fallen trees, headless rabbits everywhere. 

So all instinct was lost, all knowledge forgotten.

Is life better on mars, maybe.

B--------(-->-)--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[

In 1672 an Italian writer wrote a story about a man who could see other dimensions and his own at the same time. It was described as a story where, "the future, the past, the present, and the potential is scene as a smeared pool of ink." Of course the book is banned, it was deemed absurd and perverse. One critic states, "its like surgically making a penis into a vagina, then a penis could be inserted into the former penis that is now a vagina." But the critic was actually the writer pretending to be a critic who had seen the future, past, present but lacked potential, that writer had just invented marketing hype.

Although the Italian writers name is unknown rumors spread like wild fire. Everyone was looking for the book, the writer. Everyone wanted to know about this whole penis future present past potential surgery. Word had leaked that he could be scene wearing a green jacket in the red light district. Many men were lynched, laid, or held hostage in the conquest for the writer. Questions were being asked about the length and depth of the writing itself. Even a reward was posted in the streets for the writer and his ink.

Then atlast a page surfaced, hand written, the ink a bit smeared from moisture. 5 paragraphs and 3 sentences, on this page. At the top of the page 4 symbols were drawn in red, but the meaning or origin of these symbols were unknown. 

The person who had made this page public was a poor servant boy dressed in rags and green slippers. The servant boy said his master, who the boy was very loyal to, had told him to let everyone read this page. The handwriting was stunning calligraphy, the paper hand pressed, probably Persian. What was written on the page was baffling, confusing, and beautiful. 

The first paragraph was very descriptive, the second erotic, the third imbecile, the fourth breath taking, the fifth bleak and hallowing. But the last 3 sentences we where the trouble began and ended. It was a confession, a lie, a spoof, a falicy of the worst nature. Some of the words contained syllables, letters, the sentences had punctuation at times but it was all just made up, eventually published, then banned.