The River Angry

"It's just a matter of time now."

I was peering through my binoculars from my secret upstream perch overlooking the river. If only everyone could see this, I sighed. I do not have the words to fully translate what my eyes see.

The angry swell was ripping up bushes and washing away foundations from trees from the expanding river banks. To be in its way was death. Downstream, disaster awaits the comfortable village on its shores. I tried to tell them but that only made me their enemy.

"We HATE you! Don't ever come here again!"

I hastily retreated ahead of thrown rocks. They thought I was being judgmental of their ways. What I said and what they heard were two different things. I had no idea of the contentious debates into which they had fallen. I simply came from upstream to warn them. They thought that meant they were idiots and fools for living where they were.

"Only if you stay!" I replied. Boy, did that piss them off.

As I watch the merciless rush of water devour everything that stands in its way, I feel a fear I've never known before. This is a power that answers to no one. The grey jostling waves smash with unrelenting fury, unstoppable and blind. These waters do not care about the clever and eloquent political arguments made for staying in its path. They are not sensitive to people's feelings or egos or careers. Time for Nature to have Her say.

"Do you want my child to die?" This woman held up her baby to my face, accusing me of wishing its death. In her mind, there was no other way to live other than where she lived. She gave me all of their systemic reasons why she couldn't move. But what amazed me the most was that she ascribed to me the power to change the flow of the river, as if I were determining its course. Didn't she realize that if I wanted her dead I'd simply have stayed upstream and said nothing?

Later, I found out their secret dream guilt. The reason the river was overflowing was because of the villagers. They put their trash in the river's tributaries which cause it to dam up. As long as the makeshift dam held they were seemingly fine. Before they knew to fully fear their own behavior they had even sent engineers to examine the dam to see if they were in any danger.

When reports of their possible demise came, that's when the situation turned political (The most important fact in politics, of course, is that facts don't matter.) The arguments had grown more acrimonious over time so when I showed up to tell them the dam had burst I walked right into a bear trap. But I was not there to argue. Even so, I was denounced by their shaman headman.

"We are children of our god. Our god loves us and wishes us a long life. That's why we were given this river! Damn any who say otherwise! Damn those who say this is not a holy river! Damn those who say this is not a river of life!"

But what's that got to do with them fucking it up? If they thought it was so holy, why did they put trash in it? Instead of fixing it they just became experts at arguing about how they shouldn't have to fix it. But the river can't hear those arguments, not one drop of water will be swayed. That woman and her baby will die blaming me. Even now, if they were just to admit their sins they could be saved.

But they let fear be their master, for they knew they were sowing their own doom even if they refused to admit it. Jaded jackals rose to power, enriching themselves as they declared those who said they need to clean up their trash were their true enemies. Their system they called village-ism was blessed by their god and they should have faith in that god. "Listen to what our god says!"

To do that they need only listen to the destruction I heard below. I'd heard a few brave souls had left for the desert amid much scorn and abuse. The villagers wished death upon them and did everything they could to make that happen. The villagers called it justice to destroy the deserters. But true justice is raging below, getting closer and closer every second.

Such a simple situation in reality: make a mess, clean it up, and live. Don't, you die. Their village-ism was blessed only in their minds. In their final days delusion took over as the river's reality became harder to deny. Holy technology will save the day, diverting the river's path so that they need never change their ways! So even as they as they were forced to admit on some level the river swell was coming, they still refused to admit its consequence. But I won't be there to see it.

I'm returning to my home far away. I do relish the picture in my mind of the shaman headman being washed away by a giant wave, his diabolical deeds gone forever. What has been set in motion cannot be stopped now. They waited too long. The desert survivors will return to build on the truth, winning reality instead of winning arguments.