The Trickster Diaries/Chapter 86
There was a time not so long ago when the spotless intent of the spirit came with critical thinking, common sense, maybe even a sense of joy, freedom, compassion. A time when a guy like me could stand here and look up through a light rain into that streetlamp and it was like seeing the moon, no surveillance cam looking back. A time of wonder instead of fear and guilt; tranquility instead of feeling like a suspect cornered in a hostile interrogation over something you’d never so much as contemplate, let alone do. A time when a black & white would cruise by real slow, 3AM, and instead of the gent getting out, weapon drawn, yelling at you to get on your motherfuckn knees he’d just nod, maybe tip his cap, and drive on.
So even though it occurred to me, vaguely, as I watched the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers for the first time a decade or so after its ’56 release, it wasn’t until the third remake, circa ’07, when the plot twist I’d imagined some 40 years earlier actually surfaced, got bounced around speculatively: what if people weren’t so good and kind? What if you couldn't tell who was from who wasn't? What if somehow, in some twisted way, we’d lost touch with that purer intent of spirit? What if, in fact, we’d gone mad, all of us, overnight?
(Lights smoke, tosses it away and bolts for the shadows as a vulgar cop helicopter circles low, blinding white spotlight slam dancing building to street, vic to perp to innocent bystander)
Yeah, what if?