There are many myth legends, around the world, that speak of a Golden Age of mankind. In fact, the ‘Golden Age’ was the ancient Greek and Roman name for it. To the ancient people of South America is was called the ‘First Sun’; to the Hindus it is ‘Satya Yuga’; and to the Abrahamic faiths it is the time of Paradise on Earth.
The names and styles are different, but they all agree on the same thing: this was an age of innocence when all Peoples lived in harmony; when there were no evils in the world; when there is no mining or agriculture because the Earth provides without work; when the weather is pleasant and balmy; the days stretch on; and everyone lives a long time.
Unfortunately, all those myths are analogies for childhood – and the memories of childhood. And children need stern parents to keep them in that safe place, for the simple price of no freedom and no autonomy.
Because that, too, runs through those myths. Stern gods (or God) looking down on their creation – their children – and basking in the glow of adoration from those children. While they do as they are told. But Prometheus was punished – harshly – for giving fire to humanity: because children shouldn’t play with fire. Eve and Pandora were both punished for disobeying strict instructions that resulted in Evil being loosed upon the world, even though they were not warned of the consequences of their actions – because children have a poor understanding of consequence and need to do as they are told.
That Golden Age came to an end when the children rebelled to forge their own future.
Each age that followed is diminished compared to the one before.
Silver is less than Gold, as childhood gives way to youth and a dawning understanding that the world is not so simple. There is an increase in simple responsibility; a realisation that people are different; a surging of previously unknown hormones; actions now have greater consequence – and all of this creates a tumult of emotional confusion and aggression.
Bronze is less than Silver, as young adulthood is not as pure as youth. It is a time to blend what was with what could be; to appreciate the need for compromise; to seek out a productive place in society; to consider a family; and to take on more responsibilities. It is a time of conflicts and heartache; of petty betrayals and positive promise. The possibilities are endless, but sacrifices must be made to focus on but a few.
Iron is less than Bronze as the growing impurities and rigidity of old age replace the younger, more malleable years. Iron is heavy, as are the weight of years, and as it was once considered to fend off evil spirits, so it represents the discarding of fanciful ideas and the focussing on solid and real concerns that come with advanced years.
The Greeks threw in an extra ‘Age’ – the Heroic Age, between Bronze and Iron – when the tempered, responsible, mature years rallied, for a time, against the inevitable decline.
There are, of course, other possible explanations for these ‘Ages’ – with cyclical history theory being another, very good one. Whatever the explanation, a return to a Golden Age comes with a high probability of prelude of catastrophe and great suffering, followed at the last by a loss of freedoms.
There seems a desire today to return to, or recapture, that ‘Golden Age’ – driven by the very people who would set themselves up as our new gods, and who have legions of willing adherents who seem not to understand what it is they are pursuing.
A return to that time of plenty and zero hardships inevitably must lead back to the womb. Not a literal womb, obviously, but one that represents it.
So let me paint a picture of the future.
Imagine, if you like, a multitude of identical habitation units, each designed for one person. They are owned by the corporations, as is the scant, purely functional furniture inside. Technology is built into the very fabric of the structure. Inside each cell or womb (for there are no other words to describe it) resides the solitary occupant. Perhaps they have the autonomy to move about and see to their basic needs: perhaps they are cocooned in a capsule filled with synthetic amniotic fluid that provides those basic needs.
Each occupant has a chip implanted in their brain that hacks in to their senses. Every meaningful moment of their life is spent inside a virtual world designed specifically for their needs and wants – whether that be work, a hobby or two, holidays to any destination, friends or family. Money is placed into their bank account every month and they can spend it however they like and at the end of the month the account is reset.
The occupants own nothing, but they are happy because they do not know they own nothing. Wirelessly connected to their own, unique Matrix via a chip that controls their every sense they live out a life oblivious to their slavery; while outside of the habitation blocks, the corporations and their masters enjoy the true real world on the profits of the money spent on virtual things.
With all those individual worlds being run and constantly updated by advanced AIs, it really is the ultimate in maximum profit for minimum effort.
The people are safe and secure. There is no hunger, as the womb provides. There are no wars. The environment is saved. In their own virtual worlds, the occupants live in harmony, free from evils; the weather is pleasant and balmy; the days stretch on; and everyone lives a long time without ageing.
It’s all so perfect and peaceful.