The Strangest thing happened to me yesterday.

A journey that usually takes me 30 minutes took 8 hours. And in case the amnesia returns, I am setting it down so I don’t have to remember – if it’s in black and white, I can always read it and remind myself about it.

“Are you OK?” asked the man whose face filled my view (and the thought that came to my mind was how uncomfortably close he was to my face). He looked worried.

“Are you OK?” he repeated a second time. That’s when I realized I was lying on my back on the road. Well, I don’t think I am OK, otherwise, why would I be lying on the road?

“I don’t think so” I responded.

Not knowing what was wrong with me, I added “What is wrong with me?”

“I am sorry sir. I just hit you with my car. I didn’t see you in time. Can I help you up so I can take you to the hospital?”

Hit by a car? I hoped nothing new was broken. As the man helped me up from the ground, I noticed the crowd surrounding us for the first time. Someone suggested the driver should be accompanied, but no one got into the car with us. There was little blood from the visible bruises I could see and I did not feel any real pain.

We were soon at a hospital on the Island. I was still kind of fuzzy and everything looked strange. But I was soon ushered into a nice room and asked to lie down on the bed which felt really comfortable. I was starting to drift off when the nurse returned with some notes in her hands, and asked me for my name to which I blurted out a response. She asked a few other questions but I could not for the life of me give answers to. She left after a few minutes. I wondered why I couldn’t remember some of the things she asked for.

She soon returned with the doctor who proceeded to examine me. After tapping here and there, rotating all the joints in my body while asking me if it hurts, listening to my chest and back, pressing on my belly and so on, he declared he didn’t think anything serious was wrong with me, but that I was suffering from a slight concussion.

Looking at the notes in his hands, he repeated my name as if asking me for confirmation. The name didn’t sound right, and I almost immediately said “That’s not my name”

“Well, that’s the name you gave when you were admitted. Are you sure it’s not yours?”

While the name sounded vaguely familiar, and for some reason, I knew instinctively that it belonged to a woman – maybe an acquaintance? I was sure it wasn’t mine.

“So, what is your name Sir?”

Which is when it hit me that I couldn’t remember my own name!

“Do you know where you live?”

I couldn’t recall.

“Do you remember your phone number?”

“How old are you?”

“Do you remember your parent’s name?”

“What is your brother’s name?”

And so the questions continued. I couldn’t offer an answer to any of them. Which begs the question “Who am i?”

I asked to see my phone and was told it was completely smashed during the accident (I think the car went over it before it stopped). No identification was found on me.

“Where do you live?”

“I think it is on the Island”

“Can you be more specific?”

“No.”

“We really should keep you overnight for observations …”

I could sense some hesitation in his voice.

“No, I want to go home.”

“How are you going to find your house Sir?”

I hadn’t exactly thought that through.

“If it is on the Island, I can drive him around. Maybe it will jog his memory” Good idea from the gentleman that knocked me down, but he seemed a little too eager for my liking. But I had had enough of lying on my back so I agreed.

“Well, sir, if you are discharging yourself, you would need to sign a waiver form stating so.”

I asked for the form and signed it.

I was led out the door. Apart from feeling a little light-headed, I felt relatively alright.

The gentleman drove round the Island, and I was quickly getting exasperated with his nonstop “Are you OK” questions. Fortunately for me, we turned unto a street which looked familiar. Almost without thinking about it, I started giving him directions and soon we were at a house I was sure was where I lived.

I rang the bell a couple of times. After about 10 minutes someone peeped through a gap in the gate and greeted me “Welcome, Uncle Tunde”

And it all came rushing back to me. Now I remember my name, who I was, my address, my siblings, my place of work, my parents, etc. I nearly jumped for joy! And I also remembered whose name I had given at the hospital. Followed by the accident and why I was thinking about the person.

I turned to the gentleman and smiling widely, I said “It is OK! I remember my name! I know who I am!”

Two pairs of eyes looked at me questioningly. And I could see they doubted if I was really OK.

The gentleman looked a little confused, and as I discharged him, he thanked me profusely, dipped his hands inside his shirt pocket and offered me his debit card.

“Well, what am I to do with your debit card without the pin?” I said with a broad smile on my face. At least, I have my sense of humour back!

He looked confused for a minute, looked at the card in his hand, and then quickly withdrew it and replaced it by his business card, “Sorry, I meant to give you my business card.”

Finally, I am home! It was 2AM in the morning and I didn’t feel sleepy at all. Time to wind down with a movie on my laptop (and if you tried to contact me yesterday with no success, now you know where I was).

But one last thing before that. I decided to go over what I had learnt from the experience:
– the saying about treating all drivers on the road as crazy? Whether you are in a vehicle or not, take it as gospel truth
– the fact that you are on the sidewalk does not mean some crazy driver may not decide that you are on the road, so keep your eyes on the road and your wits about you!
– if you are going to be thinking about someone, at least make sure it’s either a family member, or someone of the same sex (well, adjust your thoughts accordingly so you don’t get labeled a “perv”)
– if you are going to be thinking about someone else, make sure you have an ID card or some other identifiable detail on you
– in fact, as much as possible, don’t think about anyone else while walking by the road side
– walking home along the road may not be the safest way to get some exercise
– and always accept the offer of staying at the hospital for observations – even if it doesn’t save your life, at least you will sleep in comfort rather than the stifling heat when NEPA strikes at your house!

Dear Mum,

I do not know if this letter will survive or not, but I hope it does. I love you. Thank you for being a wonderful mother.

It is strange but I almost didn’t get on this plane. The airport was rowdy and I was shoved out of the queue. There was a gentleman on the queue who motioned for me to get in front of him. I think he saw I was on the queue before or he must have noticed the desperation on my face. I got the very last ticket. I turned to him and apologized. He just smiled and said not to bother, it was OK. Spending another night with his family at home wouldn’t be such a bad idea, and he would catch the early flight out to Lagos the following morning. I should have asked for his name, even if just to be polite. But I thanked him again  for his kindness though.

I was scared. Actually I am still scared. The whole plane is in bedlam. That took all of two minutes. For some reason, the screaming has helped me calm down, though my heart is beating fast. Besides, the little girl beside me needs reassurance. Her mother on the other side is completely out of it. After tugging her mother a few times, she turned to me and asked if we are going to die. I told her yes, but that we are going to be with Jesus. She asked why her mother was crying. I said because her dad will not be going with us. She asked why not. I said because the plane is taking us to heaven right now. I asked where her dad was. She said he is waiting for them in Lagos. I said that was good. I do not know if she understands. But she smiled at me, and told her mum not to be sad, that Jesus is waiting for them.

I hope it will be quick. I am sure it will be soon. Because I can feel the plane falling. The noise is deafening. I have said the Lord’s prayer. I can’t think of anything else to say or pray about.

Please apologise to your friend for me. I shouldn’t have shouted at her on the phone. I know she was joking, but I wasn’t in the mood. I know it is not an excuse to be rude. I meant to call her back before we boarded.

Tell Ade and Wale that I love

That’s the whole of the matter. I am feeling blue.

OK. I must start by confessing that T-Rex wasn’t the original name I gave to the car. It was Betty or some name that struck me in some movie I had seen or so. But later, I thought what kind of name is that for a guy’s car? So I changed it to T-Rex.

Well, I had promised myself that I would “bond” with T-Rex in many ways when I got hold of it. But when it finally arrived, I was too lazy to do any of the stuff I had dreamt up: Wash it regularly, wax it, apply anti-rust to it, etc . All stuff I had read about on the several Internet sites I visited when preparing to acquire T-Rex and while waiting for it to be delivered!

I have had it washed at various car-wash centers (if you can call them that) in the past though. And a few times, I have washed the body myself.

My general plan was to wash it once or twice a month, but I hadn’t had it washed in the last couple of months or so. In recent months, I sometimes get it washed when I go to Ibadan. So I took the decision that the next time I was in Ibadan, I will definitely take it to the car wash.

But then someone special commented on how dirty the car was, and that I could take it to the carwash. Though that was in my plans, I had never really been completely satisfied with the end result when it’s washed commercially. They do a relatively good job, but as they say, “the devil is in the details” and the “finishing” is never really to my satisfaction.

So, finally on Sunday after service, I headed to The Palms and bought some micro-fiber cloth which can be used for washing cars, glass and other things without scratching them. Checked out the Cinema, but nothing particularly interesting showing.

Rested a while after I got home, then got two buckets of water and a soap (the refined black soap in a packet – Dudu Osin) and got down to it. My plan was to wash the body first then get down to the interior afterwards. Apart from the wheel wells and the wheels which i didn’t touch at all, I must say I did a thorough job. The car was gleaming by the time I was through. Wash with one cloth, rinse, wipe with the other.

There is of course another reason why I wanted to wash the car myself. I was hoping the physical exertion would give me some respite from my thoughts – but no such luck.

Getting to the interior, I cleared out all the loose papers and other stuff (someone had stuffed some leftover fried confectionery down the compartment behind the driver’s seat – common!)

Got out the carpets, did a little number on their edges with a carpet shampoo I found in the house.

Got out the hoover and hoovered the interior of the car.

Phew! That was enough work for one Sunday.

My cousin came by and commented that she had not seen anyone pay so much attention to “detailing” a car in a long time. She said “someone is a happy owner of a car” to which I responded “Well, this is not exactly enjoyment – it is work.” Though I must say I enjoyed cleaning the car and the result before my eyes afterwards!

On Monday morning, I did another couple of hours before work. Washing the seats (soap, then wipe with water), the door panel, the dashboard, etc.

Finally on Tuesday morning, did another hour or so – washing the interior surface of the windows and windscreen, the door edges, etc.

I think I am satisfied now! Well, there is still the waxing to be done. Oh! And then there are the seatbelts! I will get to that later – as I need an assistant to wrangle it into place while I give it the once over. Then maybe I will do the wheel wells. Hmm. And there is that anti-rust matter …

Truly, a man’s work is never done!

There was no light in the house. It was still and quiet. And boring. I sat with my niece outside the house on the verandah.  Protected by the fine wire netting. The mosquitoes were of course not too happy with the arrangement. We could hear them testing the netting for weak points: good luck to them.  My no longer little niece asked me to tell her a story. Not a fairy story – she outgrew that several years back. But a true story. Not another person’s story, but one of my very own. Something intriguing from my life, past, present or present-continuous.

So I thought a little about it and rummaged around for something suitable. But nothing came to mind. Well, nothing except what was on the mind currently. So I didn’t clear my throat, I just went ahead.

“Listen, 9 months ago, on a day just like this, on a night very similar, with the stars out though I was indoors and didn’t see them, in this same city, I was at a party, and my life was about to change. Though I didn’t know it then …”

The Bear and the Sun

Ten years and no troubles. One close shave, but no troubles. Admittedly, lonely years, but no troubles. Then, one dance later, and I am up to my ears in it: trouble of my own making. But so you know, if the gods allow, yet I would do that dance again, and again, and again.

I am the Bear. Awakening from the long hibernation, I should have been more careful. For the eagerness of new things to be seen, to be experienced; not coupled with care; is a sure recipe for disaster. The hunger, though it exists, is not as bad as one feels it. The desire, though it is real, needs to be explored cautiously. I looked up at the Sun and saw it was young and new. Strong and bright. Beautiful. And for a moment, I thought it shined only for me. But I was mistaken. I thought that the gods had finally opened their ears, heard my suplications, looked down upon the earth, seen my upturned face, and cast their blessings with the changing seasons to rest upon my weary brow and quicken my sluggish gait. But I was mistaken. The gods are just as feckless as the mortals that pay them obeisance. For though you shed a thousand tears, what is that to the gods? Who have fiddled with men’s destinies and drunk mortal blood of both the faithful and the faithless alike. Therefore, just as once before, standing by my lonesome self, “here I am.”

The Bear and The Sun

I did not know it
That I was the bear
I had slumbered deep within the earth for as long as I can remember
Not even the little ones that danced under the starry skies
Making music fit for gods
Could wake me from my fitful sleep

But seasons change
And time goes by
The Sun came out
Young and new
And cast its light where shadows hide
So I awoke
And basked in its warmth

The seasons rolled by once again
And I would not shut my eyes in sleep
I wanted the Sun for myself
I did not care if it shed its rays on others
I wanted it in my little hole
Deep within the frozen ground

But the sun cannot be held
Except it so desires
Its brilliance dazzles the mind
When it wends its way across the skies
Evening will find it in repose wherever it chose

So I will retreat again
And dream of the Sun
Shining bright up in the sky
Dazzling rich and pauper alike
Just beyond reach
But quickening mere mortal men’s breathes across the land

Maybe the seasons will change again
And it will once more shed its light
And warmth to stir my drowsy limbs

Perchance it will come to stay
And shine its light upon my lonely brow
And cause a smile
That has not drawn my lips
Nor stretched my face
For many a winter’s night

I want the Sun . . .

Illumination. Seek . . .

This is not a disclaimer. Just setting the records straight. This should be taken “lightly”. The blog’s name “Illumination” is liable to conjure up many different meanings to different people. I have had several people ask “why?”. The actual meaning intended is the fact that while humans draw breath, they are always “seeking something” whether consciously or otherwise. And what we seek most is to understand who we are, and our purpose in this world. To those who find it, they have achieved some level of illumination.

The Illuminati: The original purpose of the illuminati was a noble one. But as in all things human, greed and lust for power did their usual number on the organization.

The Grail Movement: The “Grail Message” combines elements of various religions with no religion. They appear to preach peace and equality, conscience and consequence. But I have some reservations about the man who wrote the central book used by the movement. I suspect he had a little more going on upstairs than the average person on the street. But as we all know, there is a thin line Genius and … .

The Jehovah’s Witnesses: A noble Christianly organization. I believe their lives emulate Christ the most. I would be a Jehovah Witness if not for some of their core believes that I do not agree with (since they appear contrary to biblical evidence)

So in conclusion, I AM NOT an Illuminati (I think I will leave that to Charlie Boy’s vivid imagination). I AM NOT a member of the Grail movement, and I AM NOT a Jehovah’s Witness (though I admire their attitude to life and others). I am just one man hoping to make heaven 🙂

Upsala

Tell me, what is the fairest way to Upsala
For I have been to the highway, seeking a one-way ticket
But the vehicles are just as angry as their drivers
So I followed the footsteps of women carrying heavy-laden baskets,
Husbands with machete and children with no education
But the women wanted to pick fights over right of way,
Men defending lands with no landmarks
And children making a muddle of streams with no water

Then I went to the runways
But lacking cash and looking tattered,
I could only admire the takeoffs and landings
From behind chain-link fences the causeway beckoned
And I would gladly have sailed to Upsala
But seamen with barrel chests warned of watery graves
And wandering men with no bodies haunting flapping sails on mighty seas

So, friend, won’t you tell me the fairest way to Upsala,
For I need to go where it is said gold paves the roads,
And spices of Arabia perfume the very air,
Fruits from faraway lands are on hand
To quench the hunger of way-weary soujourners

Upsala, the land that haunts dreams of lowly men,
With smiles on tired visages
That hints of hopes of horses that beggars can truly ride!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

NOTE: Not sure why the word “Upsala” “came” to me. There is indeed a place by a similar name (“Uppsala” – note the double “p”) and it looks idyllic but a lot of the other things mentioned above (are they even the same place?) have no basis in reality I think.

The Devil You know (2)

Now, repeat with me “This world is one continuous sad trip, with little breaks of happiness once in a long while.” I think I told you so already!*

You want to get the girl. Show me your credentials! Let me eyeball it! Swagz equals zero. You can’t even dance. No, don’t tell me. You can dance when you are alone. It’s the nervousness. Next, you will tell me you can sing as well. Get serious and stop kidding yourself. What kind of Yoruba man can’t dance? You know that saying “White men can’t jump and black men can’t swim”? We are going to add a special clause for you by yourself only – “and this black man can’t dance”

You won’t say anything? Don’t worry, I will do the talking for both of us. You won’t even pray? Or maybe you can’t? I knew it all along! Yesssssss! Welcome to the dark side Oh son of the dark lord. Accept it! It’s your destiny! You are one of us! Stop resisting.

Didn’t I tell you your happiness will be short lived if I had anything to do with it?* What have you done now? Did you feed her pet parakeet to the neighbor’s mangy cat? No, that’s not it. Hmm! Yes! I remember! It was that profile picture you set on your BB when you were going at 100Km/hr and feeling like Evel Knievel. Did you remember that whispering going on telling you to be careful? That was your angel or Holy Spirit. I can’t tell which is which. I gave up a long time ago. They are like a pair of conjoined twins with ESP. Saying the same things all the time.  But don’t you see? That’s their problem. Whispering stuff. Why can’t they just hit the nail on the head and say “Don’t set that profile picture!”? Myself, I was the one shouting over the radio, egging you on to set the picture. Remember when you saw that picture on a contact’s profile several days ago? It looked nice with the hearts all bubbling out. It gave you a warm feeling hey? I knew it would come in handy at some point, so I was happy when you saved it to your phone. Fast-forward a couple of days later and hey presto! An opportunity presented itself on a platter of Gold. Am I a prophet of doom or what?! If my legion friends were here, you won’t be able to hear me over their deafening applause even though inside they would be completely green with envy and jealousy.

And the profile message? Didn’t you set that several hours before you set the picture? Excerpts from the lyrics of that golden oldie by Sonia? Well, combined with the picture, I knew I had an ace in the hole! You did that all by yourself buddy! No thanks to me. Were you even thinking at all? You knew the line was drawn in the sand and you accepted the terms of the uneasy reconciliation, and yet you decided to cross it.

Cross the line and go to jail. Lock the cell and toss the key. Hang your head and curse your fate. Smoke some weed and be at peace.

I wish that was a nursery rhyme, but I made it up just for you “me Lord”. Don’t you just like it? Does it not reflect your mood and your condition? Don’t go blaming me. Didn’t that contribute to escalating the issue the last time – blaming everybody but yourself? And don’t go trying to invent any more excuses. Just man up! Grow a pair! Shame on me for drawing your name out of the hat. I would have done better with that little thieving urchin down the street!

So you think she would just ignore it? Smart boy you. Ignore it hey? Well, she ignored it all right. You got served buddy! Dropped you like a dead parakeet? Why my fixation with the parakeet? You are sure she doesn’t have a pet parakeet? Serious? No parakeet? A parrot then? No parrot? I would have thought … but that’s beside the point. The point is that you are now in the shithole. But don’t worry, I am here to keep you company. We shall mourn your loss together. But truly, what were you thinking? Sorry, I forgot, you weren’t thinking.

Well, I hope to see your eye mist over when you see her with Mr. Right (or maybe not, but definitely a better looker with a bucketful of swagz) a couple of months from now – knowing fully well, that you drove her into his arms with your “I want, I want, I want” attitude. And don’t worry, you don’t need to pray for her, she doesn’t want your prayer. She will choose right or wrong herself, and unlike yourself, she will lady-up and stick with her decision. May be we should use “man up” for her and “lady up” for you, you sissy? Get off your behind and go out there and do something.

What? You don’t want to? Seriously? Don’t tell me. You are still thinking about the 3 little words that got you into this mess in the first place. How dumb are you? When did “No” mean something else? Even I know the meaning. Two letters. Two letters I say! And you with your age and education, you can’t get it into your thick skull that “she is not into you”. Go get some swagz and come back, then die the white hair on your head black and straighten your back. Don’t forget to swear an affidavit while you are at it that you lost your birth certificate but that your age is “now” 26. Then maybe you will have a chance in hell! Ha Ha! Hell! I have a way with words if I say so myself.

And what do you know of love? You selfish bastard! Thinking only of yourself and what you want. If you know anything about love, you would have respected the boundary – you would not have crossed the line. Read my lips. You are selfish! Let me spell it out for you: S,E,L,F,I,S,H. Love is not selfish. Let it go and it will return to you if it is yours. But no, you want what you want now! Blockhead!

I know you are not making me talk to myself. I am sure you are not. I just know you are not. I can bet my last Dollar on it that you are not – or are you? Otherwise I can dig up more from where that came from. At least she took your call if only to say “Bye” but if you really get me going, that would be a walk in the park.

Can I offer you some advice? No? You don’t want any? You don’t trust me? Well, I don’t blame you. If I was that great, I should have taken my own advice and then I won’t be stuck down here with you, but that’s water under the Brooklyn bridge. Is there a bridge in Brooklyn? With water under it? Or was it the Mississippi I was thinking about? Anyways, where was I? Yes, I remember. Trying to offer you some sagely advice. But why bother, I think you are doing enough damage by yourself without my help. But you know I am always here for you. Till the end of time and beyond. You will never walk alone! Go Gunners!

But I must say I like your style. Go out in a blaze of ignominy! Even if I put my mind to it, I couldn’t have done it better. You, you evil genius.

Excuse me a minute.

Hello? Yes? What! He is doing what? On the way to church? In church already? Going forward for the alter call? You nincompoop! Why did you wait so long to contact me? Prayers were blocking your transmission? Fool. How long must I have someone like you as an apprentice? You detestable minute thing. You mole on my nose. You itch where I must not scratch in polite company. You, …, you, … you, …. . Lord help me!

Please, hold that thought. I will be back soon. My apprentice is flunking his test. And if he fails, who do you think they will blame. I need to cut out of this joint briefly. Don’t do anything stupid while I am away OK? Like sending your infamous SMS. Let me get back and we can do more damage together. I will BRB!

S.U.P.E.R.M.E.N.

Six months ago, a mail was put in my box.

I say put because it was obvious it wasn’t sent to me. The subject made it impossible for me to ignore it. The content was to say the least very strange. Ultimately, the actionable part of the message was that I would receive a call on a certain date at a certain time. And that the caller would address me as Mr. Anderson. The choice of name wasn’t lost on me, partly due to the content of the mail. I could easily relate the name to a character in a popular sci-fi film. I was intrigued and a little bothered at the ease with which my account was broken into and the “familiarity” demonstrated in the mail hinted at a party that knew a lot (much more than I would have liked) about me. I set up a reminder and on the specified day, I was in a suitably quiet place as the mail had suggested – on my own.

My phone rang at 2PM on the dot to the second.

“Is this Mr. Anderson”

“Yes” I had decided I would play along.

“Do you know who is calling?”

“No”

“Let me rephrase that. Do you know what this is about?”

“The mail in my box”

“Good. I am going to explain a few things and ask a number of questions. If at any point you decide you are not interested, say goodbye and hang up.”

“OK”

“Do you believe in God?”

“Yes”

“Do you believe in the Bible”

“Yes”

“What do you think of people such as Noah, Methuselah, Abraham, Isaac and co.”

“God’s people”

“We have looked at the articles you put up on your site. Do you remember the one on Methuselah?”

“Yes”

“What was the point of the article?”

“I set out to show that Methuselah died the year of the great flood.”

“So did the flood kill him?”

“It is possible, but there is no way to know for sure. The Bible made no mention of it.”

“How old was Methuselah when he died.”

“969”

“Do you find that plausible”

“It sounds a little far-fetched in the face of current evidence, but because I believe the Bible is the word of God, I believe it is true. Yes”

“Do you think it is possible today to live to that age?”

“No. No one has come close to even a quarter of that since a long time ago. Also one need only look at people over 90 to know that it is impossible. And even if it were, it’s questionable whether anyone should desire to live that long – loss of virility, frailty, dementia, loss of mobility, etc.”

“Good point. But what if it is possible to live to say 200 and still be as healthy as a 50year old?”

“Well, in that case, it may be acceptable.”

“What do you think of people that don’t believe in God or people that don’t believe in your God?”

“Well, I would hope that at some point before they die, God would reveal himself to them so that they have the same chance as I have.”

“So you don’t detest them?”

“No I don’t. Why should I? People are human beings first and foremost. And we all stand equal before God whether we believe or not.”

“Do you think there are people alive today that will live up to 200 years?”

“No”

“I see you follow developments in various fields including certain ageing-related researches.”

“Yes”

“Why”

“I am intrigued about the possibilities”

“So you think there is indeed a possibility that living up to 200 is possible.”

“Yes. In the future.”

“What if I told you there are people alive today that will all other things equal, live to 200years.”

“I would not say it’s impossible. I know that public knowledge is always several years behind cutting edge science in certain areas.”

“Do you mean a cover-up conspiracy?”

“No. Not necessarily. Someone once said the witchcraft of yesterday is the science of today or something similar. I believe sometimes, the public may not be ready for certain information. I see no reason why such information may not be withheld as long as it is not purposefully harmful to people.”

“Would you like to participate in a programme that offers certain benefits including longevity if it were possible?”

“Yes”

“What if there are side effects?”

“Then it would depend on what the side-effects are., I assume since we are talking longevity, it won’t include purposefully killing myself. And also hopefully, I don’t have to sell my soul – that I wouldn’t do”

“No. No soul-selling involved.”

“You have – if I may put it that way – certain physical defects?”

“Yes”

“What do you feel about them?”

“Well, if I may put it this way, I would feel much better without them”

“What if I tell you that they can be corrected?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure”

“But would you be interested?”

“Can you tell me more?”

“No. If I may paraphrase Ms Pelosi, you would have to join the programme to know more”

“My mama told me there had be days like this – and she warned me not to listen. She spoke of lifelong anti-rejection drug use, and so on”

“When was this?”

“20-25 years ago”

“She might have been right then. But we have come a long way since then. More importantly, what are you going to do?”

“I think I will go with my guts on this one – I am listening”

“Nothing much more to say. Let me say we are not working on making people live to 200years. We are in the realm of 500years. And let me add that we are not seeking to be God or usurp God. We just believe that science can offer more opportunities to live better than we are currently doing.”

“Do I take it that you have answered in the affirmative on joining the programme?”

“Yes”

“That quick? Do you think this is a hoax?”

“For some reason, no.”

“Do you have any questions?”

“Why me?”

“Why not?”

“Maybe. But I think there is more to it than that.”

“True. We need open-minded people – on certain subjects. In addition, we believe in involving certain types of people whose make up will show the most positive difference under the programme parameters”

“One last question. I am going to paint a scenario. And you will give me an answer. There are no right or wrong answers, just answer as truthfully as you can”

“Ok”

“You are in a room with a terrorist and your girlfriend (assume you have one – I know you don’t). The terrorist has a detonator in his hands and is threatening to level the city. He kicks a gun with a single bullet in it in your direction. He orders you to shoot your girlfriend who is in the same room or else he will level the city. Your family (sibling, parents, etc.) are in the city as well. You pick up the gun and look at the terrorist and then at your girlfriend. What is your next move.”

“I attempt to kill the terrorist with the single bullet”

“What if you miss?”

“Well, he detonates the bomb and we are all dead. There is no proof that if I kill my girlfriend, he still won’t detonate the bomb. I love my family, and I assume I love my girlfriend, so I am sure my family would rather I take the chance of saving everybody rather than kill my girlfriend.”

“Do you have any questions?”

“Is there really no correct answer?”

“Actually there is a correct answer. When presented with extremes, we want people that will take what we describe as “positive” chances. People who hold all people equal irrespective of believes or colour. People who are willing to believe anything is possible. People with obvious flaws. People like you Mr. Anderson.”

“Welcome to the programme Mr. Anderson. You will be contacted very soon with more details.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, does this programme have a name?”

“Yes, I do mind your asking. And I am not at liberty to tell you. But when certain aspects of it become public knowledge soon, people will come to refer to the programme unofficially by the acronym “S.U.P.E.R.M.E.N.”

“You are at liberty to use everything we have discussed up to this point in any way you see fit. But subsequent communications and contacts must be treated with utmost secrecy and not discussed with anyone – not even your hypothetical girlfriend – no exceptions”

* * * * * * * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * *

I know you want to know if I have been contacted. I am not at liberty to say, but I don’t think I need to, do I?