Story 49. Written by Jim Waitlord

Does existence determine consciousness? Or does consciousness determine existence? That is the question. According to Marxist ideology, it's the former. But is that the truth? Perhaps the world is a projection of consciousness. So, if you find happiness within yourself, maybe the world will adapt to your state and create circumstances that make you even happier. Anyway, maybe it's true, maybe it's not. I'll tell you three stories.

Before that, a few more thoughts:

RNA-based vaccines are far worse than cloning. Why? They affect a living being, a person, at the cellular level. So, someone who receives this poison called a "vaccine" is no longer the same person, but rather a living dead, a zombie. The one who unleashed this upon humanity, who committed such a crime, would, in other eras or in an enlightened future, be stood against a wall or suffocated with the Nobel Prize. Now, let's look at cloning. Why is it illegal? Wouldn't it be good to give a second chance to those people who were born as geniuses, as unique cases? Maybe one every hundred years? Or to someone who has a lot of money and pays for it? This is ultimately the key to eternal life, isn't it? This clone will remember their previous life. That's the way it is. There's no proof that it isn't. Because no human has been cloned yet. But we know it's true. Your memory resides in a quantum space and remains there after death, and the new clone, because the key to accessing it is in the DNA, will automatically connect to it.

I believe in one God, I believe in Jesus Christ, I believe in eternal life, and I believe in the resurrection of the dead. And that's the way it is, one hundred percent. Modern science proves eternal life. What's the proof? The fact that there are still people in today's world who remember their previous lives. This even proves the resurrection. So, those whose DNA is similar to that of a previous person, obviously just by chance, remember that person's life. Not exactly, because there's only similarity, but with the exact match, the clone, with the complete match, they will remember everything exactly. So, whoever can afford and knows how to clone themselves, obviously, the one with the better memory will remember better and even remember several lives.

That's the truth, easily understandable, obviously. However, only dogs bark.

The dog certainly causes illness, death, and a shorter life for humans so that it can eat fresher meat sooner.

Now for the three stories that can run in parallel:

A taxi is waiting at the taxi rank in front of the disco.

A young Roma girl, with a fair complexion, well-dressed, kind, and smiling, approaches the taxi driver and says, "Could you take me to the nearby town?" The taxi driver thinks, "I'll score tonight, I'll have a good evening." He says to her, "Of course, you'll get a special discount." The girl says, "Okay, I'll tell the others." The taxi driver can't say anything, he wasn't expecting this, but there's nothing he can do now. He accepted the fare, he has to do it, even though he feels this won't have a happy ending. He won't find satisfaction here. Three burly Roma guys appear and get into the car. A pleasant conversation takes place on the way, about what those five years in prison were like, which the man sitting in the passenger seat endured. The good mood doesn't subside, muffled laughter can be heard from the back seat. Our taxi driver is racking his brains, wondering what religion he should adopt if he gets out of this alive. He'd really enjoy a cigarette if he has to die. Then the man in the passenger seat says, "Do you know that this was a scam, a rip-off?" The taxi driver says, "What do you mean?" "I mean you're not going to get paid here." The taxi driver says, "I understand, no problem, I hope you choose me next time." After that, they get out laughing and go into the shack.

I went to America to visit my godparents. My cousin, a nearly two-meter-tall, lumbering, overweight American kid, lived with them, although he was even thinner at the time, but a champion of honor, justice, and naiveté, a young man living in a true American dream world. He worked at Burger King. The owner held a team-building party on the weekend. Many Mexicans also worked there, and they invited their relatives and friends. My cousin invited me. I had a good time, we danced and sang. It was before Christmas, and I even learned a song from the Latinos, "Feliz Navidad." The thing is, I didn't drink or smoke at that time, but we drank there, except for my cousin, who was an anti-alcoholic. I drank, and I craved a cigarette. I asked a table of people, who were covered in gang tattoos and looked strange enough, but they were friendly, even though the kindest judge would have given them ten years at a glance, for a cigarette. I went outside and lit it. My cousin accidentally came out after me and asked what I was doing. I said I had a drink and craved a cigarette and asked for one. He looked at me like a disgusting rat, how could I do such a thing, how could I smoke, when it was a disgusting habit and harmful to health. Anyway, maybe it isn't, I'm just saying that, maybe it's just a vaccination in this smoggy world. He asked who I got it from, thinking to himself, "From what kind of disgusting animal did I ask for it?" I led him to my friends' table. I said they gave it to me. My cousin took out his wallet, took out a dollar, and threw it on my friends' table without a word. They were shocked. "What the fuck do you want with this?" they asked him. He said, from the side of his mouth, but he was already leaving, so he wouldn't get cigarette smoke on his clothes, "For the cigarette." Nothing special happened after that, the party was over, we were the last ones to stay, because he was in charge of cleaning up roughly. As I looked out the window, I saw my Latin gang friends gathering around my cousin's car, it was the only car left in the parking lot. My throat tightened a little. "Are we going to go out there now?" I said to my cousin, "Shouldn't we call the police, or sneak out the back, or something, or lock ourselves in here?" He said, "What are you babbling about, what are you afraid of, are you stupid, are you drunk, did the cigarette go to your head?" There was nothing to do, no matter how much my legs were shaking, I had to go out the door, which he immediately closed behind me and put the key in his pocket. And we started towards the bloodshot-eyed gang, he cheerfully and with my life flashing before my eyes. Then I remembered "Feliz Navidad," I quickly went ahead and hugged a few guys and, as if I were drunk, I started singing "Feliz Navidad" with them, which they also joined in. My cousin reached the car, opened it, and got in. I also got into the passenger seat and we drove away. I don't think my cousin has realized in the thirty years since then that I saved his life.

In one of the suburbs of Los Angeles where we lived, there was a park near our apartment, where you could exercise, do gymnastics, there was also a tennis court, a beautiful place, planted with special ancient trees that could have been several hundred years old. There were all kinds of tools for exercising the body. I used to go there every night to exercise. For a few hours, after dark. My cousin rarely came with me. One night, as we were going home, two young guys called out to us. They asked if we needed some "dough." I immediately thought they weren't selling real dough, but drugs. But my cousin, who was an extremely naive kid, even happened that after I had been there for three months, I once told him, who grew up there, "Come on, I'll show you America," and I took him to such places and such parties that his eyes and mouth were wide open, that this was America? The thing is, he was such a polite kid, that with his two meters, he went quickly to the two drug dealers, who were so scared that they almost swallowed the product they were holding in their mouths as gum, and said, "Excuse me, sir, I didn't understand, can I help you with something?" I stood back, but I saw the thought running through the two dealers' heads, "Is he going to attack us, or is he a cop, what should we do? Kill him or run?" Then I saw the shock on their faces, that they realized he was a real idiot, he didn't even know what kind of situation he was in, and finally they didn't do anything, they just said, "Nothing, nothing. We were just thinking out loud." They said to themselves, "No need to give a whistle signal to José to take him down with a forty-five."

Consciousness Determines Existence