It's easy to forget that we are all perfect in our own design. Sometimes we muck it up with habits and choices that do not serve us.
EXT. OUTDOOR RESTAURANT PATIO - DAY
Our protagonist is found sitting in the outdoor patio of a restaurant near his home, enjoying a beer. It has been more than a month since his second COVID vaccination. He feels liberated. The sun is out. Spring has arrived in the Great Northwest— at least for a day or two.
Two women sit at a nearby table, having a loud discussion that our man can’t help overhearing.
My understanding is that these vaccinations can change our DNA. I took them because it was the only way I felt like I would get to see my aging mother and she had taken hers. Now I’m scared to death that my DNA has been altered.
I’ve read quite a bit on this and understand that the two vaccines that alter our mRNA are simply sending messages to the DNA. They don’t actually change the DNA. And their impact is relatively short term, stimulating the body to boost its own process.
But what if that isn’t quite true? What if the science you read is wrong? It’s happened before. What if they actually do alter our DNA? What if some evil force is trying to change us? What does that tell us about where the human race may go?
She pauses, lost in thought.
I wonder. . . what if that is true – except the force isn’t evil. What if perhaps, just perhaps, we need to have our DNA altered? What does this climate emergency we are experiencing, environmental destruction, species extensions, racial and income discrimination, and all the other crises facing us tell us about the human race? Perhaps the virus is a shout out from a wise force telling us to get a vaccine because we need to change at the very DNA level. Assuming, of course, that science is wrong and the shot does change our DNA. What do you think about that?
That’s terribly cynical. I can’t believe you’d say such a thing.
You don’t believe there is a climate emergency, species extinctions, and all those other crises we’re facing?
Of course, I do. I’m not one of those reactionaries who says none of that exists, but I don’t believe we humans need to change our DNA.
Hmmm. . . have you considered that we’re the only species that’s ever seemed hell-bent on destroying itself and life as we know it on this planet?
What about the dinosaurs?
I thought their world was changed by a meteorite.
Exactly, and that raises the alien issue.
No silly. From other places.
That’s absurd. I mean from somewhere out (she points at the sky) there.
Yes, and maybe some of us are walk-ins, possessed by these aliens, inhabited by them.
A waiter arrives at the side of our man. These outdoor tables are in high demand on this sunny day. He’d promised to stay for only 30 minutes. His time was up. He pays the bill and leaves. The two women never so much as noticed him.
But he couldn’t help thinking about them.
EXT. STREET SIDEWALK - DAY
Our lone restaurant-goer ambles homeward, musing to himself out loud.
I keep wondering— that if I were an alien hovering in some sort of a space vehicle above this beautiful earth, looking down, what would I think, what would I do?
He further ponders that thought as he arrives at his own front door and steps inside, moving through the house to look out a back window. He remembers where the woman had pointed— and shifts his gaze skyward.
I would probably figure that the dominant species on this planet is crazy. They are killing each other and destroying this incredible, resource-rich planet. I’d probably not want to land. I’d just hover there, watching. After a while, I might decide that I needed to save this planet from that dominant species. What would I do? Would I send a virus? Inspire ideas for a vaccine to change the character and actions of that dominant species? Or would I be able to actually start to look like and be one of these people and try to change the system from the inside?
A neighbor shouts to him from beyond a backyard fence, knocking him out of his introspection.
Just an hour before the big game! I’ll bring the beer. See you soon.
Great. See ya. . .
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