A Change in Motivation

 
I know today what you will know in June, that America suffered utter and total defeat early in April.
 
That defeat is at this time almost unnoticeable, like the gash in the hull of the Titanic was almost unnoticeable minutes after her collision with the most famous iceberg in history; and you, like those souls aboard that most famous of ships, are unknowingly facing icy death or chilly salvation; but you, like they, are yet ignorant of that tragic truth.
 
I knew about the iceberg of America's destruction over 30 years ago, over 30 years before it punctured America's hull; and all my work for all those years was directed at influencing a change in course, a change in speed, a sharper lookout in the crow's nest, a better captain on the bridge; but now, Dear Reader, that motivation is out of date.
 
I know, I know, you have hated me for trying to save you, (oh, the vanity of it!); and as it turned out I failed to save you, (oh, the tragedy of it!).
 
So what am I to do now, me the doctor, you as good as corpse on the slab?  I need new motivation if I am to move on; and I think I should move on before you realize you are as good as dead; things will get ugly then.
 
You will blame me, you will blame me, Sweet Jesus, you will blame me.  Why was I not better at my work?  Why did I not warn you of your danger?
 
I know, I know, you still do not know of this danger now; and now you are still the same smug asses you have always been.  As usual, I am ahead of you in Time.
 
Having failed to save you, what am I to do?  Woe, woe, what purpose will I have when all you asses are in Ass Hell?
 
This is not easy for me.  I feel no joy in failure.  God told me from the start you were lost; and I objected; so God gave me the gift of audible mental telepathy so I would know the wisdom of and the reasons for your damnation.  So now I know you deserve your end, but I still have this hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach where your salvation should have been.
 
As mean and cruel as you have been, I cannot look at you without seeing how beautiful you are.  As lost as you are, I cannot help but thinking of what you might have been.
 
I cannot wallow in this forever; I cannot take with me the memory of your broken Earth, your Earth so soon to be naught but an asteroid belt where Life used to be.
 
Sure, to be sure, your fate saddens me, you are lost and gone forever, dreadful sorrow, but I have been on battlefields before, I have had tea and cigarettes while sitting next to the dead.
 
Sure to be sure, I still see those dead in my mind; and sure to be sure, I will still see you in my mind in some future time; but I cannot take you with me, I must leave the bodies where they fall.
 
Perhaps I should review how I came to be here, it does not matter that you will not understand a word; this is for me, I must save myself from the sorrow of losing you.
 
Believe it or not, there are things you do not know; and believe it or not I know things you will never know.
 
The death of this Earth was predictable hundreds of millions of years ago.  When it came down to it, it was simple math.  There was a place in space that was growing more hostile by the century, there were stars colliding with stars, there were hopes sinking into hopelessness.
 
If I could have shown you your situation from a space-bird's eye view you would have understood immediately, Gala Seas colliding, Earth rotating into the debris, and you could have braced yourselves, like sailors brace their legs in stormy seas.
 
Sadly, I could not do that, so I had to rely on your inner goodness; I had to rely on that which did not exist; so I attempted to created it; so I tried to get blood out of a turnip; God told me from the start I would fail; and that's the other story I am now motivated to tell.
 
Stay tuned, Dear Reader, while I teach you how to swim.