Mana was an island in the Pacific not too far from Oregon, there lived a group of Americans who had fled the mainland in the 1800's. Deeply influenced by oriental and eastern philosophies, the men had turned into saints, the women still hedonist, turned to each other for gratification.
Men who were reclusive and saintly donated sperm to sperm banks, which the women used to bring up children in same-sex marriages.
Rita and Wita were two working-class urban women, in the port city of Z axes, in Mana.
Rita was a bored real estate agent, who brokered floating docks, platforms and moorage, for floating architectures. She was carnal, with a high libido and demanded it in large measures from her girlfriend Wita. They shared an apartment and were together since early 2018.
Rita was a patient listener, a woman any other woman would dream of having in her life, a gem of a person with a large heart, a tender body as smooth as silk, flat but defining an arboreal curvature, just perfect for the skies, her lips kissed the clouds as her tender fingers gently swept the wind-driven blades of a towering windmill. She had beautifully rounded shoulders, a broad chest, and an athletic build, from years of rock climbing and mountaineering. She hated men and their parts.
Wita was a middle-aged, secretary of a large corporation, she was wealthy, spiritual and loved Rita so much, she swore she would be willing to die for her. She always wanted a child with her, maybe two. They would raise the kids together, after their wedding. She was so beautiful, that every woman in Zaxses would have loved to have her for themselves.
The sun was setting on one uneventful day, Wita was home, with a melancholic emptiness, a void she wished to fill with carnal love, it was her exploration, not of a new land somewhere, but of a more intimate kind, on Rita's anatomy, every measure of it, it was her way of worship, a sacred love as she waited in her bathrobes by the bed for Rita.
Rita soon arrived, to guess her quest for the day, she yielded to Zita's explorations, maybe the universe wanted to discover itself this way in unrequited love, a woman's body as a canvas, it was sweeter than art, more profound than a symphony, their love for each other was timeless, more beautiful than the wildflowers, which dot the countryside. It was time to explore each other and bring out that sensuality of primordial origins, maybe the instinctive mating of animals, all covered by a mating dance, but there was no time for that, she gently took off Wita's clothing and took her between the sheets, as her fingers played on Wita's parts, much like the chords of a violin, the symphony was smooth, well composed for soon they were lip locked, seeking a divine nectar and a sacred pollen. Their organs rubbing together, in scissors, ancient love postures from Hindu Indian texts came alive, as their yoga was fruitful. They made frenzy love, praising each other's bodies, one by one, beautiful lips, the hands, arms, slender legs, the shoulders caressed, her back caressed in smooth straight strokes, in a frenzied orgy of long sustained orgasms, the for play led to the main movement, they steadily rocked, in symmetric groovy motions, till they grasped in exclamation, to the climax of an orgasm, Rita never felt so satisfied, she swore she loved Zita, more than anything else, she was all that mattered to her. Their love was universal and natural.
[[Sades, Rita's best friend | Sades]]Sades was Rita's best friend and companion, a stick, multifunctional and programmable, it was even Alexa compatible. She provided Rita company on nights Wita was travelling. Rita could not sleep at times and spoke to Alexa to activate Sades, she had her favorite programs pre-loaded on it. She felt every desire to clit with the stick, gently rotating Sades around the prime area, climaxing it in gentle strokes, till she gurgled in satisfaction, a pleasure she was not guilty of as she added more lubricant, actually there was enough of the natural stuff, it was copious in its flow, she was wet in love juices, that harbored millions of prophylactic race organisms, organisms that made her private moments, her love for Wita. Sades was her companion who understood, her separation and her need, a wanting, a craving, a hunger for love that only Wita could give her, through Sades, she switched on her cellphone and called up Wita, turning the phone's camera to her parts, they were wet and swollen, Wita was exasperated, she loved them, she promptly dropped her bras and danced a groove, soon the two were dancing, virtually in each other's arms, fingering their organs till the phone was filled with their love, the juices ran out of the receivers, the speakers were saturated, the microphone cluttered with sexual libido, so hot that the screen steamed with vapor from their breaths, in the climax, they had their carnal pleasures, they were beyond guilt, their sex was protected, by their dance of love.
[[Wild Roses of the midwest | Wild Roses]]
[[Ennui | Ennui ]]
[[The Maze | Maze ]]
[[The Mirror | Mirror]]Wild roses grow profusely in the midwest, like a rainbow from its source, a tail brushed against the windswept dunes of Mana, creating an oasis of wildflowers, some compound in their intricate petal formations and some simple, in a dense climber that looks to a tree for support.
Rita and Wita found themselves amidst such a setting, the sunset, a spectrum of flowers, interspersed with wild roses, something of the wild in them, an exact metaphor.
In those roses were hidden their profound love for each other, as if offering each flower to that love that had blossomed in them and stayed in bloom since years. A flower offered at the alters of this selfless love, maybe it was universal, a form of worship.
Wita lay down on the sheets, on a small clearing of pasture grass, wet with dew, the dampness did not bother her, or the cold wind blowing, she was barely wearing anything,, naked like an invitation, Rita soon found her place, women have been forbidden the pleasure of love since the middle ages, they were to be only passive takers, with no acknowledgement of the pleasure or the satisfaction it meant to them, she meant to rebel against it all, right there, and love for hours till she had that long plateau. She could go it all night right there, if she wanted to, not one orgasm, but a succession of them, until they were on the moon. She did not want the earth or the moon, but found her place in the natural order, her love was just as natural as any other love.
[[Rita's proposal | Proposal ]]It had been a few years now, and Wita was hoping to get married and inseminate a child. All was quiet for a while, till one day when the two were driving down a bridge, Rita suddenly pulled up, stopped the car and pulled out a ring, a ring exquisitely designed and 3D printed by her, just for Wita, on the ring has engraved a vow. The vow remains a secret, it is that secret, that should not be revealed. Wita read that vow in amazement, she had proposed and Wita had, of course, accepted it, she had treasured this moment in her heart since childhood, and would remain in her secret memories as something sacred. She captured the event on her smartwatch. and recorded a love capsule, with the two of them, a photo that froze time, maybe time was still somewhere in a photographic world, still for the two of them, to cherish that moment of love.
[[Rita chooses a donor | Sperm Donor ]]Sigrey was a middle-aged saint and recluse, who lived in a small cottage on a corner of mana, he monitored the snowfall and had been doing so for more than two decades. He had graduated from an ivy league school, but the city lights, the glitter, and glamour of urban life did not appeal to him, he resigned from a faculty position and moved to Mana, where he kept weather records, measuring the effects of al Nino on global weather patterns and snowfall. If anybody cared to listen, he was warning of drought, of a, reduced on no snowfall in the near future, a world deprived of precious snow would be a world devoid of spirituality and life, such a dry world would be a grave, it was time to reverse the climate change.
Rita was a great admirer of Sigrey's intellect, she chose to propagate his sperms from the cryo-bank, one-weekend Wita was inseminated, they were going to have a child, but before that was the wedding.
[[The Wedding | Wedding ]]The wedding was to be an open setting, on the beach, conducted by an android priest, there was no cake, lots of music and the seagulls presided, they seemed to know Rita's name and were calling out to each other about the event. The ceremony started with feeding the gulls the ' promised food', a holy food of mixed ingredients prepared by high chefs.
Then the exchange of vows, the official wedding oaths, exchange of rings and the kiss and of course the ceremonial walk through the transit door frame, to a life of marital bliss for the couple.
Tears swell in Wita's eyes, as she lived through the d-day. It was streamed live for the world to see.
[[A reading of Jonathan Livingston Seagull | Seagull ]]A reading of Jonathan Livingston Seagull followed the evening after the wedding at some location, the location was not important, what was, was the meeting of minds, to the mind of a seagull who loved speed, maybe that is why both Rita and Wita had dressed in wing wear for the occasion, they would dive together from an aircraft holding hands into the sea, that would be their 'escapade'.
Rising to the surface, they looked into each others eyes, maybe they had transcended space and time and speed too, maybe the time had arrived for them, like Jonathan to fly to the next realm, leaving all ties to this land, maybe it was metaphorical, and their union was this journey, a transit to a higher plane.
Ennui is the punishment by nature for past deeds, the inability to wait, a misfit in time. Normally time expands to fit the mundane, and there are islands of creativity, some folks are always in the creative, some in the mundane, Rita had sinned in the past, and she was paying the price now in ennui, entertainment was not a solution, it fed a vicious cycle to more boredom and suffering. Nature always had abundance, in the new Genesis, God had first created Eve from his image and then there was fertility, Adam the witness rebelled, he would not sin or fall, men always chose to be saints, but Eve needed a companion and so God created Eve#1 for her and the universe found itself in their love.
Rita knew that the path to creative concentration was in the temple of the soul of light. She went there to pray, to meditate on the transit to the metaphysical, of constant meditation on work, knowledge, and music, the transcendence from the bonds of boredom.The Maze was a metaphorical realm in Rita's mind of an endless maze of interconnected rooms, with lights, and doors, all with a black dog, the canine principle. It was a temptation, a fall like an apple given to Adam and Eve. We find ourselves in such a maze, Rita did and she needed an exit strategy, a way to navigate the maze back to Eden. There was no map, no guide, just her instinct, and her intuition, she could use any divine guidance, from holy spirits to angels, devas to light beings, even Sasquatch or UFO aliens, even a humble compass, with directions.
Like professor calculus of Tintin, she held a pendulum, a device to know her bearings and directions, she moved as its swing indicated, a prolonged journey guided by the stars. Her marriage, her career, her life, her children, all culminated in an escapade, did she finally find her way out of that maze?Feynman was a great physicist, who pioneered Feynman diagrams in quantum electrodynamics, but could he use it to explain reflection in a mirror, Rita wondered if the smart mirror in her bathroom was just as good as an old fashioned mirror?
Feynman was often frustrated by the singularities in the field integrals of the QED interactions, even simple ones, it did not scale and one kept hiding the singularities under the rug.
Rita's rug was full of singularities, when she looked into the smart mirror, she recalled Feynman, she searched the name and the word rug, every singularity stood out, invisible but yet popping out in the skyway, by the walk as dark, ugly sentience on two feet, a projection of everything we find disagreeable in ourselves, a singularity to another space-time, an end to the Boov bottle we live in, maybe our escapade was a tunnel through their souls, maybe they were the seagulls in disguise, mathematical expressions carried in the talons of flying ornithopters, cheap plastic replicas of the gulls? Maybe machines were not meant to be like the birds, but more like drones, connecting worlds. Maybe Rita planned her escapade through a distant drone.