The Philosopher Between the Capitalist and the Communist
Chapter 35 : Free Yourself
There was a pirate ship that left the South of Athens and a smuggler ship that left the West of Babylon. Each carried their cargoes, their crews, and their captains, along with their risks and fears, but along with all of being transported, there were also rebels. From the Greek Empire, there departed the Anarcho-Communist rebels, and from the Babylonian Empire, there departed the Anarcho-Capitalist rebels. These weren't the same people they were when they lived back in Anarchia under the order of Anarchy. They were much more cynical and hopeless, much more disillusioned and skeptical, and much more angry at themselves than they were with the world around them. Defeated armies, not retreating from a horrible battle, but being saved by a man who was known only for the trade that he practiced, the Philosopher. But the Philosopher himself was not on these vessels. His dream had brought him from their points of departure to somewhere new and different, somewhere deep in the darkness of the ruins of the former Anarchist city.
You might be able to picture yourself among the stars, dashing in between the cosmic beams of light and energy, dancing on the tops of planets and moons, answerable only to your own conscience and mind, limited only by what you can think up and imagine. You might think that the darkness of those immense, black skies wasn't meant detract you from creating your own thoughts, that it was actually a quiet invitation by nature to join and participate in what happens around you. But to really have a clear view of what it would be like, to have an avid imagination that actually focuses on the truth and reality, whenever you would picture the Philosopher, you would have to picture black smoke slowly embering out of the green substance packed into the bowl of a pipe. You would have to picture this old, hooded, sandal-wearing, drug-smoking man, just as your mind's eye penetrated through those tree tops and tall branches. The most wanted man in all of the Greek and Babylonian Empires, and not a thing in his mind could stop him from breaking the law, just as if you had been curious enough to understand the depth of your own footprints, you would understand that the wind blowing it away isn't dispersing your efforts but is accepting them. And from those tremendous heights up in the sky, it would still be easy to stop believing in effort.
"Communism and Capitalism are still the same thing," the Philosopher said to himself, "Not a thing about them has changed. The people changed, but not their ideas. The people aged, matured, grew up, gave up hope, became listless, suffered from Depression, revolted with agitation, and escaped from their tortured miseries, but their ideas -- they're still the same exact ideas that they always have been. They didn't age, they didn't grow, they didn't get experience, they didn't learn -- they didn't change. Your feelings changed a million times, but your thoughts only once. Communism and Capitalism are the same thing, but I don't know if Communists and Capitalists are the same thing anymore, at least after this and what has happened, at least after the fall of Anarchia. These Communists and Capitalists are as different from their original selves as the butterfly is different from the husk and caterpillar. The terms that defined their meaning and purpose have come and gone, but while the butterflies soar and glide, the people are dragged down by the weight and power of their own ideas, like the one butterfly that couldn't depart from its branch, because it tried to carry its husk with it."