FLASH DRIVES: Flash narratives and random contemplations imagined while driving from one place to another.

Photo by Joshua Tsu on Unsplash

I won’t be on the ark. Too old, no special skills. Not a doctor, scientist, or woman of breeding age.

Noah was old, but he got to go because he built the boat. He took cats and elephants and cockroaches. The unicorns and dragons were off somewhere else, thus were lost forever. Maybe they were flood-deniers. Maybe they didn’t think God wasn’t going to cleanse the Earth. They had their chance.

That was the past—who will build the boat this time? Will it be a starship? Will only humans of great wealth be allowed on? Or will it be a bomb shelter for presidents and potentates like the ones from the 1960’s? If it’s truly God’s business, will the choices be fair and just, or will they be arbitrary? Evolutionary?

All I know is that we’ve done bad things and seem to have no intention of stopping. We’ve lit a fire we cannot control. We’ve used our brains for evil. We’ve invited punishment.

But what about the good guys? The Dalai Lama? The firefighter who risked his life to save a kitten? My infant great grandson? Surely there are some who should be spared. And the animals—what about them this time around? I doubt the humans on the spaceship will give up their seat to a pair of koalas, no matter how cute they are. No matter how innocent.

I would give up my seat for cats, except I won’t be on the ark.