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The Wooden RoomBy C. R. Hamilton The essence of character development begins at infancy. Love, security, and happiness must compose the core of the heart at this stage, if not, environmental influences supplement the unbalance. When this happens, a person is subject to evolve into a victim of the general surroundings. The day care environment is a supplement to what is lacking in millions of today’s children and young adults. However, is the environment sufficient and effective enough to replace love, security, and happiness? In respects to bible prophecy of the last days, with a generation of emotionally deprived children supplemented by societies technological imagery and prefabricated morals, the future of this world is destined for rule of an imperious authority. The day of Armageddon is one in which the world challenges the possibility of a Supreme Being. An army composed of a one-world government, wearied by the presence of the Israeli nation, marches upon the land of Israel to rid the world of Jews forever under the orders of the antichrist. The army is a conglomeration of various cultures and nations that have scientifically proven the nonexistence of any god other than the New World’s leader. A multicultural world one might say. The perfect unity of the dwellers of earth finally accomplishing world peace and harmony, eliminating racial prejudice, discrimination, terrorism, world hunger, and suffering. By the power of imagery and virtual deception, the antichrist deceives the world, and the last obstacle to world dominance is the riches in the land of Israel. To obtain world peace, there must be cooperation of all the world’s nations. To solve the world’s problem one voice must bellow over millions. To capture the attention of the world, relate to them through the one thing shared among all, the one thing enjoyed by all. The one thing that indoctrinates them all: the computer. This is the power of the antichrist, the biblically prophesied “beast” that is to make the entire world wonder before it. Spitting out images of man’s creation and virtual scenes of the desires of life without consequences, this “beast” subtly instructs its followers to believe lies about the Creator of humankind. A thin line easily separates what is true from fictional characteristics of technology. Men should raise the children, women are built to provide, men and men are OK, and women and women are natural. Sedatives increase intellect, sexual capability, and relieve stress. Faster is better, no time for tedious mannerism. The world is better off this way. Time is moving faster and society must race to keep up with technology, which hastens against time. Businesses demand higher performance from workers in order to produce quality, available toys for the forever-bored consumer. There is room for everyone in this game of virtual life. No quotas, preferences, or even time to discriminate, Civil rights for all. The programmer, the technician, the analyst, the net-worker, the designer, the web hacker, all crowd the classifieds over the librarian, the writer, the laborer, the secretary, the teacher. Gender is not a factor, neither race, creed, nor color. There are provisions for whatever the situation, pregnancy, death in the family, sickness, or child and healthcare, all accompanied through government policy. The rewards are great, ones that entertain the mind after 12 hours of production. Thirty-two inch, forty-five inch, and seventy-inch screens invade what use to be the family gathering place, but are now the home entertainment center where quality time is spent. Mornings are hectic in the New World. Mom is up with her soccer uniform on, dad may or may not be there, it does not matter anymore, it is OK. Marriage is desired but, hey, been there, done that, what is next? The kids gobble down highly sugarcoated or frosted chemical by-products of favorite cartoon characters, heroes who stand in the place of dad, whether there or not. Out the door to the oversized van or the sports utility vehicle manufactured for expanding the account of a marketer somewhere in Arizona. The baby, the third and last child - because of dirty looks from the neighbors - is strapped helplessly into the government regulated “burden” seat and driven to the nearest socialist adolescent camp. Yes, cared for adequately by a passable educator of a being and the other 450 adolescent socialist of the New World, the child smiles happily because it is among its people, its subjugated peers, its future commandants. Next, dropped at the minimal security educational institute up the street, the older of the children begin the multicultural day among a variety of color and sexual preferences. Entering the building along with associates and fellow clique members, all wearing NWO (New World Order) T-shirts, slipping through the high tech security door, they head to the first class, Alternative Lifestyle 101. Some go to the institutionally required course Sexual Decisions: Middle Level Premarital Education 101. Down the hall and out the only other door is the Technology building that offers courses in Allusionary Imagery 101, Simulated Human Cloning 101, 102, Advanced Global Shield Physics, and Social Order by way of Persuasive Democracy, a cap-stone course. While passing through thirty-foot wide hallways, the graffiti-stained walls (expressions of the student’s feelings) brighten the atmosphere making statements of what the future will bring. Curse words echo the hallway mixed with screaming lyrics from $400 compact disc boxes extorted from parents by the kids through guilt. Glitters of light bounce from the faces and mouths and bellies and fingers of kids who express creativity through the ear, nose, throat, eye, and tongue-rings. Teachers, or faculty, compromise with kids to enter the class with an anxious eye, promising them medically prescribed drugs in order for all just to make it through the day, or just get along. Flashbacks of the wooden room hunt the kids all day. Anxiety attacks press them sore and they move around, and talk and talk and move around. They sit in the emotionally prepared classroom and reflect to the past of the wooden room. They curse parents in the depths of the heart and glance at a friend across the emotional battlefield. The friend glances back with a deaden look, also remembering the wooden room. Other kids sense the reflection, the anxiety, and the inability not to move, not talk, and not move. They too, remember the wooden room. The room imbedded the minds of all the kids. Branded onto the brain like a tattoo, like the one on her hip, his forearm, her shoulder, his hand, her breast, and his back, her behind, his belly. Imbedded like the illusions of combat inside the machine at the corner store where they meet after release from “institution.” Imbedded, like frustration and bitterness against lost time, replaced by temporal electronics. The wooden room, so cold, so crowded, yet so lonely. The wooden room, so blue, so red, so far from love. When it is time to make everything better, the New World will be a wooden room to all, and then all can rid the world of love.