I recently watched twenty episodes of Revolution in a row.
I had good intentions of blogging consistently last week, but then all of a sudden it was yesterday.
Where did the time go?
I know what you’re thinking…
You watched twenty episodes of Revolution. That’s where your time went.
Well, yeah, and I’m ridiculously paranoid about a blackout now, but that doesn’t make me sorry.
In Revolution, the enemy isn’t aliens or zombies (although I like when both are enemies in shows).
The scariest part about Revolution is that the enemy is ourselves.
The question is how can humanity survive in a desperate world?
I don’t mean humanity as a whole. I mean the basic fundamental line between good and evil. What happens when that line is toed, or moved, or altered? For survival. For power. For love.
Suddenly everyone is an enemy. No one can be trusted. Even families have their breaking points. How much can blood connections endure?
What damage do secrets wreck on our souls?
The way we survive defines us. What if after fifteen years of living in a post-apocalyptic world, no one innocent is left?
Everyone has been too damaged. Too scarred. They’ve lost everyone they care about. And they’re reluctant to allow strangers close.
Why would they? They’ll only lose that person, too. Like everyone else gone from their lives. Or they’ll be betrayed, as we’ve seen on the show.
Yet there is this strange kind of hope. A glimmer of something inside us that does make us choose right over wrong, even if it means ending up dead.
A piece of our soul that can’t be altered by the outside world because it lives inside us.
Is it in our DNA? Or did the world before the end make us this way?
Will children born after the apocalypse have compassion? Or will they become indifferent to violence?
It’s fascinating. And terrifying. And I can’t stop watching.
I can’t stop wondering. What does humanity mean?
In a reality that isn’t technically post-apocalyptic, are we struggling with the same questions even now?
I suppose that’s why I write fiction. Sitting around and thinking about these things without a creative outlet might drive a person to madness. Not that I’m not full up on madness. 😉