In the last 24 hours, everything about the world, as we know it, has abruptly changed, stripped of meaning. We are now facing a threat unlike any other. We must exercise radical self-acceptance and cope the best we can, while knowing our chances for survival grow more perilous as each hour passes. Our species is at war with a rapidly mutating virus and this virus manifests itself by becoming a parasite that feeds on the living, until they dwell in complete darkness, void of meaning.
These mutants are indefatigable opponents, and our entire species is at imminent risk for annihilation. Our chances for survival without a vaccine to make us resistant to the rapidly spreading and evolving mutation are almost impossible, nil.
The mutants have appeared suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, over a matter of hours, and Chaos and disorder rapidly spreads. Humans are scrambling to survive and seek the nearest refuge where their safety (for now) may be guaranteed during the rapidly evolving virus of this outbreak. But the mutants are gaining momentum and our species is at a critical juncture. This may be (most likely) the end of the world as we know it.
Institutions (corporations, etc.) have been preparing for such a crises for years and rapidly secure the perimeter of their interests and their survival. This places enormous pressure and strain on those who seek to survive and whose chances of doing so, diminish minute by minute. But some get lucky (or at least they think they are) for they have been gifted with an opportunity to seek shelter and protection (for now) at the gates of one of the top medical and research institutions, which is based in Baltimore. In addition, this world-famous facility dabbles in real estate, and has agents who amass real estate to ensure that their stability is never threatened.
Ground zero for this outbreak, luckily, is Baltimore. The source of this mutation sits and watches television and eats junk food and drinks Diet Coke most of the day and is less than an hour away from Baltimore. Occasionally, he’ll call his buddy and say: “Are we still good?” And his buddy never fails to put him at ease. This helps him maintain clarity and focus, knowing he has the full approval of his buddy.
His intelligence comes directly from a foxy station, which he watches religiously, and this places him in an induced trance. Between the junk food and the Diet Coke, and while in this stupor, his level of genius increases exponentially. He processes and calculates complex information, equations, inaccessible to all others.
He is a solitary and isolated figure who must remain so, so that his brain may be completely free of any trace of debris that may tamper with the building blocs of the complex equation of the virus, the calculations, the exact formula, to ensure it is iron-clad, impermeable, and will be released into the atmosphere. By the end of the day, his lower face is stained orange. He has been gorging himself with enormous quantities of Cheetos. This, however, is the stage where he is fully inspired.
Few scientists will argue that the scientific brain, above all, uses logic for problem-solving. Most will agree intuition provides flashes of insight, the missing pieces of the puzzle, which hold the key to everything. Eureka! That’s it! But even they are no match for this extraordinarily rare form of genius. He is almost unmatchable.
The toxins for this virus are slowly released by this single most powerful man in the world. And though many may argue this man’s leadership skills are compromised, he is nonetheless unmatchable, and no one can argue that this man’s source of power is ultimately released from his tiny hands and extraordinarily nimble fingers.
This has top nuclear physicists flummoxed : “What is the source of this man’s ability to release these deadly toxins, the building blocs of this virus, in less than one minute, and, in less than 120 characters, throughout the entire world? And, on the most secure network? Even more secure than the NSA? And, ensure the purity and integrity of its molecules and their meteoric speed are intact?”
The nuclear physicists at Argonne Laboratory in Chicago are scratching their heads. They have worked round the clock for almost a century, to determine the speed and effectiveness of atomic particles as they race through the labyrinths of their subterranean tunnels below the city of Chicago.
“Y’a mean this particle reaches Tibetan monks faster than ours does?”
“Houston, we have a problem.”
But what those who are tirelessly working on a vaccine and who are looking for that needle in the haystack don’t realise is, the formula which will ensure the survival of our species is just a click away.
This is the one and absolute antidote to the virus. Not surprisingly, although it’s foundation may interest mathematicians, it is easily accessible to all and is as brilliant as pure gold.
There, there is but one artist (not surprisingly) in the world whose brilliance was and will be eternally unsurpassed. None before or after her will ever reach the heights and depths she reached, which have transfixed listeners for decades through her passion and beauty, and brought them to a place they had never been before.
She, alone, drank from the sacred springs of Beauty and emerged a giant among peers. She, alone, possesses the key to this spring.
She, alone, is the antidote of this virulent strain, for even the living dead cannot escape from such divine presence and bow in humility before her.
She, alone, can crush the code of this deadly equation with a single bolt of lightning – in no more than 3 strikes of a minor key.
She, alone, can crush the particles of those tiny hands, so they are then sucked into a Black Hole at a speed that is still unknown to us.
And that, my friend, is the voice of Art.
And she is everywhere.