The best sort would be, IMHO, a technocracy with people who have studied management as a minor. All the rest will fall into place. Right now management skills are dangerously scarce in every political arena.
![[-]](https://gayspeak.com/images/duende_v3_local/collapse.png)
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A few versions for myself.
One where the human species does not exist.
One where the human brain has been altered to desire only what the body needs for its survival and nothing more.
One where ideology is banished. The [fill in the blank] ___acy is the problem, not how it is enacted or operated. For all the quoted _________acy quoted above requires a dictator / council / elected body to oversee the rules - and creating the classes creates the problem we all experience today. Once a class system is established it becomes a downhill road paved with banana peels.
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Utopia/Eutopia? Well...
'Ian’s feet took him briskly outside and yes, he could see a stumbling figure out on an open field where the street and its little buildings stopped. He hurried after; nothing he could imagine would be as satisfying as putting a few questions to this man. He puffed as he began running. He was large framed and the heat was enervating. The man ahead of him was the same build but much more agile. He began to slow down and Ian saw him stop by a jumble of washed up trees, their roots like strange hands, fingers splayed out in surprise. He felt a seismic ripple pass through him and heard a spoken word that vibrated in his bones. In front of him the entire sky and horizon bent towards itself from the ground up. The world looked at itself and the man stepped right down the middle. He vanished.
Ian didn’t stop to think, to reason, to assess. He followed, his body responding with a surge of warmth as he passed the vertical split where the world’s edges met. A breeze, full with the inarguable resonance and wholeness of Here assailed him. Before him stretched a vista of gorgeous greens, and hues of purpled distances. The sky was bright with blue and an effervescent feeling of delight. Was it possible? Ian couldn’t analyze; his senses overwhelmed with a physical reality that seemed to emote.
It wasn’t possible, and he walked into a land where the grasses felt sensuous under his shoes so intensely that he took them off, his mind blank with a shock so profound it simply accepted.
His bare feet slid themselves into grass that tickled and seemed to soothe an ache in his feet he’d never been aware of, until its absence. He looked up at the sky. He took a deep breathe of air, clear and fresh but simultaneously full of scent. A foolish grin spread itself across his face and Ian felt his heart let go; unbound.
Far, far off he saw a man flying, no, jumping through the sky. His jaw dropped. The man whisked upwards, arcing at a about a hundred feet and staying there as he soared on. Ian reached out a hand and ran after, some silly instinct telling him to jump too, and he did. Up he went, his legs stretched out below him, as though hopping from one stone to another across a stream. He gave in to the unreal and relaxed. It was all hallucination; a dream. He accepted and laughed. Exhilaration roared though him as he flew, as well and fast as the man in front of him. In moments he had caught up, sailing up to the man and waving inanely as he passed, unsure of how to stop. The man gave Ian a terrified look and dropped like a stone to the ground. Ian passed on, struggling now in effort to stop and go down. Some unexplained muscle worked, some idea hatched itself and thought alone caused him to fall gently to earth.
His feet touched cool grasses and he walked back to where Renot stood. Renot met Ian’s eyes and saw shock, exhaustion and fear, subdued by overwhelming strangeness, and recognition. Beneath it he found that deep silence he’d felt in himself. Ian’s eyes took in Renot. Here was the penultimate of all mysteries. He was spellbound. He looked into this man’s eyes and words and pictures came into his head. He saw the man regarding himself as Ian saw him. Why did he think that? A plethora of images of himself with the cup, its reason for existence, (and oh, that would take much contemplation); and this man’s name, Renot. Below it all the knowledge that this man knew Ian by the same fashion.
“Ian” croaked Renot. Ian jumped.
“Renot” he replied, in equally hoarse tones. Thus their introduction on the great Plains of Perception, so named by the people who had settled there. Ian regarded the face he’d seen in the cup. Renot looked back at this man who had seen Renot in the cup’s depths while holding it. The implications were not lost on him. And now Here this man was, Leaping after Renot as though he’d done it all his life, and directly speaking to Renot with Eyes only. Under it all a sense of vast Something, so large and deep no amount of exploring or imagining could ever define it. A Mystery of Attraction. A thrilling jolt of subconscious recognition swept him, head to toe. He became aware of a smile, spread across his face. Ian’s own grin answered. Automatically Ian raised his arm. Renot did the same and they shook hands in greeting. Pieces clicked into place, or so it felt. The entire world seemed to steady itself and a sense of wholeness engulfed them. Their hands separated only after both noticed them still connected and withdrew from each other in male self-consciousness. Renot scanned the plains for people; there were thankfully none, and spoke.
“I know’’ he said, “that you will have a million questions for me. I too, have a few for you. Welcome to my home.” -The Silver Dish
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