Author: Mark Renney

It crept up on them, the Fugue. It happened so gradually as to be almost imperceptible. It certainly took years, possibly even decades to draw them in, until it had all in its thrall, but they continued to function as both individuals and as a society.

The trains are still running and the wheels of industry continue to grind. They are able to work and to feed and clothe themselves. They care for the children, but neither nurture nor attempt to teach them. In fact they are as disinterested in them as they are in everything and everyone else but they do keep the children physically safe. This is something that concerns us. Is it evidence? Does something remain? Is there a spark of humanity still within them, but buried deep.

I am one of the few unaffected by the malady. It is unnerving to observe humankind in its fugue state. I am constantly reminded of those old video games, the characters slotting into place as and when necessary. Their movements robotic and jerky, resting in between and conversing but only when it is absolutely vital to do so. It isn’t so much they have little interest in each other but more that they are unaware of anything and anyone else around them. It is as if they are automatons being controlled from afar by an all-powerful and unseen force.

We have taken control of all assets and shares. We own all the large corporations and businesses, anything and everything that is lucrative is now ours. We don’t need a monetary system – there are so few of us and so much for us to choose from but I suppose we are safeguarding against the future, just in case they emerge from the Fugue unscathed. And occasionally someone does recover. So far, they have always been happy to join with us and why wouldn’t they? After all we, the lucky few, are now the all-powerful entity looking down from above. We are the ones who control the game.