L.U.E. - An Anarchaotistic View

I was riding on a bus.
It's number was 15.
I had been obsessing over the number 23 recently, as well as the rules of 5's, and had also given myself into the Principa Discordian, as well as Eris, the Greek Goddess of discord.
Such fascinations had ruled my conscienceness for days.
I was sleep deprived from writing the previous night, and correcting the spell checker option on my word processor so that it understood or recognized words such as "Discordian"
Rules and regulations, it seemed, were everywhere. Under the guise of keeping the average person safe, it limited personal freedom.
The advertisements on the interior of the bus fell into two categories. The rules for the company that owned the bus, plastered all over the right side. And also the commercials for any given number of other products and services, all of which undoubtedly cost a fee of monetary compensation of services rendered. I have a tendancy to ignore the latter as they no longer have much sway over me.
But both categories, I noticed, were doing a funny thing with words. The words were arranged in a manner that I recognized from a prior research project. The words were arranged to have the maximum affect on the subliminal mind. In essence, they were hypnotic words.
The rules of the bus on one side were authoritarian dialects of neural linguistical programming. Similar to the programming on a persons television set, only less obvious in it's invasive tendencies. In fact, these words were so invasive that it could scarcely be recognized as an invasion at all.
On the surface of it, the rules seem not only like a good idea, but common sense.
"Don't threaten or intimidate riders or operators."
"Don't block the aisles or doors."
"Don't be so loud that you disturb others."
Really basic stuff. Common courtesy made into an authoritative rule that could be enforced if needed.
"No Smoking" always gives me a chuckle, because I am of the mindset that smoking near or around someone you don't know is akin to forcing your opinion down their throat. In that sense I can see smoking as rude.

The rules were all displayed with cheerful cartoon figures, who seemed to delight in their ability to dutifully follow the authority, rather than to be nice on their own. The kind of attitude that said to me "Thank god these rules are here to keep us all safe." as if the rules were any different from the 10 handed down to Moses on mount Sinai. The 10 commandments were not universally followed because they did not serve the personal interests of all the people who read them. People do ignore them regardless of what authority give its edict. Similar to how god went from a lower case "g" to an upper case, so has the word "authority" taken on a similar transformation, if more rudimentary of a linguistical shift. Rather than an abstract concept such as god, authority takes on a more specified generality, referring more to the concept of a company or a person having control over your actions. This more direct intervention has a more concrete ability to subject you to it's whim than some vague conceptualization of a deity.
The structure of the words was such that the observer was being a direct order or threat from the words themselves. A word being an intangible thing, the words might as well represent the word of a god or other authority, as they held the same force over the sub consciousness of the observer.
The rationalist might make the argument that they control their own actions, and they choose to follow the societal standards presented to them, and that would be fine if they themselves were making the choice. The choice was given to us by the capital "A" authority in the first place, so how can we naively believe we have any freedom at all, save the natural impulses we all feel but do not act upon?
I was distracted from my thought process by the conversation of two women riding the bus within ear shot of myself, and I began to listen.
"I don't get it," A pale blonde dressed in bright colors asked her riding companion, " How am I not thinking out side of a box? I'm not trapped by anything, am I?
Her companion, a similarly pale raven haired woman dressed all in black, responded after thinking for a moment.
"It's like the comic books you read," she began, " The characters are trapped in each panel and they never move. They will always repeat the same actions, and tell the same stories. They are the ones literally trapped in a box. They can't think beyond the box they are currently in, until they react to something happening in the next box. You're only as trapped by the box as you let yourself be."
The blonde pondered this for a few moments. She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it, seeming to reconsider whatever she was thinking.
The raven hair continued.
"Remember 9-11?" She began, "That was an example of reacting within a single frame, or several frames. Nobody thought outside the box in that moment, and grasped for the most reliable connection they could get a mental handle on. And you see how it was used to put up more rules and laws against us?"
The blonde looked very sad, "Yes, I remember how that was used against us."
Raven continued, "That's what compartmentalized thinking has earned us. If we stay inside the box, we are safe, but have no freedom to do what we want. I would rather be vulnerable and free, then safe and a slave."
The blonde responded with a jolt, "Yes. I see what you mean."

As my bus stop approached, I was very worried I would not overhear the end of this conversation. But I was not disappointed, as it reached a satisfactory conclusion as I stood up.
The blonde said, " So if I question everything to my own satisfaction, even the things I like, I am in a better position of making decisions for myself, instead of the ingrained learned responses I have internalized over time?"
I glanced over to them just in time to see the raven haired woman smile the most beautiful grin I had seen in recent memory.
"Exactly what I was trying to say, but you said it much better than I was thinking it."
As I exitted the bus, I got the impression that the universe had just taught me a valuable lesson, though I was just beginning to grok it.
I walked home, and remembered something.
There was a parable of a man praying to the Goddess Eris of Discord. Though a recent tale in terms of history, a parable all the same in my mind. He prayed long and hard, and she finally answered, through his FM radio. The music cut out and she said, "Yes?"
The man stammered and sang her praises.
"Oh Eris! Blessed Mother of Man! Queen of Chaos! Daughter of Discord! Concubine of Confusion! Oh, Exquisite Lady, I beseech you to lift a heavy burden from my heart."
With concern in her voice, she asked.
"What bothers you? You do not sound well."
He gathered himself and spoke.
"I am filled with fear and tormented with visions of pain. Everywhere people are hurting one another, the planet is rampant with injustices, whole societies plunder groups of their own people, mothers imprison sons, children die while brothers war. Woe is me."
Eris responded through the radio in an etheric voice.
"What is the matter with that? If it is what you want to do?"
He responded, angered, "But nobody wants this! Everyone hates it!"
Eris stops a moment, and proceeds to state the obvious.
"Oh. Well, then stop." At which point she turned into a radio commercial for Aspirin and left the man stranded alone with his species, to do exactly as they will, for better or worse.

Perhaps if we all took charge and responsibility of the world, we could be happier. It would be much easier if we just allowed the madmen to take us over and proclaim themselves gods among men, but we would have no control over our future.
I chose at that moment, when I left the bus, that I would do what I wanted to do to make this world a better place.

You have just seen the first example of what I will do. I was given an inquisitive mind, and talent in many regards, I intend to use them. Not for conquest or for popularity, but to inspire others to do even better than myself.
I dare you to do better than the best people in our species history, assuming our history is real at all.
When nothing is real, everything is possible.