Parochial men from the long-begone 21st- century arrogantly claimed that humanity’s future, which is where we are now, will be a chaotic whirl of socioeconomic inequalities and murdered creativity. Like a less homicidal Holocaust that targets the destitute. Or like a prison painted by symmetrical rainbows with fixed widths. 

I believe that bloody contentions used to exist because freedom is cherished in a faulty way: people naively believed their unshackled projection of voices in stupid protests about wealth disparity and gender inequality and blah blah supposed “human rights” were the demonstration of a free society. And that society will become dilapidated into uncreativity and despondency if it were to regulate otherwise. 

But how we in the 30th- century bloom with inventiveness and the epitome of individual rights, they never deigned to imagine! And it was all thanks to our Handbook of Rights and Peace, digitally inserted into our brains since birth: the almighty bombardment of human rights and further guidance to foster more creativity.

It was an April morning, with LED-lit pink cherry blossoms that pulsated with lurid colors every time they detected a pedestrian’s presence. It was on that day that I murdered my husband, Fortunato, but only in the scientific sense that I ended his heartbeat. I sure am innocent. According to page 147 of the Handbook of Rights and Peace ruling that “all actions to express individual creativity are morally righteous,” I was merely blossoming seeds of my creativity through Fortunato. The Handbook says I am innocent. I must have been the pioneer in utilizing the virtually controlled flying machine to plunge an automatically spinning watermelon knife down a person’s throat to rescue the world from his stupid words! I must have also been the first to ever make use of virtual reality to take a person deserving of death to hell. Page 77 of the Handbook proclaims that “all actions meant for the worldly good should be celebrated.” So the murder was a “positive good” rather than a “necessary evil.” I must replace the word “murder” with the term “humanitarian auxilium” from the Handbook’s glossary. 

I stood serenely to watch Fortunato relish the end of his struggling life because the Handbook suggests “women to thrive with unbounded calmness and strength.” (The feminist-related altercations in the past 21st- century would have been relieved of violent protests if the Handbook were there to guide women against futile protests.) “With creativity comes beauty,” writes the Handbook, and no words can describe its accuracy in that! I saw the blueness of Fortunato’s blood elegantly swimming out of his symmetrically open jaws. Stupid people claim that blood used to be red like machine apples before the supposed pollution corroded our planet. Their stupidity must have warped them from remembering that, on page 183, the Handbook rules that “near threats are illusions.” Anyway, the blue fountain of blood was like a mottled tapestry of azure punctuated by Fortunato’s occasional gasps similar to where clouds broke in blue skies. The shafts of his crystalline deformation morphed into an intense, shade of ineffable beauty that Fortunato was never able to experience if not for my creativity in maximizing 30th-century technology. My house became a Fuschia haven of civil tranquility when Fortunato’s body jerked a series of serpentine shadows on the kitchen wall. “Ingenuity must always be rewarded (page 252).” The Handbook, my mentor! 

I heard Fortunato murmur something before I used a virtually controlled remote to place him into a neatly adorned sepulcher of 3D printed pearls and jewels. The Handbook suggests that I heard “Thank you.” Of course, I will accept his gratitude for creating his sublime beauty. He is as fortunate as the name the Handbook bestowed upon him at birth. Fortunato!

The Holocaust, as we learned, was the role-playing of humans as hunting cats and cowardly rats. But in the 30th- century, that glimmers under the emerald froth of the righteous Handbook, we are equal, silent but free. I am creative. I am thoughtful. I am brave. Hence, I am innocent in this golden age.