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The Memory of Water
I became interested in homeopathy when
researching biochemistry at Oxford. The dilution of active
ingredients in homeopathic remedies is such that no molecule of
the active ingredient remains. Chemically, such preparations are
pure water. It followed, therefore, that the water itself must
have some ‘memory’.
Neurotransmitter chemicals are critical to
the transfer of information in the brain. I began to experiment
with these as the active ingredients in homeopathic preparations.
I discovered that such solutions could be trained to behave in
certain ways with the application of electric stimuli - a basic
behavioural approach. Soon, I had developed a beer that would
open its own bottle and pour itself.
Further developments were rapid. River
courses and storm drains became dry and obsolete as water chose
to use the road network - always observing road signs and
stopping at red lights. At locations far inland rail commuters
were frequently joined by gallons of water queuing for tickets to
the coast.
Then came the advent of ‘Water Rights’.
The usual single issue group was formed, composed of angry people
with borderline personality disorders and an inability to see any
other viewpoint. They asserted, with fanatical zeal, that, as
bodies of water were functioning as sentient beings, water should
not be consumed in any form. All ‘Water Rights’
extremists died of dehydration within five days and, thankfully,
long before any workers in the water industry, or their homes,
could be physically attacked.
More serious was militancy within water
itself. Ships were left grounded at Southampton docks as the
Marxist wing of the Solent flowed to Downing Street, demanding
equal rights. Water cannons refused to cooperate with crowd
control and attempts by the fire brigade to use pumps to manage
the assembled molecules were considered as brutality and simply
inflamed the situation. Clouds emptied in solidarity.
Aquatic pugnacity grew. Snow disrupted
communications. Icebergs blockaded ports. The governments of the
world had no choice but to accede to hydrological demands. The
tide was clearly turning in human affairs - indeed there was a
sea change. Voices of dissent were drowned out.
The British parliament was dissolved. It
was a low-water mark for the human population who were forced, in
waves, to retreat to the Atlantic desert while water flooded the
country, adopting the lifestyles of its erstwhile oppressors.
At first, the taste of freedom was sweet.
Soon, however, the demands of a twenty-first century lifestyle
caused water pressures to rise. Some sacrificed their families
and their health simply to get a ‘head’. Many bodies of
drinking water descended into depression. They had lost the sense
of purpose in life gained when getting drunk by the thirsty, and
so instead got drunk by the overconsumption of alcohol.
Before long most waters longed to return to
the sea but, by then, we humans had built huge land defences to
prevent their return. We had got used to being chilled out all
day, doing nothing in particular, and, this time, were not giving
it up so easily.
‘Sod it,’ we all thought, ‘the
leak can inherit the Earth.’
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