Back to the ocean, face to a shiny car window that reflected a beautifully distorted sunset, I sat and thought, that day. There was a lot on my mind and I opened a book a friend was carrying, to sift through randomly. It doesn't help to read when you are thinking too much, because here is how it went:
Book: Next thing we did was t'call in ten of the surviving subjects to the lab and check them all over again. Did brain scans, switched over cognitive systems t'see that the junctions were working right.
Me: My bones are weak. I cant run a hundred meters without feeling like my insides are crying out in pain. I am losing weight. I should quit.
Book: Conducted detailed interviews, asked them whether they had any physical disorders, any auditory or visual hallucinations.
Me: It has been a long time since I gave an interview. I should find some work now. Go meet people. I'm too lazy.
Book: But none of them had any problems t'speak of. All were healthy and kept up a perfectly unremarkable career of shuffling jobs.
Me: I shuffle jobs. I wonder when I will find something worth sticking to. Something that does not run out of charm every few months. Something that I can't ever figure out and remains interesting forever.
Book: We could only conclude that the ones who died had had some a priori glitch in their brain that rendered them unsuitable for shuffling.
Me: This is so beautiful. Defining shuffling jobs as a legitimate career. Giving worth to the choice of freedom to perform what you want to and not become a rotting cog in a laaaaaarge wheel. I know a lot of people with that priori glitch. They call it security. I call it bullshit. I shuffle jobs. Good.
Book: We didn't have any idea what that glitch might be. That was something for further investigation, something t'be solved before attemptin' a second round of shuffling actualization.
Me: Wait. What? I don't get this.
No comments:
Post a Comment