As the title suggests, this is the 2nd chapter in this story. You can read the first here.
Chapter 2
I smile and attempt to make eye contact with the human standing directly in front of me, but there is zero recognition that I am here. I increase my smile to a level of what should be obnoxious. Still nothing. I finally use some words and, still smiling, say hello. There is still no response, no indication that this person has any idea that I exist or that I am trying to communicate with them. I say hello a little louder and as I am starting to get a bit frustrated, I almost reach out a hand to touch them. That’s when I notice the signs that this human is completely lost.
They begin to move forward, still oblivious to their surroundings. My instinct is to stay put and force them into the reality in front of them. Instead, I step out of the way and let them waddle past, dazed, unresponsive and catatonic.
Well, problem solved, I think to myself. All my smiling and attempted communication was just to be able to get around them to get some carrots.
I step forward and start to analyze the carrots being offered and as I reach out my hand to pick my preferred bag, I hear someone say my name.
It’s an acquaintance. I was introduced to Todd by a friend and hadn’t seen him in years. At one point, we had done some riding together shared some thoughts and ideas, you know, human things. He seemed like what some would consider a solid dude, but we had fallen out of touch.
Todd pats me on the back and grabs my hand for a firm shake. The human interaction is a relief in this place and I immediately find myself smiling, this time out of pleasure.
“Seth!” He starts the conversation with the animated gestures described. “How the hell have you been?”
“Oh man, I’ve been well. Just doing the things. How about you?” It’s a canned response, but also accurate.
“Pretty excellent.” His response is also canned, almost mechanical. “Are you still living here? I kind of assumed you had moved seeing that you more or less disappeared.”
I’m caught off guard by being disappeared seeing that I haven’t gone anywhere or done anything much differently than what I was doing when we spent our time together so many years ago. Nonetheless, I hadn’t seen Todd so, sure, I guess I had disappeared.
“Yea. Still living in the same house around the corner. How about you?”
“Oh for sure. Still here. I changed jobs which changed my schedule around significantly and the…”
Without noticing, his words trail off. Similar to the last person I tried to interact with, I smile and lean in attempting to give the impression that I was still interested and still in front of him. His face fades and in the same instance that I am leaning in, he pulls a 3”X5” box out of his pocket. It’s vibrating and has stolen his attention. Instead of finishing his sentence, he swipes open the screen.
And then he’s gone.
He never again makes eye contact, but instead, slowly moves away with the box in front of him touching it, tapping at it and swiping around. I think to myself, “Who disappeared?” Whatever, I need carrots.
I find a suitable bag and think the same thing that I always think when buying vegetables in a plastic bag. There is something wrong here. I toss them into my basket and move toward the avocados. Ensuring that I don’t run into anyone, I scan the space around me. There are several humans milling about, processing the veggies, looking to see which are best. Every single one of them has this distant look on their faces. Outside of the visual stimulus they are clearly processing to pick their food, none of them seem to have a clue about what is happening around them.
I ponder what would happen if I stripped naked and ran around the grocery store screaming. Would any of these people even notice? Probably not. I pause seriously considering testing my hypothesis, but move onto the next task at hand, beans, but before I do, I can’t help but notice every single person has this weird little white thing hanging from their ears. I know what it is. I shake my head confused at how this is somehow an improvement on reality and walk toward the aisle containing beans.
I can tell I’m getting old as I think to myself that things weren’t always this way. You used to go to the grocery store and interact with other humans. I remember movies about the idea of bumping into someone with your cart and then the spark, the love at first sight. Or even just seeing a friend. Bumping into Todd, I was excited to actually interact with someone and I can’t help but believe that he was as well.
And that is the last thing they have stolen from us.
My brain starts rolling down the history list. It all started with our simple ability to move. It took them decades to successfully win that one, but they did. I knew that battle was over when little motorized scooters starting showing up at the grocery store, the machine brought you there and dumped you into another little helper so humans didn’t have to move at all, even to get their food. And soon they couldn’t. At first the scooters were an amenity for folks who had completely succumbed. Now, it is expected that at some point you will end up using one of these scooters even to the point that you will be awarded if you make it through all the diseases created by our masters to the end of “your” life and lose your ability to drive. Then you get a scooter so you can pretend like you are still mobile and free.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
There has been a pile up on Aisle 3.
Two scooters attempting to pass their humans side by side have collided. One is attempting to back up emitting a cautionary beep only to be blocked by the shelving behind them. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. The other scooter is immobile. Both humans are helpless seemingly incapable of doing anything to remedy the situation. The one sitting hoping that suddenly their transport returns to being while the other goes back and forward, back and forward, somehow thinking that they will eventually get unstuck. Neither thinks to get off the cart, to do anything for themselves.
Back and forward. Back and forward. Back and forward.
Beans. They are stuck directly in front of the beans on Aisle 3. I’m tempted to just wait it out, see what happens, but feel this makes me an accomplice to the machines. Instead, I walk up and offer to help.
“Alright, hold up.” I say to the human still moving.
He looks up. His eyes wide with fear. “What should I do?”
“Well, I can probably get you unstuck, but you’ll have to get off the scooter for a minute so I can move it.”
His eyes grow wider and the blood drains from his face. He vacillates. Then looks down in shame.
“Ca, Can, Can you help me up?” He stammers.
“Sure thing.” I take his hand and then as he tries to swing a leg out, I grab his leg and help him get it around the front of the scooter. Once both feet are on the same side, I begin to pull as he is trying to stand. Just as he is about to stand, I hear what I interpret to be a scooter horn. It is. There is someone now directly behind me fucking honking. Seriously? What the hell is going on here?
The man I am attempting to help looks as bewildered as ever and we have to decide to finish getting him up to move his cart or let him back down and deal with the other machine behind me. I let him decide and as he is indoctrinated to do, gives the moment to the machine. I lower him back down and turn around while the honking continues.
The human being transported isn’t even looking up. He has his box in front of him, white sticks in his ears and is seemingly oblivious to anything around him. I tap him on the shoulder. He looks up for two seconds and then keeps honking. I tap him again. Same response. I reach up and pull the stick out of one of his ears. Anger is broadcast on his face, but I can now at least attempt to communicate. He instinctively grabs at the stick still not recognizing why he can’t move forward.
“Honking is not helping this situation!” I throw the statement at the man like a high five to his face. The directness is enough for him to focus for a few seconds.
“Stop honking for two goddamned seconds so we can get this sorted out.”
He looks at me, nods and then finally assesses the situation. I ask him to back up and chill for a second. He does and I return to the first man to restart the process.
With three scooters and their slaves sitting in the aisle, I begin unmingling the situation. The man I was previously helping is still sitting with both legs on the one side of the scooter fear still on his face as he has little confidence in my ability to move him. I walk back over and with some effort get him standing and off the scooter. I grab the back of the machine and scootch it around allowing enough room for it to go pass the other.
Then I help the man back on reversing the process of getting him up. Once lowered back into his seat, he looks up to me with tears pushing out of his eyes, “I haven’t always been this way, you know?”
I give him my best smile of reassurance and then, not knowing what else to do, I introduce myself.
“I’m Seth.” I say and reach out my hand.
He shakes it. “I’m Horus.”
Now I’m at a loss. The human interaction feels nice but it is also so out of the ordinary that I’m not sure what to do with it. I’ve just met a man at the grocery store who is having a moment and I’m not entirely equipped with how to deal with it.
Beep!
The third scooter has begun to honk again.
“It’s nice to meet you Horus,” I reply. He reciprocates and we move out of the way of the man on the machine trying to get down Aisle 3. I grab a can of beans and Horus starts rolling down the aisle. As I walk away, I look back to see him put his sticks into a small box and drop them into the basket.
I finish up my shopping dodging small machines and blank-stared humans. I gather my few bags and then walk out into the sun. The immediate vicinity of the grocery store is like a fortress for the machines. There’s probably 50 sitting, waiting.
My first steps are cautious. The machines don’t care if they run you over. They have complete access to the space and it’s almost like their night club. A place for them to associate, mingle and dance.
The dance is awkward, as most night club dances are. There’s usually one that is a bit more aggressive and the other is trying to get out of the way as not to dance, but can’t quite shake the first. There are steps forward and back, pauses, missteps. There might even be a little audible communication, a honk or a blare of the horn. Then one flips out of the stalemate and whips into a stall becoming a wallflower in the lot, sitting, waiting.
As I walk out onto the barren, blackened paved earth, I feel like I am stepping onto a battlefield. I only live a few blocks away and while they still allow for a small slit of land on the edge of the road for humans to walk unaccompanied, it’s assumed that you are risking your life to do this one thing that we evolved to do, walk. And let’s be honest, most of my neighbors can’t walk or at least tell me they can’t. I’m not sure they’ve ever tried.
I’m well versed in traversing the battlefield of my city. I stepped out of my car years ago and have little to no desire to step back in. If there is anything astounding about the slavery we are subjected to, it’s how easy it is to escape. Our mechanical masters assume no human has the ability or at the minimum the desire to do anything on their own. Completely perpetuating their reign.
There are two mandatory keys to getting through a machine ruled city under human power. First, you must be incredibly vigilant attempting to see and know where everyone is and where they intend to go. Second, you have to walk big. Not that the machines will be scared of you, but by occupying space confidently, they are more likely to notice you and will make a minimum effort as to not kill you. After all, they do depend on us as well.
I move out of the grocery store scanning the horizon for oncoming vehicles and their transports. Then head in the general direction of my house. The parking lot is the most dangerous place to be, much like most human nigh clubs, these ones tend to have a lot of distractions and precious few rules on how to interact.
After safely navigating the parking lot, I move onto the sidewalk and fall into the rhythm of human motion. I’m about halfway home when I hear a car creep up behind him. I’ve learned it’s usually best to hold your line and not interact unless forced to do so. I continue walking.
The vehicle gets closer and is barely moving. I can feel its presence and energy. There is a nervousness that is building inside me as my adrenaline starts to kick in. I’m ready for a fight. Then the inevitable horn beeps.
I turn around to see why I am being bothered or maybe why the car feels like I am bothering it. The honk was a short one, a staccato of a beep. This can mean the driver is at least trying to be courteous or that it is someone friendly. To my surprise, I see Horus behind the wheel waving at me his face bright with a smile.
“I thought that was you.” He says.
“Yup, just heading home.” I respond.
“Do you live close by or would you like a ride?”
“Oh I’m good. I just live around the corner and try to always use my own power when I can.”
I can see the last part of that statement confuses him or at the very least is having a hard time gaining any purchase in his thoughts.
“Really? I live couple of blocks over. We’re neighbors.” This catches me off guard. How can I be neighbors with someone without even knowing they exist until they get stuck on their go-cart at the supermarket? I’m genuinely disappointed in myself.
“Interesting.” I respond, “What house do you live in?”
“The grey stucco one with the chain link fence around the perimeter.”
“I’m in the bright blue one.”
We exchange some more pleasantries and then Horus is whisked away. I wonder if I will ever see him again. We didn’t broach the subject of how long he’s lived there. I’ve been in the same house for years. I start to walk deep in thought pondering how disconnected we have become.
22 days later.
I know the exact day because Todd put a bullet in his head 3 days after I saw him at the grocery store punctuating my life timeline. Of course, that fact lingers making me regret letting him wander off without even finishing our conversation. While I made an effort to interact with him, I was not forceful, nor did I follow up to see how he was doing. That combined with the disconnect between my neighbors and I, well, things have been sitting in a weird spot.
It’s a delightful morning. The sun has just risen casting the dawn glow across my garden. I’m in the same state as I was in the grocery store, walking up and down the aisles searching for food. Just this time it’s in a natural state. I planted the food and have been tending to its needs coaxing the little green shoots up into full grown plants that provide me with sustenance. I bend over and pull up a shoot of grass that has grown up through my soil.
The voice is shaky, unsure, timid, but someone definitely said my name. I stand up turning toward the street. To my surprise, Horus is standing on the other side of the fence. His face glows matching the morning light. He’s breathing hard.
“Seth, is that you?”
“Yup. How are you?”
“Fantastic,” he responds. “It’s a glorious morning, isn’t it?”
“I was just thinking the same thing. What are you up to?”
“Well, this may sound a bit strange, but ever since that day in the grocery store, something you said stuck with me. You said something along the lines of you try to do whatever you can under your own power. I couldn’t shake the idea that I had lost the ability to do so. Since then, I’ve started walking. At first it was just to the corner where I would have to rest and then around the block. Today, I’m hoping to get four full blocks in. Once that feels easy, I’m going to walk to the grocery store and back.”
“Wow. That’s awesome.” I respond, “How far into your walk are you today?”
“Your house is almost exactly two blocks from mine.”
“So two more to go?”
“Yup.”
“Mind if I join you for the remainder?”
Horus looks at me with a giant grin and replies, “I’d like that, but aren’t you busy in your garden?”
“Not really. The food grows itself, I really just watch it and the weeds have already been pulled.”
Horus and I head out a few minutes later walking at his pace stopping when needed so he can catch his breath. The two blocks back to his house only take about ten more minutes and our conversation is pretty shallow, mostly small talk about things that have little importance. As we near his house, he brings up the time in the grocery store when we met offering an explanation of his current state.
“You know, Seth, I really haven’t always been this way. I ran track in high school and used to love going hiking. Then life happened. I got married and started working full time. Soon I just went to work, sat, went home, sat, and repeated day after day. The weight slowly set in and I can’t recall how, but there was a time when I just realized I didn’t do anything. Sure, I tried a couple of times, but it was so hard, I couldn’t keep myself motivated to continue long enough for it to be significant.”
I nod and listen.
“Then my wife passed away unexpectedly and I dove deep into eating. It feels like that is all I ever did, eat and sit. God, I never move. It all feels like it’s normal and I look around and it seems normal, but how is it? I’m a human. There are millions of years of evolutionary development to get me to the point that I can be bipedal and then I don’t move and use four rubber tires to get everywhere. I want to be able to walk again. Maybe even run.”
I smile. “You know the interesting thing about what they’ve taken from us, is that it is incredibly simple to take back and simultaneously difficult to do. We all know we need to move, to walk. I mean, we even have devices strapped to our wrists that count our steps to show us how little we do move to motivate ourselves to do so. And then what do we do? We let machines whisk us around the city, open the door for us, take us up the stairs, communicate for us, we’ve handed them the key to our own slavery and thanked them for taking it.”
Horus looks at me with a gaze that suggests I’ve just voiced what he’s been thinking, feeling.
Nodding his head, he replies, “I’ve never thanked you for helping me that day in the grocery store and the more time that goes by, the more I feel like that was a point of disruption for me. I don’t want to be a slave anymore.”
Chapter 3 available here.
Embrace Chaos. Seek Discomfort.
