Nksor Beezo Level: 46      Posts: 401/478 EXP: 662984 For next: 48790 Since: 04-27-11 Pronouns: they/them From: olympia, wa Since last post: 3.6 years Last activity: 3.6 years 
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| "Good Morning…"
"I'm ready for my morning tune-up. Do you mind? May you do that for me?" He peered up and down the large computer, as to examine it. His eyes were popping out, bloodshot, and twitching; from first glance you could tell that he was sleep deprived. Yet he listened to the computer's every command… he had lost his mind, perhaps. All he cared about anymore was the flashing lights that extruded from the shell, the fan that whirred about, and the errors it ran across. To him, the computer was as valuable as a child or a woman – things he threw away long ago. He reached into his desk drawer as to find his screwdriver. He glanced up to the desk. For days, weeks, months, maybe even years, it had been his bed, his dining table, his bathroom, and his storage facility. Where he did his "human things". The computer was so far superior to him. Why couldn't he be a computer? The best he could do is help the mainframe beside him function. With screwdriver in one hand, and his other hand caressing the sweet, sweet mold of plastic - he could feel the innards of his modern abacus stir around at his touch. He adjusted the computer as to make the backside face him, and undid the screws, one by one. He made sure to lay the screws side by side, as to not lose them. He removed the backside, displaying the parts of the machine in plain view. He instantly spotted a small problem; he replaced a few wires, tightened some parts, and ran some diagnostics. Everything seemed good to go. The computer seemingly sighed in pleasure. That noise was pleasing to him… at this point, half of the reason he's even slaving himself to the machine anymore is to hear the computer's whimsical responses. He reapplied the backside, and adjusted the computer back to where it was before. With screwdriver still in hand, he fell backwards to the floor. Nearly passing out, he took the small moment of silence to think. "How long have I been doing this? Am I wasting my life to serve this… this… machine? Why am I not happy? This is what I had dreamed to do. I have everything I'd ever want… this - this is the dream! Or is it? Is the dream a simpler life? Maybe I'd be more content if I worked hard for my living. Is that what I want? Where is my happiness?" "Good Morning…" "Honey, wake up. It's time to go to work." In South Africa, it isn't strange for a young child to work brutal jobs, even at 9 years old. There are the richer parts, of course – but the divide was strong. And, unfortunately, most people ended up on the "poorer" side. She grabbed a half-eaten piece of raw meat and shoved it into her pack, which also contained a flask of dirty water and an additional set of rags to change into, should the set she's wearing fall apart. Before she would go to the gold mine of which her entire family worked, she had a plan she wanted to try out. The single-roomed hut that her family of 6 lived in was positioned directly under a cliff. At the top of the cliff, about 30 feet up, was where the "rich" people lived. The kind of people that had everything they'd ever want. One might say that they're the happy ones. If only she could get up there… maybe she could finally get the happiness that she and her family deserved. She dug her long, yellowed fingernails into the loose dirt that the cliff was composed of. At 40 lbs, she was awful light, which allowed her to maneuver pretty well. She dug her feet into the dirt and began climbing up. She tried to mimic the "rock climbers" from America that she had seen in loose newspapers that had blown by. She had made it up a few feet and felt immense hope and strength fill her body. She looked up, as to examine how far she had to go. She saw two pale white men dressed in fancy suits and a gaunt woman in a large, dazzling dress. They glared down at her, and then quietly spoke to each other. She couldn't make out what they were saying; as they were speaking in a tongue she didn't understand. She did, however, hear laughter erupt from their lips and saw their shoulders shake as they chuckled. One of the men stepped back out of view, and the other two people turned around as to watch what he was doing, still laughing hysterically. The man came back with a garden hose of some sort. He turned it on, spraying it in the little girl's face. She screamed, but still held on tight. The man frowned and shrugged his shoulders. The other man began to pick up small rocks and chuck them at the girl. As she was attempting to avoid the rocks coming down on her, she felt water on her hands. She then saw what the man was doing. He was turning the cliff to mud, using his hose, as to make her lose her grip and fall. She attempted to hold on tight, but her mental endurance wouldn't break the laws of physics. She lost her grip and tumbled down the ground below, mud splattering on top of her. She heard another burst of laughter, and then footsteps as the people at the top of the cliff walked away. She thought to herself, "Why me? Why can't I be privileged, like the people in America, or the people at the top of the cliff? If I had everything I'd ever want, like those people, I'd be sure to be happy! Yet, that rush never comes… Where is my happiness?" As she said this, the world faded into static… |
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