Tuesday Night Post #30
Numbers,
The big Three O. Here is a new one. Don't know where its going but I think it is.
-DBL
* * * * *
Nikky 1
(Future Past)
In a box moving but movement is not registered. Periodically she glances at anything of interest that the glance before missed. After a panoramic view of the boxcar she settles back into herself. The seat is soft but after a few hours it is as abrasive as the nasty looks she sometimes catches on her checks on reality. She feels heavier then usual, this and the thought of the flatten seat holding her up reminds her of the space she fills. A look down to the floor settles on her hands. “Plumpy bumpy mitts”, she thinks to herself. How she hates these trips to the OB/GYN. She curses the fact that all is automated but why not this? Lots of things can be done at the comfort of her home but if it wasn’t for the fact that officially she has to make an appearance to make this visit, official. She is glad that birth control is free and government issued, but it makes her feel like a child to think officially she can’t take the responsibility to administer it herself. For the safety of the whole a single birth can not be over looked, nor can a single abortion be misused. She sometimes wishes she could be of the percentage that officially had to be sterilized. Free from these visits on a steady simple course as part of a very proud work force. It was beyond her why she was unaltered and able to proving for the gene pool, if she was called upon. In a way it was a small but uplifting compliment in what she thought was quite a meaningless complicated life.
Staring out the window, at all the blurry colors, turning into thoughts slowly finding their way in her mind, her eyes might as well have been closed. She saw herself comfortably at home. Her home also her workplace was her world. The paper work came; she filled it, dated it, sent it, and loved it. It was one of the few things in life she felt she understood. No voice, no commands, just a simple message that she was done. Diligently she finished her daily quota. For after that she could enter her real Self. A Self, created by her, in her image, an image projected by her wants.
See saw herself seated in the device. The device was a simple device, not many wires or dials. It looked like a cozy leather seat, one in which you can feel relaxed, but not asleep. A user friendly device that figured a world and self image conjured up by monthly surveys on your wishes, wants, by physiological and psychological read outs, and nostalgic views of your past. It pixaled the circle, righting what was wronged. There was one in every household paid by taxes and required by the general surgeon. On her way back from her voyage, in her true Self, she felt light, well spirited and ready to go out and experience life. It never lasted for more then ten minutes. If the time one could spend in the chair were not regulated she would have spent more waking hours in it.
From the dreamy thoughts of the chair there came a big leather purse that woke her of her daydream. Packed with workers the boxcar’s air thinned by the musk and dust. A heavy silent settled on her chest. Droned looks parted the curd air. How she hated this outside world. To feel alone in a field of life stock made this ride one she could not shake. Existence crowded her being. Her shoulders rubbing on what made this time, this present moment more then she can recall. Left to remember why she is a citizen of humanity she was shuttled to her official appointment.
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