Wednesday 5 January 2011

January 5- Powerless

Getting home after a day as long as them all, you find your house in darkness. It's almost a surprise, but not enough to worry you- your wife has been here less and less of late; you try and convince yourself that she's having an affair but you know the reality is she really is just working hard- you find that to be more frustrating, somehow. And quickly you find that frustration doesn't leave you, but is transferred to something else, as you flick the switch and find that no light comes.

You pause at this, horrified. Disbelieving, you hit the switch off, and on, then off again, as though you are an ancient priest still practising a defunct ritual, a primate hammering a button in an abandoned lab. You feel the hairs stand on end as you stare round your transformed house, feeling more alone than you did but a second ago. For in a way, it is the work of others that has abandoned you- suddenly a world full of things designed to make life easy and convenient for you is one you must navigate near-alone, and you have been thrust unwillingly into having to accept that you do need other people, you rely on them. And because of this you feel the absence of your wife and son and friend more keenly than ever before as you fumble through your house, stumbling over steps that have mischievously chosen this minute to suddenly appear beneath your feet.

It's over in a matter of seconds after that- a switch has turned off in the fusebox, you switch it on, humanity returns to your home at the speed of light. In minutes you have forgotten the mundane adventure you have had, when your wife returns you do not speak of it. Yet in the days to come you feel somehow even worse than before, aware of just how alone you are not, and somehow ever lonelier because of it.

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