Envy

Man boy, maybe 22 at the most. What looks like second hand clothes, a torn knapsack, a bottle of water, and an air mattress. Seems to be alone here at the camp ground. Seen him a few times this weekend. He floats down the river on top of his queen sized mattress, into the crystal clear spring, where he then lies on his stomach and digs goggles out of his knapsack to peer into the water and watch the divers or fish below him. He puts away his goggles and then dives into the icey water time and again with the biggest grin on his face each time he emerges with a shake of his head. When he has tired of this he pulls his mattress out of the water and finds a quiet spot away from the crowds to put it out in the sun, stretches out with an apple or sandwich he has removed from a plastic bag deep within that sack before setting it aside. After finishing his meal, he lays in the sun and naps.


I think right now I envy this man boy more than I ever have any other.

Cauchemar

A device meant to make you a better person. Meant to assist you in overcoming your fears and inhibitions; and to show you just what it all (life) holds for you if you don't do better, if you don't try harder, if you fail to go as far with this life as you are "supposed" to. Also meant as rehabilitation if, at any point in your success, you begin to slip. A gently nudging reminder of what lies at the end of the path to self destruction.

Sensory deprivation. Electrodes wires and clamps gently feeding you all of your surroundings, supporting cast of characters, thoughts, feelings and more. So realistic you'd never realize it wasn't until you were snapped back to the other reality. To the real reality. Snapped back with gratitude at the lesson learned.

I show up in a rush, frustrated that The Company has decided that their CEO needed a booster session from Cauchemar, but knowing that this is the policy I, myself, has implemented. Stopping to smile with an infant in the lobby hardly equates to "actions, thoughts, or emotions non-conducive to the further successful progression of oneself in all matters directly or indirectly in a position to influence the rate of prosperity of The Company." ( A gorgeous child. Green eyes. And those little ringlets of reddish-blonde curl sprouting around her ears...) A brief smile released and exchanged at the sound of a giggle brought forth by her Mum twirling her in the air near the fountain on the ground floor was caught on the security cameras and reported, as is company policy. Protocol mandates that if a smile is found to be wistful in nature, the bearer is required to undergo a full session on the réparation device. The only longing permitted by The Company's policy is that for continued acceleration of success.

I am greeted at the door by Cyril, the receptionist, and shown to my room without comment. It is a small room with dim lighting and no sound. The chair before me resembles that in a dentist's, but much plusher and with a slightly more elevated lower half, for raising the feet above the heart in order to assist in relaxation. I slip off my Manolos and Marc Jacobs pantsuit, lie them on the small rack provided in the corner of the room, and put on the sensoriels suit, designed to block the feel of the chair's touch on the body. It is a lightweight bodysuit that covers all exposed skin, leaving only the head and neck bare. I climb into the chair and instantly feel more relaxed, although I am mentally running through the things that need to be done, phone calls that need to be made, and contemplating changing the policy of The Company simply for wasting my time on this Tuesday morning.

Cyril waits patiently for me to finish preparing, and then presses a small button to the left of the door that makes no sound I can discern, signaling to the staff that I am ready for treatment. She smiles softly at me as she begins to leave the room.

"Enjoy this life as much as possible, I'll see you in a few hours."

I don't bother smiling back.

She walks out as Riley walks in and closes the door again behind her. I'm glad to see who will be handling me today. Riley is quiet. She will not want to to discuss why I might be here. She will not require me to review the full life I am about to live and experience in only a matter of a few hours on what would otherwise be a productive morning, upon my completion of the treatment. All the quicker I can get back to the office this afternoon.

Riley quickly and efficiently attaches the necessary nodules and wires to multiple points of contact on my suit, scalp and face. She pulls the articulated arm holding the helnel and slides it across the room towards me. She places the headgear around the upper half of the chair, enveloping me mostly in darkness and effectively cutting out the small amount of sound there was in the room. I feel only the slightest hint of a prick as the needle pierces the small area underneath my hairline just behind my right ear.

Instantly I can feel my body temperature rising, and a deep lethargy taking over. My last conscious thought is that I hope this time I am at least single.

I'm ready to wake up now.