Thursday, May 8, 2014

We were given shelter part 7

The screen was on. Mika was not imagining it. There was an office on it. It was the office of the Mayor.
The Mayor himself emerged from a door and walked to his desk. Sitting down with a cup of coffee in his hand he began talking.
Good morning. There have been some clever adjustments of mobiles out there so that some of you have tuned out my messages. So I have gifted you, and this is a gift, with screens. All over town you will find them. They are part of the new connectivity. My every day will be available to you, everything except what I do in that room back there. That might sound sinister, but is not. I sleep in there. A place removed from view. The only place I go that no one records me. Sleep is mine. Sleep is death. I don’t share death. I share life. Every sneeze, snot, scratch, bloody nose and other excretions is given a view. These are life. Closed eyelids are death and not shown.
I sit in my office already fully wrapped in a suit, drinking coffee and writing. It isn’t coffee it is something that barely resembles the idea of coffee. I like the idea of coffee. I do not like drinking this. Visually this may evoke the idea of coffee. I like the idea of coffee. It’s one of those things we need back. I talk and I write about the promised return of coffee, People invented the whole world over coffee. In days when alcohol was safer to drink then water, coffee appeared to preserve ideas, sober thoughts which formed our present ideas of society and life itself. We are in another era where alcohol is safer than water and we need coffee back. We probably won’t get coffee but we can talk about it and how we yearn for the idea of it.

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