On my way to work I stopped to check my mailbox, inside there was only one envelope. On the envelope was no sender or return address only my name, strange I thought but I opened the envelope anyway, it was written. “Your projected suicide date is approaching. For a minimal pain and low impact on the surrounding, please contact us as soon as possible. Regards, The human monitoring division”.
It was a generic letter, it even had a logo at the top of the page that was made of wheeling gears creating a circle. This is definitely the most disturbing publicity letter I have ever seen, although I didn’t have any idea for what kind of product it could be. No time for that, I cannot be late for work. Its rash hour, people seemed more aggressive than usual. It’s as if they don’t want to move from their path. I felt as a Salmon swimming against the stream. But instead of water it was herd of humans, trying to run me over. Not the best way to start my week, I thought.
Finally, I’m at work. No time for good morning to anyone. I put my headset and open my computer. But no request for technical support came through. While I heard my coworkers dealing with endless calls, my station was silent. I checked the internet connection, it was fine. I had no explanation. Frustrated I spent my shift looking to an empty screen. At the end of the day I run out from my cubical to the exit door. I didn’t want to talk with anybody and luckily for me it seems that nobody had nothing to say to me. At the first step at the street I got hit from the back by another pedestrian who was walking faster then me. I fell down, other people didn’t show any consideration to the fact that I’m trying to stand up. My hands and legs got stepped on a few times before I manage to get up. All the way home I needed to avoid other people to bump into me. Although I tried to keep my lane of walking once or twice it ended with me getting pushed aside.
Exhausted finally I got home. It’s already dark and my body is in pain from the fall. I’m taking my clothes off preparing to take a shower. Standing with my underwear I check the pockets of my pants. My wallet, I cannot find my wallet. This is the last thing I need. standing half naked the frustration was too much, I was close to tears. And then my phone makes a loud beep noise, I got a message. I don’t remember the last time I received a message or a phone call for that matter. the message said, “it’s only going to get harder. We can help. Contact the human monitoring division as soon as possible.” I cannot really say why did I reply “yes” to the text massage. There was part of me that wanted to know who sent the letter and the text. What is the human monitoring division? But if to be completely honest, I wanted to talk with someone, anyone. A minute later there was a knock on the door. I know that you are wearing only your underwear, said the voice from behind the door. I was terrified but I opened the door.
My name is Megan said the woman in front of me. She reaches her hand out for a hand shake. No time for pants she said while she let herself inside my apartment. She sat down on the only chair I had in my kitchen. I stood at the other side of the table trying to get my head around what is going on. Let’s get straight to business she said. we have some great options for you to kill yourself. All of them are with as less pain as possible and most important with minimal impact on the surrounding.
But I don’t want to kill myself I said, with a chocked voice. She looked at me with the most disappointed look I ever saw. Do I really need to explain it to you? She asked. Yes, I said. if someone want me to kill myself so much, I expect him to have the courtesy to tell me why. Very well she said, lets open your file. I was expecting a huge book with everything I did in my life. but instead she pulled one paper with my name written on it. Don’t look so disappointed she said, it’s only the important stuff.
Like what? I asked. You are thirty-six right now. Six years ago, you had three friends, you kept in touch with your mother and you had some small talk with your coworkers during lunch time. Four years ego your mom died and you kept in touch with only two friends. One-year ago you lost contact with your remaining friends and since then you are alone. The only people that you talk with are the customers that need technical support, and that you lost today. You cannot even walk on the street without being pushed and stepped on. But why? I cried. Don’t you get it? she asked. You are a nobody. What is that even mean? I asked, getting demoralize.
Megan sighed in a very dramatic way. Let me give it to you in a nutshell she said. Imagine everything and everyone around you as a wheeling gear that is spinning another wheeling gear. Millions and billions of moving parts making the world the way we know it. But once in a million, one of the moving parts has a momentary gap in his influence on the other parts. In that case the human monitoring division comes in and puts a temporary wheel, to fill up the gap. That is, you. The moment the wheeling gears are connecting back together there is no need for the temporary one anymore, this is what you are, a wheeling gear that did his short job and now is no longer needed. Your life is meaning less you are a nobody. You are no more than a disturbance to the flow of actions and counter reactions. So, please let’s choose a suicide method and get it over with.
What if I don’t want to? I said. I don’t think that you completely understand your situation, said Megan. She was mad. You will talk and nobody will listen, you will not be able to walk on the street without being pushed and stepped on. You are nothing, a nobody, nothing but a toll that did his job and now need to be disposed. I’m still alive, I move alone in the night when the streets are empty. I don’t talk, but I listen. If you see me you will not notice me. but if you do, maybe you are like me, a wheeling gear with nothing to connect to, a nobody that refuse to go away.
We have a place among the moving parts that make this world what it is. Between the shadows the nobody can be somebody.