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11.27.2015

This is more likely to be a brainstorming section. I want ot start off the novel with the man who hallucinates. This guy will be Tern Schoff. Schoff is a negative word on Urban Dictionary, so that’s a no-go. Could this be at a time when people own nothing, really? We’re trending toward people renting or subscribing to things. If we thought the world was expensive when we owned things, think how much more we might spend when we have to rent everything, forever. There’s always going to be revenue from a thing for a long time. There’s no way to make per-use cost drop over time with repeated use. The more you use it, in this world, the more things cost. The servicification of the world. Perhaps food isn’t even purchased. It comes with a contract to sell/send the waste back to the company that leased you the calories, and they use the waste for fuel and fertilizer. Can figure out a last name later. Anyway,

Tern stands in line waiting for the bus to arrive. The man in front of him is holding a lunch bag that has a slow drip in it. Every few seconds a drop detaches from the seam of the bag and falls to the concrete walkway. Once it hits the ground, splatters, merges with the rest of the previously fallen drops (except for those specks that reached escape velocity and came to rest on was-dry parts of the concrete), the water runs downhill, and helps the small rivulet advance a few centimeters further. The man holding the lunch box knows it’s dripping, or he must know. This is the second day this week that Tern has stood behind him and watched the drops fall. Like teardrop space ships reaching escape velocity to leave the well, only to be hit head on by a solar storm. The annoying thing is that this person would drip their way onto the bus, along the aisle down the bus, and then, if it wasn’t too congested today, onto one of the bus’ fabric seats. Once that bag took its seat, the melting would continue, and the liquid would continue to make its way out of the bag, and, this time, merely dampen the seat. A 20 minute ride would be enough to make the pants of future passengers wet for the rest of the day. What a criminal act. But, of course, the man has no way to connect with those he imparts a soggy ass to, so he has no concept of the fact he is impacting anyone at all. The gravest problems of the day is that a person can ruin the day for countless others and be completely oblivious to it. The disconnect between cause and effect. Now it felt like Tern’s moral obligation lie in passing this knowledge along to this hapless rider, so he gave a loud exhale before tapping the gentleman on the shoulder. The man’s head reflexively turned a few degrees before a higher oder sensibility kicked in to ignore the bid. His feet shuffled a few centimeters further forward, and now the drops grew a footprint there too. Tern exhaled an exhausted sign, and cleared his throat a bit before tapping the man’s shoulder again, having to reach a little further to reach him. “Excuse me.” The man’s eyes made their way all the way around to look him up and down in a single, fluid glance before swinging right back around. “Excuse me, your bag is dripping.” The passenger continued to ignore Tern, but he couldn’t keep from hearing the words as Tern said them. “And I’m afraid it will make the seats wet for those who ride later.” “Okay.” Acknowledgment, at last! “Thanks,” he replied, as the man brought the bag from hanging from a hand at his side to hanging from both hands directly in front of him at waist height. A new river began here. When the bus arrived a moment later, the line slowly shuffled its way aboard. Pass reader chiming for each to board. A few pocketfuls of coins jingling their way into the fare taker for the occasional riders. The man in front of Tern made his way back further than necessary, passing a few open seats, until he found two free side-by-side. Down sat his ass, and down came his wet bag, deforming to the molding of the seat. Tern had taken a seat further up, and watched the man sit. The man made eye contact with Tern and gave a little sneer. Tern now saw how people later today who would have their asses wet would have him, Tern, to blame. Small part on the back for mentioning it, but a big middle finger for not making a difference. Now, that man would have a reason to plop his leaky bag on a fresh seat every morning. Just so he could have the satisfaction of pissing off Tern. The second gravest problem of the day was that the well-intentioned made the original problems worse when confronting them because there was no solution mentioned or force applied in addressing the concern. All the seats get wetter by the day.