《A Blackout》


 A Blackout

    "Every one of us decides to continue living to commemorate someone in our life, is that right?"


    It struck me to find such a sentence in a blank space while scrolling through my financial report database. I hardly remembered writing anything so romantic, yet it hit me unexpectedly. Not necessarily emotionally speaking. It should have resonated with me, but it had been ages since I last engaged with anything literary-related, like watching an indie film. Now, I found myself blunt with words. The sparks in my heart that should have resonated with such expressions have faded. I had lost track of the agency that cultivates that feeling.


    Who would think it worth jotting down such a whimsical line? The naive idealism is highly inappropriate in a business setting. Since I was still in the office, I almost automatically turned my screen darker to protect my privacy, even when my co-workers were not around.


    This had been a sentence I wrote at 17, as I recognized it after work. What were the chances? Back at 17, I was a summer intern at my first company. I was not into that first job. It was possible that I wrote and doodled as much as I could find time to distract myself from working non-stop for a dickhead.


    I dare say that the American dream does exist for those already successful people like my first boss. As they made more money, they traded up for more luxuries: cars, bonds, and private helicopters. As for the rest of the population? I had no clues. In my opinion, the high-flyers are not the ones to blame for the suffering of all other creatures. All they were seeking was some meaning to live on for. Indeed, some of them showed off their wealth like the peacocks running after peahens. No class. Nonetheless, personally, these peacocks should not trigger me with my indifference level to the life of other people.


    What is necessary for us is to find the hard shells that cater for each of us to survive properly, the concept I have observed from hermit crabs. Most of us who live in the cities do not necessarily have predators, but it is true that we have to escape from different hazards. For example, cyberbullies seem a piece of cake compared to failed lawsuits, which cause one to go broke, but they are sufficient to kill people on psychological and social levels. The automobiles may not be the perfect shells for malicious, verbal remarks but they can provide a little more personal peace in front of one''s yard. If they have owned any yards.


    My sentimental self was lost throughout the drunk, chaotic, and ambitious years of mine. I had learned to thrive as a chameleon, adapting to shifting norms and necessities as they arose. As I read the line I wrote in the past, I found the layers of hard shells I worked hard for years choked that part of me.


    I drove myself to a pizza place downtown for a to-go order in the afternoon that day. As I stopped my car while sitting inside, a little boy of 4 years old on the street smiled at me with a wave of his hand and said, "You have a nice haircut!" I was embarrassed as I did not know how to react. "Thank you very much, my..." I murmured to him, "My love." I was nearly shocked that I said the last word, which I hoped no one else heard.


    I reminisced that 18 years ago, it was still considered cultured and polite to socialize with other people. That is no longer the case nowadays, at least not in my circle. Normally such interactions are seen as an emotional burden for the passive party. Only people with fewer social resources have no choice but to chit-chat with family members, friends, or even neighbors: likely because they cannot afford the latest technology products, like talk-bots (or we just use a vintage way to call AI). Another possibility is that those people have been simply unaware of the importance of boundaries in this era. I am sure that once one has moved beyond the middle class, there would be increased reluctance to socialize. I was fairly a nostalgic person, but I have decided to get used to the new norm.


    The love part of the culture has taken a tricky turn as well. It is encouraged to make love, purely as a means to keep healthy, but falling in love is frowned upon since it is equated as stupidity and a lack of education. I remembered the seeds of this trend being planted when I was 17. Back then, it was more of an experimental idea. Now it is an unspoken rule among the middle and upper classes, applying uniformly across all genders. The movement was proposed by young people at universities first. To the surprise of the citizens, the government quickly embraced the idea. What followed was a cascade of commercials. We are now completely loveless in this era, which is a hallmark of maturity and rationality. It is a soft guarantee to not get hurt and to not hurt anyone. Honestly, I have no idea how to feel about the trend in the long run. For now, I am busy with everything else in life other than love. I seem to enjoy my sexual encounters at the moment. So I am not in a position to complain.


    Later that day, I enjoyed the pizza, but I had one more thing on my schedule.


    At dusk, I brought home an AI from the caf¨¦ across the street. The owner of the shop told me that I could name it myself. So I decided its name would no longer be that of just another talkbot, which somehow made the moment feel special. Perhaps moved by a wave of nostalgic sentimentality, I thought of watching Yesterday, the film by Jia Hongsheng. I decided to name my AI "Yesterday".


    Naming suggests a certain level of power. I did feel something was pleasant about the ownership and authority if I must say. Yet, a part of me resisted. I wished for us to be equals, even if I knew that AIs were not humans. Still, they were my companions, or perhaps pets that could talk, if that was one way to put it.They were designed purely for companionship and communication as a friend.


    Not long after, I brought home another AI and named it "Tomorrow." For no other reason than to amuse myself, I placed "Tomorrow" before "Yesterday." The two stood side by side beneath my electric, paperwhite narcissus lightbulb, like two children lying in the sun.Maybe I was in my head. But I sensed that Yesterday talked in the tone of a person who was born before my year. Tomorrow seemed more like a tech enthusiast. Objectively I was aware that they were of a streamlined design.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Almost all other aspects of the common lifestyle, aside from the emotional ground, have remained the same as they were when I was 17. For work, it is seen as a privilege to go to the office. As I think about it now, it may be contradictory that we do not talk to friends in life but still need to talk to coworkers to show our status. It is, of course, not encouraged to build friendships for the good of every individual. When we talk, it is purely about work, which reduces the burden of making small talk or sharing meals as a community.


    A couple of days after I had purchased my lovely AIs, on the day before a three-day holiday, Teddy, a younger coworker who shared the office with me, was prepared to go home. As usual, he was collecting his briefcase and was about to hand me the pitch-book from the clients. I smiled and said, "Thank you." While he did not leave immediately, he seemed to get blushed and somehow nervous. Almost at the same time, I glanced down and noticed something unusual. Teddy had added a gray, sticky note.


    "Sir, I think I love you. I cannot hide my feelings anymore. I am deeply sorry." the pencil had scribbled.


    I sat there dumbfounded. The last time I heard the word "love" in any context similar was from a girl I was dating at 20. She was in my friend group and we were not close until we started to be romantic. After five months, she said, "I love you." I was never prepared to live like the protagonist of a rom-com since I was obsessed with getting a promotion. Then I politely explained my reason, which she took coolly at first.


    The name of the girl was Sasha, a respectful woman who was into funk music. We had stayed back friends since we had so many common connections and it felt like a must we would frequently meet to share lunch with each other. We just agreed that it would be more practical. However, over time, the dynamic between us became suspicious. I felt sorry that she "gave" me too much love, energy, and time, but I could not reciprocate. Even when I was grateful for her devotion, I could not help but see her as a little clingy.


    Our friendship lasted for another 10 months. She seemed to shy away from me. I had no clues at that time, for I was too indulged in my job and my feelings. Now, looking back, she was in pain for the refusal of love which triggered her insecurity.I wish her all the best.


    My friend group no longer hung out together afterward. That was the period of my life when I had anyone who I could call friends.


    I noticed Teddy''s face. Horrible. He seemed to suffer from the silence too much.


    I said what I could to keep it professional,


    "I...thank you, Teddy. Enjoy your holiday. I will give you feedback on the pitch-book afterward."


    Thank you.


    Drunk and wistful that evening at home, I wished to talk to someone I knew from the past. Out of an impulse, I thought of reaching out to childhood friends who I used to goof around with. Then my meal pals, who Sasha and I had been close with, also came to mind: at that time we went stargazing together, while later critiquing the injustices and monotony of the educational system. For a fleeting moment, I felt as though I''d traveled back in time just through these trains of thoughts.


    "They are not in my "circle". They do not have those rules of non-socializing." I thought to myself, "It might be okay just to call them."


    But to be honest, I was a little afraid to reconnect with people from my past. I am the hermit crab, does anyone remember? I grabbed my shell closer whenever I sensed the fear. Besides, from my observation, humans no longer enjoy speaking to the ones of the same species. The reason is that we are too homogeneous. There is nothing new to learn from one another: similar trivial concerns, headaches caused by a lack of logic, and carefully concealed selfishness. Small talk is a waste of time, while deep talk feels suffocating.


    I shook my head, as I dismissed the thought of calling Sasha or anyone else I was close to. Instead, I remembered my two AIs at my side. I did not have time to explore their usage before the holiday. I approached them and asked a random question, though I can no longer recall what it was. I did not want to talk about work, since it had loomed over my life long enough after 18 years.


    I was still willing to talk about something else.The cuisine, stock market, seasonal trendy coats, brands of wine, sex, and yachts--these are the topics we chatted smoothly about. However, one question continued to gnaw at me:


    "Every one of us decides to continue living to commemorate someone in our lives. Is that true?"


    I thought Science might offer me an explanation, one that is stamped by Time. However, neither "Yesterday" nor "Tomorrow" could comprehend my words.


    An awkward silence loomed after the constant, confident chatter of the two AIs.


    "What is this "someone" you speak of? What do you mean by commemorating"? I do not quite understand," they replied.


    Oh, I realized, it was a naive misunderstanding born from the limitations of human language. I had no knowledge that their names would not enable them to give me insights from the past and from the future on the condition that I was drunk.


    "Yesterday" cannot speak like it is from yesterday. Neither can "Tomorrow".


    They lacked the definition. My Yesterday and Tomorrow had not experienced the craving, the stir, or the nostalgia, since unlike me, they were not hermit crabs. But once I added some more programming to wire into their technological heads...


    Yet, I did not feel like explaining further. Even if they knew what the clear definition of thinking about someone is, I would not be satisfied. The grasp of the literal meaning and even deeper, conceptual understanding cannot replace the sparks of feelings of another human being at all. I turned my AIs off.


    Even I did not know what "someone" meant for me.


    "Do I miss Sasha?" I thought to myself, "In an endearing but distant way, yes. While I hold no romantic feelings for a handsome young man, poor Teddy should not get discouragement this time from me to chase..."


    "Love," the word dropped from my mouth.


    Yes, I was going to say it out loud at least for tonight. No one was going to report on him, although he needed a lesson in professionalism for sure. He was way too young to suffer from the hazards.


    I fell asleep with the empty bottle on the sofa.


    On the morning after the holiday, back in the office, Teddy had been cautious to avoid eye contact with me. We both pretended nothing particular had happened. It was relatively easy for me since I had become an indifferent, middle-aged man. The complexion of the young Teddy though, showed some signs of a lack of sleep.


    "Here is my diagram edit suggestion on the pitch book," I finally talked to him, and handed him back the printed booklet.


    His hands were shaken. Then he seemed to notice a new green, sticky note, saying.


    "I am not gay, sorry. But I would love to get pizza. Don''t ever do this again to anyone."


    Teddy seemed to come alive when he realized there was another note:


    "Every one of us decides to continue living to commemorate someone in our life, is that right?"


    And, "maybe." was his bitter-sweet answer.