08-23-2009

Start Fiction:


     "Was Orwell prophetic or did he create a self-fulfilling prophecy?" Melinda asked as she snapped Dan's iPhone out of his hands.
     "What the hell are you talking about?" he said as he reached after the phone.
     "What is it about this thing that you can't even put it down for five minutes?" she said as she fought to keep it away from Dan. "Is it by choice or have you lost the choice?"
     "Again, what the hell are you talking about?" Dan said as he snapped his phone from her hand. He shoved it in his pocket and moved to the recliner. "It's not like I am just playing video games all day or something."
     "No, but you pay more attention to that damn thing than me," Melinda snapped as she threw a pillow at him. The pillow missed it's mark and knocked a lamp off the end table. Dan laughed, reclined the chair, crossed his feet and put his hands behind his head.
     Melinda sat forward on the couch, rubbing her face. She took a deep breath and slapped her thighs. "Doesn't it make you wonder about all these electronics in our lives, how 'important' they are to everyday life?" she stood up and walked to the entertainment center. "I mean, look, all this stuff to entertain us, keep up occupied and fill our heads with images and ideas."
     "Your point?" Dan said still reclined in his chair.
     "Haven't you ever wondered where some of your most basic beliefs truly come from?" Melinda asked. She wasn't joking around, messing with Dan. There was a hint of fear in her voice, concern.
     Maybe she wasn't worked up about Dan at all, but rather about her beliefs and values were rooted. She didn't know. Everything seemed out of control, pointless, meaningless, yet everything seemed so clear, meaningful, and made sense all at the same time.
     "You want to tell me what's going on with you?" Dan said as he sat up in his chair. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His demeanor had changed; he wasn't laughing anymore.
     Melinda sat back down on the couch and leaned back rubbing her head. She sighed.
     "Haven't you ever wondered why we are the way we are? Why things are the way they are? The way society is? The way people are?" she said in a quiet voice.
     "I have read Nineteen Eighty-Four, but it never made me question existence so much," Dan said, somewhat talking to himself, somewhat to Melinda. "I guess it does all seem silly most of the time, but to some extent entertaining a lot of the time."
     "Of course you would find it entertaining," she said, "but haven't you ever wondered if you have actually made any choices in your life that weren't really choices? Like you were patronized, feed a lone of crap making you think you were free, had choices?"
     "I believe this is one of those moments," Dan said. Melinda shot him a look; her brow furrowed, her nostrils flared and her lips pursed. She stood up and threw her hands in to the air and headed down the hallway.

     Dan stayed seated. There was no point in going after her, trying to console her when she falls in to a deep philosophical mood. The moods were getting closer and closer. Dan decided it was time to either get her some help, or actually try to understand what she is talking about, the complex issues she bears as her demons.
     He shut off the television and sat in silence. He heard nothing coming from the bedroom. Melinda was most likely laying in the center of the bed, watching the ceiling fan spin. He listened to the clock tick, the hum of the ceiling fan and the slight rasp coming from his own breath.
     Maybe she was on to something, something he wasn't paying attention to or didn't want to acknowledge. Dan didn't feel empty or lost, guided or a conformist, a sheep. He always went with the flow, knowing you can't always have everything you want or to have things work our then way you wish.
     Life wasn't fair, but you had to make the most of it and enjoy what you did have, the fact that you got to make any choices at all and just the fact that you were living in an amazing time in human history.
     Maybe she is just nuts, Dan thought. but maybe her nuts is more sane than any of us will ever experience.
     "Orwell created a self-fulfilling prophecy," Dan said out loud.



End Fiction.