Defiantly, the bus wailed to a screeching halt. Without contemplation or hesitation, I stepped off into a cloud of desert dust. Behind me, the bus doors slammed shut with a jarring clank; the diesel engine revved arrogantly, lunging the bus towards the setting sun. I stood still, reflecting for a long moment in disbelief, I can't believe they just let me get off the bus. As the dust settled and the whine of the diesel engine faded into the distance; The cool, arid, air replaced the the ever-pervading stench of coffee that was all too familiar on the bus. The reality of my situation became clear. I was free.
Now what? I thought, as I turned around to access the landscape. Directly in front of me was the cracked asphalt highway marking the path I'd been on for for too long. The road extended, left and right, for as far as I could see. Beyond the road was an expansive sea of sand protruded, periodically by majestic rock formations that stood eternally against time and exposure. Directly behind me, a disfigured bench sat in refuge under a small, graffiti-tagged shelter with a sign that read: Bus Stop. A bus stop in the middle of nowhere?, I pondered. From afar, a coyote cried for companionship while an owl hauntingly inquired of my presence in this otherworldly domain. I took a deep breath and sat on the bench.
Now what?, I repeated to myself. I reckoned that I was free to do whatever I wanted. The rules of the bus did not apply out here. This was my chance to change everything; a new beginning unmarred by delusion or fantasy. I could find myself and become the person I was meant to be. In fact, I could be anything I wanted, just like they promised me so many years ago. You know, I never felt like I belonged on that bus. The other passengers treated me as an outsider, a misfit, and maybe they were right; maybe I was a weirdo. But who was I to say, I had only my own mind to judge myself against. At any rate, my bus riding days were over and I wasn't turning back. But still, I felt oddly betrayed that nobody, not a single soul, tried to stop me from getting off of that bus.
Now don't get me wrong, it's not as if riding that bus was entirely disagreeable. As passengers, we were provided with more than adequate amenities. The bus had air-conditioning and heat. The seats were well-worn but of acceptable comfort. The large, tinted windows provided a wide-screen view of the world while maintaining a semblance of privacy against outsiders. At the front of the bus, behind the enclosed driving station, hung a large television. During the day, the television played the news, keeping us in tune with the international and local goings-on outside the bus. At night, the television changed to showing select movies for our enrichment and entertainment. Three times a day, packaged foods were available for consumption, provided we remembered to pre-order and pay using the bus app on our smart phones. Coffee was plentiful, free, and always available from the coffee station at the front of the bus. Naturally, smoking cigarettes and consuming alcohol were prohibited on the bus. However, I have seen evidence of alcohol and other suspicious substances being slipped between the seats after dark. Aside from those few prohibited activities, we were told that we were free to do as we pleased so long as we remained in our assigned seat and behaved according to the rules of the bus.
To an outsider, the bus must have appeared as the ideal vehicle for a lifetime of journeys. It satisfied our basic needs: food, shelter, and security. But even though the bus was full of passengers, it felt empty. I never established a personal connection with any of the passengers. I did not share their amusements and they never expressed any interest in mine. And I could deal with that, however, the thing that vexed me was the fact that nothing ever changed. Every day was the same as yesterday. Life on the bus felt like an endless struggle to get nowhere. I needed a purpose to function; you know, something to work towards and look forward to. I didn't like twiddling my thumbs and being a passenger in my own life. It always bugged me that none of the other passengers seemed to know or care where the bus was heading. Whenever I would inquire about our purpose or destination, some smart-ass would proclaim, "It's not about the destination, it's about the journey." That statement was usually proceeded with a crowning smirk as if those words foretold some great esoteric wisdom. The reality of it was that we were floundering mindlessly, from one moment to the next, without ever aspiring beyond the present. Outside the forces of chance and blind fate, nothing changed except for the day of the week. And whenever, by chance or fate, we found ourselves in a disagreeable moment, did anyone stand up and suggest a alternate route? Of course not. We were expected to sit-tight, and brace ourselves for the next moment, while the elder, from his back seat, hailed, "This too shall pass."
Some days I would sit and stare out the window imaging what life must be like outside the bus. Would I still feel the eternal boredom of complacency? Would my thoughts and ideas be acknowledged rather than ridiculed and scorned? Surely, there must have been a more welcoming place for a weirdo like me. On other days, I just sat observing the passengers for my own curiosity and amusements. The other afternoon, while loosely fixated on my surroundings, the passengers ahead of me were, as usual, hypnotized by whatever was playing on the television. The backs of their heads swayed and bobbed in perfect synchronicity to the bumps on the road. The creaky bus suspension provided comical sound effects for these synchronized head motions. Prior experience taught me that this scene could run uninterrupted for hours or until the lights were turned out at sleepy time. On this occasion, however, the passengers, all at once, became riled up over something on the television. As the news reporter laid out the latest injustice, the passenger's heads turned rigid and I could feel the collective disdain smoldering before me. The news anchor disclosed that the bus company would have to start charging a twenty-seven cent fee for each paper coffee cup due to worldwide inflation and supply-chain issues. The coffee itself, of course, would still be free as promised in the bus company's original contract. By the commercial break, the passengers were livid. Their disdain had transformed into a collective rant. As the mood of the bus darkened, I was distracted by a few hard-smacks from raindrops impacting the window beside me. I looked out to find a darkening sky; a thunderstorm was rapidly brewing around us. And, when the thunder began to rumble, those incensed passengers rose to challenge by turning riotous. From where I was sitting, near the back of the bus, I could no longer hear the television at all. The storm around us seemed to intensify right along with the rage of the passengers. Soon, the passengers expanded their argumentation to include physical gestures and choice obscenities directed at the television screen. While in the midst of this escalating madness, I noticed that the usual drone of the bus's engine had pitched up to a charging growl. Out the window, the scenery was passing at an increasing rate. Why was the bus accelerating? There was nothing behind us but empty road. I glanced around the bus and not one passenger seemed to notice or show any concern for the sudden change in weather or our unwarranted change in speed; the passengers were unanimously consumed by their outrage. The wind driven rain, hammered the bus in waves. Bright flashes of lightning and crashing thunder highlighted terrifying, split-second scenes of this rolling chaos. I glanced out the window and the visibility was so low that I could no longer see the lines on the road. At that point, I panicked; especially when the bus began rocking madly in the wind. And, as the bus continued to barrel down the highway confronted by that tempestuous storm, I crouched in my seat, and cupped my hands over my face. I braced myself, expecting the bus and us passengers to meet our final destination--head on--at any second. And for the next several minutes, I prayed to every god imaginable. Then, almost as fast as it began, the riotous rage of the passengers, the storm, and the bus all subsided. When I uncovered my eyes, the sky was clear and the bus was carrying us along at the usual pace. Also, the evening movie had begun playing on the television and the passengers had returned to their silent, hypnotic state. I breathed a great sigh of relief; the disagreeable moment had passed.
The aforementioned incident was not, by any means, an isolated case. However, these incidents rarely left me in fear of my life. Now, I'm no mystic, but I could not help but wonder if there was some kind of paranormal or occult connection between the passenger's rage, the sudden storm, and the speeding bus. Yes, I am aware of how ridiculous that sounds. Yet, the only logical conclusion I could surmise is that the incident never happened and that I imagined it like a bad dream. That being said; I was there. I know what I saw, I know what I heard, and I know what I felt. But I swear to god, just being around those passengers sometimes drove me to question my sanity.
Right after the coffee cup incident I decided that taking a break from this journey and getting off the bus might be good for my mental health. When I casually brought up my intent to my neighboring passengers they accused me of being selfish and haughty for wanting to abandon the bus. The elder interjected, suggesting that I should be more of a team-player instead of trying to put my own needs first. I tried to rationally explain my need to spend time away from the bus, but as I was doing so, the elder stood up and addressed me sternly, "Look, you should grateful that you are on this bus. Do you have any idea how many people would kill for the chance to be in your seat? You have no idea how lucky you are! Now, I don't want to hear any more of your nonsense! Do you understand me?" With that, I nodded my head and resolved to say nothing more. I learned through experience that nobody questions the elder and therefore, arguing with the elder would be arguing against the entire bus. And with that coffee cup incident still fresh in my mind, I had no desire to find out how far that riotous mob of passengers would take matters against the likes of me. After a brief moment of silence and awkward stares, the elder sat down, and the passengers returned their focus to the movie playing on the television screen.
A meteor streaked across the night sky and I noticed an owl perched atop a nearby power pole. I really should be going, I told myself. However, it was too late and too dark to navigate this unlit section of highway. Also, I wasn't sure where I was, let alone which direction I needed to be going. In my haste to exit the bus, I forget and left my phone behind so I had no access to information or communications. I estimated that I'd been off the bus for more than two hours and I had yet to witness a single vehicle on this highway. I shifted on the uncomfortable bench and tucked my cold hands between my thighs. I wondered briefly if any of the passengers were feeling concern for me. Perhaps more likely, they were glad to be rid of me? I never knew where I stood with the other passengers. Even though I knew most of them by name, I can't say I really knew any of them. They rarely talked about themselves. I did, however, feel that some of them kept their thoughts to themselves because they were afraid being seen or called out as different. In the bus there were ears on every row, so if you didn't want everybody knowing something about you, you learned to keep your mouth shut. There was one individual, however, that remained a complete mystery and that person was the driver of the bus. As far as I know I'd never even seen the driver before. I'd only heard the other passengers refer to him as The Driver. The bus's driving station was fully enclosed with diamond-plate aluminum panels. The enclosure reminded me more of an industrial control cabinet that would contain electronic equipment rather than a driver's seat and a bus driver. I'd never seen the enclosure opened. There was a seam outline on the side of the enclosure that might have been a door, however, there was no visible handle or means to open it. The only passenger who claimed to know the driver was the elder, but the only thing I ever heard the elder say about the driver was that, "He is the pilot in command." In spite of not knowing the mysterious driver, the other passengers respected and upheld the rules of the bus that were attributed to the driver; even though those rules were sometimes contradictory and suspiciously altered to reflect circumstance.
Just a few hours ago, I was sitting on the bus watching the elder demonstrate to a group of younger passengers how to make their paper coffee cups last longer by wrapping them in packing tape. That way, the passengers could continue to enjoy the free coffee while skirting the mandated expense of a new cup. "A penny saved, is a penny earned," the elder flouted triumphantly as he finished wrapping his coffee cup with the clear plastic tape. It was obvious to me that the passengers looked up to the elder and considered him to be a sage of sorts. I, however, did not understand the other's fascination with the elder. I mean, how could anyone be considered a sage who did nothing but quote other people's tired old cliches? The elder must have noticed me shaking my head at his impromptu presentation; he stopped, looked directly, at me and asked if I had anything to add to his discussion.
I was feeling restless and tired of his pointless charades so I may have come across as mildly sarcastic in my response, "No Sir, I do not." I declared, "I'm just grateful to be sitting here, on this bus where everyday is just like yesterday and tomorrow never comes."
"And, what does that supposed to mean?" the elder raised his brows.
"Well Sir," I replied, "When everyday is just like yesterday, then tomorrow never really comes, does it?"
The elder chuckled, "You think you're funny with all your foolish observations. Don't you understand that life is what you make of it? Why can't you just be satisfied like the rest of us?"
"You expect me to be satisfied? I have been trying to tell you people that I want get off of this bus, but no one will listen to me or even acknowledge my request."
"We will listen to you when you say something worth listening to," the elder retorted.
And with that, I snapped. I stood up and I screamed at the elder, "Let me off this goddam bus!" The chatter among the passengers fell silent and I could feel the stares burning me from every direction. Even the bus's engine seemed to lull down in anticipation for what might happen next. Nearby, I heard a snicker as someone whispered, "See, I told you he's a psychopath." Before I could glance in the direction of the whisper, I was lunged forward as the bus slammed on brakes and veered to the curb in a screeching halt. The bus doors swung open. Without contemplation or hesitation, I marched to the front of the bus and stepped off.
And just like that, I was free; tomorrow was sure to be a different day. And soon, no doubt, my former seat would be occupied by another soul seeking to find their place among that crowd of passengers--good luck with that. The longer I sat on that cold bench, the more I ruminated over my thoughts. I began questioning my motives and perceptions. Perhaps the elder had a point. Why couldn't I just be satisfied like the others? Was he suggesting that my will and determination were faults? And, was it even possible for one to be alive and completely satisfied? But then there were the other passengers, who collectively would not accept me unless I rejected myself and and embraced their passive-aggressive scheme of living? Was it not selfish of them to expect everybody else to live exactly as they did? It doesn't matter. I didn't need them and obviously, they didn't feel like they needed me either, so why waste energy and time even thinking about them? I sighed and rubbed my weary eyes. I was mentally exhausted, cold, and completely disorientated by the day's events. I slouched down in the bench and closed my eyes. I resolved that, in the morning, with a clear mind, I would begin my new life journey.
Seemingly moments later, I was rudely awakened by a familiar sound. I opened my eyes as the noisy bus came to an abrupt stop in front of me. The doors swung open; I leaned forward on the bench and my eyes squinted in the bright morning sun. A figure appeared in the doorway that I quickly recognized as the elder. He pitched something at me. I caught it; it was my phone. As I looked back up, the bus doors slammed shut, the diesel engine revved, and the bus sped away.
Posted: December 21, 2024, 1:45 am
"The automatons shall inherit the earth!" yowled Zeus as he hurled a thunderbolt towards the data-center in disgust.
"Artificial Intelligence is the new god," remarked Athena indifferently, "A god molded by thinking-man to subdue the non-thinking herd to his own selfish desires."
"Ridiculous!" decried Zeus, "Man cannot create god, only the gods can create a god."
"This new god is a delusion" replied Athena, "The thinking-man is like that wizard behind the curtain. You know, the one pulling the levers, pushing the buttons, and jerking the strings of non-thinking men. This Artificial Intelligence is simply the personification of a thinking-man's will. Thinking-man knows that non-thinking men will subvert themselves for the convenience of not having to think."
Zeus conjures a thunderbolt in his fist and exclaims, "Then we must free the non-thinking men by exterminating the thinking-man!"
"Exterminating thinking-man won't solve the problem." sighed Athena, "The problem is that non-thinking men have unconditionally imprisoned themselves to the illusion that god is somehow apart from the self. Only logic and reason can free non-thinking men from their irrational convictions."
Zeus narrows his eyes and questions, "Then what are we going to do? Exterminate all of them?"
"Put down your thunderbolt, Zeus. We are not going to do anything. We are gods, remember? Without mankind we too, will cease to exist."
Posted: August 3, 2024, 9:59 pm