Showing posts with label power. Show all posts
Showing posts with label power. Show all posts

Sunday, August 26, 2018

Upgrade: Part II of II


Days passed and Kenny counted them down with glee. Each hour that fell brought him closer to his full potential, to his destiny.  
            He was in the break room at work eating a bologna sandwich and playing a game on his phone that required the matching of like-colored jewels to score points. Kenny liked seeing the shapes and colors line up. He liked seeing order triumph over chaos.  
            “Kenny, Kenny look!”
            Kenny looked up to see a few of his coworkers gawking at the television screen mounted in the corner. One of his colleagues, Vern; a fat man with only a thin wisp of hair smattered over his noggin was hollering his name.
            “Are you seeing this? This nutjob who just got upgraded last week is going on a rampage downtown!”
            On the screen he saw a woman with robotic legs repeatedly kicking an ATM. One kick, two and then three, before she had punched through the ATMs exterior and knocked it from its base. The machine toppled over and crashed to the ground with a thud as its display went dim. The fair-haired woman had a dark green blouse and was red with anger. She had on a tight black skirt that seemed to accentuate the robotic contours of her legs. Peeking out from the skirt were two shiny steel “feet” covered in flimsy matching green pumps. If you listened closely, and could separate the sounds around her you could hear the electronic whir of gears and mechanisms operating within her legs.
            “Insufficient funds! I’ll show you insufficient funds! You piece of shit!”
            In front of the bank, police parted the crowd the woman had attracted and leveled their service weapons. “Stand down ma’am.”
            The woman paid no attention and front kicked the bank’s brick wall with her robotic left foot. As she pulled it away the gears in her leg whined, but the brick bore a noticeable mark as chunks of rubble fell to the sidewalk.
             “Ma’am we need you to calm down!” an officer yelled.
            The woman turned now, finally facing the officers. “Calm down! Don’t you tell me to calm down! You’re just afraid of me!” She walked towards the police, in spite of the fact that their guns were trained on her. As she did this her left foot rolled under her. Machinery somewhere inside snapped, but the woman kept coming, only this time with a severe limp. “No, not afraid of what I am, but afraid of what you aren’t.
            Another warning from the police, “Ma’am if you do not yield we will open fire.”
            The woman didn’t slow in the least.
            “Ma’am this is your final warning!” On the screen the camera’s view pivoted from the police to the woman and quickly back again. Shots rang out as the muzzles of the officer’s weapons lit up.
            The camera feed was terminated and the view was back to the station’s newsroom where a blushing reporter nervously searched for words. “Ladies and gentlemen as you can see this upgraded individual has seemingly…umm…she has been…umm…halted by law enforcement. We will continue to collaborate with authorities to determine if her…umm…mental faculties were at all affected by her upgrade.”
            “Did you see her eyes?” one of the women in front of Kenny asked the room.
            Vern called out, “Definitely bat-shit. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts like a lot.”
            “That’s some scary stuff right there man,” offered an older gentleman sitting at the table opposite Kenny.
            “Kenny did I see one of those Astir pamphlets on your desk the other day?” Vern asked, and suddenly the entire room’s eyes were on Kenny.
            Kenny, finally managing to take his eyes from the screen, didn’t seem to notice a large blob of partially chewed bologna leaving his mouth to fall on the table before him.

* * *
            A few hours later, Kenny found himself in a bar near work, in a half-assed attempt to relax. The establishment was decorated in the late 70’s and hadn’t seen much in the way of upgrades since then. High back leather-bound bar stools matched the padded leather elbow guard that ran along the bar. Plastic plants and dull orange paint were smattered in every conceivable part of the room. Kenny thought the barroom’s look matched its smell; that of self-loathing.
            As Kenny drank he continued to mull over one idea. He had found it strange that between he and his co-workers had viewed the news broadcast as if they were watching two completely different programs.
            Even as Kenny took a long pull on the beer before him, the news replayed the incident with the woman and the ATM. Following the tape a newscaster addressed the viewers. With a critical look straight into camera the newscaster spoke solemnly. “It seems regarding recipients of Astir upgrades it is not a matter of if they will descend into rage and violence, but when.”
            “Insane, right? If you woulda asked me 20 years ago whether or not I would ever live to see the day when people were walking around with Terminator legs, I woulda said ‘hell no’.” A few stools down from Kenny, the man who had spoke the unsolicited statement did so over an empty rocks glass, and was now looking expectantly to Kenny for commentary.
            Kenny took a breath, his eyes flicked from the television set mounted above the bar to the man a few feet from him. “Have you ever seen Godzilla?”
            The man nodded and simultaneously shook his empty glass at the bartender.
            “You know how the people in those movies are always running around, frantically screaming as they stare up at the monster?” Kenny asked.
            Again, the man nodded.
            “So you can understand what it’s like to be vulnerable, to feel afraid. Something you’ve never seen before just set your whole world view on fire. Something powerful, something you have no control over. But tell me friend, how would you feel if you were Godzilla?”
            Kenny took more than a tiny bit of pleasure from the dumbfounded look on the man’s face, and then rose to leave. He set a few dollars down on the bar, leaving his half finished beer to sweat along with the man.

THE END?




Sunday, August 19, 2018

Upgrade: Part I of II



When Kenny was 6 years old his parents used to make him walk to and from school. They said it was to help him establish trust in their eyes. Kenny knew it was because he was fat and they thought it would help him lose weight.
            A one way trip was about a mile long. Overall, it was fine and Kenny didn’t mind it, even if he did mind his parent’s hidden agenda. At the close of the journey to school, every morning Kenny would traverse the baseball diamond and surrounding field. And every morning the dew from the grass would coat his discount store sneakers in a thick layer of moisture. Because the baseball field was on school property, naturally as Kenny neared this space many school age children could be seen on foot converging towards the building.
            One day in particular had stood out in Kenny’s mind for years. A friend, Adrian hustled up to Kenny’s side as he strolled through the dewy grass. “Kenny, we need another kid for baseball today after school you in?”
            Kenny’s delight at the thought of taking in an activity with friends overruled his critical thinking skills for a moment. “Oh heck ya man!”
            “Great, we need a pitcher. You can use my glove.” Adrian smiled and trotted off ahead, Kenny could hear him telling some of the other kids heading towards the school, “Kenny’s gonna pitch for us today…”

* * *

            “I never went to the game,” Kenny shook his head. The memory was there with him, as though it were still happening. A few key moments, on repeat in his brain for 30 some years of his life.
            “So what happened at the game?” the man on the other side of Kenny’s story was a stern, but wise looking chap dressed in a white lab coat. He had circular glasses and distinguished grey hair combed over to one side.
            “That’s just it Doctor Blevins, I never went.”
            “Why not?”
            “I couldn’t just come out and tell those kids I had a disability, they would’ve roasted me.”
            Blevins removed a stethoscope from Kenny’s bare chest. “So what did you do?”
            “I lied”, Kenny admitted, “I told them I forgot. They never invited me to another game again. And I went on never telling anyone about my disability. Doc, I hope you understand what this prosthetic means to me. This is not just a chance to at increased efficacy. This is a chance to become whole, to become normal.”
            “Alright Kenny, first things first, you’re physically in great condition. Despite the story you just told me, that childhood weight obviously dropped off at some point. Regarding the surgery you are cleared. But I want you to understand something…”
            Kenny was putting his shirt back on but paused to hear Dr. Blevins.
            “…Getting this surgery, receiving this prosthetic isn’t going to make you normal.”
            Shirt now on, confusion flashed in Kenny’s eyes, even as the doctor began to elaborate.  
            “This prosthetic is a trade off. You will gain functionality in your hand. So much so it will be above and beyond that of an average person. However, you will also gain the unwanted attention of many who cannot afford the investment of an Astir Industries product.”
            “C’mon doc, it’s like driving a Mercedes. It’s a status symbol.”
            “Perhaps, but unlike your current physical condition, you cannot hide this product in a garage, or lie to those around you about its existence. It will be in plain sight, 24 hours a day, yada yada yada.
            “Lie about it?” Kenny laughed loudly as he hopped from the examination table. “Dr. Blevins I’m going to proudly show it to the world.”
            Dr. Blevins nodded. “Please see Marjorie on your way out about scheduling a surgery date.”

* * *
            On the way home Kenny rode the subway alone, smiling stupidly at the appointment reminder he had received from the Blevin’s assistant. Two weeks.
            In two weeks he would be happy. In 14 days he would be a man. In 336 hours he would be strong. In 20,160 minutes he would be independent.
            When Kenny wasn’t staring at the appointment card he was fumbling through the pamphlets he was given. One of which was beige and green tri-fold that was titled ‘Astir Industries: Life perfected’ and a second black and white booklet had a cover that read ‘Upgrade: Dealing with the Physical and Psychological Changes that perfection brings’.
            Those sharing the car with Kenny all eyeballed the literature. With silent judgment, they scanned Kenny. They saw him in his drab jeans, and well worn t-shirt. To them, he cast a distinctly sub-average visage. Collectively, their eyes seemed to say; what’s so special about him.
            One woman, a white-haired beast in a wheelchair, whispered at Kenny, “Fuckin’ elitist.” Kenny was so caught up in himself he didn’t notice. He just continued to smile that stupid smile.

* * *
            Kenny arrived home, his wife of 12 years greeted him. He was ecstatic when he told her the news. She, less so.
            “You were approved? I didn’t think they’d clear you.”
            “What is that supposed to mean Claire?”
            “I just thought the evaluation…so few actually make it.”
            “Nah, Dr. Blevins said that’s a thing of the past now Astir wants to be freer to open up upgrades to the general populace.”
            “Provided they can pay for it?” Claire responded.
            “Are you mad?” Before Claire could answer, Kenny blurted an accusation, “No you’re jealous! Oh my God!” Kenny wanted to laugh, but he suddenly felt so sad. He had come home to share his great news, and had been met with defiance.
            “Jealous! No, my no. I am happy for you but…”
            “But what?” Kenny heard his voice rising, but didn’t fight it. He was hurt and wanted to be heard, and also he wanted to hear what was on Claire’s mind. What she really thought.
            “It’s so much money.”
            “You’re kidding me? That’s what you are worried about? Baby, I have scrimped and saved--”
            We have saved.” Claire tried to interject, but her protest was overtaken by Kenny’s sheer volume.
            Kenny continued to yell, “--and gone without for years in the hopes that I would be able to do this one day.”
            “What if we have an emergency? What if we need our nest egg?”
            Kenny sighed, but continued his tirade, this time adopting a different approach, “You don’t understand what it’s like to live like this.”
            “What if I want more than this? Look around you! Do you think this rinky-dink apartment and off the rack clothes are what I’ve dreamt about all these years? Why do you get what I want and I get nothing?”
            Kenny paused as tears welled in Claire’s eyes, but only for a moment. “Because what you want is material, and what I want is so much more than that.”
            Claire stormed off, taking refuge in their tiny bathroom.
            The couple didn’t speak until late that night. They angled themselves around the small apartment, for fear they’d both turn its coziness into a setting for close quarters combat.
            At bedtime they both blurted out the same thing, just a beat or two from being completely in unison: “I’m sorry.”
            “Go ahead,” Kenny offered, “I was so rough on you today. You go first.”
            “OK I have to admit, I never thought they’d approve you. That’s why I agreed to you having the surgery.”
            Kenny nodded; he knew it deep down but hated to hear her say it, at the same time he needed to hear her say it aloud. “And I am being selfish with our money.”
            Kenny tried to continue but was cut off when Claire pressed a finger over his lips. “But I know how much this means to you, even if I don’t understand all of what it means to you. Just promise me you won’t freak out. Ya know, afterwards.”
            “I promise.” Kenny looked at Claire, her warm face, gentle eyes and inviting lips. He could tell she’d been crying for the better part of the afternoon. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you. I love you. ” He kissed her more times than they could count.   

CHECK BACK NEXT WEEK FOR PART II - THE EXCITING CONCLUSION!


Thursday, January 4, 2018

Mass Effect

            Damn, I miss running. I haven't got to go for a run since December 4th. For those of you playing at home that's a month as I write this. And, as you might imagine, there are some pretty shitty circumstances that forced me to not do one of my favorite activities.  
            See, as a longtime stubborn runner I had been running on a stress fracture in my left foot for, gee no joke about 4 years. The pain kept getting progressively worse, and like a fool I continued to run on it, without doing much to address it. Ahh, who am I kidding, I did nothing to address it! Because, the pain was secondary to my need to run. My need to be out there on the path, the sidewalk, the treadmill. 
            As a result of my own neglect, I went out to run on December 4th and the pain was so excruciating when I initially stepped off on my left foot that I was limping. However, me being me (stubborn bastard) I still tried to run in defiance of the agony. I made it about ¾ of a mile before I could no longer land on my left foot without the pain stopping me in my tracks every other step. I crept back to the house, in my mind defeated, in pain and already feeling depressed because I knew finally my neglect meant I would not be running for awhile. I had ignored my body and the warning signs it had been trying to communicate.
            Since then I have tried to switch over to a high protein diet and adopt a more weight-lifting focused exercise regimen. However, this process was somewhat interrupted due to a two week long road trip, and the Christmas holiday. Have you ever tried to eat healthy when your daily calorie intake is coming from Love’s and Pilot truck stops? It’s not impossible, but it certainly is a challenge. Further, have you ever tried to not eat all that deliciously desirable high calorie food on or around Christmas? Again, not impossible, but indulgences are bound to occur here and there. Since 1/1/2018, I have recommitted myself to my healthy eating and workout regimen. As of that date, I weighed in at 195.6 lbs and a 39 inch waist. This is particularly concerning to me as it is the heaviest I have been since losing about 90 lbs the year I graduated high school (253 to 163 approximately).
            Present day, I sit here banging away on this keyboard, desperately wanting to work out, but I’m again a victim of my own ignorance. I woke up this morning with a back so stiff and pain-ridden that it took me 10 minutes to get myself out of bed.  It seems the L3 and L4 vertebrae in my back don’t like moving furniture alone, I guess they miss the cartilage that used to help them get along better. Yes, I am a fool, as moving furniture is something I also did over the Christmas break. Then in spite of that, I continued my weight lifting regimen even though my back was already tweaked as a result. Alas, no workout today, my spine has spoken. In case you’re wondering, I feel guilty about that, even though I have worked out every day this week and stuck to my diet without incident.
            Now I find those devious thoughts creeping up in my mind: Have a burger, you’ll feel better! You’re not working out today why don’t you relax a little and have a beer- after all you can’t work out, and it’ll dull the pain in your back!
            So what is the point of all this? Well, clearly it’s a self-serving pity fest designed to let me bitch and moan about my own circumstances.
            But it is also something more than that…it’s my not giving in. I haven’t caved, or sacrificed myself to temptation and self-loathing. I won’t be sneaking through the McDonald’s drive thru and greedily smear grease-covered French fries into my waiting maw.  I will not beat myself up for missing a workout. I won’t justify a beer, or a Jack and Coke. I will sit here, I will heal and I will be back at it tomorrow with the same focus that I have had all week.
            And for those of you that as of January 4th find yourself in a similar predicament regarding your New Year’s resolution to get fit, feel free to recite the above paragraph if you need motivation to keep up the momentum.

            I wish all of you readers out there good luck in your goals for 2018, whatever they may be!