Rapture

What about power?

Isn’t it the most wonderful of concepts? Power.

POWER.

It rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?

Power.

It’s never quite enough.

We get a job; it gives us power. We go to school; it gives us power. We get money; it definitely gives us power.

What? You’re going to say that’s not why we go to school or get a job. We do it because we have to. We do it because we need to survive, to live, to strive. Live for what? Strive towards what? Survive what?

Most of us lead miserable lives. We’re just waking up, stretching midst the piles of shit the world is made out of, and what’s our need? To survive?

Survive what?

Power, that’s what.

Other people’s power.

Their need to identify themselves beyond their mere mortal condition. Their need to be beyond want, fear, doubt.

That’s why you go to school and get a job.

Because it’s a race.

No, nobody cares if you don’t need to run alongside them. That’s not the point.

You need to do it; you need to be there; you need to believe you have a choice. That’s what makes it so exciting, the belief you can win, the smell of your own power, the feel of freedom and escape. Just one more day, just one more dollar, just a bit more effort.

And then?

Well… who knows? We can’t really predict the future.

But imagine if we could. Imagine how it would be to understand exactly where the line should be drawn. When enough would be enough. Not only to see that we finish the race, but how we finish it.

To wake up one morning and immediately feel that today would be different. Today would be the day when we would finally understand who we are, feel that all your efforts would finally come to fruition.

But no. Think further than that. You would wake up a century from that day, and you would get to learn that your struggle has paid off and see the ripples across time. Feel your power propagate and shape the world.

Would you be able to notice it right away?

Of course! What am I even asking here? We all know that feeling, that delicate elation when power comes within our grasp. That yearning.

A morning such as that would be no different from any other, with the exception that from the moment we would open our eyes, we would feel complete.

Effervescent. That’s how I would describe this morning. From the first breath of light, I know that today is the day. Today I will finally understand. What do I need to understand, though? This question has always racked by brain, stuck like a burr somewhere in my subconscious, floating just out of reach like a will-o’-the-wisp.

It has guided me, molding me, fueling me, and now I finally feel as if it is no longer beyond my senses. Today. Today will be special.

I get up at 7.00 AM and take a quick shower. I like to feel the splatter of the warm water over my body as the first thing of the day. The sensation keeps me rooted in my self, digging out the feelings of the previous night. This way, all the thoughts, all the dreams that I had borne throughout the night, get a final chance to sink in. Shedding their light and secrets as I bathe.

I wash my teeth and eat something quickly. It’s not like I’m not a fan of breakfast, it’s that, how can I explain this. Food doesn’t do it for me anymore. I’ve tasted so much, so many times, flavor, well, there’s nothing new there or complex enough to get me started. I eat only what’s necessary.

I love coffee, though. It’s hard to say why, but I do. If we go beyond the taste and its properties, I think there’s something beyond that which draws me in every morning. A freshness, an alertness, it’s like a distant friend’s handshake. It fills you up, makes you smile, even though he doesn’t say much. He’s just there.

Today is a good day.

I get dressed, grey slim-fit dress pants with a light blue shirt, also slim fit. A pair of dark blue Oxfords and a navy blue tunic to wrap everything up, and I’m off.

The moment I step out through the front door, the feeling of completeness evaporates, a sort of anxiousness stepping in. I’m not worried. I knew this would happen eventually, feels somewhat romantic that it does the moment I walk away from the safety of my home.

The dull grey of the lobby stares back at me. It’s such a lovely color, limited, silent.

Normally, a driver would come and pick me up in the morning and take me to the office. Today I decide against it, well, I lie. I’ve decided against this last night, when I canceled the appointment. I feel like walking. I want to soak in the city as much as I can. It felt as if it would be one of my last chances to do this. It reminds me of my childhood honestly. Walking.

I used to go to the central park or the central market square and sit somewhere and stare at people. Well, not stare. I would look at them, study them. Try to understand where they came from and where they went. I liked to imagine that I was a famous detective and looked for little clues about their lives. A piece of lint, a crease, a mark, anything. I didn’t notice them as much as I could, but I did get pretty good at reading people. Understanding them.

Could this have been the understanding that I had been seeking all this time? Hmm, I don’t really see how this fits in. Why would everything change today? No. It’s got to be something else. Something that has touched me, but I’m still to touch it back.

The elevator is rather busy in the morning. Today it jumps up at me from the shadows. I never heard it open. I’m glad I took the time to walk to the office today. It feels symbolic somehow.

The apartment complex is in the city’s heart and its heartbeat makes itself known as soon as the elevator doors open. A healthy buzz of life and need, a static that presses and pulls and squeezes and rips. I love that first glimpse of…

‘What the fuck?!’

Where the fuck am I?!

Everywhere I look, grey figures stare back at me as they step quietly on dark passageways. Higher up, what look like hovering cars hum back and forth incessantly.

A man steps up to me and grabs me by the arm, and pulls me to the side. My body feels limp, so I let myself be pulled quietly. He lets go of my arm and walks away.

I’m dumbfounded.

I don’t understand what’s going on, but that’s not the issue. The real issue is, I don’t feel like needing to understand anymore. As if an existence was wiped out of me in the blink of an eye.

The man took me to the left of the building entrance and I don’t feel the need to move from this spot. It feels safe.

Is this why he dropped me here?

Was I in his way? That’s some really strange behavior on his part. Socially conscious, though. The stream of people does not ebb. It has a steady rhythm to it, soothing and soft.

What should I do? Am I dreaming? This hasn’t happened in quite some time.

I’ve always had a sort of love-hate relationship with my subconscious. It never felt as if it were truly mine and yet, the only moments of care and tenderness I have ever experienced were the ones that it imprinted upon me. It felt as if I had a stern father within me. Sleep was something that always brought me closer to it, dreams especially, training me and nurturing me in the man I grew up to become, but I can’t really remember when I last had a lucid dream.

I’m safe, I know I’m safe.

This world that I’m having the privilege to witness mesmerizes me. Its precision, it feels as a finely tuned recorder, its sounds monotonous and dependent.

What should I do?

Normally, I would’ve turned right at the entrance in order to get to the office. I don’t have anything against this, so I find my place within the stream and step lively.

Hmm.

It feels so strange to fit in here like I do. My steps fall briskly on the metal floorboards and their echoes get sucked in. It’s as if I’m walking on linen. Comforting somehow in its unnatural way.

The world sucks me in fully. I feel completely at peace.

Even though the world in itself is strange and new, it’s not different from the one back home. The buildings are pretty much the same, more organized and neat, softer on the eye, but definitely the same. The passageways are easy to follow and there are guidance markers everywhere.

My office is in the Central Square, and the path towards it is clearly marked. I have no issues getting there. The square is as magnificent as ever. The passageways are running along the edges of an empty square made of a black metal material.

Having learned my lesson, I follow the path to one of the corners of the square and step off. Looking at it closer, it feels as if it’s not metal, but velvet; soft and inviting. An urge to touch the material comes over me and I begin to hunch down when a soft sensation prickles my scalp.

I straighten and reach out an inquiring hand. The prickles flow through the tips of my fingers.

Some sort of force field? Weird.

From within the square, a ball of light gently shoots up, leaving behind a feathery trail. Upon reaching its climax, it floats for a second and then begins hovering with a slight delta. The feathery trail intensifies, sparks of light reach out every which way in unison with the hovering central light. The mute image feels soothing and welcoming.

I explore the view from my corner and find my office building a little way off. It’s bigger than I remember it. Two banners hang from the sides of the building, furnishing the party’s colors: a black and white feather on a red background.

Sublime!

I truly think it is. If only I could see this in real life.

I step on the path once more and approach the building. A large gateway bars my path and I step to the side to take it all in. To the left and right of the gateway, there is a security guard. As I stand there and look, several people approach and use an access pad, swiping a key card against it.

A green light flickers, and the air clears within the entrance. The person steps in and then the following person approaches the access pad.

Once the green light doesn’t show up and one of the guards gently escorts the person to a cubicle to the far left.

When there are no more people waiting to enter, I go to one of the guards.

‘Good morning!’

‘Good morning, Sir.’

‘Would you be able to help me with some questions?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘I work here, but I don’t have my key card. Could you please tell me what I need to do?’

‘Please go to the receptacle to your right and request a temporary pass.’

I look around for the place in question and quickly locate it; a small booth off the beaten trail getting here.

‘Thank you!’

I walk back to the main pathway and approach the booth. Several people had already queued up in front of it. I get in line and take the time to look at my colleagues. I don’t recognize any of them. They’re all wearing slim grey uniforms, zipped up just below the chin. I find the uniforms to be quite soothing to the eye, elegant too.

There are only two more people in front of me and I can see the station in front of me. Although I can’t make out all the details, it seems to be some sort of scanning station.

A crystalline voice makes itself heard: ‘I feel contempt.’ The person at the scanning station picks something up from a slot and makes its way back up the line.

A quiet smile floats lavishly across its face.

The person in front of me steps towards the station and inserts a key card. Ten seconds later I hear that voice again: ‘I feel contempt.’ The person picks up its key card and walks past me.

I stare at the station and step towards it.

Besides the slot to the right, there are two buttons leveled with my chest. One is labeled: “Scan” and the other “Temporary”. I press the one marked with temporary and the slot closes up. A couple seconds later, the “Scan” button lights up. I press it gently and feel a slight tingle in the middle of my forehead.

‘I feel empty,’ makes itself heard. The slot shoots out a key card and I pick it up.

What does that mean?

I make my way towards the front gate and scan my key card. The light doesn’t flicker green. The security guard approaches me and asks me to come with them.

He escorts me to the cubicle located at the left of the building, the same cubicle that he had escorted the other individual towards. Inside the cubicle, a thin woman waits for me. She has close cropped hair and an easygoing smile.

‘Hello!’

‘Hello,’ I reply.

‘State your name, please.’

‘Jason Blumm.’

‘Blumm? Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Mám.’

‘Like the father, do you find that odd?’

‘Why would I find it odd? It’s my name.’

‘Hmm. I see here that your empathy scan registered a deficit. We will now go through reprocessing in order to fix that.’

‘Reprocessing?’

‘Yes. There will be a series of questions meant to identify your mental state. Could you please attach these sensors on each side of your head?’

Why did she find it odd when I mentioned my name?

‘Because you share the name of our nation’s father, Mr. Blumm.’

What the… she can read my mind.

‘Impulses are registered through the sensors I’ve given you and the AI translates those impulses into a basic query. For example, it shows that you’re questioning your identity at the moment. I can only assume this is regarding my earlier reaction to your name.’

‘Fascinating.’

‘Indeed, is this why you’ve been feeling empty, Mr. Blumm. Does sharing the name of our father exact a pressure upon your being?’

‘I’m sorry, but what do you mean through: Father.’

‘Jason Blumm, head of state and creator of the wellness doctrine over a century ago. You were heading towards the administration building, weren’t you?’

‘I was.’

‘What were you intending to do there, Mr. Blumm?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t know where else to go.’

‘I see. And the building’s significance drew you in?’

‘I guess. I work here, if that counts.’

‘What do you do here, Mr. Blumm?’

‘Senior party executive of the Futurist Party.’

‘Hmm. I understand. Mr. Blumm do you know what year this is?’

‘2031?’

‘Aha, that explains it. Reprocessing is complete now, Mr. Blumm.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yes, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re most likely suffering from fatigue brought on by the pressure of your name. Like I said, there’s nothing to worry about. You have been reassigned as an archivist in the administrative building, starting tomorrow. Please take these pills and report back to the scanner tomorrow.’

‘But…’

‘Here’s your new access key. Now, Mr. Blumm, the pills, should take effect immediately. Do you need help getting home?’

‘No. Thank you,’ and I hand her the sensors. She tucks them away and dismisses me with a smile.

She is right. The pills kick in as soon as I leave the cubicle. My thoughts get muddied, but they don’t impede my judgment or motor skills. The light show is still playing in the center of the square. Its velvety appearance as soothing as before, yet not as enticing. I wait for the feeling to pass and follow the pathways towards my apartment.

I feel overwhelmed.

I spend the rest of my day caught in a sort of reverie. I feel the presence of this place and the rightness of it. Is this the future that I seek, its understanding, its safety?

Why would I not?!

Outside my window I see the flow of life as it grinds to a halt in the evening, flickers of light shooting up from everywhere around the city shortly after. Life knows a peace and tranquility here hard to understand.

The lack of need, of want. Could this be the future I imagined? Could I be this blessed?

I fall asleep cradling these dear thoughts in my mind, and they nurture my sleep.

Next day, I show up at the receptacle outside the administration building. I insert the access key in its designated slot and press the “Scan” button. The tingle feels familiar now, and a crystalline voice welcomes me into its world.

I am content.

Are you?!

No?

Could’ve fooled me.

Peace.