Who Are You

“Who are you?”

“Who am I?”

“I beg you to ask. Soon, all will be washed away and I wonder what of you will be left. I have no malicious intent, you know.”

“I know. You are right.”

“But it is true. Out there, all of them move in ways that leave us behind. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“People have been saying stuff like that for thousands of years. We, us, the outsiders. The ones who are left behind in the others’ jostling for power. It’s a banal, old argument.”

“The argument does not matter. It may be banal. Does that make it false?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Then I once again beseech you to ask. Who are you?”

“Who am I?”

“Some said, before this, that it was far too easy to summarize someone’s entire being, their entire essence, into a form on a piece of paper. What would you have filled in?”

“My name.”

“Yes. What is your name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“Does it matter anymore? I haven’t had a name for a dozen years.”

“Then why did you first suggest that your name would be what mattered to those who wanted to know more about you?”

“Because it makes sense. My name. What people call me. Who I am to other people who know me by nothing more than name.”

“So that is who you are. A follower. One who follows what makes sense.”

“No.”

“Then who are you?”

“Who am I?”

“If one packed up all your things, what would they see?”

“Things.”

“I encourage you to engage in this conversation.”

“By your own estimation, all we have will be washed away soon. What does it matter?”

“Life was always going to be washed away. That did not stop the entirety of humankind from pushing forward, attempting to search for meaning in the existence that thrived before this all came. I ask again. What would they see?”

“My books.”

“You have many books.”

“I like to read.”

“They mean things about you. That is what they would see.”

“If that’s what you’ve been getting at this whole time, why not say it in the first place?”

“I question your previous engagement in this conversation, then, with such an attitude.”

“I thought I would humor you. Clearly, that was a mistake.”

“There is no better time to question life when life as we know it is about to end.”

“Then let it end in peace.”

“Who will you be when it ends?”

“Who will I be when it ends?”

“When you had a name, what was it?”

“Meat.”

“Meat?”

“That is what I was. Meat. They called me that.”

“There is a lot in that name.”

“Not enough.”

“You wished for more?”

“I wished for something else.”

“Did you have a name which had something else within it? Were you ever more than Meat?”

“No.”

“I remember my own name.”

“Most don’t, these days. You must be special. Holed up here philosophizing must keep the brain strong.”

“Perhaps. I prefer to think I always remembered who I was, even in times when those who wished attempted to strip from me that which makes me.”

“I suppose things were not always easy for you.”

“Things are never easy for anyone. We sit in seats and question our next movements, constantly wondering what will happen trying to draw at every second of our lives, only to find that we are locked out. Left out in the wind, which tells us we are alive.”

“That’s a lot of symbolism.”

“It is the only way we can make sense of living. Names do so as well.”

“I already told you. I do not remember my name.”

“I know it is there.”

“I’m Meat, alright? You really want to call me by a name? Call me Meat.”

“I do not like what is in that name.”

“Well, I didn’t either when I got it, but you don’t hear me crying about it.”

“Who are you, then, without a name?”

“Who am I, then, without a name?”

“We will give you a new one.”

“Sure. I’ll accept a new name once you tell me why you won’t stop harping on about my name. I have sat here for the last three days and listened to you rumble on and on and on about the meaning of life and names and hardships and every damn thing this side of consciousness. If I wasn’t liable to get washed away, I’d have left this rabbit hole of rabbit holes.”

“I want to know who I am dying with.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“Why?”

“I do not know.”

“Let me guess. It just does.”

“I suppose.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t know who you’re dying with, either. Last I knew, I was Meat.”

“Then perhaps, we shall have to rely on that name. It is all we have, and in times like these, we must make use of what we have.”

“Uh huh.”

“I sense you are tired of our talking. I have the urge to use an argument against you that you previously used against me. I want to say that, since we are all going to be washed away, why does it matter if you tire? I should continue talking.”

“Hardy har.”

“I never liked that much before these days. It threw aspersions on someone’s name.”

“How so?”

“That which comes from us is human. All of us. So, aspersions should not be cast on any of what makes us human.”

“I strongly disagree.”

“Such is your right, as a human.”

“Do you hear that?”

“No.”

“Very well. Let us get back to your name. Who are you, in a name?”

“Who am I, in a name?”

“I think that you were more.”

“Maybe. But it didn’t matter once I became Meat. Once I did, that’s all I was.”

“There is more than what is in a name.”

“Then why are you so stuck on names?”

“The name we give things matters to us.”

“Matters to you.”

“If it did not matter to humanity as a whole, should we all not be nameless?”

“We name each other to determine who we are amongst the whole.”

“A broad definition which lends itself to many interpretations.”

“I meant that if you’ve got two people who look the same, you want one named Meat One and one named Meat Two.”

“Or perhaps, a name is how we separate ourselves from the pushing, struggling mass of life that we became, that we are. It is how we stand upon others’ shoulders and show the world that humanity is a bright and vibrant mass with those of many different nomenclatures, and therefore many different ways of mattering.”

“Also, Meat One and Meat Two.”

“If you were to leave behind instructions, telling someone how to describe you to a stranger after your death, what would they say?”

“I don’t know.”

“Earlier, you said you were humoring me. I ask you to continue.”

“Fine. I suppose I would say that Meat was a person, who lived, had a life, and then it ended.”

“So could everyone else.”

“Nope. I was the only one named Meat.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, boy.”

“Perhaps there is more to the name that it previously appeared.”

“Well, it’s not like that’s how names worked before the end. There were plenty of people with duplicate names. You know how many people were in the world before this all started?”

“Many, all with names that mattered to them.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Very well. Let us assume it is possible for a name to be useless, an empty word meant to make distinctions from one person to the next. Why is not everyone named Meat One, Meat Two, Meat Three, and so forth?”

“Some people are more creative than others.”

“Such is the privilege of being human.”

“Yeah, it’s been a real privilege.”

“That it has. I have heard things that I do not think you did. Seems as though our time is running out.”

“Ah, well.”

“I wish to ask you one more thing. I ask you to humor me as I do. Will you do that?”

“Umm…”

“Let our time not end so ingloriously.”

“Well…”

“You know I have no malicious intent.”

“Sure. What’s the question?”

“Pick a new name. One which represents you wholly, which does a better job of summarizing your entire person, your entire being, your entire essence, than any box, paper, sentence, book could ever do. One which, when it hits your heart and brushes your mind, you realize that it is true. A name that you feel encompasses all that you ever have been, ever will be, and all that truly matters to you and who you are. We have some time. Come up with something. Tell me who you are.”