All my life I worked hard for my family. I was living in a monotony of every day’s life. Every morning, I would get up, drive to work, and there be working a couple of hours so I could finally get back home exhausted without the will and anything positive in my life. My motivation was to create a better life for my loved ones.
The beginning of the Friday the 13th was pretty much like all the other days. Everything was the same. Except I notice that was something strange. You know – I had that feeling. As I exit the house, I started to fall down. I was shocked and frightened. I didn’t have a clue of what’s happening to me. Suddenly, the falling stopped and I was lying on some soft pillow. All around me were tiny creatures, like screws that were running and passing beside me very fast. It looked like they were in a hurry since they were constantly moving and yelling at each other. However, before I even wondered how I got there, something grabbed me and dragged me to the other side. In front of me, there was a huge transparent ball in which I instinctively knew I should come in. That scene fascinated me. I found myself in a huge pink room that looked like a castle with a lot of crew made up of tiny screws. Amazing.
They started talking with me on some very strange language that I understand so well. They told me that I am one of them.
“You are a hard worker, full of fairness and respect for authority which makes you very similar to us.”
“How is that possible?”
“While he is working, the man is gradually transformed into a tool without a brain. Just as we are. We were all people before this form. We worked hard to be able to live comfortably. I’ve finished economics, Bill Law, Magda Medicine … we are all humans here – robots. Screws in a big machine of capitalism, and you are one of us.”
“But, but I do not want to!”
“Why?” Look at this beauty and comfort around you, if you’re brain-free, you’ll live nicely. Don’t be like artists. They will never become part of us, fools, they will never know how to enjoy it. ”
“You don’t have any artist in your machine?”
“No. They are different. They oppose authority and think too much with their heads. They can’t be part of a machine that works perfectly, they are too stubborn and disturbing.”
“This machine you so proudly talk about – who created it?”
“You are right here, I have to admit you. It was created by artists, they are changing, improving it, but they have to pay a big price.”
That conversation lasted for a long time. Too long. But if it didn’t happen, I would never get rid of the crazy army of small screws and become what I am.
~ Zorica ~