Saturday, March 10, 2018

Worn Out Places

A cockroach ran across the shattered linoleum floor of the Laundromat, looking for food in the midst of a structure that could not have been natural. For as insignificant as the insect may have been, it was amongst the few life forms that have come to inhabit the Laundromat along with the plants growing through the cracks in the walls. As the roach stopped and looked at its surroundings, it could not make sense of the washing machines nor the dryers whose uses have been discontinued for decades. Needless to say, the roach could not have any idea of what it was inside of.
            A slight wind blew through a rubber factory in Dublin, Ireland, and a few hours later that same breeze would grace an office building in Gaborone, Botswana. Countless other winds presented themselves to other abandoned structures across the globe, as their purposes had been unfulfilled since the last human had met their fate.
            While humans were alive, it was always assumed that the end of their species would be via war or extreme natural circumstances made by their own doing. This was not the case. For as brilliant and creative as the species formerly known as Homo Sapiens were, they had their own destructive and negative side as well; some would even argue that positive attributions were mere exceptions to their violent behavior. But the flash of a nuclear explosion did not bring about their end, nor by a tidal wave, earthquake or other such disaster; no, the end of humanity was brought about by disease. Not a disease that festered in humans and robbed them of their health (ironically as humans did to the Earth) but a disease that affected their mentality, an inundation of nihilism, if you will. As humans lived longer and improved their rationality and common sense, they all saw that there was no point to life and decided that they would be better off not existing at all. Populations decreased over a period of time as more and more people understood the burden of a higher level of perception. Eventually, with the human populations engulfed in a sense of hopelessness, the last humans perished with the belief that the universe did not have a single care for them.
            The world truly had ended with a whimper instead of a bang, as many expected it to.
            From the minute that the last human ceased to exist, the Earth took control of itself once more. The world was no longer guided by the codes of humanity; instead, it was guided once more by the ways it had been before the arrival of humans: a renaissance of sorts. Of course, the monuments of humanity lasted far longer than their creators, but without a purpose they succumbed to the rule of the planet. Factories, which produced the most technologically advanced devices on the planet, became overrun with plants and animals struggling to understand its place in the new world. Homes, buildings, and other structures soon became the markers of the once proud species, who built themselves up, and destroyed themselves. But without anybody to understand what their purpose was, what was a monument, but a structure that might as well have been built by creatures from another planet?
            A squirrel ran into a synagogue in Buenos Aires, Argentina; a place once beloved by those with the ability to perceive of an existence higher than their own. Running through the aisle and up to the Rabbi’s pedestal, the squirrel happened upon the open pages of a Torah. Not understanding what the symbols meant, the squirrel continued its quest to find food in order to fulfill its most basic animal instinct of survival. The squirrel abandoned the synagogue when it found nothing that could sustain its metabolic needs.
            Days turned to months and months turned to years, all the while the world kept on turning just the same. By and by, evolution continued to take its place as insignificant and small changes were becoming more noticeable. Offspring began to gradually look less and less like their parents as their biological composures became more adapted to the world. The shells of insects grew thicker, birds could fly for longer periods of time without as much need for food, and plants became suitable to fight off diseases that had the ability to wipe out entire swaths of vegetation. Meanwhile, the structures of humans fell into yet more decay as the Earth attempted to recover any nutrients or minerals left behind by humanity.
            Once the worms and microscopic organisms purged the structures out of every mineral that was to be found, the rest was left to nature. The centuries wore on as various insects attempted to extract as much nutritional value from the Lincoln Memorial as they could, but once it was picked clean, it was left to the weather, the winds, and the erosions of time. Honest Abe’s eyes still look out for the slightest sign of intelligence that would appreciate his life’s work.
            The same could be said for the monuments dedicated to Mandela, Washington, Churchill, Susan Anthony, Curie, Cleopatra, amongst many others. Their works, accomplishments, goals, and purposes were cast out of a world that had no higher sense of perception and saw no need for one. The plants and animals saw no reason why the United States Constitution, the invention of the steam engine, or the World Wars should have any bearing on their existence if it didn’t have a hand in aiding their survival. For the sparrow in what used to be Mozambique, the berries on the trees had more significance on it than the country’s independence in the year 1975.
            A catfish swam up in what used to be Boston Harbor in the wake of ships that sank long after their use was discontinued. In the catfish’s limited mind, the ships were an oddity, and something that it could not comprehend. But a school of tiny fish emerged from the porthole on the side, and the catfish saw on opportunity to eat. In a harbor that hosted much political significance to the country formerly known as the United States, the catfish amongst any other sea creature could never behold the importance of the waters it swam in,
            Within one millennium of the last human’s passing, changes still happened across the world. Whatever was left of the mark of humanity was reduced to little more than crumbling buildings and any pollution that took a long time to decompose. Yet, already the Earth had become what it had been prior to the arrival of humans. Only the laws of survival and the universe guided the animals through their lives on the planet, and while some fared better than others, the laws of nature reigned supreme. Plants continued to grow stronger and live longer depending on the amount of water and sunlight they were exposed to. In Moscow, Russia amidst the crumbling of the political building known as the Kremlin, an ivy vine growing for years eventually found its way into the Prime Minister’s office and wrapped itself around the desk and chair where Stalin, Khrushchev, Gorbachev, Yeltsin, and Putin once sat.
            Predators continued to hunt prey much as they had done for millennia past, even while humans were still around. A mongoose hunted a mouse in the Marne, Hawks continued to hunt over Hastings, Armadillos searched for food in Antietam, and snakes sought out pray in Stalingrad. Competition continued to flourish in the world based on the principle that only the fittest will survive. Once a plant or animal was able to secure enough food to stay alive and live to pass on its genes, there was little need for much else. No lands to conquer, no riches to acquire, no propaganda, no large-scale attacks, simply nature catering to the strongest and abandoning the weakest, as harsh as that principle may sound.
            The process of natural selection went on for millennia until evolutionary adaptations gave animals new abilities never thought possible before. While the progress of humanity came to a complete halt, nature flourished and branched out in ways that humans never would have thought possible before. Plants took on properties and features that made them grow stronger, quicker, and able to harvest their food in lesser, but more substantial qualities. Land animals grew larger and with more defensive attributions to ensure that their genes would pass on to the next generations. Birds took on otherworldly characteristics that made them the masters of the sky; what was once a sparrow was little different than a pterodactyl. But the most impressive evolutionary advancement took place beneath the waves.
            Groups of fishes began to sprout appendages and grow air sacs within their bodies that would allow them to briefly walk on land. A few more generations later, they had lungs, arms, legs, and a mind that was accustomed to living and surviving on land. A couple thousand years later, they took to the trees, and when they got down they spread all over the planet, despite how far apart the continents began to drift. As time went on, they began to use tools, farms, politics, writing, and language all based on which region of the Earth they migrated to. Eventually, the meekest species of all inherited the Earth and made it their own.

             

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

One Night in December

           
            “Boy, this place sure has changed a lot since I last worked here,” the man in the black jacket said to himself.
            With the temperature at a chilling nine degrees Fahrenheit, and snow gently making its way to the ground, it felt nice to be inside a warm restaurant and passing the time. It wasa Friday night, but the restaurant was not as busy as it should have been; maybe it was the cold weather, or something else that deterred business. In one of the rooms nearby, there was a sweet sixteen going on, but aside from that, there were only three tables occupied on the main floor.
            The man in the black jacket looked longingly at the restaurant and how much it has changed since he last worked there. He could even see himself, as a nineteen year old, going to tables, filling up water, and bringing out food. He still heard the bands playing at the stage up front, even though there weren’t going to be any more bands. The staff was not too busy and was mostly standing around, waiting for something to do; some of them were still there when he worked there last. Other members of the staff had either been fired or quit for one reason or another. When those who worked with him saw him, they gave him hugs, and inquired about how his life has been.
            The man looked forward to seeing them again, and told them that he was doing fine and how life had opened new doors and opportunities for him. He didn’t go into too much detail since he didn’t want to overburden them with how he was. One of the waitresses he spoke to filled him in on what has been happening since he left, and what she had to say wasn’t all too good:
            “It’s been quiet around here. We still have a birthday, a party, or a catering event every now and then, but business has been really slow, and the former manager and head chef have quit. I’ve already started looking for new jobs because something tells me this place does not have too much longer to go,” the waitress said.
            “Really? Has it gotten that bad?” The man in the black jacket asked.
            “I’m afraid so. The menus have been changed up more than it should, and the owners really have stopped looking out for this place. We have a new head chef, but she’s not as good as the last one, and it really has shown in the feedback we get.”
            “Wow, I’m so sorry to hear that.”
            “It’s no problem, it’s out of my control anyway.”
            The man in the jacket gave the waitress a hug to let her know that he was glad to see her again, and went back to his place at the bar. To him, the place looked dramatically different than it had when he was working there. He remembered when it had opened the summer of his second year of college and how the manager promised he would make good money. It had a great view of the Hudson River and the food was a blend of Mediterranean cuisine. Some of it was French, Italian, Balkan, Middle Eastern, Israeli, North African, and even from countries he had never heard before. He wasn’t entirely sure whom this was supposed to be marketed to, but it found its customers, and the atmosphere seemed more of the jazzy, cool type where old men would bring their illegally young girls on dates.
            The restaurant attracted all kinds of weirdos, but as long as it was making money there was no reason to complain. Once again, he saw the younger version of himself rushing to tables of customers who once ate at the restaurant, but never returned. He delivered the trays of those little cheese puffs, which were addicting little things. The cheese puffs he ate now were rock hard, cold, and dry, as opposed to the puffs he snuck when he was younger. They were buttery, bursting with flavor, and one could never get enough of them. But now, these puffs lost all flavor, and even seemed to have lost all its life, leaving just another tray to be eaten; but not consumed.
            The man heard noises coming from the kitchen, which sounded like yelling, but from a voice that didn’t sound like it belonged there. He didn’t know who exactly it was, but he didn’t care enough to find out. It was a voice that simply didn’t fit in the atmosphere. It passed through the kitchen doors and into the bar area where it struggled to find a place, any place, where it could resonate in peace. But the place was too different and the voice too foreign. When the place opened two years ago, it could have found a place, but now that the restaurant solidified its identity, there was nowhere the voice could feel safe in.
            The time for identity searching was over. The days when the restaurant was a vacuum were finished. It had steeped itself in what the owners and the customers made it into, and the man in the black jacket agreed that it was a good identity to have. The only problem he had with it was that he knew it wouldn’t last too much longer; it couldn’t last too much longer. As with anything, it had to find out what it was to become. When it did, IF it did, then it would have to hope that it could survive as that.
            The more the man looked around, the more ghosts he saw. He saw himself, along with the other workers who were no longer there. He saw the first manager, the second one, and the third one, all doing what they did to keep the place afloat. He saw the people eating in the different parts of the restaurant, and the messes they made when they left. The urgent need arose in him to grab a napkin and wipe down every table on the floor, but there was no need to. There was someone else who was being paid to do that, someone that wasn’t him. He knew where the water pitchers were kept, where to get those cheese puffs and how to prepare them with the olive oil and herbs. The worker’s station was beckoning him but the man knew that he couldn’t go back there since he no longer worked there.
            The ghosts of the man and the previous workers scrambled across the restaurant, trying their best to provide the service they could. Customers waved them over and told him what they needed; some were pleasant and fun to talk to while others, he remembered, were unreasonable and unbearable. For those customers who were awful, he remembered wanting to end their existences by either slipping something into their food, or outright stabbing them. Thankfully he didn’t do it, but they caused more trouble than they were worth.
            But there were some customers who were happy to have him and made the job worthwhile. Sometimes he would talk to them about the election of 2016 and give them a little history on the restaurant. These kinds of customers were the ones worth having and always left a generous tip if you got to know them beyond consumers. Good luck getting them to be your customers though.
            The man in the black jacket continued to look around the restaurant as the ghosts from the past faded away into the ether of memory. It was still snowing outside and looked as though it wouldn’t stop until at least the next morning. The sweet sixteen was winding down now and whatever few tables remained left for the night. In a few minutes, the decorations would be taken down and the room would be set up as usual again; but for now, the girls were enjoying the last few minutes they had. The man stood by the bar and watched as people gradually left the restaurant one by one. When the last person from the party left, the room was nothing more than empty plates, deflating balloons, and faded party decorations. He offered to help the servers clean up some of the mess, but they declined his offer and assured them that it was under control. The man in the black jacket watched as the tables were moved back into place and set up.
            “This was the last party we have for a long time to come.” The waitress said to him.
            “Do you know when the next party is, if there is one scheduled?” The man said.
            “There’s supposed to be a luncheon for a funeral next month, but until then, there’s nothing planned. There’s not even anything after that so far.”
            “Times really have been tough here haven’t they?”
            “Yep, but I’m just a waitress. I don’t want to be co-owner, head chef, or manager, because when this place goes, I’ll have lost my job, and nothing more.”
            The waitress continued to set up the plates and move the tables as the man recalled catering for a wedding in that room. It was quite a scene with flowers and bells and boughs all over the place and the happy couple seated at the front of the room. That was all a long time ago, and the restaurant was still in its prime when it happened. Now, it was downhill from there. The restaurant had its youth, its fun, and its rites, but the man and the rest of the staff knew that it wouldn’t be too much longer until it met its end.
            The man in the black jacket made his way back to the bar and paid for his drink and the cheese puffs. Since there were no more customers, the manager decided to close up early. The wait staff said their goodbyes to the man, as he said his to them, promising that he would see them again at some point or another. The snow outside was starting to build up, and he decided that it would be best to head home.

            Before the man turned the key in his car, he could see the snow pile up on the restaurant as the roof was covered in an inch of snow. The lights were switched off inside and he could see the manager locking the door as he pulled out of the parking lot. He knew that it would open the next day; it had to. But the man knew that one day its doors would close for good. What was horrifying was that it was closer than him or any of the staff could think; and no amount of nostalgia could bring it back.