Spaced Out

I had finally left the “Big City”. Yep goodbye New York City, land of the “if you can make it there you can make it anywhere”. Ten years, my lucky number , I had lived in the city, various apartments, various roommates , in Greenwich Village, in the meat packing district, in Harlem and Brooklyn. I never lived on the Upper East Side, couldn’t afford the rent. I always said I would give it ten years that would put me at 29 years of age, still young enough to forge another path if I wasn’t happy.

I  was eighteen and had come from a small town in Ohio. You know the story Dad worked in the local factory, Mom stayed at home cooking and cleaning and watching soap operas. I had an older brother, but he had joined the Army after high school and then took off on his own, working here, working there before meeting some girl out West and getting married. I did not have much contact with him except for the occasional Thanksgiving at our parents. We did not have much in common except our parents. That’s it in a nutshell as far as my past went, nothing exciting, no abuse,just boredom.

After graduating from high school I worked in the local Walmart stacking shelves with cheap crap. I hated Walmart, I swore it was ruining the Country, taking business away from the mom and pop stores and leaving our little towns look like third world countries. The towns were dying and any sense of community people had was gone. I had to get out so I saved my money and wish the good wishes from my parents and friends I moved to the Big Apple.

I waitressed at first down in the Village and started hanging out with all the artsy folks. After a while I started thinking of myself as artsy too. Why, I don’t know the most “art” I ever did was in junior high . Art along with home economics was mandated. It was clear I was not cut out to sew and cook but I did enjoy sketching and painting. My art teacher actually was very encouraging. I never thought too much about my work and never pursued it after I graduated. Now that I was in the Village among all these artists I figured I had better try to fit in and I went to the local art store and bought a drawing pad and pencils. In between my waitressing gigs I would sit in the parks or on street corners and draw peoples’ caricatures. The didn’t look exactly like the person but remember they were only caricatures; they looked generally like the person looked. Besides this was New York everyone wanted to take something back home. After a couple of years at this I got fairly good. I made enough between waitressing and drawing to pay part of the rent somewhere. Yes, I did spend a few days here and there under a bridge or in a park but I was mostly housed. I ran into all kinds of men, mostly losers but they often let me stay at their apartments until it was clear to me it was time to get out.

But as I said earlier that took me ten years. Everything was changing in the World, and quickly. I had left Ohio with a computer in tow and a flip phone. By the time I left New York there were smart phones that did everything a big computer could do and more.

 It was the birth of AI.

I packed a suitcase of nothing but the essentials. I had some cash and decided to just take off and see where I landed. I bought a Greyhound ticket to California. The bus stopped at various places I barely had heard the names of on its way west. It was probably about three in the morning when the bus driver stopped to refuel and told us we could get out and stretch our legs for a half hour or so. I wasn’t totally sure where we were. It was hot and looked like the desert was all around us. There was an outhouse for a bathroom, I couldn’t believe it. The sky was beautiful with stars twinkling magically. This must be an omen I thought. The start of a new life.

I opened the outhouse door and when I walked inside all of a sudden it slammed shut. It sounded like the door was made of metal, but I had just opened it I knew it was wood. I turned around to open the seat on the toilet and all of a sudden, I was met with a whoosh of sucking air that pulled me through the opening and into a clear tube. I felt like I was going a hundred miles an hour and then it stopped. Just like that. I didn’t know if I was lying down or standing up. The sucking air stopped and all I could see through the tube were tables with what appeared to be other human beings. I wanted to scream but I felt frozen. I felt a pull on the tube and realized something was trying to tear it open like it was a candy wrapper.

I was face to face with what appeared to be a robot dressed like a doctor. No words came from my mouth even though I was thinking of saying so many things. My body felt like I was made out of wax. Another robot appeared and they lifted me up and placed me on a gurney. Immediately a series of wires dropped from a huge machine above me. The robots began stripping me of my clothes and then started taping the wires to my body’. I still could not speak. On the wall was a huge screen and when flipped on it showed my name and age. A switch was flipped and there were all sorts of buzzing and whirring sounds. On the screen my life was mapped out, things I had seen and done, my reaction to those things. My whole life was depicted in strange symbols It seemed like hours, I had no sense of time.

The robots never spoke to each other they just pulled switches and turned knobs. At one point the room went black. They were untying me from the table and putting me back into another plastic tube. The next thing I heard was the whooshing air again and before I knew it, I was through the toilet hole and standing in the outhouse. The plastic tube evaporated around me. I felt my body, it felt normal again. I started to scream and all of a sudden, the outhouse door opened and there was the bus driver. “Hey buddy are you alright?” he said.

I didn’t say a thing as I am quite sure he would think I was crazy and would call the cops or something.

I simply told him I couldn’t get the door open, and I was afraid he would leave without me.

I asked him if he would leave me at the next big town. I needed to buy a return ticket to N.Y.C. I planned to find some friends I had met who were making low-budget movies and sell them my experience.

I did just that, the movie was a hit and I made some good dollars. I guess it’s true,” If you can make it in NY, you can make it anywhere.”