The Daylight has faded and the children have returned to their homes safe and sound, this time. With the sun now sleeping safely below the horizon the insect retires until the morning to begin its conquest once again. Everyone is sleeping soundly in their beds with fleeting dreams and nightmares to pass the time. The sounds of the world outside have died out and silence is the prevailing attribute to the cool night air. The distant chirping of the nocturnal crickets singing their tune out in a nearby field is the only sound causing a ripple in this silent pool. What an existence to be an insect such as a cricket. Resting during the days in a dark corner of the Earth, and rising at night to sing its tune to the world as if saying, “I exist! I am here!” Only to have its life snubbed by a roaming amphibian, reptile, or various other night crawler.
All at once the chirping ceases. Apparently one poor cricket did not survive the night and became consumed by something higher up on the food chain. The others look on in horror as their fellow chorus member is devoured, but after the terror fades they continue with their tune. What is higher on the food chain than humans? Surely there must be something because like space and time the pieces can be broken down into smaller and smaller pieces, as well as expanded on into infinity. By most standards humans are considered the apex of the animal kingdom, but something must consume humans (besides the occasional feral bear or various other animal attacks). Perhaps it isn’t a physical consumption like that of the cricket, but a spiritual and mental consumption. What being could accomplish such a task? This seems to be a much too close-minded question. The trials of life can consume a person. The heartbreak, the misery, and all of the other drudgery that life throws the way of the average individual can consume him. At the other end, things like power and money also consume a person by bending him to their will. Such things many don’t consider because of the standardized view, but looking into the faces of people one can see how their lives are slowly torn away from them and devoured by some unseen force.
This is the reason for this late night rendezvous, while others sleep someone must work, for the world never sleeps, but continues in an endless cycle. In particular the possessions of large conglomerates must be protected diligently so that they can continue to feed off of the lives of their peons. God must be a pessimist because the world seems to drift farther and farther into oblivion without signs of recovery. As with any situation not everything is bad all the time, but it seems to be on a downward track. Then again maybe it is humans who are pessimists and propagate that attitude, which in turn drives everything farther down. A lifetime of struggle and constant labor until the bitter end where nothing is left but to decay to the point of no return, and then there is relief? A final release superior to anything imaginable is this last breath of air, where some say the soul leaves the body measuring a total of 21 grams according to some statistics.
Turning to face the dark room, the same dingy pair of jeans and stained t-shirt for the habitual ritual of strenuous late night physical activity lay there on the floor. Shipments come and go knowing no time of day, they are constant due to the changing time zones causing alternating launch dates and times. Crates and boxes of all different shapes and sizes arrive from different locations throughout the world. A child’s toy that was made by another child in some poor country on one of the Asiatic islands travels more miles than either ever will in their life time; it passes through countless numbers of hands until it arrives onto the store shelf of some department store and waits to be plucked by a pleading child who will play with it for a week, and then forget about it. Meanwhile at the toy’s source the builder child will toil over another set of toys for a few cents a day in hopes of helping to feed the family. Seems like a sad story that one would hear late at night on an infomercial, but unfortunately it is all too true.
What is it like to be a young child who should be receiving an education, but has to work in order to put food on the table for the family because the extremes in financial prosperity are so far off? This kind of life is what attracts so many people to the ideals of socialism or communism. An equal pay for every family, a plot of land, and everyone contributes to the greater whole of the community. Sounds like a utopian civilization. The only problem is that humans by nature cannot maintain such an ideal because most everyone wants more than their neighbor or just wants what someone else has. “Beware the green eyes of envy…” Thus the power struggle begets the entire system and it collapses. If capitalism doesn’t work and neither does communism, then what will? It seems this question is unanswerable. So the daily grind must continue because the current location advocates a capitalist way of life, and in order to survive one must conform.
The dirty set of clothes is quickly put on as the punch-in time is rapidly approaching. Outside the air is cool and crisp and there is a slight breeze rustling the leaves on the trees. The sky is completely clear without even a trace of clouds. This night is moonless due to the rotation of the earth with the orbiting of the moon, so the stars shine brilliantly in the sky. Certain constellations, like Orion, can be seen due to the time of year, and the staple of them all, the big dipper, is high in the north. Because of the closeness to the light pollution caused by the city lights, the painted clouds of the Milky Way, as well as countless more stars, cannot be seen. This is a disappointment, but one that must be suffered through because this location is where the work is. Stopping and breathing in the night air while staring at the sky it is quite easy to become lost, but it is through sheer force of will that the car is started and driven off down the road towards those sky polluting lights.
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