Robot SardinesMature

A writing exercise where the writer is required to experiment with how they begin a piece. Usually I would begin with a general plot and character work. My experiment was writing directly after an experience. This is experimental in comparison to my own standards.

I don’t like to turn my music down. It’s not like I’m actually going to get a reaction anyway. These people are so immersed with their own mundane routines of walking around in circles with concentrated boredom. Their faces are almost unrecognisable as human beings who are capable of emotion. It's hard to tell one impetuous cretin from another. The city is always like that I guess. Nobody seems to have a clue that anything outside their own private world could matter. Mindless drones. And for heaven’s sake, don’t bump into them. They are sardines, it’s what they are used to. Packed in tight together, dead and expressionless. Somebody stands in their way, they keep swimming through the throng of filth and sweat, one mechanical arm permanently attached to their Blackberry, the other to their favourite appendage, so to speak. Robot sardines.

I like the people that get angry. At the very least, it shows there is hope that at least one of these drones has a personality; has the capability to show emotion, even to a complete stranger. It's a sign that the artificial beings have evolved and evolving, and are capable of thinking of something or someone other than themselves and their machines. So to you, the suited man who glared and spat profanities at my accidental shoulder charge, I say thank you, robot sardine, for breaking away from your pack and exhibiting a morsel of personality, even if you were a prick about it. I no longer fear for the future.

The End

0 comments about this exercise Feed