listen...IV...final
"Yes, you do know."
"Huh?"
"You do know."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"You have others."
"Yes, I do have others." I admitted. "That reminds me, my wife, my companion, one of my others, told me to tell you 'hello.' So, well, 'hello' from my wife."
"Thank you. You love her?"
"Yes, more than I thought possible."
"And there are others?" the voice continued, after a slight pause.
"Yes, I have two children. Two boys. I love them very much too. Do you have a family, loved ones? Do you know love?"
"Yes, I know love. Yes, I have others."
Then it came to me. A thought. In my slow, infantile and feeble, human brain, I had a thought. "Why are you here?"
The voice answered quickly, "To commune with my loved ones, and to be."
"To be?" I questioned. It was to open ended for my tastes. To vague. "Do you have a purpose? A meaning to your life? Are you even alive?"
"I told you my purpose."
"Yes, to commune with your loved ones. Who are they? Who are your loved ones?"
"You are one. I have many."
Vague. Again. But it made me think. This was a representation, a literary device in my mind for how I was experiencing a small piece of nature in a larger unnatural area. Why did it hit me like this here? Why was I hearing it now? Was it because the juxtaposition of the sound of the water and the sound of the freeway and busy road in the distance pointed it out with more clarity? I was a part of nature, and this was the first piece with any character that I'd seen between my hotel and the training center. Me. It was there to commune with me. It was here for me, in a way, and I was here for it, in the same way. We were a part of each other, we were related by a bond that was deeper than blood.
It was the next to the last day of my training, and I was walking to the class in the cool of the morning. Lost in my own thoughts, tired, and mind clouded with the information from the class, I almost walked over the bridge without even noticing the brook. Then, quite abruptly, I stopped and looked over the railing, down into the lush garden that I had espied on the first day.
"I am still here." I heard in my minds ear.
"I know. I was just surprised at how quickly the impression of you faded from thought, faded from my mind. Why is that?" I questioned.
"Speed. Your kind move too fast. Make too much noise. You don't stop as often as you once did."
"This is true. We have built so much, learned so much, and are still learning, but we're leaving you behind aren't we?"
"No. We're still here, and always will be. You are slowly coming back. Slowly remembering the important things."
"You know, what I'm learning in my class is diametrically opposed to the very thought of you. It doesn't even mean anything to you. Do you know why I do it? Why I learn things that I'm not interested in, that I don't even enjoy"
"No."
"So I can help you. In some small way, I hope to help you."
"Do I need help?"
"No, you need us to remember you. To commune with you, to be with you more often, to respect you." I paused. "Do you hear that?"
"What?"
"That thrumming in the distance that sounds like the low pitched buzzing of a billion bees?"
"Yes."
"That's a freeway. On that freeway hundreds of thousands of people drive back and forth, to and fro, to jobs, houses, apartments, wherever the need to go. They listen to music, they roll the windows up, anything to shut out the noise that they are themselves creating. We have become afraid of silence, and you are silent, most of the time. We fear your loved ones, the ones on four legs that stray into our housing developments, even though they have just as much right to be there, as we do."
"How will what you're learning help people to stop and listen?"
"What I do pays well." I said, simply.
"Pay?"
"Never mind. What I mean is, it will allow me a little bit of freedom teach my own loved ones how to commune with you, to be with you and respect you. It will lower the amount of power and petrochemicals we have to take from you. Technology is a double edged sword, you see. It can hurt as much as help. I'll do my best to help, in whatever way I can. Do you understand?"
"No."
I paused. Worked up, I suddenly thought that the sound of that last "no" sounded more distant than usual.
"I'm sorry. That's not the kind of talk you wanted is it?"
Silence.
Of course. Silence.
I had some time, so I walked around to the end of the bridge, and scrambled down to the waters edge. I sat down and listened.Labels: listen
