Living in your dystopia 2: you all suffer…

Yesterday evening, I’d been sitting in my room for a few days watching the google box, soaking up your culture and recovering from the episode in the restaurant. It was time to venture outside again.
On the corner of the street I could hear the music, smell the sweat and see the company I craved. I opened the door, breathed in deeply and strolled over to the bar. A man wearing a flat cap nodded to me. I nodded back. ‘Hello,’ I said.
He smiled. ‘Hi. New around here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Takes some getting used to. Me and the boys moved here thirty years ago and they’re still deciding if we’re allowed to be here. Eh lads?’
A group of five men sitting in an alcove laughed. One of them banged the table with his hand. ‘Bring him over here, Tommy,’ he said.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked me.
‘That would be very nice. Something small and strong, please.’
‘Sounds like you need a tequila.’ He beckoned the barman over. ‘A Partida, the Elegante, please.’
‘Come and sit with us,’ called the man who’d banged the table.
I sat down and sipped. The tightness in my shoulders melted a little. ‘Thanks.’
‘No worries,’ he said. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you seem to have a purple tinge to your skin.’
‘I don’t mind. It’s true. Doesn’t bother you, does it?’ I smiled and they smiled back, shaking their heads. ‘I’m keen to find out a bit more about life around here and you seem like a nice bunch. Do you mind if I ask some questions?’
‘Are you the cops?’
‘Leave him be,’ said Tommy, ‘can’t you see he’s out of his depth. Being purple ‘n all that.’
They all laughed and either slapped the table, each other or my back.
‘Why do you farm living beings for food?’ I asked.
‘Come again!’
‘I was in a restaurant and they offered me T-bone steak. I’m not used to it and I can’t figure out why you eat some and not others’
‘It’s the way it is. Some are born to be pets, some are born to be eaten and some are born to roam free.’
‘Aren’t you all the same?’
A smile slowly spread across Tommy’s face. ‘Nah. Some of us are much more important than others.’
‘Not you though eh, Tommy?’ said one of his friends.
He still smiled. ‘You see Purple, if we didn’t farm them they wouldn’t exist. There’s a pecking order.’
‘Think you’re one of the free do you?’ said the barman as he collected the glasses.
‘But why do they put up with it?’ I asked. ‘I’d rather not be born than suffer like that.’
‘Ah. You say that, but we all suffer in one way or another don’t we? You can’t get rid of suffering,’ said Tommy.
Suddenly, I was exhausted so I finished my drink and said my goodbyes. Back in my room, I reflected on the conversation. The nub of the problem seems to be that although suffering is wrong you can’t avoid it. Maybe the whole universe should be scrunched up and thrown in the bin?
Just a thought.

2 thoughts on “Living in your dystopia 2: you all suffer…

  1. Bobby, thank you for your comments. I met a cyborg the other day who hears colour. He said that human skin is different shades of orange and not white through to black, which I found intriguing and made me even more surprised that the purple tinge to my skin hasn’t caused more fuss. Most people are the same as you and seem to like it which I guess is because I’m the only one, making me more of a curiosity than a threat.
    On your point about throwing the universe in the bin, I can assure you that I’m taking the idea seriously, but I have to give it more thought…

    Like

  2. Having purple skin would be awesome!!!😈👿😈👿 And I like the thought of throughing the world in the bin… Very philosophical! 😝👌

    Liked by 1 person

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