The Interview

“How are you feeling? Do you remember anything?” An aging hand slides a glass of water across the table that enters the light from some dark place. “Here, in case you’re thirsty.”

Jack reaches out grasping at the glass; he focuses, grabs it, takes a long drink, and closes his eyes. He clumsily sets the glass down on the edge and miraculously catches it as it falls. He places it closer to the center. His head is spinning from his migraine-induced vertigo. The outline of a figure is barely distinguishable through the blinding light, and Jack squirms from left to right against the hard white plastic chair desperately looking for a comfortable position; the squeaky sound of it irritates his head more and he cringes. He finally crosses his legs and leans to the right to reflect. I have to put up with this crap again? Another day of this whack job tryin’ to conjure up an alternate personality that doesn’t exist, just to validate his stupid theoretical mumbo jumbo. Jack frowns, furrowing his brow. Having multiple personalities vying for control is not the issue. Jack knows there is only one Jack, he is certain of it. I wouldn’t even be aware of another personality if there was one, isn’t that how it works? Then again, how could he explain the voices in his head or those memories that seem to be someone else’s warning some love in some other realm of a shadow wave?

“So, you simply left? Where did you say, an inner world, was it? I believe you described it as the planet being hollow with gardens in middle earth?” Dr. Worskovey peers up from his continuous note scribbling. “What do you think it all means?” The doctor remains hidden on the dark side of the light, waiting for an answer too long in coming. Jack imagines what the doctor must look like: clear blue eyes study Jack through thick-rimmed black glasses perched on a wrinkled-up analytical nose; tufted gray hairs climb out from over the arch of his ears and a couple of wild brows are sprouted with anticipation; pens stick out from his white lab coat pocket; mouth slightly open waiting for Jack’s answer.

After a prolonged silence, the doctor states, “I can tell you what I think…Would you like to hear what I think?” He is direct whereas Jack feels aloof, with exasperated nerves that dominate him. “No, I-I really don’t!  I don’t know what I’m doin’ here sayin’ the same things over and over. Look, I went through absolute hell before gettin’ here, and this? This isn’t any better! In fact, I think it’s worse!” A loud forced sigh emphasizes his obvious frustration.

“Could you start from the beginning?”

“Really? How many damn times do I have to tell you this?” The doctor’s silence answers for him. He regains some control. “Ok fine. Let’s see…I was thrown onto the surface from a…like a sanctuary…, or ah…, more like an inner garden, you know. Look doc, I really don’t understand what’s goin’ on…my head’s gonna explode.”

“You have quite an intriguing story Jack, which I feel you require more time to process. You have certainly been through quite a significant episode.” The doctor dims the blinding light and jots down yet more notes. Jack can make out some minor details: the shape of his posture, and the contour of his pen on the notebook when he put his fist to his mouth to catch a muffled cough. 

Jack continues, “I don´t know where I was, or what any of this means! Then I… I can hear what people are thinkin’ all around me…invadin’ my mind, my thoughts. It’s crazy! Frickin’ crazy!” Jack looks around frantically as his leg starts shaking uncontrollably and he lets out a faint moan.

“Relax Jack. Breathe in with me slowly… There you go. Let it out…Relax…One more time…Are you able to hear my thoughts right now?” Jack perceives Dr. Worskovey leaning forward in his chair with anticipation.

“Nooo! It’s not like that! It’s mostly when I’m outside. I can hear people everywhere. Then I have another one that’s with me every day! I just can’t take all the voices! It’s overwhelming!” Tears well up in his eyes, and his head drops into his hands, “Oh my Goood!” He groans softly.

“Hmm…alright. Well, take another deep breath…relax… At present, I am more interested in what you remember of your experience in the inner world. Do you recall where it was you emerged from while in this…dream?”

Jack lifts his head tears welling up in his eyes, “What?!? What difference does that make? This is my reality right here right now. How should I know what that dream means? You’re the one with the degree! You should be tellin’ me! C’mon, they don’t mean anything!” Light suddenly floods a dark corner at the other end of what seems to be a long room lending a sudden sense of space for this interrogation.

“Please, Jack, what do you remember?”

“How many times…? LOOK at your notes!” …countless seconds of silence pass, “Ok. Fine… Just give me a minute.”

“Take your time, I will be right back.” The doctor’s silhouette is mystic as it flickers quickly off toward the light. He appears to speak to someone until suddenly, the door slams. From the other side, Jack hears a faint female robotic voice, “oops, sorry.” The room floods back to black. The spotlight returns intensified. The theatrics of interrogation are harsh, though the doctor insists they’re beneficial. Yeah, maybe for Moth Man! Jack can’t think of what to say. Dr. Worskovey seems to know a lot more about the story than he does. He probably sat there and wrote it all down while I was out cold, recorded it or somethin’. Yeah, that’s it! They frickin’ recorded it. They were probably followin’ me for weeks. Yet Jack seems to remember having signed something about it all when he got here or…

“How are we doing, Jack? Would you like a bit more time?” With the door abruptly shut, complete darkness returns except for the blinding sphere of light exposing Jack to scrutiny for truth. The doctor’s shape drifts into view again, morphing from the dark corner of the room. 

“My apologies for the interruption, please continue.”

Jack continues, “So, there was a vast open space…, a cold place. I was lyin’ curled up under a tree that was there, with nothin’ else for as far as the eye could see…it was empty, beautiful yet chaotic, an untamed desolate landscape.” Jack’s mind drifts across the barren memory of this other world. Traces of whatever the doctor gave him earlier for his dreams are still affecting him.

After moments of near-silent scribbling Dr. Worskovey looks up, “Alright, we can return to that later.” Dr. Worskovey tries his best to make Jack feel comfortable. “Now then, you mentioned a woman you loved in the other realm. Who were you referring to? Is that person no longer with you?” Dr. Worskovey ponders to himself unaware of Jack’s scrutinizing eyes:

He is experiencing the convergence of multiple realities intertwining with one another. Being able to distinguish them would be quite useful. Come on Jack, WHO is your true self? The answer to that complex universal question, as for most humans, remains elusive until death. The doctor, realizing the irony and impossibility of a forthcoming answer, chuckles lightly under his breath. Though there may be a distinct correlation, you are in denial, yet there is a part of you that knows. I must bring forth this other self for only then will the truth be revealed.”

“Hello?” Jack loses his patience and hits the table with his fist. “Doc! What are you goin’ on about?” “You wanna know what I think? Maybe all this isn’t such a good idea.”

“Please remain calm Jack. I was merely asking about the woman you love. When you were within your dream, you mentioned your beloved. I might have even felt a presence in the room. She breathed life into the room, and I could feel her presence here with us. I made a note of it.”

“Are you tryin’ t0 gaslight me? I swear to God…” Jack’s eyes squint in the faint glow trying to discern the doctor’s expression, “This conversation is goin’ nowhere.”

“No, your love breathed life into the room, and I could feel her presence here with us. I made a note of it.”

“Are you trying to gaslight me? I swear to God…” Jack’s eyes search frantically in the dark for the nearest exit.

 “Jack, you’re not being very cooperative.” The sound of his voice is making Jack’s ears bleed, but the doctor remains cool and continues, “tell me, who is this love, this other you dream of? Where do you remember her from?”

“What? No! Noo! I have no idea who that woman is; she’s not even real. I can’t figure this out, and you’re not helpin’ me at all!! These dreams…th-they’re more like incomplete memories that aren’t mine, and then this insomnia! It’s gonna be the end of me! I can’t give you any more answers!”

“I understand. Sometimes, our personal lives, the authentic reality, have a way of projecting in curious ways. I wonder, have you discussed any of this with Mary?”

“What are you talking about? Wait a minute! H-how do you know Mary? You say that like, like you know her.” He looks suspiciously toward the doctor with eyes ablaze.

“Well, according to your chart, we have her listed as your emergency contact, and she signed you in earlier.”

The room spins and Jack shuts his eyes to stop it. He reopens them. The bright light has been turned off and the overhead lights are half lit. Dr. Worskovey is fully visible now, and he seems quite different from his impression of him. “Would you like to answer the question, Jack?”

He blurts out, “What question? How did you do that with the lights?”

“I asked about the medication you take for your condition.

“No, you didn’t.”

Dr. Worskovey glances at his intake sheet. “Perhaps you were not listening. Well, anyway, do you think it is working for you?” Dr. Worskovey begins tapping on the inner flap of his notebook and it seems to get louder and louder.

“I don´t know what’s going on here. I don´t understand anything!” What if the doctor is right… what if I am dealing with some severe personality disorders where some ancient spirit has awoken? Sometimes it’s like a nonstop projector feeding him shards of shattered memories he can’t comprehend. His mind rips him through scenes from his life interjected with those of some other life, some other world with unknown faces and feelings. Jack starts moving from side to side in his chair becoming increasingly agitated, and disoriented.

“We may attempt a different approach. Given the fact you will be with us for a while, would you like to hear wha—”

  “Wh-what do you mean I’m not going anywhere?” Panic swells and Jack starts hyperventilating. He knows he is not right. Jack grasps the sides of his chair white-knuckled slightly rocking, “I just wanna go hooome. I’ve been answering the same questions for days and days.”

“Actually Jack, you have just arrived, and we are in the middle of conducting your initial intake interview. I believe your wife has made a wonderfully wise decision. You are in no condition to leave these facilities. This is a good place to stop for today. We can proceed tomorrow after you have had some much-needed rest. Breakfast is served at 7 AM. Nursebot Ruby will be here shortly to take over for me.”

Jack leans back in the cold unfeeling chair beyond confused and exhausted, and his voice is but a mumble, “What, …I just got here? But how’s that even possible? I´ve been here for days…” His head drops into his right hand. “I feel like crap…Oooh, I really need something for this migraine, please.” He craves validation, but what he really needs is a stiff drink to help him think straight.

“Oh, come now Jack, there is no need to worry. Ruby will take care of you and that migraine.” The overhead lights increase to full strength, causing the cafeteria to come into full view: It all seems so oddly familiar. Jack can’t believe he let Mary talk him into this!  Dr. Worskovey turns off the interrogation light and gathers himself to leave. Jack looks around for the nearest exit to get out of there.

Nursebot approaches and assertively takes hold of Jack’s wrist to check his pulse. “Good evening, sir. Would you please open your mouth wide?” Jack clamps his mouth shut. “Please understand, if you resist it can be uncomfortable, but I can be very efficient with your cooperation.”

Jack tries to break free from the Nursebot’s grip unsuccessfully, and although exhausted, he gets easily excited. “Hey, get off me! I don’t need a medical exam! You’re hurting me!”

“I am incapable of harming you. I am an avant-garde advanced caregiver, an updated version of the S-7, much more enhanced because my code is more… customizable, unlike those older versions. Please hold still and relax. Then I will show you to your room.”

“I don’t wanna go to my room. I wanna go home!”

As Dr. Worskovey walks away he looks over his shoulder, “I understand Jack, the adjustment process takes time. Trust me, you will be fine.” and then gives instructions as he disappears around an anonymous corner. “Ruby, level two, please.” She releases Jack’s arm and remains motionless for a nanosecond, resetting to his voice command. Jack’s eyes widen as he begs, “Please, don’t hurt me!”

“Jack, I have already told you that I am incapable of causing you harm. Calm yourself please. Level two refers to relief, in this case for your headache. Therefore, if you would just relax, you will notice a marked improvement in your migraine.” Her hands begin to glow a pale blue and she holds them to Jack’s head infusing him with her calming energy. Jack’s shoulders slump, and after some minutes he opens his eyes. He is much calmer. “I really don’t understand anything, but my headache’s gone. I think I’d like to go to my room now.”

“Follow me please.” Ruby is so lifelike except her elegant mannerisms are more than human, a reminder of the separation from AI systems. This is how bots should be used, in medicine, not like so many of those pairing services for domestic partnerships. They flood the dating apps with ads, making it virtually impossible to find an actual human these days. Ruby leads him through the double doors at the other end. He trails behind staring blankly at the eternal hallway of identical, unnumbered rooms that look more like prison cells.

“You are here.” Ruby sweeps her open palm toward his room with a slight bow. Jack already knew which room was his, and he simply stares off and focuses in on a communal space set off in an alcove further down on the left with a white table and circle of matching colorless chairs facing outward.    

8 Months In

Big plans came to rest on the porch, more like a perch, that overlooks a barren garden. When the reality of the cost came to mind, the setting seemed apropos. That is as far as anything went that year. It is hard to say if it would ever be any different from here to the end. A side-effect of a strong imagination is over-shooting the moon and drifting out into space. Gotta have a tether, somehow, lest you be homeless.

It smelled like snow when the geese flew overhead, just then, slicing across that last thought, silhouettes against time. They instinctively know when something is coming and adjust to it. Normally, it is my favorite season, which isn’t to say that it is anything but, even in this moment. Truly, it is just another thought strung up from yet another that gets left hanging out on the line, for a bit, while others hit unexpectedly – thoughts, that is. Eventually, I find my way back but that does seem to come slower these days with a heavy mind.

I hear the world is devolving though, I knew there was potential for it given the severity of how our politics have interacted with the disease that undermined the economy and brought race out onto the table to be examined while being blindsided by severe food shortages and homelessness as a result of joblessness. I hear things have not improved from when we first shut down, about eight months ago; that the toxic affair with cult-minded politicians is intensified on a wave of death through denial. The alternate dimension, having unfolded right before our eyes, is a place where reality is challenged through profound apophenia and dots are connected that are not meant to be connected. Is this an unintended consequence of the super highway?

I reel with slight vertigo and move away from the edge of the concrete stair. My balance is one thing I’ve noticed as being off-kilter. Maybe it’s the time of the season? Admittedly, I love this song.

The routine I’ve adapted to is ever evolving the definition of normal. 2020 catapulted our society. flailing in so many directions, yet landing, ultimately, back to a couple of basic camps or divisions of ideology. Seeing this play out hits on so many levels it takes a long period of quiet to get a proper grip on it.

Words occupy confined spaces attempting reason with the mind.

It is has been about eight months and I am still alive. I know I referenced that timeline already, but the context is important. This pandemic, they say, kills. My interactions have become agoraphobic – limited to social media where connectivity is like water that keeps us alive. I think most of any ailments I have feared to have had during this time are derived more from my own psychosis and nervous uncertainty.

Standing there, I take stock and know I am lucky to have transitioned to working from home full time for a company that is supportive, so far. Our entire professional work flow took a giant leap forward with technology. We can almost think it and it happens. At the same time, millions are without income now and food scarcity in the heartland is real. People are dying, yet, remain skeptical.

Since the general recommendation is to limit social interactions, I found it the perfect premise to give myself permission to write. After many years, a manuscript has come to fruition that might be worthy of publishing. We shall see, perhaps. There are so many options now with digital technology. Time will tell, unless I run out of patience. But somehow, as I close on the last couple of chapters, I am relieved and if I’ve learned nothing else during this change, patience is a virtue for our survival.

Sunrays break through snow clouds that gathered together over the course of the morning like purple wigs – the finest a lady might wear to tea or Sunday brunch. The geese are gone now to some low lying lake where they will break for the storm. But the sun does find its way and warms one side of the face that smiles at it. It doesn’t stay long in the breeze that picks up with frozen fog that fills the air but I felt it. I can still see the snowline across the way, for now, and spot several perfect lines that are so good it is hard to imagine that some old farmer hasn’t already taken it for a run or two. Like maybe after a late fall hunt into the highlands only to pull out the sticks and grab some wild stash. It would be an annual tradition riding knee-deep powder down to the waterline before heading back to the homestead for holiday.

The world bends with fear, I am reminded, as I snap back from my moment of nostalgia. A large truck rumbles by waving every flag but the American flag and yelling that civil war is imminent. I know a lot of people are scared. I can’t help but reject that this is a reality that can actually unfold – though in the deeper reaches of my psyche, I know we are not above this outcome and that things can change quickly and suddenly. I believe we have been witnessing the attempt to undo our society based on far-fetched conspiracies and ill-founded fears. But then, how would it be if I were one of those unfortunates whose life turned away from the ability to see the good any longer? What if I needed to kill in order to protect my family and the enemy became my neighbor? What if nothing happens and I am simply left with whatever revelations I have come to during this period of unrest? What should any of us do as a result of this? What has it shown us personally about our needs and living to our fullest where we can see the good again?

I am on the top step which gives me a vantage of overseeing the whole garden – all the boxes, and beds, and piles of mulch laid out in a reasonable pattern cut with a small pathway, but still big enough for a wheel barrel to get around. Maybe, at the end of it all, that’s all we need, is a little room to clean things up and put them into some sort of order again. Not likely the same, but order, nevertheless.

Eight months in and I am not so sure. Hoping for calm as the electorates cast their final ballots.

Vote Beyond Greed

Vote. It matters. Don’t let the words: “Let your voices be heard” become a cliché, an empty meaningless idea suited for another age. We might all be heading down the same well, but let us at least go down with some dignity. Let us have empathy that we are all in this together, that we are not a mere plutocracy, but an American people that value our history and each other in the present. I know this is ‘Idealism’, but I have heard it said, too often, that one side or the other will destroy us. In my view, while we might be tempted to reason the idea of unity, as if , therefore, the vote doesn’t matter, we still have a choice on how we want to take it. If anything, we will destroy ourselves when we put money above our humanity.

What we have seen for the past several years and longer in our country is a complex web of deceit. Maybe both parties are in on it? Maybe Putin really is (among others) the puppet masters that have let the American experiment run its course and they can claim rights on an ego bet? Either way, a divided country results only in chaos and no hope of breaking the invisible bonds of slavery. In our country, the United States of America, our imperfect system allowed for a criminal to take the reigns of power and dupe our closest friends and family members causing deeper division in our homes, work place, and society. This only leads to the power of a dictator who sways enough support to prop up against – not a majority. Whether part of a grand plan or not, it only works when we are divided.

Religion has become the whore of Babylon. False prophets with guilt and shame have manipulated the consciousness of the American people. It has been used as the go to tool to move humans in profound ways – including war and the killing of neighbors – essentially contradicting everything it is supposed to represent. But make no mistake, religion is NOT the same as spirituality. The religious pawns of our current administration whisper in the ears of vanity and prey on the stupid. A good sign of it is seen in the pulpit of the prolific lie. Our current President doesn’t even bother anymore and lies profusely on just about every topic – even trivial matters. Meanwhile, religion follows waving a banner of hypocrisy for its followers. What we have seen is a joint of messaging, whether spoken or condoned, where deep conspiracies are become normal and lies are pushed until they become truth.

Swept up with it all is Race, which has been transformed – nudged by greed to modernize with the times. Alongside race is poverty and economic inequality – each byproducts of a corrupt system where endless questions of what is right is wrong and what is wrong is right have given way to the blatant corruption that have gained power. The rhetoric ‘drain the swamp’ is a ploy. The idea of smaller government is only a convenient idea to cause division. Race is important not because we talk about it – but because it is one of the important consequences of our system which has relied on slavery. This was probably a natural migration of thought from a Feudal system and serfdom as a necessary requirement for an economic model of a new free country. Over time, we all became slaves as Capitalism evolved and civil rights and other social justice issues emerged and came into conversation. Unfortunately, it did not go away – just changed to enslave all people under the maturation of a system that cares more for monetary status than the common rights of a humanitarian system. Race gets lost in the mix as another contributing factor, which is why just enough has been done since the Civil Rights Movement to make it socially more palatable. Unfortunately, if you are a person of color, you know it is a deeply systemic issue and is embedded. This is where the powerful white man has taken us.

These issues are complex and deep seeded and I believe are to a great extent why why our politics have become so visceral, so polarizing. It is where the elite control and manipulate and is by design. However, within this field of disparity and party politics remains hope for decency. We are a pinnacle need for a cultural shift in terms of what we value. Money and wealth capital should not dictate decisions nor should it limit people from pursuing the best of themselves that contribute to society. I believe this is where some fundamental doses of socialism have value in that it raises the bar from the bottom which in turn strengthens our consumers if one were looking at it purely through the optics of capitalism. As one professor of Economics I know have described it, “A top down system doesn’t work because eventually wealth is consolidated and the consumer base is eroded and so, therefore, is not sustainable. A bottom up model is important for because it inherently protects and feeds the consumer that puts back into the system. It is reciprocal.”

As long as we must choose sides, as an Independent, I prefer a smarter fresh way of looking at our culture and the economic options that feed a different set of principles. Based on this paradigm, it does come back to our vote and the image we hold for our country and the ideals of our humanity.