State of the Station

B21 was lost for a long time. Long enough. Too long even.

He is back now. I am happy.

Relieved actually.

This is the story of B21 taking a train.

The train.

He boarded.

Looked around. There were people. Who looked like they knew where they were going.

There was a conductor. Who seemed to have something to gain by getting people to get off at a station.

Called 'Today'

B21 didn't want to get off at 'Today' - the conductor was getting flustered.

"Maybe I will show him how 'Today' looks like. Maybe then, he will get off. Everyone else has. He isn't like everyone else. Maybe this will help" - thought the conductor.

So he showed B21 what 'Today' looked like.

B21 saw.

He saw men. And women. With tired bodies. And nearly-defeated minds. Running largely on delusion and denial. With intermittent bursts of intentional, reckless over-consumption. As if somehow, that will all make it feel worth it. At least for a while. As if the artists and poets, interns and those losers who chose not to sell out are somehow worse off because they cannot afford truffle oil on their wood-fired Belgian pork pizzas and Spanish sangria. As if a life largely spent as a compendium of compromises, lies and grabbing is somehow worth it because they can plan and execute an expensive European holiday in May every year with their scaled down versions and their other halves without having to blink about expenses.

B21 knew this station was not for him. No fucking way.

The conductor was totally confused. He didn't get it.

"What doesn't he see!!" - the conductor wondered.

"What don't you like? Everyone loves 'Today' - aren't you feeling left out?" - the conductor asked B21.

"This is not for me. Never was." - said B21. To himself.

He couldn't even get up from his seat. Let alone get off at that station.

"But there may not be a better station. Ever. The next station is 'Tomorrow' and that never comes" - said the conductor pleadingly to B21. "You may be spinning eternally in search of 'Tomorrow' - the conductor continued.

B21 looked into the eyes of the conductor. Calmly. He felt nothing for the conductor. But he felt sad. A little. For what he was about to say to the conductor. His sadness came from the fact that he had to say it to someone.

"What else is Today for? If not entirely spent striving for a better 'Tomorrow'?

The train moved.

B21 opened a window. The conductor vanished. Because he was made of air.

B21 was alone again. Moving.

... to be continued