Week 29: Matt Wenz- Servomechanism

Full Prompt: A 15+ page interview with philosopher Marshall McLuhan from the 1960’s, and a requested hangout session in which we drank martinis and listened to a record created by the same man.

Story:

Hancock reached over and tapped the small screen with his index finger silencing the metallic cooing of an imitation bird. He rolled back to the prone position he’d been lying in for the last several hours. “Monday,” he thought as he haphazardly grabbed the same small screen- his mobile device- and mindlessly scrolled through a few applications on it. Fifteen minutes elapsed. “Alright,” he breathed in resistance as he pushed himself out of the comfort of his bed.

Hancock stood in a heated and pressurized bathing shower cleaning a body that did not necessarily need it. He then went to his bureau full of clothes, dressed, grabbed his portable computational device and his bag, and breezed out the door of his home. His pre-arranged automobile pick up was waiting for him at the curb. The busy city streets induced anxiety as he recalled he could not be late for work so soon to his last infraction. He stepped from the automobile and couldn’t help but stop at the cafe next to his workplace. As he waited in line his mobile device alerted him to various happenings around the world abroad and within his own circle. A more than adequately sized coffee in hand, he arrived at a work space which similarly paid him more than adequately for only occasional high stakes work. But his boss demanded him there on time. Every time. This is something Hancock had become increasingly poor at as of late.  

Seated at his desk he checked his schedule for the week. He found an amount of work that, left to his own methods, could be accomplished in half of the five day work week that lie ahead. Inevitably things would come up to impede his progress. However, today he spent most of his time before lunch checking updates both on his social media accounts and news outlets from around the world- neither of which were entirely necessary and both, little beknownst to him, were detrimental. 

He perused through images and updates of friends he envied, media stars he didn’t know, events he couldn’t hope to effect, and complete strangers sharing what they were doing with the day. As he sat shackled to his computational device, in an effort to feel a part of their world, he found a photo from a trip long ago, enhanced it as to appear the best it could, and shared it. Shared the enhanced image with a life affirming message, but coupled with a hint of jealousy- he hoped. 

After work Hancock attended his local gymnasium. He did this primarily to help keep his waistline in check. He traversed the machine with an infinity looped belt for a number of steps which would have equaled close to six miles. After that he pushed, pulled, and lifted several differing amounts of iron weights in different manners until his body told him he had done enough, or rather he required rest and sustenance.

As he cleansed and dressed from the changing room of the gymnasium he ordered food delivered to his front door. The food would arrive approximately the same time he returned home. 

His perfectly timed food delivery now sat positioned on the short table before his davenport. Hancock took his seat at that davenport and searched through the millions of options in programs to play upon his screen. For the evening’s distraction he chose a program which seemed to be of significant entertainment value. It looked to represent multiple areas of interest for Hancock all of which proved to be incorrect as he began to fall asleep halfway through the viewing.

He pulled himself from the comfortable seat and took his dishes to the water basin in the kitchen and left them to be cleaned at a later time. He attended to his teeth and rinsed his face with water from the restroom tap. He settled into his soft yet firmly mattressed bed and set the imitation bird on his mobile device to coo at the same time the next morning as it had this one. He lay motionless for many hours before finally succumbing to sleep 

“Coo. Coo. Cahhh… Cahhhh… Hancahh… Hancock… Hancock…”

“Yeah, yeah?”

“Ya okay? Ya been starin’ straight ahead for a spell, not a word from ya.”

“M’alright. Just was thinkin’”

“Anything of note?”

“Well Ames, I reckon… I reckon the future will be much more taxin’ on our minds than on our bodies.”

“Hmm.”

Hancock and Ames, atop their steeds, rode on in silence along the plains toward the setting sun for some time. Finally Ames interjected: “I must say… that sounds right terrible.”

“Can’t say I rightly know which I’d choose,” Hancock replied.

Ames pondered for a while longer before offering: “the way I figure it comes down to a matter of choosin’. If yer body’s tired, ya can choose to rest for a spell, can’t ya? And it’ll feel better. But yer mind, there just ain’t no outrunnin’ that… don’t matter how fast a horse ya got.”

“Hmm.” Hancock considered.

“Must say,” Ames continued, “I feel mighty grateful to be livin’ here and now with what we got.” 

“I reckon that’s a mighty fine thought,” Hancock concluded.