THOUGHT EXERCISE: A PERFECTLY CONTENT REALITY.

[zygote]

Hello. Are you feeling well?
Welcome to our team, let’s introduce you to the other personnel.
This is Patrick from management. Patricia from HR.
This is Joan with you in deliveries, she’ll show you to the car.
“Hey new guy. This is our van, we call it zippy.
There’s not much to do, do you want to take it for a ride through the city?”

You arrived in this strange new town with no memory of how you got there.
You were called into this new job, and woke up in a new bed inside a different house with no idea of how you got there.

Hey you, did you like your co-worker? She’s quite rambunctious and loud.
Come with me into this office area. Please put your feet up on the couch.
OK for delivery you have two roles, when you’re not on the road you do books on this console.
Your boss smiled and left the room. You move your hand near the air conditioning – it is not hot and it is not cold.
It is just room temperature air. Your first day finished. Joan invited you out.
They want to have drinks with the new guy at work. You’re the new guy in town.
The bar is nice, it’s a little quiet; the music’s kind of muffled.
Just people still in work clothes, talking in small groups and in couples.
Joan is nice. You notice her looking at you.
You ask her - So besides work, what else do you do?
“I take a night class in interior design, I enjoy interior design.”
You smile and she smiles. That’s all you need to do for this time.
Hours pass. They feel like hours. The alcohol tastes kind of soft.
You’ve been drinking, and nothing. You think that something’s off.

It tastes fine, it is OK even. There’s nothing really wrong with it.
Everything is OK. It just seems a little different, just a little distant.

You split a cab with Joan and walked her to her door.
You’re smiling, she invites you inside and you say – sure.
Missionary, she didn’t make a sound, she didn’t move an inch.
It felt OK and she had a great body, but she also never flinched.
“Do you want to move in with me?” You answer - Yeah, OK.
Your own house doesn’t have any furniture and she seems quite OK.
Months pass. Everything’s OK. Work, life, you stick to your position.
You and Joan have plans this evening. You’re chopping celery in the kitchen.
You taste the celery. Well, you reason - I guess celery always tastes bland.
Then you start to wonder what would happen. You chop the index finger off your right hand.
FUCK. Your finger is detached at the middle knuckle.
Blood spurting out. You grab your hand with your other hand to stop the blood spurting out, and you begin to stumble.
You slowly sink down to the floor. Joan enters smiling. She looks at your mangled hand.
Why are you sitting on the floor? We have guests at 6. Did you forget our dinner plans?