Bench Builders of the Future

Here's some fiction. lols.


Pallid waves of orange fluorescence from the overhead light posts became bent and scattered in the puddles on the pavement below. The rain hadn’t stopped for days, and the smell of wet concrete was getting to me. Worse yet was the acrid stench of vehicular exhaust from random autos. The cars, driven by faceless drivers, shone dully in the rain, and I watched from the sidewalk as they passed by.

After awhile, thunder from storm clouds began to meld in with the constant, low-pitched bustle of multi-engined buses. This was in stark contrast to the annoying whine of electro-chemical hybrids, sporting body designs so compact that it appeared as though people were driving over-sized go-karts. The careless machines sprayed out gouts of bio-waste byproduct in my general direction, obscuring my view.

I turned away from the cacophony and glanced down at the newly constructed forest conservation zone beside the commerce sector, but the twenty foot solar-paneled walls on either side of the highway blocked my line of sight. Wildlife was a rare sight. However, I had many pictures of it in my online photo album, so there was nothing to worry about.

It occurred to me that walking was very difficult and time consuming. Luckily, I was on a bench now, and all I really had to do was sit there and observe the things around me. The movement, the shapes, and the encircling buzz of activity occurring about every section of land capable of sustaining human activity, were all I really needed.

Some said our city was becoming too overcrowded and polluted, but I could rest assured knowing that the initiative to go green was in full swing. Others claimed that it wasn’t nearly enough to meet the needs of the exploding population, and that no landfill in the world could keep up with the immigration strain, but the geodemosociopoliticians on Podcast live (the most popular internet newscast around) explained that the ‘overall spectrum’ of things was ‘within a manageable limit’. I believed what they said, because they were on the internet.

I decided that I would remain on the bench and hope for a glimpse of the bright orange band of sunrise which normally developed behind the dense row of residential archologies and corporate geodesics. I’d seen it once or twice while under the influence of various neural-stimulants from that new organic coffee place, because coffee made everything better. I liked hanging out at the organic coffee place, because it’s where all the popular people were.

On one such occasion, while enjoying a morning coffee, I met some curious individuals who wore dreadlocks and hemp clothing, and they offered me a portion of what they referred to as ‘space cakes’. They had said that it would make the experience of viewing a sunrise more enjoyable. Instead, the cakes gave me spaced out delusions and bizarre instances of time dilation. During such times, ideas and memories drifted from my skull as though a conveyor belt had been installed between my ears. From here, the ideas were inspected, reverse engineered, and re-manufactured into low quality and more convenient versions of the originals. Quantity over quality, as my accounting professor always said.

“It’s Leon,” a man said, so I looked up. He was clad in a full length, white trench-coat which was so long and tattered that it scraped across the cold, wet concrete behind his feet. The coat had accumulated various dark stains which were mostly light brown in colour, though other smudges and blemishes, which were altogether darker than the aforementioned brown stains, could be observed upon other areas of his person.

“Who’s Leon?” I tried to say, but my words barely croaked out of my dry throat. Despite this, he still heard me, which lead me to immediately assume that he wasn’t a meatbag like me, but an android of some kind. They were common, especially in certain areas of commercial sales and business..

“Well, hello there! I’m Leon, and have I got a deal for you!” It explained. Its voice seemed altogether convincing, so I nodded my head, which was customary to show that I wanted the droid to go away. “Oh, you needn’t do that, sir, I am not a droid, but a human being, like yourself,” it said, seeming to respond to my thoughts.

“Oh, well that’s a surprise,” I replied. For no real reason, I told Leon a story. “This bench upon which I now sit isn’t all that much, but I built it about six years ago, when I was working for this publicly owned manufacturing business, and it took me several weeks to design the blueprints necessary for its construction.” Leon gazed on, appearing remotely attentive. I continued. “The ergonomics are unbeatable, but unfortunately, head office had to stop making this particular style bench, because newer, cheaper models were coming in from overseas. This one was just too big, too cumbersome, and too expensive to keep producing, so they then had to let me go, I guess, but who am I to complain? I don’t make the rules anyhow,” I finished. Leon had a glazed look in his eye.
“Yes, I do like a good bench,” he responded, “but I also like a good bed, and good furniture overall, and I like cheap furniture, the cheaper the better, cheap-cheap-cheap. I love to save money, as I’m sure you do!” Leon laughed.

“Well then, with money being such a matter of import, can there be much else to prioritize above it?”

“No, money runs everything.”
“But Leon,” I replied, in a slightly concerned voice, “how is it that your whole existence could revolve around the acquisition of material profit? Do you care not for other such things in this world, such as green plants and blue skies?”
“Well, I do like the colour green!” he joked, laughing quite loudly and happily afterward. His laugh kind of unnerved me for some reason. It sort of grated my brain sideways, and kind of sunk into my imagination, shooting spikes of frustration though the neural matrices responsible for processing such emotions. But who was I to judge?

Then Leon got really serious all of a sudden. “I don’t make all the rules, I guess,” he said sharply, “but some of my friends do. We’re a network of hard workers and our work is never complete, which is why I am so dedicated to spreading their fine products to you fine citizens!”

This conversation was starting to creep me out a bit.

Then Leon began to get all philosophical on me. “Things are different now, you see, things are much more real. We have concrete now, and we have seas of steel. We have waves of new sound and huge factories to make everything run, and everything is as it should be. Where the old ways plummet the new ways rise, and that is the way of things, the natural way. There is nothing wrong with this because that’s how it’s meant to be. Tomorrow is predestined, nothing can stop progress.”

“I see,” I said apprehensively, “that makes a lot of sense.” Realizing my sarcasm, Leon became defensive, and pointed at me in a conspicuous way.

“You’re an observer,” he stated flatly, “a temporary bystander of events. Watch as they all pass by in a neat and orderly way, through and through.”
Feeling a bit edgy, I thought I’d play along.

“You know what Leon, I like furniture too,” I replied after a moment. “I’ve got a fair amount of it in my apartment, but maybe I should just buy more. Without the proper number of chairs to sit on, or a comfortable bed to sleep on, or proper tables to place various items of interest on, I might as well be living on the street, and while I’m no scientist of any special variety, since the only thing I managed to attain in life was the mass construction of several ergonomic styles of bench, I can tell that human beings were not meant to exist in the wild. We were mostly predestined to be the way we are today, I am happy here, and I love this bench and this city with its concrete seas and steel waves.”
“Well now, it’s only the truth, isn’t it?” the droid replied with a hint of self-importance. I realized I was talking to a dr-u-id, despite the fact that it claimed not to be, which was actually against the old Law, but the old Law didn’t apply anymore. The new system was much better and more efficient than the old system anyway, and it saved everyone money in the long run. But anyways I could tell he was a droid by the small silver bar code lining on the left side of his nose. “So anyway, I have this splendid furniture of the most splendorous variety here on my Uphone. Would you perhaps be interested in viewing some of the many objects of finery which I am selling on this beautiful pre-dawn morning, where the sun usually rises in an even orange band of splendid bright light right behind me but won’t this morning due to this wretched overcast?”
“I don’t need any new furniture.” I said.
“What? But of course you do. Everyone does. Everyone needs more of everything, that’s how it works. If it didn’t work like that then things would be how they are, and if things weren’t how they are then they most certainly wouldn’t be going where they’re headed now, which is towards something much more beautiful and magnificent than ever before imagined!” The droid pointed out across the darkened horizon, which was now lined with several thick layers of dense particle refuse ejected from the manufactorium district. It was OK though. People wore filtration masks to avoid respiratory illness.

Since the skies were a bit too gray and a bit too dark for comfort, a network of dull streetlights, which were connected to high volume power sectors close to the commercial sector, had been activated, basking the city in unnatural yellow light. The people liked it though, because life was not as convenient without it.
“Sure, I do need more furniture.” I replied. “Can’t get enough in fact.”
“Glad to hear it!” the droid beamed, and several minutes later I was buying a bunch of junk that I didn’t really need. However, I could always use more furniture, because furniture purchases made me feel like a more complete person, which in turn boosted my overall mood, and made me feel more connected with the world around me. When I was finished, the droid nodded and backed away. He then stopped smiling and returned to his designated patrol path, his over-sized white trench coat trailing tragically behind him as he went. It was an odd sight, and just before he was too far from view, I looked out over the horizon, and I could see the orange bands of brilliant sunlight shining across the small gap between the highway barriers.

If it had been quiet, I might have better appreciated the sight, and if the ejected refuse wasn’t swirling around at rooftop level in a dim brownish haze, I might have felt a little less nauseous. Things would get better though, as they always did. Tomorrow was going to be a brighter day with less conflict, more people and buildings and cars and things to make the world a better place, because the more the better, and there could never really be enough, just as Leon promised.