“He always does.”
“But this session is about what is going on inside.” A finger tapped the MM. “Not about what a computer compiles.” Kindly and gently, the middle-aged man with the reddish-brown beard and the dark-brown mane of hair tucked beneath the tan folds of his hood of office prompted David for a proper definition of “freedom.” “Do you know what true freedom is, David?”
David stumbled over his words as he tried to formulate an answer both congruent with popular opinion and fitting in the context of the Lave Labs and PPRE drama going on in his life. “Yes, of course I do. Umm…” He paused to allow his thoughts to form; then his words rushed forth.
“Freedom is the ability to do what I want when I want.”
“No stipulations?”
“As long as I don’t break rules or lose efficiency or hurt anyone I don’t personally own. Of course, the definition of ‘hurting people’ needs to be taken in the context of the Utopian Xchange laws, which guarantee health and happiness. Freedom is being able to pay for yourself and others. It is everything that the brand helps us do. Bless Xchange.” He marked his chest with the sign of the X.
The monk remained watching and listening, an intellectual owl waiting for its figurative mouse.
“Oh, and freedom before you purchase yourself requires that you can afford in freedoms what you want. An individual can only do ‘what they want’ as much as they can actually afford it.” He smirked. “That was a good answer, right?” He was always gratified by a good answer. His inconsistent brand rewarded him with a shudder of pleasure lancing along his spine. He closed his eyes, enjoying the momentary rush before it blinked out.
“I’ll introduce you to a new thought,” said the monk meditatively, tone deeply prayerful. “One we haven’t ever discussed. Many people go through similar struggles as their authority and understanding of the world increase.”
“Too much is given?” David said.
“Much will be demanded.” The monk finished the quote. Doc Gus waved a finger at his room, and a video sequence began. The walls changed, showing a scene of a hawk flying over the city. The monk’s finger motioned again, a golden sleeve fluttering serenely; the screen around them shifted to center on a butterfly floating along a sunny garden path. The Mindmonk lectured, “What is the meaning of the parable of the hawk and the butterfly?”
David didn’t have time to speak.
“Watch more closely.” The wise man smiled as he split the screen around the room into two sides. On one side was the soaring hawk, and on the other side the floating butterfly. Both creatures allowed the wind to nudge them peacefully and blissfully on its gentle currents through the blue sky.
And then the hawk screeched, and a burst of raw, terrifying energy surged through its being. It flew with the deadly intent of a military missile out of the clear blue sky, brushing destructively past waving tree branches below and into the peaceful environment of the previously silent forest. It pounced on an ordinary brown field mouse with long white whiskers.
David tried to watch both scenes at once. Then he noticed that the camera views came together as the two worlds collided. The butterfly was sublimely unaware of the hawk that flashed through its peaceful paradise and snatched up the hapless mouse. Talons sunk deeply into the squirming prey. And as its powerful flapping wings opened, the hawk called to the sky and began its upward ascent. Its wings churned the forest air into a cyclone of devastation, and the large predator hurtled into the lazy flight path of the small butterfly.
The butterfly spun and collapsed to the ground, its wings clipped and broken from the upsurge of the hawk’s flight. The hawk barely noticed the other flying creature as it soared off into the summer sky. And the scenes split once more. The butterfly lay disregarded on the leafy soil. The hunter landed on a nest full of young hawks and dropped off its prize; it waited protectively as its young devoured the much-needed sustenance.
“I know the meaning of this parable.” David leaned forward. Doc Gus indicated that he should keep watching.
Shadows filled the two scenes. A human shadow fell over the butterfly, and then the video feed cut off and went black as a boot crunched the butterfly. A voice snickered, “Stupid creature.”
In the other video feed, a flying ship, a battle jet from Xchange, flew over the hawk, and it cringed in fear. The second feed ended. Peaceful waves and ocean sounds filled the room.
“What did you see in the story, David?”
“A story within a story.”
“A frame narrative.”
“An inception parable.”
“What is freedom? Start simple. What made the hawk and the butterfly different?”
David answered, “The hawk and the butterfly both use the resource of the wind to fly. The hawk is powerful, and the butterfly is beautiful.” Hesitating at first but gaining confidence as his explanation seemed to coincide with the monk’s objective, “The hawk soars and flies free but understands its goal, purpose, and objective.”
The monk added, “It’s disciplined, trained, and efficient. It serves a greater purpose than its own self.”
David continued, “The butterfly is oblivious, colorful, and lazy. A part of the scenery.”
Doc Gus said, “Perhaps, serving no other purpose than to just be.”
David agreed. “I can see that in the inception parable. Pretty and artistic, but with no objective in mind. Orns advertises that their products are ‘pretty with purpose.’ The butterfly is brushed aside as the hawk fulfills its purpose.”
“Tie that back to freedom.” The Mindmonk encouraged.
“Freedom in our social context is the ability to understand our purpose, such things as feeding our youth.”
“The birds, figurative for posterity,” Doc Gus explained.
David thought before saying, “And building up Xchange. Individuals will be broken if they float lazily along and serve no purpose.”
“Yes, yes, that is part of the lesson.”
“How does this relate to my slaves?”
“These human being creatures may seem like human-doings, but they’re slaves to their lack of purpose. What direction does being have? You mentioned them being brandless?”
“Yup, they direct themselves. Without innate guidance.”
Your ideology is a hawk. They practice a belief system that must disintegrate as it comes face-to-face with pure goals.”
“That makes sense.” David was beginning to draw mental parallels as his teacher spoke. “I was never good at deciphering inception parables.”
“David-23, one thing you must remember is that our habits define us. The tattoo you have on your arm helps with habit creation. Healthy habits. The hawk’s children are like your tattoo. They are a constant pressure at the back of the hawk’s mind. A reminder to hunt and hunt and hunt.”
“Bless the mark that lives in me.” David drew an X on his chest and felt his brand surge through him casually, pulsing with simple, caressing pleasure. The touch of a lover. He let the brand’s sensations guide him.
“You may not believe this, but many people lost the touch of their brand.”
Acting surprised he thought, Gayle! but said nothing, still loyal to the idea of their relationship. Instead he said, “Losing a great gift.” Losing touch with your tattoo would lead to mistakes. He shuddered at the thought.
“Your brand motivates.”
“And I receive fulfillment.” As David figuratively patted himself on the back, a question about the wasteful members of society came into his mind. He asked, “What about Uriah and the useless Spenders all around us? They are a waste.” David spat his distaste for Uriah onto the floor.
The clench of Doc Gus’s wrinkles warned that a scolding was brewing. “What’ve I told you about spitting?”
“Am not ‘spitting.’ I am gossiping.”
“You’re spitting. Stop it. It’s a harmful habit, a team-building sin. Avoid vices and do good. Speak productively.”
“Avoidi
ng sin is hard with Uriah, the shit,” David intoned apologetically. The monk glared at him reproachfully, so he added, “I know, I know. But as you know, CEO Saul spits sometimes during his speeches.”
“If Saul jumped off a bridge, would you?”
“Yes.” He nodded emphatically. Of course I would. It’s my job to follow my CEO.
“Not in my office, you don’t.”
David continued a bit more apologetically, “Spitting aside.”
“Garb your words in an attitude of intellectualism.”
David adjusted his words. “How come Spenders hear the same call of their brand?”
“Anyone who truly listens can hear.”
“Maybe, but they throw away freedoms all the time.” David pondered his argument with Uriah and about the man with the gaming device that beeped when CEO Saul had been talking about new opportunities. Those two men were addicted to things that meant so little.
Doc Gus said, “Think of a product who purchases and purchases and purchases. It is a Spender. It buys a lot of things and cannot gain its freedom. It may seem like a waste, but delve deeper, David. Think of the social impact of this human-doing. What a blessing in our product-consumption marketplace. It is serving others and offering freedoms to others for the betterment of society and our brands. ‘Spending’ spurs a cycle of social fulfillment.”
David did consider. It made a lot of sense.
The wise man in the golden robe preached, “There are different mottos and codes in Xchange.” He stood and paced around the floating chairs. “Some will desire their own freedom and save. Savers want to grow a career so they can buy themselves. Let’s categorize such a person as a long-term thinker.
“But some human-doings want pleasure now and will do anything, pay everything to have the most, be the most, experience the most, use other products the most…Both are socially healthy.”
“Distinctly different paths,” David interrupted.
The preacher continued the lesson, “Both truthful lifestyles help society to grow into an economically well-rounded utopia.” Doc Gus sat, and his seat floated closer to David.
“David-23, do we have permission to move away from your age-old grudge against Uriah?”
“Uhh…”
“Forgetfulness is required on your part. I ask again.” The monk gazed with intensity at his subject. “We both know you are sexually insecure because Uriah took your first Orns purchase and used her as well—Bathsheba, wasn’t it? Give permission to forget.” David ignored the comment.
I don’t need to forget and move on. Uriah doesn’t deserve such. Bitterness still consumed a bit of David’s being.
Doc Gus stroked his beard and continued. “Let’s discuss these new human beings who seem to have you spinning your mental wheels in potentially illicit directions.”
David accepted the judgment, attentively. Doc Gus continued. “These humans that you’re assigned are slaves in the truest sense because they lack the freedom to understand what is right; they lack the will, the passion, and the discipline to follow a path toward utopia. They choose to live without a brand; they’re prone to the grips of their internal vices. You, David, know what is lawful. You have the ethical fortitude to fulfill this assignment in ideological purity.”
“I hope…”
“Not a strategy. Ethical fortitude is a choice. Choose. Continue to discipline yourself to follow the higher path to freedom.”
“I pray I can.” And David meant it.
The monk in his golden robe motioned around the room, and then the finger of knowledge pointed into David’s face. “Oh, you can, and you will.” The tone was one of consecration. David signed himself with the X again, begging the stock equilibrium for fortitude and purity of heart.
“Remember, freedom is not just the ability to do whatever you want; you must learn the right way of thinking. No more willfulness. Rely on your conscience to dictate.”
“I will.”
“Don’t consent to a philosophical vice taking root in your actions.”
“I won’t.”
“Or it’ll suck dry your passion. It’ll enslave your mind and heart, which leads to less of a return of happiness.”
David knew the session was coming to an end when Doc Gus said, “For your mindfulness practice, I suggest you focus on gratitude. Be the hawk you’ve been bred to be. A representative of the power of utopia and the defense of true freedom.”
David remembered the ending of the video. “What was the significance of the human boot stepping on the butterfly? What was the meaning of the hawk cowering under the war hover jet?”
“All power is bestowed by a higher power. The boot of our culture will always root out the useless. The jet represents management. Know your place. Remember, we always serve the CEOs.”
“That’s is a very deep parable.”
“Yes. We’ll digest more of its meaning in the future.”
Stories were helpful images.
“Do you want to own yourself, David-23?”
Of course he did. This was self-explanatory. “My whole life.”
“Open your eyes and dream for a moment with me.” The Mindmonk waved a confident open hand around him, and his chair rotated away from David. The spinning chair and robe made David feel dizzy, the tattoo gel’s effects still in his blood. David nodded, not speaking as another video started playing on the room screen. Doc Gus observed David’s reactions carefully and took notes on a virtual pad as the video progressed.
First, a younger David on his Branding Day, standing tall and proud with his new blue-tattooed arm and shoulder; the young employee was rotating and looking around amid five hundred other new products. His blue eyes shone with the light of a thousand dreams. With sixteen product years of training and the passion of youth, David was being released into the world of Xchange. A hopeful young man about to embark on his first adult internship, beginning the acclimation to a new housing situation, career environment, and pace of life.
The video feed shifted smoothly: a somewhat older David kneeling in front of his workstation at age eighteen, his world devastated by a failure. A manager walked over to the brokenhearted youth and picked him up, handed him his new assignment, and told him not to fail again. David’s look of pain, tears of frustration, and fear of failure hardened into a gritty “I’ll do anything” determination.
David-23 was terrified of failure—he learned to set up others to take blame for his failures. He became team savvy. Scene after scene of the young Productzen 23 highlighted a committed self-inflicted sacrificial work attitude. He had avoided major Orns spending habits. The young employee clawed and inched his way up the slippery and treacherous corporate ladder toward recognition.
A new chapter of David’s life came on the display. The two watched as a new desire emerged in David’s twenty-one-year-old self: a “strong sensual drive.” He entered Orns and paid to experience a relationship. The affair with Bathsheba at Orns had been thrilling and passionate. David had wanted to be with her all the time, more and more. And he was willing to pay in freedoms. The acceptance, connection, desire, and satisfaction had felt amazing. And then David had learned one day that his storage unit neighbor Uriah was stalking him.
“My go-to is a slap to the face when I finish,” Uriah boasted in the footage to the entire wing of their storage block about his abuse of the woman. Despite David’s privacy settings and embarrassed discretion, though, somehow Uriah had known of David’s subscription at Orns and made it known to all of David’s neighbors. David felt betrayed, dirty, shamed, angry, and scared of his emotions. His attractions and desires had been violated. He hadn’t trust himself with relationships for a year after that. He had never returned to Orns. He had written one last note to Bathsheba and then deleted his relationship product agreement, bitterly paying the early termination fee.
The scene finished with a red-faced David typing away at his Selfie home unit—betrayed, angry, and more pissed at Uriah than anything. He thought he h
ad connected with another person, gotten to know them and been accepted by them, just to find out she was out for pay from other guys—and not just any guy but a spending defect like Uriah.
The whole experience had scarred and shamed him. The bit of him that wanted connection and intimacy and had found something he thought was natural and fulfilling, but it had not been real. The brand pulled him through. As he reengaged work, he had decided he was not a Spender but a Saver.
Xchange Productzens were about 70 percent Spenders, 20 percent unsuccessful Savers, and 10 percent successful long-term Savers.
He had decided not be like Uriah. He needed to be able to buy Bathsheba, or whoever it was, all for himself. He needed to own himself. The encouragement of the brand, with its comfort and nudges of pleasure, helped him bury his hurt and his past.
David closed his eyes as the video froze on his face stricken with hurt after Uriah showed the world the picture of his Orns exploit. David stared at himself, and the surge of guilt and shame filled him again.
The next scene showed David contemplating early self-termination. He had threatened to jump off his storage building. David watched with shame, his younger self standing alone on a roof ledge, looking down at the concrete and steel below, with only a newly promoted QC captain trying to talk him down off the ledge. The night sky threatened to fill David with its darkness. The QC officer had found him by accident and had kept David-23 from jumping.
David looked at the face of the officer in the video. “I know him. I think!” The QC officer looked familiar to David, but he could not place where else he might have recently seen this man. The Mindmonks at the time had diagnosed David with a desire to procreate and personally be in relationship. They’d recommended that he sink himself into work as a solution to his disorderly relationship desires.
That was when David had been officially assigned to Doc Gus. A picture of the two of them on their first meeting came onto the screen; David remembered the helpful connection with the monk. Their relationship had begun his time of healing.
“A midcareer crisis,” the Mindmonk had called it. This crisis was common in saving personality types. Saving meant denying himself the more excessive pleasures of Tertain entertainment, Nnect connection products, Ssential ingenuity, Thrive looks commodities, and Orns sensual products.
A Tale Of Doings Page 36