Janus The Recluse (Part 2)

Fully dressed Janus was ready to return to one of his projects. He went over to the large canvas which filled up one side of the room. It was approaching fruition. He had begun it two years before while still at work, snatching twenty minutes here or there before bed or in the middle of a sleepless night. Like all his projects it moved slowly because there was no continuity. Work had enslaved and dominated his life. He had often spent a full stint merely gazing at what had already been achieved, rediscovering the feeling that had driven him to paint from the beginning. Sadly he had often been forced to give up and go to sleep, knowing that tomorrow’s work demanded a rested mind. At other times he had damned his work and stayed awake to make full use of an artistic mood, a mood which was more important for him than a successful day’s work.

The oil painting on the canvas was a scene of a city much like the city he could see out of his window. In his own mind it was Marta City or a version of it, but instead of the dull greys and browns and the stereotypes – little figures in dull working clothes – who were featured in the real version, his version was vibrating with life energy and bright colours. The buildings were tall but they were not the same. They seemed to bend slightly perhaps in an imaginary wind. Where real buildings, modern, were often rectangular and blocklike, his were tapered, domed and steepled. The dome of the city was not featured, but the walkways were more numerous. Small figures appeared in colourful, individual clothes, in groups, observing and enjoying life, not working in mindless complex and dull routines. They were doing and wearing what they wanted to do. There was great variety unlike the real world.

Because the canvas was so large the painting was very detailed and complex. Janus could stare at it for hours and really believe he was there. With some of his other pictures, drawings and paintings alike the music he listened to was different, softer, more traditional, from overseas, whatever.

In time he exhausted his mood. The painting became too beautiful for him to continue. He grew afraid of spoiling it. It was the sign for him to cease his work. He continued to gaze at it for quite some time before finally breaking. Then it was time for some food, perhaps to watch a Vidscreen recording or to pick up an instrument and play music.

For a period Janus relaxed as he ate food from his dispenser. He watched images on Vidscreen which came and went to the throbbing sounds of one of his favourite musical groups. The group appeared on screen captured in taut animation mid beat, unkempt in appearance and not young any more. Nonetheless he had still been able to select this Vid from the Gallano Vid database.

Once a set of images was placed into the international database it remained forever. The database merely expanded in size as technology improved. No art once placed inside would ever again be lost unless all originals and backup copies in whichever physical points they “existed” were destroyed. Consequently a great database of Vidfilms, music, conversation, documentaries, pornog and all the rest resided in the huge database. At the simple touch of a few buttons with access to the correct indexes any citizen could search for what he wanted and find it without much difficulty.

The problem was remembering what you had seen before and liked out of that database. Despite the indexes and the continually updated categorising and search systems which made it so possible, Janus found that he did often experience some difficulty in working through the options. Credits could easily be wasted if the wrong things were selected. He could not always remember how to get there.

The group onscreen were probably remembered by few now in the frantic resort to the playlists and up to date vid suggestions prompted by the Vidbase. Janus remembered this group had actually played in Marta City once, some years before to an audience of young socialites. He had taken to wandering in bars and clubs at that time, alone, without friends and had come upon this group. It was an experience he would never forget. While the music had not prevented his feeling of separation from the socialites around him, it had breached his consciousness and allowed him to forget his loneliness, his mind on higher things – art and feeling.

It saddened Janus to think that this group’s work was “lost” in the database as far as the vast majority of the people on the planet were concerned. It was bound to be so because the people had little leisure time despite the appearance of leisure opportunities and choice. Leisure was something quick to be snatched between work, exams and sleep. It was not meant to be researched and developed in any depth. The prime motive of life was to get on and achieve something, to continually strive for that higher performance at work or that essential qualification, that superior status.

After some hours of indolence Janus was ready for more elevated thought. He called up some scraps of documentaries from the Vidbase and in accordance with a list he had compiled of the more relevant ones he watched a random selection of parts from three of them. He had watched them all before a few times over, among his favourites for the understanding they showed, and the ideas they generated in him. He wanted to use those ideas, presented in a clear and entertaining way to convey his beliefs about his society, the way it was and the way it should be. He was writing a book, or perhaps it was more than a book, being separable in to different themes, subjects and different kinds of writing, fictional, fictional history which predicted the possible futures of this world, not the past. He was also embarked on the writing of historical socio-economic and political commentary of the past and present. He had merged them all into one book so far, except some of the fiction, which was a separate book altogether, but sooner or later he would have to sort out his writings and attempt to finish some of them and have them published.

One of the vidbase documentaries was about the nationalist wars of the past. Janus’ conclusion was one which would be echoed by the business leaders and Presidents of the present, that Nationalism led to prejudice which led to wars by gullible populations which led to enrichment and promotion of the most violent and psychopathic who had the qualities to defeat enemies. In turn these leaders were more likely to restrict and oppress people. If they were not driving them wholesale to the slaughter of war they found other ways of controlling through hierarchies, the favoured and the not so favoured, petty restrictions on the lives of the people. He had written some chapters on the horrors and mistakes of the past. But present society was not largely nationalist in any sense.

Janus wanted to say something which was not repeating the tired old words of anti-nationalism. He wanted to say something new and relevant about today’s world, which would point a better way forward. He wanted to change the world economic and social structure and make it function for human beings instead of enslaving them. Nationalism was an old problem long since laid to rest.

Decentralised, bureaucratic, internationally and legally based democracy had tamed the old beast but had grown itself into an uncontrollable, continually enlarging monster. Nobody could find an imaginative way to criticise it. Worst of all it seemed that there was no logical argument against it. It withstood all arguments thrown against it by the use of its smug logic. Specialisation was necessary for efficiency, which was necessary for standard of living, in turn essential for the worker to be happy, which aids motivation, which aids efficiency again.

Strong evidence was necessary to prevent abuse of the law, which meant everyone must collect evidence wherever possible, write it down, find witnesses, then you would be able to prove everything that was true and the law could not be used against you. You would then be safe unless you were guilty. Oh yes, we have justice now, thought Janus despairingly, but where was impulsive feeling, creative life? It was buried somewhere under a mass of restrictions, legislation, court procedures, rules of evidence, legal fees, signatures and paper. There needed to be a new revolution against this monster but what should be its cry and who should lead it, and, more difficult, how would people be persuaded to follow it?