Lonely Resistance (Ch.13f : Part 1)

Ch.13f :Part 1 : Lonely Resistance

The publishing market had gone down a long time ago, over many decades as citizens opted to watch Vidnet programmes and films rather than to read books, even if those books now were read mostly off screens rather than in the hand.  Few wanted the clutter of books in the small flats most people inhabited in the overcrowded sprawling metropolises of the world.  It was easier to keep everything in the Vidnet of stored data and electrical impulses, summoning it onto screens when it was wanted, and banishing them back again when they were not wanted.

That did not mean that books were not read.  Many friendless loners burned countless midnight lamps all across the world, absorbed in literature and learning of all kinds.  There was something for everyone on the Vidnet.

One of the main reasons for the decline in readership had been the increasing working hours which employers and managers had taken to demanding from their employees.  For the survival of Houses and Companies everywhere, competition and therefore greater efficiency had been the prescribed method for so long now, centuries; that few knew or considered anything else.  Even in the worlds of literature and of films the fantasy of an easier existence for all, by a relaxation of the economy, had become a dim and uninteresting vision to most.  It was not realistic, did not appeal to audiences and markets because it was so far from their real lives.  They preferred the visions of successful business or career management which could if you were effective and ruthless result in sufficient wealth to negotiate better working hours, as Pontius, the Director of MIOST had done, or early retirement for those whose pensions or golden handshakes became big enough.

The alternative for a woman included finding a rich husband or even a rich lover as Jocarna had done.  Maybe that might even be a possible for a handsome and particularly pleasing man.  There were plenty of millionairesses around in the modern age.  Another alternative were the vast publicly licensed lotteries which were so popular around the world, taking the spare incomes of many millions  of people and converting it into millions for only hundreds of people, a very efficient way of concentrating wealth while giving the impression of spreading it around.

One of the main markets for books on screen and even off screen were the retired people, both those who could afford to retire, early at the normal time, or those who were forced to retire through ill health, or because their employers no longer wanted to know them when they achieved a certain age.  Many retired without large funds but, if you limited your existence largely to viewing and playing the Vidnet it was not too expensive.  Everyone from richest to poorest had Vidnet; as long as they had some little room to live in, there was always a Vidscreen.  Many had little else to do with their lives anyway.  How do you develop friends when work is the centre of everything?  When work finishes what do you do?  Most people do what they always wanted to do more of, which is watching or playing or reading from the Vidnet.  It’s a whole world in there, more than a world, a universe.  Instead of actually living the lives of their fantasies which they cannot do in their prime because they have to work and to study, they delay the enjoyment of fantasy until after they are no longer required to work.  Late in life they can reflect upon the lives they would have liked to have led but didn’t and catch up on all the years they lost.  When they finally have the time they can no longer live the fantasies, or not many of the best ones.  They must make do with somebody else’s fantasies.

Janus had had enough.  He had known it for a few weeks.  Sometimes he had even admitted it to himself but inertia had kept him going on the fruitless course of art and study.  His journeys outside the room had become longer because he was losing the motivation to produce his work. 

His mind ached for some real human companionship.  The continual observation of the workers in the streets and Network, the Bars and Business Centres was only a temporary alleviation of the rising tide of his depression.  Conversation with these people was, as it had always been unlikely, and when attempted usually difficult.  Most of the people were not yet so far removed from their traditional enjoyment of social contact and of recognition that they would not reply positively when Janus said good morning to a face he recognised or asked how long the next tram was.  People were generally helpful when asked a specific practical question, although if it involved any work or time their faces would freeze over, the eyes would look through him, and the feet would walk on by.  Janus understood; they were all locked into their own little routines.  Everyone was under pressure to fulfil the little tasks they had been set.  Any unplanned delays were an annoyance because they would upset tight schedules.  Janus had travelled quite widely in his period of observation and generally, at least once on each occasion, after the initial period of acclimatisation to the outside world and relaxation from his own self appointed work, he had tried to make some attempt at conversation.  Although a comment or a question was generally accepted it almost never went any further.  Janus was not known to any of these people.  For them to have entered a proper conversation he would have to be a recognised member of an organisation which was common to them both.  In most cases that meant he would have to work for the same organisation, or more specifically the same department, or in the same building or the same room.  He might in addition have to be recognised as having the same status.  Sometimes people attended the same sporting events as observers or less normally as participants, or even the same bars.  But most people had little or no social life away from the family or the Vidscreen.

Finally Janus had to admit it.  He was lonely.  He was unusual in his ability to remain apart from his fellow human beings for so long but enough was enough.  He could feel his spirit falling to pieces as solitary days followed each other.  His optimism and sense of purpose had disappeared.  Everything he saw around him and his own work depressed him.  He had been through it all a thousand times.  He despised his society and what it had turned him into.  He had been obliged to follow a life akin to that of a programmed robot doing mundane work which was neither simple nor fulfilling and like everyone else he had been forced to  do far too much of it with little respite.  It had caused a deep resentment in him and unlike most others he was desperate enough to fight the system.  He had a natural instinct to be an individual.  He expressed his individuality in art and writing and in the deep thought he put into his observation of the problem he saw facing mankind.  His reaction had pushed him into a blind and lonely resistance, but for a long time he had not been affected by it.  It had been a gushing forth of inspiration stored up for many years.  Now he had released most of it.  The remaining parts were more difficult to find.  He was digging deep now, digging too hard, and not coming up with much gold.  The tap was blocked.  To restore it he needed a balance in life which would be difficult to achieve.  By moving on to another phase in life he hoped that he would soon be able to restore it.  Perhaps it did not matter.  Maybe he had done sufficient.  Maybe his next phase was to be completely different.

By withdrawing from society altogether he had ignored some of the basic beliefs he cherished and hoped to encourage in society.  He aspired to a friendly society where everyone had a place and some freedom and none were lonely, but he had shut himself away from people.  It had left him without balance in his new life.  Where were his friends?  Even the lonely people he tried to talk to in the streets and bars had some friends and family to support them.  Not all of them perhaps, but most.  Even if their friends were mostly work colleagues, friendships not formed by mutual attraction but by mutual servitude, they had someone.  He had no one nearby.