“The song you asked is downloaded.”
“The work tasks you wanted me to summarize are done.”
“The subscriptions for media platforms are upgraded.”
“The bills are all paid, and all is now good.”
This is my morning.
(ARUN)
I wake up, and everything I had in mind, the previous day, has already been pushed to one or two apps and it’s all done before I open my eyes.
A centralized entity makes robots do my chores where I don’t need to be there physically.
It helps me feel free.
The same words repeat,
“The song you asked is downloaded.”
“The work tasks you wanted me to summarize are done.”
“The subscriptions for media platforms are upgraded.”
“The bills are all paid, and all is now good.”
This is my morning too.
(RAVI)
I wake up and hear many people talking to me, non-stop.
Some empower me with confidence, kind of a hand holding behavior…
But some? Some outright ask me to end myself.
hmm..
I am, in a way, also free, free of my own thoughts.
The doctor calls it schizophrenia.
(hearing voices, or auditory hallucinations, is a common symptom of schizophrenia, experienced by up to 80% of people with the condition)
Arun walks through a world of glass towers and humming subways.
In his city, everyone talks to the voices in their heads. Voices programmed into their smart lenses, powered by a central AI.
Reminders of birthdays float across his vision. People he has interacted with and the voices tell him which favorites to call. Everything types, reads and glows on his glasses.
He hears it all, a curated, efficient life.
“BEEP BEEEP BEEEEEP” the environment becomes tense and
Suddenly, a voice says: “STOP.”
He freezes, removes his specs, and turns his head right.
A bus thunders past, inches from his body.
Arun can’t stop looking to his right.. he froze..
He didn’t die. But… why was he asked to stop?
A rabbit was crossing the road in front of him.
These voices were protecting the rabbit. They assign the same value to every life if it human or if its hare.
Trembling, frustrated and angry, Arun walks to a bench near a high rise building.
He opens his bag, slid his hand in, took the jammer from his bag and clicked the stop button.
Ravi steps out into his small neighborhood.
He talks to the voices in his head. Greets them good morning. Says goodnight.
They’re from all over the world. Their moods swing like the Stormy clouds blown by the wind and the Sun shining bright..
Some days, they’re cheerful. Other days, they are… not.
People around him calls him “Mad boy.” “Cuckoo.”
His step father torments him. Kids throw stones at him. Even strangers cross the street when they see him.
But Ravi has a secret, a trick that always stops the voices.
shush
He walks to a quiet tree near the edge of the road. A familiar sparrow watches him from the branches, like it always does.
Ravi sits on a worn bench, under that tree. He opens his bag, pulls out a small radio, and turns it on.
Across space, across time, across realities, two souls sit on parallel benches.
Neither knows the other. Both reach into their bags. Both stops the noise that guides or that dictates.
And in perfect synchroneity, they say out loud,
“The voices stopped.”
The birds flew. flutter.. flutter.. flutterrr
The wind blew. whooooosh… shhhhh… whooo
The dew from the leaves fell on them few. plip
Together, they became a part of the quote that rang true:
“Sometimes, what they called madness in the past… is just a preview.”
For more insights into the events that lead to me writing about this short story have a look here :
https://ajayan.substack.com/p/targeted-audience-get-to-them-quick