There are hundreds of TV screens in this control room. More than there would be under normal, potentially threatening circumstances.
No one else is around, but you still feel like someone could show up at any time. At the very least, someone is definitely aware of where you are, and how impressed you’ve become with the way none of the TVs are showing you something from your past, or something from one of the many futures you screwed over.
Because hindsight. Because I can’t see the middle of the latest transitional period, even though I have the benefit of the beginning and the likely end.
So I panic in the middle. I ask for understanding and deep discounts on the cheap stuff on a Wednesday. More or less another version of the middle.
I might be predictable, but at least I’ll make you laugh about that.
I’ll make you understand how great it is to walk through the entirety of that ambitious, historically/technically inaccurate control room, and not have to come across anything I really don’t need to see anymore.
You appreciate the presence of ashtrays, lit cigarettes that will burn casually for another century, coffee cups, the prevailing likelihood of conversations that were half-started, or half-finished, or absolute in not really being important in the first place.
You don’t recognize all of the sitcoms from the 70s and 80s, but if you’re like me, you just like the fact that they are there.
Then there are the movies, the broadcasts that never happened, the ones that were lost in the fire, and the ones that were lost because some clod didn’t want to make copies.
Stuff you can’t even understand. If you’re like me, then you didn’t really take the time to learn a foreign language.
Like me, you’re pretty sure you know the differences between Spanish, Russian, and German, and that’s about it.
I usually spend a couple of years in the space, trying, but not really being driven by it, to see if there really is another end to the room.
Two years for the fifteen, twenty minutes I’m asleep. I do my best work under those conditions, as of late. It’s neither here nor there.
The other obvious truth is that I’m never there for as long as I would prefer.
For example, you have to really haul ass to get to the TVs that have the black and white horror movies that make you want to live in a dark room with your comforts for a whole summer.
Sometimes, those TVs aren’t even where they’re supposed to be, which I suppose bothers me a little.
What about you, handsome? How do you feel about it, sweetie?