Future in an Egg Shelled Seat

Forward: I haven’t been writing much; more will come in the future. Here is a short I composed a while back. This is just fiction, totally sensationalized. Have a great day! (:

———

I look outwards.

My local library recently remodeled one of its sectors into this new hip thing, and I’m sitting, curled up actually, into one of these egg shell seats. There is a futuristic, ultraslick aura that I don’t know yet what to make of. I mean, the ceiling tiles are porous metal sheets with streamlined lighting. The flooring is this swanky neon that is characteristic of clubs and video game rooms. Speaking of which, there is a video game room, attracting little kids like moths to a light. It is not an natural attraction, moths to a light, phototaxis inducing something that is unable to control, and likewise, the little kids, eyes reflecting the light and seductive obedience, arguing who gets to play Madden next, right here, weirdly, in the center of enlightenment. In an egg shelled seat, I am sandwhich between the the porous metal sheets and the swanky neon flooring, sandwiched between the two slices of what I can only make out is the future.

The kids playing the video games, a couple making out on the geometric shapings of a sofa, and I can catch a couple of swears on the television on some hip reality TV show. And as the middle schooled students, shamelessly flinging their bodies over the iMacs like starved hyenas, I ask myself: Is this the future of the library?

Kant said that doing the right thing for the wrong reason is just as bad as doing the wrong thing. I remember the times when little boys and little girls went to the great white building, not with a passion for the swankiest ‘learning environments’, but for a bulgy-eyed excitement for books.

I look inwards.

I saw there is a girl. I, like the seat I am sitting in, am only a shell, and without the yellow and white core to give me definition, I did the only impulsive thing.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she returned with a tussle of hair. Suddenly, I remember from Friends that 90% of your body’s pheromones are secreted from the head. She had a sophisticated look, with one of those very soft looking scarfs. She, like me, was also applying for colleges in a white eggshell seat. She, like me, was also sandwiched between the future, between the the porous metal sheets and the swanky neon flooring. She, like me, while the world was shifting into something chaotic, is attempting to stand still, resting in her own egg shell seat, upon her future.

“Hey, want to go grab a coffee or something?”

“Sure.” She smiled, and we stood up from our egg shelled seats, moving past the future, us moving while the porous metal sheets and the swanky neon flooring only stood still.

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