Cheer-bots-I didn’t see it coming

Posted on by tuesdaylatte

I read a lot about robots taking our jobs, but of all the jobs I saw mentioned-and I read the OECD report-every page-I never saw anyone say ‘cheerleader’. No clear solid statement ever that cheer leaders would be replaced by robots in my lifetime…read more

I read a lot about robots taking our jobs, but of all the jobs I saw mentioned-and I read the OECD report-every page-I never saw anyone say ‘cheerleader’. No clear solid statement ever that cheer leaders would be replaced by robots in my lifetime. Perhaps you are thinking that is because lots of people don’t think of cheer leading as a ‘proper’ job. I didn’t either until it was taken over by ‘robots’. These are not robots that look human, they’re not your fake looking female variety of the human like bot. These ‘cheer-bots’ look like robots, like any number of robots you have seen on the telly. Not a ponytail in sight here.

I had to come to an American football game to believe it. And now I have seen it. But- I still don’t believe it. Even having watched it, I don’t quite believe it. I understood nothing of the game itself and having watched it, think I might actually understand even less. It went on for a very long time. But the robots-the ‘cheer-bots’ were-fascinating-I think. I mean there are whole channels devoted to ‘cheer-bots’ on the internet. They are immensely popular. Just how did that happen? I mean cheer leaders replaced by robots. I just didn’t see it coming.

Some people blame the cheer leaders themselves, and frankly having read a lot about cheer leading recently, they seem to have a long history of having to take responsibility for the behaviour of others. It seems quite typical. Before this happened, it turns out cheer leaders were paid a pittance but were largely responsible (and when I mean responsible I don’t mean actually responsible so much as an expectation that they would accept responsibility in the way women often have to) for a lot of bad behaviour by other people (I think you know who I mean) whilst at the same time having their own rather innocuous behaviour policed quite a lot. I mean how dare they choose their own outfits and take a picture wearing that outfit and then put that photo online-scandalous. I mean that is just gob-smackingly bad behaviour-apparently.

I mean a photo-in an outfit they chose- on line- the audacity. I mean it’s the kind of behaviour that’s right up there with-ooh I don’t know, eating the last biscuit but leaving the packet in the cupboard, or finishing the milk and putting the empty container back in the fridge. Actually it really isn’t quite as bad as that because that is really annoying. Why can’t bots just sort that out? A milk-bot-now that would be useful. It would sort of look like a cow-maybe smaller because it has to fit in my kitchen and it would just dispense milk on request. It should also do yoghurt and cream I think, maybe a really sophisticated model could do cheese or butter. Way off topic now. But I do want one. It could ‘moo’ gently in the morning to get me out of bed-better than an alarm. It could waft the smell of freshly cut grass through the kitchen but no other cow related smells will be required-let’s be clear on that. No other smells.

It was only 5 years ago that the Dallas Cowboys cheer leading squad performed with the first robot as part of the routine. It was funny. It was cute. I am sure at the time they had no idea it was the beginning of the end. I can’t remember what came next, but within a year, they all had a kind of performing robot as part of the line up. Each one looked slightly different. Then one team just out of the blue- maxed out on bots. No more women, just robots Then everyone did it. And cheerleaders were gone-replaced. Within a season, just gone. Now we have cheer-bots. Its hard to say if it’s a step forward. Football itself is dying, was dying ( I mean the game and not just the players) but this whole cheer-bot thing is  bringing in a whole new audience.

I feel for the cheer leaders, years of training. They are literally professional athletes in America and their behaviour was ridiculously policed which was always contentious. But it just seems a bit surreal. I mean cheer-bots, surely robots could just be put to a more useful use and the cheer leaders could just keep cheering if they wanted to. It’s not what they promised with the whole robot thing. If you can produce a robot that can cheer lead (is that the phrase) why not one that can wash my car. I guess bots give less trouble than cheer leaders. They never object to work conditions. Robots probably don’t worry if no one gives them any respect. They certainly don’t post pictures in their clothing of choice on line-did I mention scandalous? I guess they keep the bots in the cupboard when they aren’t using them. I don’t think they did that with cheer leaders although having read some of their work conditions, I am not ruling it out. They probably use up more electricity than cheer leaders, but then they can be transported in the cargo hold so there are plusses and minuses. Its just not a debate I thought I’d be having-ever. Cheer –bots versus cheer leaders, it makes no sense.

Of course  there are still rumours about certain players-which is  weird because these things don’t look human at all. They look like robots. They aren’t covered in human-like skin. They are very definitely machines. They are very effective, if slightly mechanical sounding. I think the sound has improved a lot since they began. I admit, they can do things cheer leaders can’t-well not just cheer leaders, other humans as well-one team has ‘hover cheer-bots’ They levitate and perform. Its very clever. Of course they aren’t constricted to just four limbs either so the octo-bots have proven very popular.

Its just that idea of all the jobs that could go to a robot, I just thought cheer leading was safe. I mean I wasn’t bringing up my son or daughter to be one. It just makes you think. I saw one of them interviewed, she thinks its temporary but it shows no sign of dissipating in popularity. Even the NFL thingy came out –the governing body –whatever its called came out and said it was time to move on from human cheer leaders to robots. The system was arcane, they were stepping into the next century early-no they actually said that last bit. Apparently they want to be there before everybody else or something. Its only 2024 so perhaps they are not aware of just how early that is or perhaps it’s a reference to the previous century and they are a tad behind. Its best not to argue with blokes who’ve worn helmets for most of their lives-that is not a rule that is specific to a football code, that is just a general rule of thumb that I live by. Just take the words at face value and try not to laugh.

I just don’t get it. I mean I thought I’d understand it when I saw it but I just don’t get it. Cheerleaders-replaced by robots-its surreal.

Midnight in the car park

Posted on by tuesdaylatte

I think it’s because I grew up around manual cars. A car with no one in it should be quiet and still. It is inanimate. These things, with their hum and their lights that can flash at any moment seem oddly awake and alive. And not in a good way…read more

My stomach sinks as I get off the train. I saw it from the train window as we were pulling into the station. There are only two cars in the car park. Mine and one other. This never used to bother me. It does now. I’m not sure what they were thinking. It’s a black car. They often are. Its parked under the lights. They always are. I get me keys out of my bag before I even get close to it.

My car is a manual-that means –it’s not what it used to mean. It means I have to drive my car physically. I have to concentrate and steer and indicate and all sorts of physical things. It doesn’t drive itself. It can assist in parking but not much else. I like it that way even though I have to clean it myself. Remember those car washes, all gone now. Most cars have a self cleaning system. I’ve no idea how it works, plus they are all ‘dirt resistant’- Oh and did I mention you can choose the smell of the soap it uses when it washes itself. You can have the sweet smell of rubber tyres on tarmac overlaid with forest glen soap suds. It’s all a bit silly. My car is not clean. I can’t remember the last time I washed it. I don’t care. The other car in the car park, the black one, parked under the lights, is shiny and clean. Too clean if you want my opinion. Suspiciously clean- if that is a thing. It probably isn’t anymore.

Alone in a car park at night with a self driving car is a whole other ball game no one has thought through. It is parked nearer to the station than my car so I have no choice but to go past it. That’s typical too. It’s for its safety, not mine. No one else got off the train. The motor of this self driving thing is running-well- not running, but there is a constant low level humming like a computer but not quite like that. It is waiting for a command. Constantly. Just a low hum like your computer when its just waiting for you to type something in. Its weird. They do have a sleep mode but often in car parks, they are perpetually ready to move. Like a dog sitting waiting, head forward, ears up,  waiting to be called by its owners. That can be unnerving.

I think it’s because I grew up around manual cars. A car with no one in it should be quiet and still. It is inanimate. These things, with their hum and their lights that can flash at any moment seem oddly awake and alive. And not in a good way. You can be walking past them and suddenly they are on. Silently gliding off onto the road beside you. Its unnerving and of course now there are a lot of trips made with no one in the car. Forget going to pick someone up, just send the car. There are just lots of cars on the road with no one in them. It never feels right or safe. It makes sense that there would be wholly empty journeys but nothing prepared us for the reality of it. How it feels to have a completely empty car slide past you on the road? It’s kind of weird, At first it wasn’t permitted, because people kept watching and crashing, but now it’s everywhere.

The car is parked in such a way that I have to walk past it. That’s deliberate. It has probably moved around the car park to be near my car for safety reasons. Its safety as I said, not mine.  The sensors on it are broad and wide. I take a moment and look at it. There is no way I can get to the driver’s side of my car without it sensing me. I could conceivably try the passenger side but even then I will need to walk around and wide to avoid being ‘sensed’. My car is forward facing and so is it, just one space to the right and closer to the station. Its lights will shine on the vacant parking space next to my car. It is unavoidable. It feels ominous. It already knows I will come and now I am here.

I swallow hard. I never used to be worried about cars parked in car parks in the night. They used to be just cars.  I walk on towards my car and try and pretend not to care, but there have been stories, lots of stories. What is to stop the car sidling up to me and trapping me against my car. What then? I am at the owner’s mercy. The owner could be watching me as I walk, from somewhere else. I walk across in front of it. I have to. I walk. Deliberately. Bravely. It senses me. How much data is it collecting about me. Its lights come on. They light the parking space where I am standing by my car door. It knows I’m here. That is meant to be helpful but it only scares me more. I jump when the lights first come on. The lights would be blinding if I turned toward them, but then it dips them down. How does it know. I don’t know how it knows. But the lights dip anyway. I hold my keys firmly. It’s humming. Still humming. Always humming. It is not meant to be menacing but somehow in the darkness when it’s just me and it and my car- it is.

I put my key in my car door and turn it. It makes a noise, a comforting noise. It can only be seconds that my person is within the range of the sensors but it will know what I look like, that I am female, maybe it has tapped into my phone to register who I am in case I steal it or scratch it or drive into it. It knows who I am. Its owner can know who I am. The police can know who I am. The manufacturer can know who I am. The list of people who can know I was getting into my car in a car park in Suffolk in the middle of the night is endless. All of it, from just a few seconds in front of the sensor of someone else’s car. Is anyone interested? I hope not but I can never know. There have been people charged with collecting these images, distorting them, using them. There was even an art show, that was weird. It’s private, this act of getting into my car. I am privately getting into my car in a train station at midnight in Suffolk but now it is public. I have no choice. I parked my car here. That car is parked there and it is done. It is public. I have no right to get into my car in a car park in Suffolk in the middle of the night privately anymore.  

I ease into the seat of my car. I switch on the ignition and my lights. It’s lights are still on. I look in the side mirror. I can still see it. It’s just sitting there, waiting, ominous. Where is the owner? I’ve no idea. There’s that story, maybe he’s in my car? I check the mirror. There is no one in the back seat. I want to check the boot. I don’t. I am being silly.

I turn on the motor. What if it follows me? It can do that. It can just follow me and there is nothing I can do. Just an empty car following me home. Is it going to follow me? It wouldn’t be the first time? The thing is to keep driving in circles around the block until it figures out you have figured it out. It’s costly in terms of petrol but it does work.

It’s a new kind of stalking, empty cars following people places. Driverless cars, it gives you a sense of not being responsible but they still found a way to make them do things they shouldn’t. There’s the model they had to recall when several owners used it to follow home school girls flashing the car lights and hooting the horn all the way-that one was a disaster some tech head hadn’t thought through. Then there’s the whole locking system, once you’re in, you’re in and there is no way out and even the emergency alarm hasn’t managed to save anyone. Had to be modified following the odd murder where the victim simply couldn’t escape. That was after the insurance claim of course. It’s like no one applied their brain to it. Self driving cars it turns out are much more popular with certain men than others. Most women like me, like a bit of parking assistance but not much else.

I drive away, out of the car park. I look in the mirror. It is still sitting there, alone now-can a car be alone? Its lights still shining on the vacant spot. Its probably still humming and I am overcome with compassion for it. It’s still inanimate I tell myself. But now it’s like a lost dog at the dogs home where someone else has adopted every other dog. I feel bad. I feel terrible. I have left it alone in the car park. These cars, these driverless cars, they are a minefield, an emotional minefield. It’s a car not a dog I say out loud. But I still feel bad, as I change gears and steer towards home. My car is loved.

Every Home should have One

Posted on by tuesdaylatte

Why aren’t I allowing it to ‘facilitate my meal production’? -It’s crumpets and coffee!!! Do I need a doctor? Would some vitamin pills help? Would I like a dietary change, a cereal perhaps to ‘up’ my fibre intake…read more 

It’s 5.58am. I am awake before the alarm. The alarm knows this. Well the device that sets the alarm knows this. It helpfully tells me, ‘you can sleep for two more minutes.’ I swing my legs over the bed. There is no point in fighting against it really. I should lie down and shut my eyes and pretend to sleep. But it will know I am not sleeping. So why doesn’t it know that sleeping for two minutes is an impossibility? It’s one of those tiny glitches the programmers missed because –because they are all the same. They probably wake half an hour before the alarm, slam a vegan juice and do 15 minutes of yoga. I don’t do that.

The device is in every room now. My whole life programmed in. My very own ‘routine’. I admit I have a very basic model. It’s all I could afford. It has a lot of ads. I admit it does routine well. The problem is- I don’t. It’s not that I don’t keep to a morning schedule to get out the door on time, it’s just that I like a little flexibility. It doesn’t. The alarm will go off at 6am-only it won’t because it helpfully has figured out I am out of bed. It will tell me exactly how many hours, minutes and seconds sleep I got last night. If I have made it to the bathroom by then, the numbers will flash up on the mirror. I will try not to look but if I don’t say Ok, it will keep telling me until I acknowledge it.

It will add that to all the other sleep data it has on me, which is quite a lot. It will tell me my sleep deficit for the year so far, a number now so high that I can never make it up. It will remind me of the importance of sleep and suggest some ‘helpful’ natural remedy to fix my erratic sleeping – perhaps a short break or that healthy after work gym routine which will help me sleep soooo much better at night. I never had a sleep deficit until I had the device. I now know that I average just 6 hours and 30 minutes per night and that is not enough for my ‘Optimum Functional Capacity’. I am never going to achieve my ‘OFC’ on that. Then they will run some mattress ads because who knows it could be my mattress or it could just be this device and its f*****’ routine.

At 6.02 the shower will start automatically-that’s right I have two whole minutes to get between the bedroom and the shower- which is about 3 metres distance max. Why two minutes-because the device helpfully measured the time it usually takes. And the time it usually takes me to get from the bed into the shower- I average two minutes-what do I do in that time-nothing, at least not anymore. I have no idea what I did do to take all that time. Perhaps I enjoyed the view out the window, or stretched or something else equally as useless. I certainly did not use it for self improvement-I know-time wasted. All I do now is feel pressured to be ready under the shower a good 30 seconds before it starts.

In case you’re wondering, there is never an extra 5 minutes in bed. I can ask it for that but there is the gentle reminder that I will be late for work or worse, it has to recalibrate all the timings. And it generally takes 4 minutes off my coffee drinking time-which is only 7 minutes in total-the average time any person takes to drink a coffee apparently-where did they get that statistic!!! Because  that is not me. I cannot drink a coffee in 7 minutes and I don’t believe anyone else can either! Like I said, it’s a basic model.

Anyway at 6:01 I will be standing naked in the shower waiting for it to start. I need to get a sensor for the shower so it knows I am here and not this stupid timing thing. The shower will dispense the exact amount of shampoo twice because that’s what the stupid shampoo company wants. The Stupid Shampoo Company (not it’s real name) wants for me to wash my hair twice-only before when I had a bottle of shampoo and it was just instructions, the ‘twice’  was optional. Now when the shower is dispensing it, I must do it once, and I must do it again and there is no longer a choice.

Then there’s the conditioner-yes the conditioner is dispensed in exactly the right amount for my hair length. Fab, but then it needs to be in for three minutes. Back when I had a bottle, 30 seconds max, I guess I was a ‘token’ conditioner back then. My hair was never properly conditioned and I never noticed. Now I have proper conditioned hair and guess what-it has NOT,-N-O-T improved my life in any way.

Right at the start when I was programming-I use that term loosely because I was just talking at it, the device asked me did I want the water to run for the whole three minutes whilst the conditioner was in my hair.  I said yes, because I do. Then there were the water company ads. Was I sure? What a waste? Aren’t I a good citizen? So I changed it to ‘no’ and now I stand there for 3 minutes freezing my butt off with conditioner in my hair and no water. I’m not going to lie to you. It’s not what they promised- that whole-‘lets get connected- a device in every room’. Back then it was all music and fairy lights whenever you wanted. The reality is you freeze your arse off in a shower with no water for three minutes every morning and no amount of soft lighting and mood music can make it any better. I just want to be warm.

Anyway I will hear the crumpets clicking into the toaster just as the water comes back and I have a minute-a whole minute to get rid of the conditioner and wash the rest of me. It’s based on averages again apparently. An extra minute in the shower is a no-no, my goodness those water companies-that is called premium water if you want it. And apparently they can measure that when you start to use it.

The crumpets are preloaded in the toaster by me the night before so all the device has to do is tell the toaster to drop and cook. When I get out of the shower they will be ready along with the coffee. The whole thing is set up the night before with a helpful 9.02pm reminder to put the crumpets in the toaster and a 9.03pm reminder on the coffee. It’s so that as soon as I’ve sat down after one I can be reminded to get up and do the other. It’s because you can’t have two reminders for the same minute-you can see why I swear a lot. Of course sensibly I do them together but that doesn’t stop the reminders and me needing to confirm it is done –verbally, out loud by 9.04- lest I radically decide to get up tomorrow and make my own breakfast. I can’t do that. It knows. It will ask me what is wrong. Why aren’t I allowing it to ‘facilitate my meal production’? -It’s crumpets and coffee!!! Do I need a doctor? Would some vitamin pills help? Would I like a dietary change, a cereal perhaps to ‘up’ my fibre intake. Don’t even ask what else it monitors in the bathroom. Its not your business. It shouldn’t be anyone’s business. I should get a better model-upgrade. This one only does half the stuff it should. There aren’t enough sensors in my house. Some of my stuff is incompatible because it has a different logo. Or no logo, or worse a supermarket logo.

I am out the door at 6.41. The device will have told the car I am on schedule. Actually for all I know the shower might do that. I slide into the back. It glides away but not before asking me if I am willing to share. I am never willing to share. I am not a morning person. No one is. Why does it even ask. Why can’t it learn that- I have said no every time, and yet it still asks. I think that is a government regulation, you can’t shut off the share question.

The car will drive me to the station. There is only one right turn the whole way there. But it is a nightmare. Cars are all about operating systems. Basically I need a car with the same operating system going both ways to allow me to turn out, that way my car can talk to their cars and tell them to stop. It should all be pre arranged but generally it’s a disaster because no one wants their car talking to another car until they are in it. Worst of all, sometimes one car will stop because one street away another car with the right operating system is coming. That person and everyone behind it will sit and wait until the other car gets there. You know how many car makers there are, well that’s how many operating systems there are, imaging having to wait at an intersection until there is a Ford going both ways-it’s like that. Actually it’s worse than that-because its not just operating systems, it’s the version you have, so a Ford Fiesta can’t talk to a Ford Focus or similar.

You can see people getting visibly annoyed as they wait. You can no longer ‘egress’ -yep that is the term they use from a car whilst it is in use, you are locked in-it’s a safety measure, not for you, for everybody else who is sitting waiting for you to turn out of the road. It is stressful. The car will be booking my seat on the train or not- depending on my BMI. If I am a little too fat this morning, it will sense it and I get to stand. Apparently standing on a train is good for your core, not so sure about the feet.

ItThe return journey is much the same. The car will be there to pick me up eventually. The worst of it –have I mentioned it gets worse-is my relaxation time. At 8pm each evening, having sorted out the perfect recipe for the ingredients in the fridge and walked me through how to cook it, it will tell me to sit down and relax for an hour. The thing is- I can’t. I am so tense. I just sit there. I have this hour to relax and I am so tense. I know the reminders are coming at 9pm. I know I will be in bed by 9.15. I know the alarm will go off at 6am. I know the routine tomorrow will not vary one iota from today. I know that when I sit on the sofa at 8pm, it is part of the routine. An hour for me just to relax.  I just can’t relax. I can’t do it. Its enforced relaxation, enforced sleep. I cooked what it wanted me to cook. I ate in the time it told me it would take. I relaxed to music that it will suggest but none of it, none of it is mine. None of it is me. If it is me, its just a machine reflecting me back at me. I can’t handle it. I can’t give up ‘me’ to the machine. I can’t sleep but I can’t deviate. Its here all around me. This stupid device! Telling me that I could be better, my life could be better. Self improvement, self fulfilment, busy every second except for this one allotted hour. Only all life is gone from here. There are only algorithms and no space for just an extra minute on that coffee. It is the apocalypse, not the devastating cataclysmic, life ending one but the soft shattering, soul destroying end to choosing how each minute is spent. A decision made once, resonating forever, repeated over and over every day in that stupid device.

Legacy: the plastic avalanche

Posted on by tuesdaylatte

Someone hands me soup. Even in the darkness I can see the plastic shiny on the surface of it. I sip it anyway. This place is going to kill me. The belly will get me the way it gets all of them. I have to leave…read more 

I am standing here on the shore, looking out over the ocean. I don’t know why this is taking me so long. I am here. I need to be there. The timing is right. I have stayed because she has needed it. I have done nothing. I used to sit with the old woman for the day but she is gone.

She works the plastic mountain, looking for useful rubbish. Rubbish that can be sold to travellers. Boats have been coming in, people are crossing, further east than I want to go but crossing nonetheless. Now is when the winter of working the mountain pays off. Only it doesn’t because money is useless and the boats don’t ever bring food. I think mostly it is just something to do. A way of feeling useful, of having an occupation. Maybe its hope. Maybe that is all it is.

I look out across the sea- why the reluctance to take to the water? This is Europe, was Europe, was home, isn’t home. It’s all so very complicated. Maybe when I touch that continent, I will be on the same continent as her. Surely I will know that as soon as I land. I will sense it someone deep inside of me. That is all useless superstition. I don’t think I sense anything anymore. It is all rational thought. I would not recognise her, she would not know me. It has simply been too long.

I hear a rumble in the distance. I think nothing of it. Then someone. Someone I don’t know comes rushing up and calls me. Not my name, just ‘hey, you have to come.’ To the mountain. There has been an avalanche. The piles of plastic are notoriously unstable. She is there buried underneath it. Apparently. They think. It could be her. It could be someone else. They have sent for me as I am the only relative she has. I am not a relative. No one needs to know. They know I am a passer-by. Just one who stayed, one who went and came back and then did it again. They must know the chance of a passer-by being a relative is slim.

I run towards it. Following them More slowly than I should. I am thinking. This might not be good, not just for her. Is that mean? Selfish? How do you think I got this far?  I lose sight of the person in front of me. I am half way there before I turn back. I must focus. I run to the shack where we live. I look around me, there is nothing of use for me, except the shovel. I pick up my pack, grab my sleeping bag, the shovel and head for the plastic mountain. I am packed, I am always packed.

When I get there, I keep hold of my bag but leave the sleeping bag. I have another somewhere if I need it. That is greedy. Two. When I know they are short of everything here.

People are digging with their hands but they are wasting their time. The plastic underneath this layer is all broken into tiny pieces. It’s like sand has slid down a mountain, anybody underneath will be drowned, suffocated, whatever you call it. I dig with the shovel but I know it is useless. There is screaming and wailing behind me, though not from within the pile. The pile of plastic fragments is colourful, beautiful, but silent.  I work hard. I move plastic aside. But it is pointless. They are gone. With every shovel I move out of the way another pile of plastic slides into its place. The whole thing is unstable and it towers above us. The scale of the thing. Where did it all come from? It came from us. I know it came from us. But this is only part of it. The oceans are still full of it. It litters the ground and still there are mountains of it here. How many mountains, I have never counted. They are here all in a row. They are like a wall between the coast and inland. There are roads between them but the stretch on in a line. Why? What was the point of piling it all here. It is a mining operation I guess. A huge pile of plastic rubbish to be sorted through for fragments that can be used or sold. For fragments of food that might be edible. With other debris amongst it, that is what makes it worth mining. It goes who knows how deep underground. There is no chance of getting anyone out really and it could collapse further and take us all at any moment.

 I work until it is dark. My shoulders ache. I am hungry.It’s really dark now. We are still digging. I am not working anywhere near as hard. I have achieved nothing for the effort. I have wasted energy. I should have just left straight away.

In the darkness I can hear soft whimpering, perhaps under there was someone’s husband or brother or wife or child under there. It’s nice that death still means something somewhere. I sneak off into the darkness. I leave them. I am leaving. I can see the fires of the settlement in the distance. I head towards it. I find the little shack. I don’t know why? That’s not rational. One last look around. They have been quick. All the food is gone. I feel I should wait. Someone will retrieve the body. But then what? They will want to keep it. It’s like I said before, best not to eat the meat from around here. Maybe tomorrow or the day after I will no longer be in Europe.

I had been inclined to leave the shovel but they have taken my food so I take it with me. It is petty I know. I have a long walk ahead in the darkness. I don’t really fancy it but I am out of choices. Someone will want the shack and I don’t want trouble. I make the tree line near dawn. The trees are relatively young and there isn’t much cover. There is plastic rubbish even here. They chopped the old trees down, of course they did. They are growing these ones for firewood but people get lazy and greedy and I would be astonished if they are here when I return. If I return. Maybe there is no return. I am close to where the boat is hidden and some of my belongings including the clock, the watch, whatever it was called. I don’t worry too much about being followed. The place was in chaos the night before and I am confident I can win a fight no matter how hungry.

I use the shovel to dig up my buried belongings. It is a handy thing to have. I drag out the boat from its hiding place. I feel the smoothness of its boards. I take a moment. I love that smoothness. I am a days walk from the coast. I eat whatever I can find. I will need supplies. I set myself two days to walk and gather food as I go. Again that is longer than I need. More delay. I want to leave the coastline, get in my boat and go away at some distant point. It must be away from the settlement and somewhere before the next one. I am going back, not home, just back. Home is out there somewhere. Home is dust. I walk and try not to think. I should have retrieved her body, she was kind to me. I should have left the shovel. I should think more clearly. I should have left days ago.  If I had left days ago I would not have these feelings