Friday - Buisness as Usual

[ninanevermore]

"How's the new job?" The Carney asked.

I shrugged. "Hard to say. I haven't really gotten into the nitty-gritty of it yet. It takes a lot just to get set up as a new employee in a big corporation. It took a week to even get my email. I'm just now getting my feet wet."

I brushed my wet hair out of my eyes. It wasn't raining at the Ferris Wheel, but it rained on my way over to it and it was raining all around us. Houston has been soggy all week, with flash flood and tornado warnings coming across the radio almost every day. I complain about the weather along with everyone else, but only because it's a convenient way to start a conversation. In the words of Brer Rabbit, I was born and bred in this wet briar patch that is Houston, and it doesn't phase me.

"What about The Corporation? About what you expected?"

"I didn't expect anything. It's a little weird, I guess. Funerals and everything they entail are usually an emotional topic of conversation, and here they are just units of sale for a package of widgets you can buy ahead of time. It's a little strange."

Jim made that noncommittal noise of acknowledgement that he makes sometimes.

"It makes me want to be buried in my backyard under a tree, personally. I don't want to be a widget to be processed and packaged and put into a 6-foot long widget box, or burned in a big 'ol widget-burning oven and poured into a canister for storage. Storing a dead thing like that is creapy. When my time comes, I just want to be dust, to go back to being part of the earth that sustained me. I suppose I need to put that in writing somewhere."

"Shhh!" The Carney put his finger to his lips and nodded toward the Wheel. I expected him to pull the lever to stop it and let someone off, but he didn't. Instead, I saw something moving rapidly toward the ground. It was a person falling headfirst in a swan dive. I hadn't seen this before, and I gasped. Instead of landing with a thud on the dusty earth beside the Ferris Wheel, he hit the ground with what looked and sounded like a splash of water. Then a young man stood up, dusted himself off and looked around. His face was familiar to me: I'd seen it in the newspaper. He was young (19 years old) and Latino, and he lived about 5 miles from where I grew up. He looked scared and disoriented.

"Don't worry about it, man. It's okay. It's all over," Jim said softly while he opened the gate for the kid.

"It's over?"

"Yup."

"Good. I mean, cool. Okay." The kid walked through the gate and was gone. He didn't acknowledge me, but none of them ever do. I don't think the dead can see the living. In this place, I'm the ghost, not them.

"That sucks," I said, after he was gone.

Jim shrugged. "Oh, well."

"It wasn't even his time. You didn't stop the ride, he let himself off."

"It happens."

"I guess it doesn't bother you. You've seen everything. But it makes me sad."

"It's just another day's work."

"Tell me about it," I said with a sigh. "I wonder if someone from my company is going to sell his family a widget box and a hole to put it in?"

There's a good chance. After all, death happens, life goes one, and business is business.




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Comments

just another day's work

[regatomic.livejournal.com]

for him it's a calling, lucky the man who toils (or not) without the stigma of money attached,..;)

Re: just another day's work

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

Here in this plane of existance, money is a very big deal. Life is simply better when you have some it.

[noblwish.livejournal.com]

There's a problem with the link. It has two "HTTPs" in it. Here's the correct link: http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/front/4936659.html

I'm right there with you on the whole "dust" thang. I don't even want to be embalmed! There's a relatively new technique in Europe of Carbon Freezing a body into crystals, then burying it in a cornstarch box that biodegrades quickly. As the crystals heat up, they melt and all the nutrients in the body go right back into the soil. Cremation destroys the nutrients and turns them into pollution. I've told Rich that I want my cornstarch box buried in the old Harding Cemetery in Moscow, TX.

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

I fixed the link.

But if I get burried under a tree, then the tree gets nurished by me and part of me gets to "life" awhile longer (until someone cuts me down for firewood).

[noblwish.livejournal.com]

Dontcha remember that old cemetery? It was ENGULFED in a forest! Until the family lost the plantation, it was surrounded by VIRGIN pine!

Granted, I did forget to mention the Dogwood I want planted on top of the box. Less likely to be cut down, too.

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

Yay, dogwood! Pretty, yet commercially useless. Yes, I want to be dogwood food when I die! ^_^

[tedwords.livejournal.com]

Good luck with the transition into the new job. The Carney job sounds fun, though.

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

He takes it in stride. I think he likes meeting all the people he sees in his line of work, though.

[tedwords.livejournal.com]

I like that you write about it, too.

[ayoub.livejournal.com]

I like the way you write :)

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

Thank you. ^_^

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

I talk about that in the next entry.*


* This is where I am supposed to helpfully provide a link, but I forgot to copy it on my clipboard.