Sum One
By:
Ryan Collins
Gazing into the mirror with that half awake, half dream state—I see myself there; with those distinguishing features attached to the thought of who I am. Black short cropped hair with matching morning stubble, and all of those twenty-six years showing in my face. No time for reflection-
6:15am: No hot water in the shower.
6:32am: Cut myself shaving (it took lots of little dabs of toilet paper to stop the bleeding).
6:47am: Found out somebody had hit and run my car last night—smashed my fender up pretty well.
7:03am: Got pulled over going 34mph in a 30mph zone. The officer scoffed at me when I asked if I could get off with a warning. He gave me a $220 dollar ticket.
By this point I was ecstatic and filled with optimism for the day at hand. Lately it seems there’s some cosmic injustice to the world, or at least the world to me. It’s like an endless cycle aimed at running me with nothing into an early grave. There was always a sort of a balance to the world before. There was always the take, but then there was lots of give. Now it just seems everything lately is take—take—take, and I’m the poor sap fronting the bill.
There’s no pity for me today in the solace of my melancholy. Poor Daniel, he’s late to work again and nobody at New World bank will care to my woes.
Well it’s not like they should have pity on me! I’m what they call in the business a, “habitual policy offender.” I calmly strolled into the office in my little monkey suit and sat down in my little personal banking cubicle, and prepared for the coming ocelot.
And to my surprise it never came.
I waited…………
And waited……………………………..
But no messenger bearing poisonous messages ever came.
The sun hid behind its thick blanket of clouds and the city was enveloped in dreary precipitation for the better part of the morning. It’s always interesting to me how the weather seems to mimic my mood, and today’s no exception.
And one by one they came into my cubicle. The look on their faces is the worst part. When these people find out how much they’ve lost in the market they look physically ill. When it first started not too long ago I felt bad. Then when it happens day after day, you begin to rather enjoy the whole process, and the appreciation of my stable employment increases.
“Ok well I’m sorry to inform you sir but your net worth is at about……50% of what it was.”
“What? How can this be,” they usually say.
I feel it’s really a stage process they have to go through.
1: Shock
2: Denial
3: Desperation
4: Acceptance
But suffice to say not every case is a mere tragedy and believe it or not, there are some that made sound decisions in their lives; and they’re the ones reaping the bounty of the harvest.
I, however, am in worse standing than even those who lost it all. That’s why I sometimes enjoy telling people how much they’ve lost. It puts them on a level closer to me. The American dream is easy to see realized in others, but the difficultly is in realizing it for yourself.
Something about this grind seems evil to me; always trading away the prospect of happiness today for some distant tomorrow. It’s almost like my whole life I’ve been searching for happiness within a chainless slavery. Lately I’ve pondered the question of-
DO I LIVE TO WORK<>OR WORK TO LIVE?
It wasn’t always this way. I once dreamed dreams, so colorful and vivid, but now I dream only in black and white. And as the years rolled by, I began to realize there are no distant sunsets, and life has a way of gently leading you down the road of disappointment. Really my worst fear is that some day I’ll wake up and my life has passed me by. If you would’ve asked me when I was young if this was the life I wanted to lead, I don’t think it would be possible to bear the party of this reality anymore. This little problem, so deep within—isn’t noticeable at all times, but it’s always there.
After the day at work came to an end my soul was stretched in reproach from these tragedies and searching’s. The rain ceased for the time being, and there was a lingering smell of freshness. Every breath filled me with essential sustenance, as the early summer moon hid behind the majestic clouds, silhouetted by the lightning striking the distant horizon.
It’s hard not to love the rhythm of the night in Denver; there’s constant flow of energy coming here and there; the mountains are still snowcapped even now in June, and there’s a cool breeze blowing off them into the city, seemingly spawning movement as people fly about in some mysterious fashion.
My favorite thing is to watch their movements, tying it together on some grand scale. I love Imagining their lives, walking around in their shoes, experiencing what I can only guess at, but will never comprehend.
It started to rain again, and I was forced to seek shelter. The closest thing I could recognize as a habitable dwelling was a tavern; the florescent sign outside read—“Blue Sands.”
As I walked in, unfamiliar faces caught my eyes and passed around me. The Rolling Stones were playing Time is on My Side on the jukebox.
Before I knew it I was loosening my collar and taking off my tie, the one with the little clocks on it. Everyone around me was adorning his—or—her full summer casuals, and it seemed my attire was the squarest in the whole joint. Not long after I’d taken a seat at the bar, a beer appeared before me.
“Didn’t order it!”
“It’s from that man at the end of the bar.” the bartender said, as I caught a glance at the gentleman who bought me the drink. He became visible upon further glance and I recognized him as a former client. A quick Flashback to our conversation came to me-
“John the problem is that you had all of your assets in an unprotected high yield account, so when the market crashed you lost pretty much all of it.”
“How could this happen? What am I going to do?”
“It’s ok John…..you still have some money, I see in your savings account. There will be other opportunities to make your money back. The market can’t go down forever!” I said reassuringly.
“What am I going to tell my wife? How am I going to pay the mortgage?”
“I’m sorry John, but if you’d like, we can discuss some other options.”
“You little banker Fuck! Can’t you hear what I’m saying? It’s over. I’m finished!”
And with that, I recall he stormed out of my office shouting obscenities. I remember it seemed like he wanted to choke the life out of me. Especially when I asked him if he wanted to discuss other options.
So you can see how I feared this drink was a Trojan horse. With a smile I kindly raised my beer to him and focused my gaze on the televisions above the bar.
“Today congress approved another bailout. 8 billion dollars has been given to New World bank to prevent bankruptcy. This is the third bailout this month for corporate banks. The bailout is reported to be for guaranteed contractual bonuses to executives.” A news report blurted out.
“Dumb banks! Taking all our money, I swears, I’m robbin’ em’ all blind one of these days. It’ll be just like how they’ve been robbin’ us everyday of our lives.” John said standing, and then sitting right next to me.
I felt a response was in order regarding our previous encounter so I said, “hey, I’m sorry about everything last time we met. You know, I hate being the messenger sometimes?”
“Your name was, Daniel right?”
“Last time I checked it was my name, but forgive me, Sir. What was your name again? It was uh, John right?”
“Don’t give me that yes sir no sir crap they’ve trained you. Do you mind if I call you, Dan?”
“Not really, I kind of prefer it, but people at work always call me by my proper Christian name. It drives me crazy, I mean just once can’t somebody call me, Dan? God that makes me mad, you know the formalities and all?”
“Well, Dan I’m sorry we met on those terms, but you seem like an ok guy.”
“Well thank you.” I could tell by the look on his face he was about to unload all the weight off his shoulders. I could already imagine all the sad stories about to come out of his mouth.
“See, Dan, the problem is that we got it ass backwards. We give em’ our—everything and anything for the pursuit of money. We’ve traded away our lives for a piece of paper! Think about what money actually is, Dan. It’s a piece of paper with green ink on it and a whole bunch of holograms, so we can’t copy them. We carry the dead skin of a tree in a wallet, which is the skin of a dead animal. No, where we went wrong is when we lost sight of the one thing which holds any true value in this life.”
Oh shit here it comes, I thought.
“Which is what?” I said momentarily pausing his tirade. I was somewhat skeptical of the fact that John, a man who lost everything of his material value in this world in a single second, would know what the true value of life is.
“The truest, and purist reality, we can ever experience, and live, is love. Nothing worthwhile is possible without love.”
“I agree and all in some aspects, John, but really in this world a life with no money is death, and not to mention the fact that love is not possible without money.”
“Dan, when I said love, you instantly think I mean the love between a man and a woman, but what I meant was love in general. To treat everyone with love is the ultimate test. That includes yourself, and that’s the only meaning of our existence on this plane. This money Dan, that’s only temporary Love is eternal my friend. The hard thing is to never forget that.” He finished saying this and then he took the last drink from his beer and got up from his seat.
“Where are you going?” I normally wouldn’t have asked such an intruding question, but I felt as if I may have offended him somehow.
“I have to go home now to my wife who is having an affair on me, and try and pretend everything is all right to my son, who doesn’t appreciate me because I can’t afford to buy him all the luxuries his friends dads do.” His eyes confirmed his seriousness.
“Why did you tell me all this tonight? I mean really you tell me that we should all love one another, and you seemed like you wanted to wring my neck the other day when you came into the bank.”
“Well in all seriousness kido I could tell when I met you the other day that you’re an unhappy man. And if there is one thing I can and should do in this life, it’s to offer advice to a young man. This life is too short to be unhappy! It was good to meet you, Dan. Thanks for listening to me.”
And like that he slipped out the door into the vastness of the summer night. Not long after I followed my path home enjoying the intoxicating smell of lilacs, breathing in the cool wet breeze; and the world was in perfect order that night in the aftermath of another day. And sleep found me there somewhere soundly.
The days came and went one after another and I often thought back to the conversation I had with John. I even tried on a daily basis to treat other people with more love than the usual reproach of caution and fear. It was amazing to see the results. The more people I treated with love and respect the better I felt.
But still all through the beginning of the summer people continued to lose their money in record numbers; and things within a month took a turn like we haven’t seen as a country economically in a hundred years.
More and more I found myself trying to break the mode and I actually related with the clients more than with the banks. Daily we as a country watched with oblivious eyes to the tragedies taking place before our very noses.
Our country had been at war for more than a decade and the economy had been in a continual downhill slide for almost five years now, but still most people on the streets hid the seriousness of our dire straits with fake smiles and emphatic, “hellos.”
For so long now it was as if I’d forgotten how to dream; and then all of a sudden the color came back. Something had changed and I felt the world was changing.
Not one of those notions of a great change I’d seen so many times before in my life, the ones false prophets yelled to the world, but this change was around the corner and every breathe drew me closer to it.
II
The summer continued on as it always had, but it was something in me that had changed. I no longer cared to indulge in the things that no longer mattered. I walked the crowded city streets, imagining how I could befriend certain noticeable characters. I wanted to ask some of them, who seemed like they knew the answer of where happiness lies, where it is.
One time I actually built up the courage to ask a woman-
“Could you ever see yourself falling in love with somebody like me?” She didn’t see the pertinence of the question and went about her day.
This was a victory of sorts to me because that day I realized there are endless possibilities. Well this isn’t the first time I came to this realization, but today was the day I fully understood the novelty. And up to this point I believed that I held absolutely no influence on the world around me. So from that moment forth I made a conscious effort to explore every—and all of life’s possibilities. There was a certain feeling of accomplishment in pursuing the unknown. Life to me always seemed more the dream than the dream seemed reality. It didn’t take long with my experiments before I realized the power we all hold.
It all started the day I had a self manifesting thought. It was a typical Wednesday and everything was in its normal pace. The ordinary that day wasn’t good enough anymore. The usual informing people of their material wealth evaporating, was an even more daunting task than normal, so I had a thought and in my clarity—it went something like this—I hope this bank gets what it has coming to it. This thought was especially peculiar to me for I found the open contempt I held hidden within myself. And now it was revealed clear as day. Not ten minutes after I had this thought he walked in.
It being near lunchtime and all, I pretended to be busy, so I could whittle the time away. Time however had something else in store.
“The time has come to be liberated brothers and sisters.” He yelled, so loud everyone in the bank stopped what they were doing and looked at him; and what a sight he was. He had on a green night mask covering his eyes, with an elephant’s trunk protruding from his nose, and down over his mouth. This was finished off with large pink, floppy bunny ears, on top of a wavy cowboy hat. He wore and immaculate suit as well, with straps going across his chest And to ensure he wasn’t joking around he swung around an AK-47 from behind him and pulled back the pin.
“Get real comfy with the ground ladies and gents, cause you’re gonna get real acquainted with it for the time being. This, this is a stick up.”
Everyone dropped to the ground without hesitation, (including the guard who surrendered his firearm to the robber) except the bank manager Mr. Johnson. Johnson’s face was contorted and confounded, like he didn’t believe this could be happening to his bank, but it was happening.
The robber looked at Johnson for a moment and then made his way to him slowly, but surely. “You must be the clown runnin this circus kiddo, so make like a good boy and get daddy his coin or they’ll be dry cleaning that nice suit of yours for a month.” The robber reiterated his seriousness by aiming the gun at Johnson who stood as still as a statue, and it was clearly seen by all that he began to urinate himself.
“I say I say! Did I stutter? I do believe your acting as if this is the first stick up you’ve ever seen. Look at you, you’re pitiful. Excreting yourself like a scared child. Let me teach you some etiquette then.” The pink robber butted Johnson in the stomach and then fired a shot into the ceiling.
I lied there on the ground wondering what was going to happen next as everybody around me starred with wide wild eyes. I wasn’t shaking like the rest of them, but rather felt alive for the first time in a long time. It didn’t matter if he killed me or any of them, but it did matter that this was happening and I was a part of it somehow. I felt like a terrorist.
“Now go on you pathetic worm, go get me my gravy or things are going to get real messy around here.” He said kicking Johnson now on the ground. Just as the robber picked Johnson off the ground and got him on his feet the alarms sounded.
“You little cowards always following protocol like mindless ants. Get me to the vault now or all your employers get it for them,” the robber assured Johnson.
Johnson, making his way, passed the floored tellers and personal bankers including myself, made way to the vault, but turned to the robber and exclaimed, “I’ll get you the money, but a loon like you won’t even know what to do with it!”
“Something like the kettle calling the pot black huh? What makes you presume they’re payin you to think anyway? You worry about getting me the money and I’ll worry bout what to do with it.” And with that he jabbed the already hobbled Johnson in the ribs as the two disappeared out of sight.
Everybody took this as a relief and they started talking to each other; asking each other if they were all right and that kind of stuff, but they were all cautious as could be to the fact that any second the robber could come back out of the vault. We all could hear and see there was a gathering police force outside. I didn’t move with the others and I remained motionless captured in the surrealism of the moment and this was one of those times when reality seemed the dream.
The robber ran back into the lobby and let a round fly into the ceiling saying something like, “none of you move, or you’ll go down with me.”
We all heard the next series of events from Johnson after the fact as he told the story like this—
Johnson: “I can’t open the vault for you. I don’t know the code because it changes everyday.
Robber: “Well guess you’re willing to pay the piper and trade your life for the banks money? Excuse me our money (aiming the gun at his head).”
Apparently Johnson weighed the consequences of his choice and gave way to the robber unlocking the vault. The robber (we were told) was held in awe for a minute before he filled two hockey bags strung across his back with money, shoveling them wildly into the bags. Once he filled both hockey bags as full as he could he put them both round his back as to make an x across his chest. The masked assailant calmly strolled out into the lobby and gazed at the now amassed forces outside. He waved at them.
“Do you see how they protect their mistakes? Willing to stop at any cost, from losing the money they steal from us everyday of our lives! If we all just opened our eyes and acted on these crimes. Remember what I have said and shown you today; because today I refuse to live their way.”
What happened next will forever remain in my memory. With the two hockey bags strewn across his chest and onto his back he walked outside. Everyone in the bank including Mr. Johnson ran to the lobby windows to catch a glimpse at what happened next.
He calmly surrendered his AK-47 and discarded it onto the ground and as soon as he did so, the police rushed him to capture him, but the masked assailant had other plans. He made with all his force to the crowd of people gathered not twenty yards away from the bank. The police all took aim shouting at him to freeze, but the robber turned to the crowd and started to open his hockey bags. The police opened fire on the masked man and with his last effort he made sure the money got into the hands of the people. With his last energy on this earth he gave the people what they wanted. What they needed.
They all swarmed like a hive of bees to the swirling and twirling money. The money fell to the ground like soft snow falling silently to the ground. The police tried to stop the people, but they couldn’t, there were too many people, and most of them got away, but the police arrested a few, including myself, who was just trying to be in the center of something. The man had become a martyr. He died for what he believed. How long would it be before they understood?
It broke my heart as I was being taken away, I caught a glimpse of them taking off his mask.
It was John.
