diary of waiting

We were instructed to wait before dying. That was it. There were a few basic guidelines, of course, and we knew that they had the power to make that wait shorter or to make conditions so that it felt longer, but for the most part we knew we could do whatever we liked before our time came.

While waiting, and remaining alive, we'd be sent on errands from one place to the other, sometimes driven across the country to wait in front of a desk there, before being sent to wait somewhere else.

Sometimes they would give us a little money for our trouble; problem was, hard as you tried to find things to buy to make the wait easier, there was always some time in the future when they might ask for it back. They wouldn't bother you as much when you would spend it on the things they made, because then they didn't have to ask for it back.

They also liked for us to go somewhere where they would take our money back, and then wait, and then go back to get some different money if we wanted it. They said it was the same money, and that everything is the same. If we had anything we had happy lives, because everything is the same.

They didn't like for us to take the same amount we gave; only they were allowed to ask for equal returns.

The spending and waiting wasn't too bad though. They always gave us something to watch, and there seemed to be an endless variety of places to occupy: chairs to sit in, beds to sleep in, movies to finish, books to put down, lines of people to stand in.

In lines, you were sad if nobody was behind you, and it was impossibly to have nobody ahead of you, so you were happiest in between two people who were moving in the same direction. That way, you wouldn't be reaching to high or falling too fast.

They loved to give you time to spend. But they didn't like you to ask for it, they needed the time they gave you, needed you to give them your time for a job where you'd be repaid in time.

You had the opportunity to spend time more efficiently, with people in whom you could sometimes remember their younger selves you used to know, or on vacation, waiting for something exciting to happen, or for the exciting moment to end.

If you stood looking up at the sky for no reason, someone would ask you if you were waiting for something. If you weren't, they would look at you strangely and move on, and tell the first person they could. You were expected to think of someone to apologize to after those types of incidents.

I think the point of it all was that when you waited, part of you stopped moving, so when all of you did in the end it wouldn't feel as unexpected. At least, that's what I think was the point. They didn't like you to ask; they were the ones with all the questions. They needed your answers, and had no time to wait.