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Endless Laps

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 29, 2012 by javedbabar

Samuel stared at the throbbing red machine with awe. “Where did you get that from?” he said. “That go-cart costs four thousand dollars! How did you get your dad to buy it?”

“He didn’t buy it,” said, Adam, looking so pleased with himself that he could burst like a punctured watermelon. “But I own it.”

“So you stole it – good work!”

Adam looked even more pleased with himself, which was barely possible. “I didn’t steal it. I got it free. You can get one too if you’re quick. The dealer has gone bankrupt and has to get rid of his stock immediately, but he’s not allowed to sell them. Don’t ask me why. My dad says it’s to do with tax on cross-border trade. He’s giving away a hundred go-carts. Go and get one.”

Samuel wasn’t sure if he was being taken for a ride. He made a move to go but then turned back and said, “Are you kidding me? You had better not be. Can you take me down there?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. My dad said I could only have the cart if I promised not to ride on public roads. It’s illegal. I can’t drive it along the Lucerne Valley Road.”

Samuel saw a car two kilometres away, ran into the road and stopped the driver. He explained his desperate situation and got a ride into town. He arrived not a moment too late, bagging the last go-cart going. He was over the moon.

The issue then was to get it home without driving on public roads. This was no problem for Samuel. He rode through farms, along forest tracks, across people’s yards, and made it back to his private road.

Every kid in Lucerne seemed to have a go-cart. Roaring was heard all around the valley, growling in forests, bouncing off cliffs, and collecting in the old quarry and caves. The valley seemed to be inhabited by spirits, a place of legendary monsters.

Kids were allowed to race carts in the Industrial Park. Though it was technically a public amenity, it was legally owned by a private entity. Village Hall behaved like an administrative Cyclops, and chose not to see.

The races became a weekly fixture, and the air on Sunday nights was filled with growling beasts. Samuel made excuses for the first few races, but then was noticeable by his absence. People began calling him a chicken. It couldn’t last. He had to appear on the race track soon but he was afraid. He was afraid of driving fast. He was afraid of losing. He was afraid of killing someone. He was afraid of dying.

On Saturday night he hardly slept. He was thinking of making another excuse. It was a sunny day, he could say he went to the lake.

“Samuel, it’s for you.” His father handed him the phone. “It’s your grandfather.”

His grandfather? Why was he calling? He only called once a year at Easter. He picked up the phone. “Grandpa Albert?”

“Yes Samuel. I hear you’re racing today. Wait for me. I’m coming.”

“Why are you…” His grandfather hung up.

Just before the race, Samuel sat in his go-cart, sweating. He would lose. He would kill someone. He would kill himself.

A thin figure walked towards him, bent over and whispered in his ear. “You are the driver. Have no fear. Don’t worry about what may, or may not, happen. Just drive.”

The figure removed all of his clothes. The crowd gasped. His whole body was tattooed with black and white checks, a living GO.

The starting bell sounded. While everyone stared at Grandpa, Samuel roared away. His Grandpa understood that Karma depended on action. He also understood the Tao. His black and white body encompassed yin and yang, enabling universal motion, or at least his grandson’s.

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Healing Hands

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 28, 2012 by javedbabar

Sophie was feeling unsettled. There were crises at work, family members demanding money, her landlord had given her one month’s notice, and she was about to hit forty and was still single. Left on the shelf. Many of her friends were single too, but at least they’d had a go, married, and failed. Some had wonderful children as awards for trying.

Why hadn’t she ever taken the plunge? There had been opportunities. Maybe she had been too fussy when younger.

“Will you marry me?” Adam had asked her, long ago, at Blackwater Lake. Her response was to run off. It’s right to not settle for second best, but what she’d then thought of as second best, was upon reflection first best, and those who had later won her heart turned out to be last worst.

She wandered across the park after work. The sky was glowing like there were two suns setting, golden and purple. TJ, the Lucerne Valley Hotel’s receptionist, said, “Welcome back.” She was a daily customer. She’d been there at lunchtime for a beer and burger, but now wanted something more and stronger.

The manager had found a clever way of getting around The Authority’s prohibition on cheap drinks. He promoted Happy Hour as a heritage event, harkening back to its nautical origins. There were wrestling, boxing, singing and drinking bouts, often all together. It was a barrel of laughs.

A buxom wench like Sophie was well appreciated aboard HMS Hotel Bar. Its sailors bought her endless rounds, and she was constantly engaged in jigs and reels. She danced with a small, dark guy with a great body. He didn’t talk much. He was either drunk or shy. He had a bright face which seemed to shine everywhere, and Sophie didn’t want to be without its glow. At the end of a reel, she grabbed his hand and pulled him outside. They smooched a little and then she asked him to walk her home.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Is that a good idea?”

“What kind of man are you?” she said. “Not a gentleman at all. I should have made you walk the plank!”

“Okay, I’ll walk you home,” he said immediately. Nobody likes to be called a barbarian.

When they reached her home, Sophie opened the door and pulled him in. He made an unconvincing attempt to resist and then gave up. He was not much heavier than Sophie but with extra muscle instead of extra curves. He leaned back on the sofa.

Sophie played some ambient tunes and pulled him up to dance. Despite the music being unsuitable for nautical antics, she forced her guest to engage in further jigs and reels. He was a really good dancer and somehow made them work.

His moves were great, jumping, skipping and twirling around the lounge. Her body pulled along with his, her heart was in tune with his, their hands joined together, and now their lips…

“Ouch!” she said, breaking off and pulling away. “Your hands are so hot!” She looked at them. They seemed to be glowing.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe I should go now.”

“No, wait.” She didn’t know why she said it. There was something about him, about his hands. He looked at them in shock too. They were glowing faintly, golden purple.

He looked up at her and said, “I am from a family of healers going back to Pharaonic Egypt. I thought the gift had passed me by. My grandmother said that it would come to me when I met the one I must heal.”

Sophie’s head now reeled.

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Aquatic Auras

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 27, 2012 by javedbabar

Why was he wearing full-on yellow storm gear? The sun was shining and the water rippled in light wind. It is a beautiful day, thought Sophie, it is unlikely that any tornadoes will hit Blackwater Lake today.

The man sat there, nodding. For a moment she froze. What if he was a real weirdo, a serial killer? She had seen a movie called “Banker of Souls”, where the killer wore storm gear to avoid blood splashing his pinstriped suit. She shook her head to dispel the image.

The yellow-coated figure turned towards her. Deep within the hood’s hollow was a crinkled face wearing pink lipstick and golden earrings. It was an old woman rather than a man. She said in a whisper, “How many fishes can you see?”

Sophie saw the woman was mending nets, huge ones of all colours, spread around her. The needle’s motion was causing her to nod. She probably wasn’t a serial killer.

“I can’t see any fish,” said Sophie. “The water’s too dark. Are there many in the lake?”

“Many in the lake! Many in the lake!” The woman was cackling. “Many in the lake! Yes, there are many in the lake. Take a closer look.”

Sophie walked around some blue and green nets to the water’s edge, and peered into the black water. Patches of froth floated on the surface. They must be fish bubbles, she thought. She shielded her eyes to cut the sky’s silver glare, and looked harder.

“Yes,” she said. “I can see a fish. I think it’s a carp. There’s another one too, and another. Three of them. It’s hard to see their colour through the water. Are they purple and silver?”

“Yes, they are.” The old woman kept mending and nodding, and said, “Keep looking.”

Sophie saw silver ripples running through dark water. Not on the surface, they were deep within, rolling and stretching as if with a life of their own. Moving silver within silver. Whole sections of the lake seemed to move, as if these ripples were borne by hidden currents.

The woman said, “Do you see them?”

“Yes, I do. Are there springs beneath the lake? Or flows of rivers passing through?”

“Neither of those. There are fishes within fishes within fishes. You can’t see them all, only their aquatic auras. That’s why I am fixing these nets up. They’re needed here.”

Sophie was bemused by this notion. “Can you catch aquatic auras?”

“Only if you know what you’re doing, and I do.” She continued mending and nodding, and said, “The food chain is always visible, who eats who. The little ones are contained in big ones, aquatic auras show that, and it’s the same for humans too. You can see it in people’s faces. Look at the millions gobbled up by cities every day. Their lives are bounded, frozen within arthritic auras, all grey. The only ones smiling are the big ones you don’t see.”

She looked towards the lake. “That whale in there is taking too much.” She got up and prepared to throw out her nets. “Time to haul him in.”

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Lucky Numbers

Posted in Lucerne Village, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 26, 2012 by javedbabar

Maybe going to the Lucerne Valley Hotel’s bar at lunchtimes was a bad habit, but the food was well-priced and there were comfortable booths. The staff didn’t mind if you slipped off your shoes and sat in a booth cross-legged. That, along with the short walk through the park to get there, provided Sophie with a refreshing break in her day.

There were plenty of booths available, but a short, blue-eyed man with a shaven head scanned half the room, saw her – didn’t bother scanning the rest of the room – and walked towards her booth. “May I join you?” he asked.

Can you resist someone acting like that? She said, “Sure, nice to meet you. I’m Sophie.”

“Hi Sophie. I’m Michael.” His blue eyes were sharp, like dreamy icicles. “I have always been lucky with numbers. What about you?”

“I guess so, but I’m not sure what you mean exactly.”

Michael took a long look out of the window at Mt Alba, which gleamed like a white space pyramid. “I have a good birthdate. I was born on the seventh of July, 1977. If you write it as 7/7/77 and add the digits together, its sum is twenty eight; then add the two and eight to get ten, and the one and zero to make one, which is the supreme number containing all others, and from which all other numbers come.”

Sophie didn’t know what to say, and now it was her turn to look out of the window at Mt Alba.

Michael continued, “That was what gave me a good start in life. I was born to good parents in a happy home. My father was a doctor and my mother a dentist. They ensured I had everything I desired – a good school, great holidays, wonderful birthday parties, and amazing holidays.”

“You seem like a happy person,” said Sophie . “I am glad for you.”

“I was allocated an auspicious candidate number for my exams – 1122334455. The double digits reminded me to check and recheck my answers. That’s why I got A grades in everything.”

“Well done.” Sophie’s soup and sandwich arrived. She asked, “Are you having something?”

“Yes, thanks, I will.” He said to the waiter, “A double burger with the works please, and a chocolate milkshake,” and then continued. “My social security number is 0101010101, and that was very lucky too. It ensured that I always got good jobs, and then spaces between them to rest. I have never looked for a job in my life. They have always come to me when I have needed them.”

Sophie said, “What are you doing now?”

“We’ll come to that. I joined the army for five years. My service number ended in 9413, which means ‘nine die to one live’ in Chinese numerology. Knowing that ensured that I was that one to live every time. It was like an amulet deflecting enemy bullets.”

“Wow, did you…”

“My telephone number of 9876543210 means that every conversation, however frantic, always tones down, winds down and ends peacefully.”

Sophie wished that Michael would give her some peace in which to eat her lunch.

He said, “My lottery numbers were lucky. I won the jackpot.”

Her ears pricked up. He was a nerd, but a rich nerd.

“It’s a shame that your name is Sophie, which adds up to five. That has never been my lucky number.”

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Lucky Courier

Posted in Lucerne Village, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 25, 2012 by javedbabar

“Damn!” said Sophie to herself and then thought, I hate it when that happens. She picked up the phone and dialled a number. “Hello, it’s Sophie here from Lucerne Village Hall. I seem to have missed a delivery. I was here all morning; how did that happen?”

“Hello Sophie. This is Daphne from the Customer Services Team. I am sorry about your delivery. We’ve had a few problems this morning. Shall I reschedule it for this afternoon?”

“That would be great. If I’m not in my office, the courier can leave it at the reception desk in the other building. That’s always manned.”

She had considered saying, wo-manned but that would sound stupid.

The courier came again two hours later. There was a single fingernail tap on her window, and then a happy face, brown, but more golden in hue than his uniform. She motioned for him to enter, and he bounded in with a small, heavy parcel. She hadn’t been expecting anything. Was it a present from someone? Sophie liked surprises.

“Good afternoon, Miss Walker. I am sorry about before. I am new to this area and didn’t know that other building was related to yours. How many of these buildings are village offices? Oh, all of them around the garden? This must be a nice place to work. How long have you worked here? You seem well settled in…”

So much talking, thought Sophie, does he get many deliveries done? Maybe it’s because he’s new and wants to build customer relationships. Mr Chatty. She should ask him something too. “Where were you before this? In a different territory?”

“I am originally from Salistan,” he said.

Uh-oh, thought Sophie. He thinks I’m asking where he’s from. Why do immigrants always assume that’s the question? “I mean your delivery territory.”

“Oh sorry. Before I was working in the New City, but now I am in Lucerne.”

“That must be a big change for you.”

“Oh yes, but I like it. I don’t care about having a big house or big car. I just want a simple life, where I can hold my head up without people pointing. I want to make my family proud.”

Sophie was about to ask if they were still in Salistan, but he continued.

“I almost became rich, you know. At the horse races I said as a joke to someone to bet on a thousand-to-one horse. The woman put a hundred dollars on it, but the bookie closed before I could put my bet on. That horse won! That woman won one hundred thousand dollars! I saw her dancing. I was going to go up and congratulate her but there were so many people crowding around her that I left it. I was happy for her.”

Sophie started saying, “Did you…” but he was off again.

“At the casino once, I did become rich. You know that gambling is forbidden by my religion, but those machines are irresistible. It is only one coin and you never know what may happen. Lady Luck may be on your side. I won the hundred thousand dollar jackpot! It was like the Gambling God gave me what he owed. The bells were ringing, lights were flashing, and coins flooded out. They told me later that was all for show. The real prize was a big cheque for the money. I was married then, and my wife couldn’t stop laughing and laughing. In the car on the way home, we talked about all the things we would do together, but then I saw the look on her face. It said that she didn’t want to do them with me.”

Sophie didn’t know what to say.

He continued, “That’s why I am here in Lucerne working as a courier. Would you please sign for your parcel? I have a good feeling about it, why don’t you see what it contains.”

Sophie’s eyes flashed like lights on a pinball machine. There was a card saying she had won everything she had ever dreamed of. She just had to call a special number, which she did later that day. Immediately her mortgage increased by a hundred thousand dollars, which was transferred to an account in Salistan.

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Ticket Lottery

Posted in Conceptual Art, Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 10, 2012 by javedbabar

Two hundred tickets were available for the global launch of the film HUMANITY, and there had been a huge buzz when they were allocated online. The event was being held in the village of Lucerne, where the director had received his inspiration for the film, rather than in London, Mumbai or New York. His strange choice of location made the tickets doubly desirable, and the international jet set had clamoured for them.

Something didn’t feel right though. Sami, the local project manager, asked a member of the production crew, “Why are all those people queuing?”

“They’re the walk-ins, hoping to pick up tickets at the door.”

Sami was surprised. “But I thought all tickets had been allocated already. Where have the extras come from?”

The crew member said, “Between you are me, they are waiting for nothing. There aren’t any extra tickets.”

“Well, why don’t we tell them? They shouldn’t waste their time.”

“Look, the director said that all tickets should be allocated anonymously. There should be payment by donation, with people giving what they could afford or wanted to. But the producer rigged the allocation process. He priced up one hundred and fifty tickets for VIPs, sold twenty-five to restaurants serving special menus tonight, and fixed the lottery for the remaining twenty-five tickets. They’re all gone.”

Sami knew there would be some VIPs – he had been told up to fifty – but this was a disgrace. There was a huge queue of hopefuls, maybe 200 people, wanting to get in.

He spotted a familiar figure near the back of the line, with long black beard, brown skin and orange robe. It was his boss, Guru Baba! But wasn’t he away on pilgrimage for a month, which was the reason Sami was able to take this freelance position. Why was he back?

Sami walked over immediately and pressed his palms together.

“Yes, yes,” said the sage, returning the greeting. “I heard about the screening. I wanted to see it too so I decided to come back.”

“What about your ascent of Mt Kalash? Did you abandon it?”

“I was never going to climb it anyway. Too cold up there. Brrrr!” His shivering agitated his robe, making him seem like a dancing hairy fruit. “Now when will you let us in?”

“Guru Baba, why didn’t you get a VIP ticket? You only had to ask.” He was one of the world’s leading holy men, and though retired, still very well connected and popular.

“No, no. Why shouldn’t I wait like everybody else? Aren’t we all equal? This film is called HUMANITY.”

Sami didn’t know whether to tell him about the ticket situation in public; it may anger other people waiting. “Guru Baba, please come here, I need to tell you something.”

“No way! I am not losing my place in the line.”

“Guru Baba, you need to know something about the tickets…” Sami tailed off.

“Well, don’t be shy. You can tell us. We are all brothers and sisters here.”

“Okay then, there are no extra tickets. They have all been allocated to VIPs and the producer’s friends. You are waiting for nothing. You may as well go home.”

The crowd began grumbling, but Guru Baba stayed quiet. Then he said, “I have an idea.”

Sami told the VIPs, sipping champagne while awaiting the screening, that Guru Baba was offering a live audience tonight at the Transparent Temple, which they could attend in exchange for their film ticket.

Who wouldn’t want an audience with Guru Baba? Imagine the photos, blessings, mantras, and bragging rights acquired. They would witness his miraculous quality of multilocation, of being with many people at once, yet focussing on each one individually.

A handful of VIPs stood up immediately, and then the rest, not wanting to be left out of this once in a lifetime – maybe once in many lifetimes – opportunity, left their seats and walked to the Transparent Temple.

When the VIPs had gone, the 200 walk-ins walked in and enjoyed the film. Due to his quality of multilocation, Guru Baba enjoyed it too.

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Bright Brown Eyes

Posted in Conceptual Art, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 9, 2012 by javedbabar

There was half an hour to go till the global launch of the film HUMANITY. Its celebrated auteur had eschewed London, Mumbai and New York in favour of Lucerne, where the idea for the film had first come to him while mountain climbing.

Local project manager Sami had been asked to run through everything with the General Manager prior to doors opening. He hadn’t been able to locate him yet and the screening time was drawing near.

He asked the projectionist, “Have you seen the General Manager around?”

“Ah, The General. He was here this afternoon when I was setting up. I’m not sure where he’s gone.”

“Why do you call him The General?” asked Sami. “Is he a tough guy?”

“Actually, no. Quite the opposite, but I know he is an ex-military man. He led tough campaigns in Asia, and fought in brutal African wars. You wouldn’t think so though.”

This made Sami think of the ancient Indian king Asoka, who renounced bloodshed and became an advocate of non-violence, truth and tolerance instead. Sumerian king Gilgamesh, said to be one-third human and two-thirds divine, also mended his vicious ways. If only such leaders had been studied in 20th century Germany, Cambodia, Iraq, China, Russia and America, the world would now be a better place.

Sami located The General fifteen minutes before doors opened. He was a tall, well-built man with cropped red hair and eyes that seemed orange at first, but were in fact bright brown. Sami walked him around the site and showed him the screen, which had been stiffened to counter evening winds, projector, cabling, seating, ropes, poles and carpets. He ran through key timings and flows, and showed the required safety certificates.

The General was very friendly and calm. He made some minor comments, said, “Good job”, “Good stuff”, and “Good work”, and said he would be in his office if needed. The run through with him took under five minutes. Now that’s a guy who trusts people, thought Sami. I’ll bet his soldiers felt inspired.

There was an issue concerning wheelchair spaces. Sami had allocated five spaces, but a village official said there should be seven. It was too late to change seating layout now as doors were opening in less than ten minutes, but the village official insisted on the change.

Sami decided to get support from The General. After all, he was in charge here and had approved the plan. He buzzed his office, and the door flew open immediately.

After a dark hallway, Sami came to a steel door which slid open silently. There was The General watching a bank of screens that covered an entire wall. Facial recognition technology identified people and followed them around. Where were these cameras hidden? Sami hadn’t noticed them anywhere in The Place.

On the adjacent wall were pinned scores of faces, a few of whom he recognized. Many had a black strike slashing across their faces. The General looked at Sami and said, “Two strikes and you’re out.”

His bright brown eyes lit up, very fiery, like when he had dropped bombs on restless provinces, and spearheaded “population control” projects. He had acted as consultant to many governments, and oil and water companies, who needed certain people to disappear. The General was interested in the film tonight, HUMANITY, but more so in its rumoured sequel, INHUMANITY. He hoped it would feature some of his special projects.

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Redirection

Posted in Conceptual Art, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 8, 2012 by javedbabar

There was just an hour to go till the global launch of the film HUMANITY. Sami was pleased that everything was set. The screen and scaffold, projector, VIP and ordinary chairs, ropes and poles and red carpet were all in place.

There had been a light wind whispering all day. In the morning it rose from Mt Alba, the white mountain towering above the village, and then travelled along the valley to Mt Negra, the dark mountain at its far end. In the late afternoon it picked up and returned.

Sami noticed light reflecting around The Place, the communal space at the heart of the village where the screening would occur. Where was it coming from?

He looked around but nothing was moving, except, damn! The 20 x 40 ft screen was rippling, only slightly, but enough to notice.

This was a disaster! The director’s carefully composed shots would be distorted. The screening would be ruined.

The projectionist had noticed the rippling too. He called Sami over and said, “We need to do something about this. The film will look pretty bad otherwise.”

Sami asked, “Can you do something with the projector?” and then realized it was a stupid question. He could hardly project anti-ripples. They would have to adjust the scaffold and screen.

The projectionist discussed options with the crew. They decided they could improve the situation by tightening the screen. This meant men in hard hats, tied to ropes, climbing ladders, so for safety reasons they would have to block all access to The Place. Despite being local project manager, Sami was in practical terms the least useful person on site, and was asked to redirect members of the public.

He blocked the entrance with a road barrier and greeted people approaching with a smile. It was hard to get annoyed when someone had smiled at you already for no reason. This was a conflict resolution technique taught to him by Guru Baba.

A young woman approached and said, “Excuse me please, I am the owner of that sandwich shop,” – she pointed to a cute shop with red and white hanging baskets – “I need to check stock for tomorrow.”

“Can you enter from the back, Miss? I won’t be able to let you through here for half an hour.”

“The cops have closed off the back areas. I have to enter from the front.”

“I am sorry, but you will have to wait. Will you be able to do it later, or in the morning?”

“I guess I could do it in the morning. That’s a good idea. My boyfriend wakes me up anyway. He’s a health nut, and goes running at 5am. I may as well come then.”

A man in his fifties approached, sweating, and said, “I have to get to the hairdressers. It is urgent!”

“Do you have an appointment? No? Why is it urgent? It is only hair.” Sami’s hair was thinning and he didn’t care. “Hair today, gone tomorrow!”

The man thought about this for a moment and said, “You are right. Hair today, gone tomorrow.” He said it again and removed his wig, which had needed adjustment. A little more light reflected around The Place.

A man with Celtic tattoos said, “I need vitamins from the health shop.”

Sami said, “Which ones? Okay, A, C, E and K? Why don’t you eat spinach instead?”

An agitated woman ran up and said, “I need formula for my baby. She is hungry and I’ve run out.”

Sami gave her a hard hat and escorted her to the grocery store. He had learnt many lessons from Guru Baba. One of the most important was to know when to redirect people, and when to help them on their way.

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Red Carpet

Posted in Conceptual Art, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 7, 2012 by javedbabar

Most items were now set for the showing. The screen and scaffold, projector and speakers, VIP and ordinary chairs, and ropes and poles, were all in place. The red carpet however had not arrived.

The CORE – Customer Order Response Expedition – system was stupid, thought Sami. Sending items on individual trucks was a terrible idea, but what could he do? He wasn’t in charge of logistics. He was in charge of set up, and the global launch of the film HUMANITY was good to go, minus only one red carpet.

An hour before the show he called the delivery company again. The despatcher said he would ask the driver to call Sami right away.

The driver called him. “I delivered it an hour ago,” she said. “It’s at the mayor’s office. I was told that’s where to deliver it.”

The mayor’s office was one kilometre from The Place, the communal space at the heart of the village and location for tonight’s screening. Sami said, “Who told you that?”

“Well, I was sent round and round by detours. There were cops everywhere who wouldn’t let me stop. So I called another driver who said that was the usual place, so I dropped it off there.”

“That’s not the right place! Can you please retrieve the carpet and bring it here to The Place? I will direct you to the delivery entrance.”

“Sorry, I’m fifty kilometres away now, heading back to the city.”

Damn! thought Sami. He needed that red carpet for VIPs. He had better go and get it himself. The projectionist had set up early and was now relaxing, sipping a beer. Sami said, “Excuse me, can you please help me with something?”

He didn’t indicate a readiness to move.

“It’s important.”

The projectionist stood up and said, “Sure.”

With all the road closures and diversions, it would be quicker to walk. They reached the mayor’s office in ten minutes. The security guard said, “I was wondering why they brought that here. I thought it was for one of the mayor’s special parties.” He tapped his nose as he said this.

Sami and the projectionist threw opposite ends of the roll over their shoulders. It smelled quite clean, but there was a hint of beer – or was it champagne? – and fish – or was it oysters? They carried the rolled carpet through the village, looking like a pair of toy plumbers. Sami thought, it’s a shame it’s not a magic carpet. We could have ridden it through the valley, over forests, lakes, and rivers, across icecaps…

At The Place, Sami paced out the distance from the street to the VIP area. They rolled out the carpet, cut it at one end, and taped it in place.

Sami noticed specks on the carpet. Upon closer inspection, he saw they were a mixture of dirt, gravel, powder and leaf bits. He found a hoover and cleaned them up. The red carpet looked really good now, like a ribbon across a present. He took installation photos.

As he did that a family of five walked across the far part of the carpet, adjoining the street, before the VIP ropes and poles. Sami recognized them; he had seen them picking through dumpsters behind The Place’s restaurants. They posed and took pictures on their phones. They dreamed of being asked to grace a red carpet, but who ever welcomed trailer park folk?

The security guard was about to move them on; they were leaving dirt and crumbs; but Sami told him to wait. Right now the red carpet was acting as a band-aid, not a ribbon. Let them enjoy their moment of glamour. He could hoover the carpet again.

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Efficient Delivery

Posted in Conceptual Art, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 6, 2012 by javedbabar

“Where are you?” said Sami. “You were supposed to be here by five p.m.”

“I can’t find the place,” said the driver. “I’ve been going around for half an hour.” His voice faded, there was a grinding noise, and Sami heard him say, “Why not? It’s just there. Can’t you just let me through?” His voice returned. “There are cops everywhere, blocking all the exits. What’s going on here today?”

“It’s the global launch of the film HUMANITY. It’s a big event so there’s extra security, plus detours. It took me an hour to get in this afternoon, and I am running the show!”

This local project manager contract had come up suddenly. Sami’s usual job was as personal assistant to Guru Baba, a retired holy man, but he was away on pilgrimage for a month so Sami had time available.

“Look, where are you exactly? Near the community centre? The old one or the new one? Okay, just keep going straight for a hundred metres, turn left, left again, and there is a delivery entrance on the left. I will wait for you there.”

Sami called him ten minutes later. “Where are you?”

“Sorry I missed the exit and have to go around again.”

Sami called him after another ten minutes.

“I couldn’t get back on the road near the community centre. Listen, I’ll figure it out. I’ll call you when I get there.”

Half an hour later, Sami saw the truck approaching the delivery entrance. He pushed a button to open the swing doors, and the truck pulled in.

The driver was sweating. He said, “I’m sorry about that. I thought it would be a regular delivery. I’ve been to this village before, I remember the white mountain towering above it, and the black one at the far end of the valley. It was so annoying going round and around, like an ant lost in the jungle. Anyway, enough of that, where do you want the chairs?”

Sami indicated a corner. “There should be two kinds, ordinary chairs and VIP chairs, a hundred of each.”

The driver raised his eyebrows and nodded. He rolled stacks of chairs out using a dolly. The VIP chairs were in pristine condition, their golden frames covered in red velvet. The ordinary chairs were of battered grey metal.

Sami checked them over and said, “This one looks busted. Okay not busted, but in poor condition. Can you change it please? This one too.”

The driver swapped them for better ones.

“Where are the VIP ropes and poles, and the red carpet?”

“They are on the other trucks.”

“Other trucks?”

“Yes, the ropes are on one truck, the poles on another, and the carpet on a third. We use the CORE delivery system – Customer Order Response Expedition. Every order is managed individually.”

Sami was astounded. “What does that achieve?”

“Efficient delivery.”

Is he kidding? thought Sami. That is the most inefficient delivery system I have ever heard of. Putting things together is efficient, not pulling them apart.

“When are the other trucks coming?”

“They are on their way.”

Sami asked the crew to carry stacks of chairs to the seating areas, set them up, and test them individually. He didn’t want crashes during the film. Curiously, the VIP chairs were more cushioned but less comfortable. Maybe they would suit the people who sat on them, who were often the least comfortable with themselves. Comfort was not related to wealth, it was related to life experience.

Sami picked out a grey metal chair for himself.

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