Job Interview

It starts with a blank page. Like every life. Most Lives.
Like the universe itself. It starts from nothing.

And then what.

A man walking though the woods, gathering wild flowers.  Not real woods. These are the woods of a fairy tale. The slightest hint of neon in the too green trees that seem to form a perfect circle. A perfect frame around whatever object catches your attention. This is how is starts… A long time ago in a land far far away… that looked for all the world like an advert for expensive perfume.

There a man walks. There a man steps with wonder from branch to moss covered branch gathering wild flowers.

This is the world of his imagination. This is what he sees when he closes his eyes.

At first of course nothing.  The black smeared with red. Patches of light passing like rush hour traffic though his eyelids. Thoughts of the day. Thoughts of work and then eventually this garden.

A mediated Eden.

He opens his eyes. It’s 3pm and he is on a train. He is wearing an suit that he bought the day before. He is in the quiet carriage. The only noise is the gentle rhythmic pulsing for the train wheels over the rails. He thinks about what it took to build all of this. The kind of drive and vision and organisational skills. How much of an effort it was. A force of will. He is pushed along on the force of somebody else’s, dream of success.

Into the gentle rhythm of the quiet carriage drifts another sound. A woman's voice. Half of a conversation. It’s hard to tell if it’s a telephone conversation or just that in this particular form of white noise, a woman’s voice carries where a man's doesn’t. Something to do with bass tones and frequencies. 

He thinks it’s the latter. He also feels like he has heard this woman before. On another train somewhere.  Perhaps on every train in every quiet carriage he has ever been on. His memory is playing tricks on him. This is clearly impossible.  For this woman to have been on every train journey of his life would mean one of two impossible things were true.

Either that he was the only truly sentient being in the universe and all other beings were simply robots or holograms or something. specifically designed to lend realism to his constructed universe.

Or that for some reason his life. To be more specific the rail centric portions of his life had perfectly synchronised with that of a complete stranger. If this was true what should he do with this information. He considered making a note in his diary. Writing something down that would prompt him to check. The next time he rode the train.
Is this the same woman.
What if it was.
What if she was identical.
How much proof would he need.
Should he photograph her.
If she did prove to be the same woman wouldn’t this mean he was now forced to confront her.

Hello.

He imagined himself saying. I would like you to compare diary's with you. Do you keep a diary. Is it a work diary or simply for pleasure. The thought drifted away into the fog of her possible responses. Numbers and words. He closed his eyes again in the hope of returning to the forest with its flowers lit with internal LEDS and Rabbits that while highly realistic were perceptibly animatronic. He wondered briefly if they had used real rabbit fur in order to construct them and then remembered that it was a dream and that obviously in that case no rabbits had been harmed.

The woman was still talking. From what he could gather.  His eyes now shut. His brain still open. She was talking to a man she had just met.  They seemed to have a lot in common. He was making her laugh. The Man. Our Man. Began  to feel a camaraderie with this unheard stranger. He wished him well. He wanted him to do well. We wanted the kindling sparks of the burgeoning relationship he was watching to blossom into something more.  He was like a football supporter cheering every pass. Listening as intently as the mystery man himself to the woman's ubiquitous voice.  Like a tight rope walker watching the rope. He though.  Listening and watching. Responding appropriately. Perhaps on the edge of being inappropriate. Where it's most exciting.

He wondered. What the hell it is about human beings that made them want to support each other. What was it that worried if rabbits were harmed. He tried to analyse if this part of his brain was a strength or a weakness. He gave up on sleeping.

Before the nothing that lead to the garden and the thoughts described above. Their had been another train journey, Outward bound... in hope.

He has bought this suit for a job interview in London. Now he was on his way back. Still suited up. Less Hopefull. He wondered as he looked around the quiet carriage if people could tell he was an imposter. Or if they just assumed, that he had every right to wear the suit. He tried to say with his body language that this was his Everyday clothing. He became slightly embarrassed about the fact that his bag was a little incongruous with the rest of his outfit. Would his scuffed and worried laptop satchel be the clue that gave the game away.

Through no fault of the bag. He didn’t get the job.