SAD ROBOT: an autobiography of my unfortunate existence

6. THE LAND OF UNFULFILLMENT

6. THE LAND OF UNFULFILLMENT 

Milo believes the type of people who work in retail and sales for the entirety of their lives as a chosen career are the people who have long ago given up on their dreams and lost all ambition in life. He sees it everyday in the faces of the people around him that he works with. An empty longing in their eyes, wishing they could be anywhere but where they are. A perpetual slouch in their walk, like the weight of all their unaccomplished goals in life having piled upon their shoulders. He sees it in their emotionlessness in their interactions with other people, as if they have long ago forgotten what it is like to be human, to connect.

Robots seem more and more similar to us all the time. Or rather, we have become similar to them.

Sometimes, Milo feels like he has joined the ranks of his co-workers. But, unlike them, he still has one last claim to differentiate him from the ranks. He still has hope. Some days. Well, fleeting moments, more accurately. 

Hope that one day, Milo will not have to be here. Hope that one day, his life will add up to more than being labelled as ʻCustomer Service Representative.ʼ He does not want that in his obituary.

Milo Sparks - Customer Service Representative. Was good at his job and greeted every day with a smile. (Which would, of course, be a lie.)

Thereʼs so much unhappiness in this building that it could fill a hot-air balloon and it would float up high enough to catch the downwind to send it on its way to the Land of Unfulfillment.

Milo never thought heʼd still be doing what heʼs doing at this (horrifyingly late) stage of his life. Heʼs in a department store—the bane of every small potato entrepreneurʼs existence—and he is a slave to the system. He shows up to work, stands around for a while pretending to be doing something, he goes home. Repeat.

Today has been an even more depressing, empty void than usual. The cutest girl on staff, who worked over in the womenʼs clothing department, quit work today. She found something better. Moved on with her life, took a step towards achieving her potential. Milo rarely spoke to her, save an occasional greeting or wave goodbye. But good for her, I'm happy.

Milo, heʼs still there. Still underachieving, still maintaining the status quo like the good little working-class citizen that he is.

*** 

Milo routinely finds himself hovering around the Books aisle.

Preferably, heʼd be working in a book store rather than this consumer dumping ground, but those businesses have long since ceased to exist. A store filled entirely with books? Whoever heard of such a thing! Is what most people would say. Or rather, more accurately, they would ask, "Books? What are those?" To which he would slap his forehead and declare that he no longer wishes to live on this planet anymore.

The book industry, sadly, has declined to the point where it has been relegated to one lonely aisle in a department store. No more book stores, no more big name publishers, no more bestselling authors. People just donʼt read anymore. Really, whatʼs the use? Knowledge? Psh, who needs that.

He looks at the book aisle, practically untouched since Milo started working there, and it saddens him. Maybe a hundred or so books sitting there, most of which will never be read, be bragged about, be recommended to, be cherished. He at least tries to wipe the dust and cobwebs off of them once in a while so they can at least maintain some of their dignity.

Once in a blue moon, however, Milo sees somebody stop and stare at this desolate aisle of relics from days of yore. Sometimes, they might even pick one up and scan through it, flip the pages, admire the cover, check the authorʼs bio. Then set it back on the shelf as if saying, "No, not for me, sorry. I donʼt have time for you."

When Milo sees them do this, he tries to convince them to take the book, give it a chance—they might even enjoy it. They look at him like heʼs trying to sell them something illegal. More often than not, they decline and eventually put the book back on the shelf. Sorry man, I tried my best, he says to the book.

Sometimes, when he hangs around the book aisle, Milo imagines conversations that he could have with people about books and literature. He would talk about his favourite books, authors he admires, and genres he prefers. He would ask them what they have read, or would want to read. He would make recommendations, they would thank him, they would say how smart he is and how glad they are that someone exists who shares their interest in literary works.

That is how their conversation might go, but doesnʼt. With the people who could exist, but donʼt.

Or perhaps, one day, somebody (A girl, perhaps. Cute, too. Oh, and intelligent. Yes. And who loves to read. Yes! Thereʼs nothing more attractive than a girl who reads!) will come to the book aisle and take one off the shelf. 

"Oh, you like (insert authorʼs name here)? I enjoy his/her books. I love anything in the (insert genre here) as well!" Milo would say. 

They would start talking. He would ask her questions; she would answer enthusiastically. He would make jokes; she would laugh. He would slip in a request to meet for coffee; she would say yes.

This is the girl that he has never met, and may never meet. She sounds nice. 

Sometimes, I just hate my imagination, he thinks.