Waisay I fail at twist endings, but keep trying anyway anyway, I enjoyed writing this, and honestly I sometimes think that’s how they work. Only one more day to go!
This is the story of a man.
The man has a job. The man’s job is to sit at a desk. The walls around the desk where he sits are bare and white. The room he sits in at his desk is small and square. He sits at the desk, and next to him is a stack of records.
On the desk is a phonograph.
There is a light on the wall opposite the man’s desk. When the light flashes, the man picks up a record, and puts it on the phonograph. The phonograph plays the melody. But the man does not hear it. He is deaf.
All day long the man does this. The light flashes. He picks up a record. He places it on the phonograph. The music plays. The man relaxes into his crouch again. The ceiling is not low, but the man has crouched this way for years. He has done this job for years.
All day long the man does his job. Sometimes the records change, though he does not notice. Except on occasion, when he picks up the record and sees the name on the label is unfamiliar. Sometimes all the records change at once.
Day after day after day, he does this. Like a modern Sisyphus, his labour pointless and without end. His hands are gnarled and they tremble sometimes, when he picks up the record and swaps it with the one on the phonograph. Sometimes he coughs. Sometimes he is tired, and rests his head on his hands, and doesn’t see the impatient flashing of the light on the wall.
All day long the man changes records. All day long the man does this.
This is the story of a man. The man lives inside my iPod.