Friday, June 1, 2012

Essay


I think I'll start with a 500-1000 word essay I wrote recently.  Cutting this thing down was torture.


            In the year 2212, New York City is nothing like it was 200 years ago.  The center of Manhattan is a gleaming citadel of mile-high steel skyscrapers surrounded by a climate-controlled biodome; the rest of the city is a sweltering jungle of overgrown buildings and cracked cement.  Fifty years ago the world had teetered on the edge of anarchy.  When order was reestablished many things that were considered useless were destroyed or lost forever.  The concepts of "art" and "poetry" have been nearly forgotten.  The society of 2212 is as utilitarian and mechanized as a slaughterhouse.
            Since the early twenty-first century, the world has changed a lot.  The majority of human interactions now take place in a computerized network to which the citizens of the world now spend most of their time connected; the Internet has finally reached its full potential and dominates most aspects of human existence.  Children develop and learn through the network.  Children once gleaned knowledge from books, but now have it injected directly into their brains.  When a person connected to the network needs to know something, anything, he simply accesses the knowledge instantly with a thought.
            But Jeyonce and Ben, my thrice great grandchildren, have a rebellious streak.  Unlike most teens, they are continually plagued with an inner desire to leave the network, to leave the safe interiors of the New York City Residential Sector.  They find themselves restless; a deep longing keeps egging them on, urging them to find something unseen, telling them that there must be more out there.
            Every so often, they would both be suddenly compelled to leave the climate-controlled biosphere in which most people live and venture into the wilds that were once Greenwich Village and Chinatown, abandoned as the city became more efficient and compact, its territory receding.  As they venture farther away from the "civilized" section of the city, the twins begin to see the revenge nature has taken on what was once part of an urban metropolis.  Since the advent of the new era of heat and humidity, the plants and insects have grown in size.  For decades, a jungle has been swarming over Lower Manhattan.  It is now rare to see a patch of the street beneath the thick green and brown covering.  The buildings in this part of town have been invaded by trees and vines.  Soon the twins are forced to climb over large roots and push through thick underbrush.  An enormous spider the size of a dinner-plate darts out from beneath a fern, making Ben jump.  The two briefly consider the fact that they are breaking regulations, that they ought to be "in school", being bombarded with knowledge and conditioned to understand advanced concepts, and that they will soon be punished for this misconduct.  For a few seconds the comforts of familiarity, the fear of retribution, and the apprehension of what lies before them hold them rooted to the spot; then, finally, they both move forward together.
            For nearly half an hour, the twins wander the streets of the jungle aimlessly, looking for something new, anything that will take them away from their world.  Then, together, they feel a tiny pull, beckoning them to follow it deeper into the jungle.  They obey and follow this pull until they see a street sign, an unusual occurrence since most of the street signs and traffic lights had fallen over and vanished into the undergrowth years ago.  "BLEECKER ST", the sign reads. Although there is really no practical use for reading in 2212, both Jeyonce and Ben have been conditioned with the ability.  They enter one of the overgrown doorways which line the street and walk through the shadowy interior of the old apartment, tip-toeing on a carpet of moist moss until they come to the small courtyard behind the brick building.  Suddenly, they both freeze in their tracks.
            In the middle of the courtyard an enormous beetle, as big as a wheelbarrow, is scratching at the ground with its forelegs, heaving dirt and plant parts under its abdomen onto a mound behind its shiny, black carapace.  As they both stare at it, hardly daring to move, the beetle's forelimbs seem to collide with something metal.  The creature looks up, watching the twins with its bulbous, unsearchable eyes, then slowly crawls away, leaving a large hole in the ground.
            Cautiously, the twins approach the edge of the hole and look down into the dirt.  At the bottom of the hole is a rusted metal box.  Ben, bracing himself for the effort, crawls down into the hole and hands it up to Jeyonce.
            The twins examine the box and see that it was once held by a padlock which had completely rusted away.  Filled with the exhilaration of discovery, they open the heavy lid.  Inside is a weathered volume, "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare".  Breathlessly, the two turn back the cover and begin to read, jostling each other in their eagerness.  They understand next to nothing of the ancient text; 600 years and a revolution in human communication stand in the way, but in spite of it all, they devour the nonsensical phrases and unrecognized words.  It is as if they are eating real, solid food for the first time after being fed through an IV their whole lives.  They can barely comprehend the fact that people once gained information in this manner but they adore both the impracticality and the concrete realness of it.  This archaic book represents a time when people created themselves through what they chose to read, expressed themselves through the art and poetry, and struggled to do so.  To the homogeneous, utilitarian society of 2212, with the human race losing its variety, merging into one consciousness, this idea had been lost.  This old, frayed volume of Shakespeare, which was purchased for $5.99 at a used book store in 2012, is the only remaining artifact that has the power to remind the city of its individuality.  For that, it is priceless.

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