A bold decision prioritized an early shopping mission at Kroger’s on 4-times fuel point Friday over sitting in the recliner and catching the news after breakfast. But I met the challenge and encountered a busy parking lot…already…on a Friday. It must be a post-apocalyptic ripple from the total eclipse last Monday. The lot felt a little busy as I pulled in at 8:15 AM. It had a pre-Thanksgiving busy look, but I found a great parking spot and had to stop and wonder, once again, are 4-times fuel points for a 4-item shopping list worth navigating through shoppers with zero shopping cart sense or abilities?
The temptation to become 4-times judgmental…at least…was the gauntlet thrown, so I said to no one in particular, “Here, hold my beer,” with never a beer to be held, someone to hear it, or someone to hand it to, and got out of the car like I was moving into survival mode on a critical 4-item mission.
It had recently started to sprinkle rain and was a calm 45 degrees, very November-ish in look and feel, making my choice of hooded sweatshirt perfect for the weather. My subconscious began to envision grocery baskets crashing, mixing it up with those slow-moving bumper cars for the less mobile among us. Forgive me, but I might drive one if it had a laser cannon between the handlebars…did I mention I only needed four items? I zipped up the hoodie a few more inches.
My mind missed the shift from second to third gear when thinking stopped cold when words laced with heavy sarcasm, spoken harshly, and most definitely by an Australian female: “Yes, and why not Kevlar, mate?”
Oh, hell yeah, I flinched. There was no touching, nothing physical, but I did get a compelling urge to look over my right shoulder. No one was there, and I saw nothing other than a stray shopping cart sitting where it had been abandoned. For some reason, I felt it looked so sad and lonely, so I walked to the next aisle, hooked my fingers in its grill, and said to it as its new companion, “C’mon, girl, let’s go do some shopping!” So, I guess she was a female, too.
And then the thought continued in my head…to myself…I thought, “…and using you as a shield when crashing into others with defensive intentions only to protect my legs and deflect small people if necessary.”
I was pumping myself up to be as polite as possible, but remember, I had limits. Right, don’t leave any marks… got it…agreeing with myself. It was a subconscious kind of self-pep talk that is so deeply private that no one knows you could even think those thoughts, and I might have peed a little when that…that voice from down undah said, “Ya know, ya got a bit of a mean streak in ya, am I roight, mate?”
My mind just paused, as did my forward motion in the middle of the lane, gripping my cart. I just stood there and asked myself…shouted to myself…screamed to myself…hell, I don’t know. What sound do you make in your head when an unknown voice comes out of the ether, and you find out you’re not alone in your own head…with yourself…by yourself? All those things poured out in my subconscious when I unleashed the big ask, “Who…the…fuck…are you?”
She giggled in my head with no hesitation. Was she in my head…that giggle aimed at me?
“Yes, it was, and it was worth a giggle, wasn’t it, mate?” she said happily, and way too proud of herself.
A horn tooted behind me, bringing me back into physical mode. I waved briefly and pushed the cart to the side. The rain began to come down harder, no longer a mist. I stopped pushing the cart and stood there in the rain, still gripping the push handle. Her giggling at me for no good reason was rude.
“Answer me!” I demanded. “WHO…”
“I heard ya the first bloody time, mate; there’s no need to crack the shits. Ya know who I am. Crikey, ya thought me into existence.”
I remained in place, staring off into wherever you stare when you’re in your head. The rain came down a little harder, and I moved to at least get under the roof at the front of the store.
“What do you mean I thought you into existence?”
“Remember in Beyond Dreamscape, you introduced the yet-to-be-named Artificial Intelligence role?”
Of course I do, “I wrote it, then pushed the cart hard into the big brick pillar.”
She said, “Don’t treat her like a battering ram. I know her.”
“You what?” The physical gasp from my mouth was the only sound I emitted. I kept my hands on the cart and asked, “Know who?”
“Her, the bloody shopping cart ya got ya hands on.”
I said nothing, and for some strange reason, I looked down at the cart like it was somebody and said, “Yeah, right.”
“Ya see, mate, Anything ya touch, I know it immediately. Did you think I would only be a technology trick, a digital sideshow, or software with a magical algorithm that did magical things? Do you even know who ya created, mate?”
I did know, but I also knew it was impossible. I knew the story. I wrote the story. That’s what it was…a story. It was not in my head. She wasn’t there. But what stirred my desire to ask? It was all fiction, but a little piece of me had a sliver of doubt big enough to ask, “Was it really?”
I leaned on the cart and squeezed the push bar so hard my hands ached. I did not want to give in to whatever far-fetched fantasy played out in my head, but I had to know. “AIMEE?”
* * * *
If you like this kind of thing, subscribe to Learning By Living for free to stay connected with more of this kind of nonsensical musing. Who knows where this goes? The relentless Wench Muse does, but she is such a tease. I never ask. I wait for her to give it up. It’s safer, and it’s good that she remains just out of reach…
After 13 years of maintaining a professional blog that tracked with the latter third of a 35+ year corporate learning and development career, I struggled with walking away. How do you abandon thousands of hours of training content, articles, and knowledge-sharing posts on a blog that define a documented trail of who you were, what you did, and who gave a rip…or not?