SHORT STORY

“Life Goes On”

A short story-Fiction/Fantasy

By Sara McDermott

THE YEAR IS 2025

The only world I know is the flat hard surface beneath me and the glaring yellow lights above.  I have grown used to the assaults on my body and no longer cry out in protest when people push me around with little respect for my comfort.

Things weren’t always like this I can tell you.  I remember a place of soft lights and times of peace and quiet.  Others like me were all around, and the days were routine and orderly as we waited for our turn on the table.

I was moved on a Saturday and found myself transferred to this bar.  To this day I don’t know why the bosses chose to send me here to be used by people whose camaraderie and good fellowship stand in glaring contrast to the dull, day-in and day-out sameness of my life.

Every day interesting conversations flow around me.  I can’t take part in them, but Phil can.  Phil is the bartender and I’ve noticed he can hold his own with the best of them.

Phil doesn’t use me.  I admire him for that but I sometimes wonder how he escaped the likes of me.  I hear him say that my influence will wane someday as times change and there is no longer a need for someone like me.  That makes me feel lonely, but sometimes I get close to a patron and feel that I have made a friend.

Cindy used to come in on Tuesdays.  She always sat by me, maybe because she needed me more than the others. I would listen to her troubles as the night wore on.  She often seemed sad, and lonely too.  Cindy died I heard.  I never was able to find out exactly what happened to her.  No-one talked about it, and I soon forgot.

It’s still early so Phil is getting ready for the evening business.  He has all the bottles lined up and has checked in all the waitresses for the night.

Ouch!  I wish Phil would be more careful when he moves me out of his way. I slammed into the end of the bar that time.

I really shouldn’t be lonely.  There are plenty of people around, and it’s fair to say that  quite a few of them couldn’t get along without me.   It’ a puzzle for me to ponder.  I have plenty of time to wonder about such things at the end of each day when the noise subsides and the lights dim.  Can this be all there is – days of abuse followed by lonely nights?  Once the bath is over and the stink washed off, only the walls witness my despair.

I had become leery of making friends after Cindy died, but Todd was different.  He came in often and, like Cindy, he usually sat near me. The jokes and laughter seemed to follow Todd.  He always had a crowd of people around him listening to his stories, and charmed by his infectious laugh. When he died suddenly a sadness hung over the bar for days.

I should have known, I thought.  It doesn’t pay to get too fond of the patrons.

But you can’t grieve forever.  Life in the bar goes on.  Different music blares and styles change, but I stay the same.  Sometimes I’m barely noticed and other times I’m sought out and, still other times, I’m pushed aside to make room for strangers who come and go and never notice me.

Almost ten years have passed now, and my situation hasn’t changed much.  The room has grown dingy and the crowd has changed slightly.  Phil mentions how a lot of his old friends are gone – passed away, he says, before their time.

THE YEAR IS 2035

Yes, it has been ten years since I first landed here. The place is getting older and more run down, but people still come here to drink and socialize.  They look at me but don’t really see me.  Sometimes people I’ve known for a long time shun me. They look my way but never move closer, and I wonder what I have one to turn them away.  They still laugh and drink, but they seem to have forgotten that I was once important in their lives.  I call them fair weather friends.

I can do without them I say to myself. After all, I’ve grown accustomed to my life now and rarely think about what life might have been had I gone to a better place.

Sometimes I don’t mind being alone.  I can observe people while they socialize without my influence.  They seem to pay more attention to each other and less time reaching out to me for comfort.  It’s curious, but no-one would want to hear my opinion anyway so I stay quiet and time passes.

THE YEAR IS 2045

A big change has come into my life this year.  I have been moved to a new place.  Early in the year 2040 things began to change in a strange way.  More people hung around all the time, but they seemed to pay less attention to me than ever.  Gradually I noticed that I had more privacy.  One day I was pushed all the way out of sight and no-one came near me at all.  People were saying things that hurt my feelings.  They said I was obsolete and that I belonged in a museum.   They said that, by 2050, no-one would remember what my purpose in life had been, and that it was good riddance to the likes of me.  Maybe Phil was right.  I noticed that people were using me less and less, and, sure enough, by the end of this year I was transferred to this quiet place.

Instead of bright lights and commotion all around me I have been assigned a place of quiet and beauty.  I am the only one of my kind in the room and I revel in the knowledge that I seem finally to have found the niche meant for me all along.

Some days people walk by me and stare quietly at me and remark on how beautiful I am, and how the have never seen one as pretty as me.  Some try to reach out and touch me, but signs nearby caution on-lookers to respect my dignity and old age.

THE YEAR IS 2050

I am at home in the new place now.  I rest here content and even grateful that the bosses saw fit to prolong my life and give it some meaning.  Most of my old friends were either thrown away or destroyed when smoking became illegal in 2049.  I was one of the lucky ones.

I may only be an ashtray, but I will live forever in this museum.

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