[FFML][Shortfic][Lain][Lineman]
Author: Charlie
Eleven_Bravo@netzero.com
Disclaimer: The rights to Serial Experiments Lain is owned by Pioneer AIC and associated writers and producers. This work is unauthorized and is not to be used in any way shape or form for profit. I am very poor, please do not aggravate the situation.
Title : Lineman
Music: [Duvet : Deeply]
What happened to the road?
I must have a bad memory. That's the only possible explanation for the strange occurrences that plague my life. What else could explain the gaps in knowledge that I can't bridge? Why do I always have the feeling that there's something missing in this existence? Everyday I wake up, shower, get dressed, and drive over to the Nerima Ward to pick up my partner. After grabbing breakfast at one of the local restaurants, we report to the central office where we're given our work orders for the day. There's always power lines that need mending, relay boards that are due for scheduled maintenance, miles upon miles of braided coaxial wire that has to be strung along with the standard power lines.
Its not that I don't enjoy my job, far from it. I really can't imagine ever doing anything different. Working for the power company is probably one of the best decisions I ever made. Sure, its not as prestigious as being another salaryman, secure in a guaranteed lifetime position, and the opportunity for advancement cannot hope to match that of the people who fill Tokyo's glittering skyscrapers. Still, the pay is more than sufficient for me, and allows me a small measure of comfort. Enough to go to the bar whenever I feel the need and make the car payments. Sometimes, I wonder about other possible career paths I could have taken out of high school, but, for some reason, all I can ever imagine doing is my current job with the power company or that of a secret agent. I don't know why 'secret agent' is the other possibility, but I think I would be good at whatever it is secret agents do.
Working with the power lines gives me a profound sense of satisfaction at the end of the day. All the while that I'm up in the work box, checking the lines, repairing, and helping build/maintain the massive power grid that supplies the citizens of Tokyo with light, I get an intense sense of importance. Those men and women are buried deep inside the city, pouring over obscure pieces of information and writing endless reports to try and advance their own careers. Meanwhile, I'm tasked with the care of a system at supplies them the energy that allows their type of work to be completed. The power lines carry life through the city, it lights the streets and buildings, turning night into day so that people can work non-stop at improving their lot. I do not know why this feeling comes over me, but it does, and its very strong.
My partner is another story. He's a weird one, that man. I've been thinking about giving him a nickname lately. Something that would fit his odd quirks. The name Jack doesn't do justice to such a character. If you've ever had to be near Jack for a prolonged period of time, there are several things that are immediately noticeable about him. First, is his remarkable, unremarkableness. Jack's appearance is so plain, so ordinary that the memory of contact with him often slips from people's minds. The waitresses will repeatedly ask for his order, thinking he has just entered the restaurant.
And he laughs constantly... well, maybe its more of a giggle. Not an uproarious outpouring of mirth, but a quiet chuckle at a subtle joke. Never in our years of friendship has he told a joke, and nothing outwardly funny is usually happening around him, but he laughs nonetheless. Its as if he is responding to a private conversation that shifts in context depending on the situation. I don't think he is laughing at the people around us, but I can never be quite sure... When we're talking with people on the street or a supervisor, he can barely hold down a conversation without breaking down into a spasm of laughter. When walking or driving to around town, he eyes dart quickly from object to object never focusing on anything for more than a few seconds. Whenever something meets the criteria of his private checklist, he grins broadly, displaying perfectly aligned teeth.
Jack is only truly quiet when we're working on the power lines. At these times, he displays a level of focus even I have difficulty matching. With his combination of volt/amp meter in one hand and lineman's pliers in the other, he navigates the control boxes and relays like a scriptor writing code. The moment he's done, Jack will inspect his work for any imperfections, and if none are found, he'll tilt his head back and let loose a giggle fit that will last for several minutes.
That man is a few coils short of a transformer.
My work and Jack, these are the only two certainties I have. Everything else is nebulous, shifting and changing. I cannot piece together the inconsistencies that surround my everyday existence. I cannot understand the world that I interact in. Walking down the streets, looking at the people, there is such a sense of detachment from them. As if I am on the outside of a tightly controlled experiment, looking in on the test subjects as they carry on their daily rituals, oblivious to my presence. Has my life always been this way? Have I been living in this environment, thinking these same thoughts, feeling these emotions for weeks? months? years? Is this the first time I've given serious thought to the condition in which I find myself, or have I done this before, only to find no answer and am now returning to muse on the subject once again?
I cannot remember. Nothing really new there. There's many important things I don't remember. Who were my parents? What street did I grow up on? Where did I do to high school? What the hell did I do yesterday? The only constant memory throughout all of this is that Jack was there. Wherever it was I grew up, Jack was also there. Jack went to my high school, Jack was my playmate when I was young.
I offer my world in exchange for the answers to my questions! Something is lurking under the surface of my conscious memory. Its like being put on the spot with a question. You know the answer, its on the tip of your tongue, you think in a few seconds its bound to leap into your head and soon after out of your mouth. But it doesn't. You can only shrug your shoulders in response, some of you may have a nervous tic that goes along with this, such as snapping your fingers or tapping a foot, but it never works. The question goes unanswered. Usually, the answer comes hours later, when you're taking a shower or washing the dishes. Your mind is blank, or you're focusing on other issues when suddenly, through a flash of insight you remember that the part of Ryoko on that one TV show you like is played by a voice actress named Ai Orsaki, or some other bit of useless trivia. This is me. There's always something lying just beneath the surface, if I could call upon it, find it out and examine the tidbit of knowledge, worlds would open before me.
But, there is something out there. A force? A person? that is watching this existence. A young lady that is connected to all of this. There must be an order to the world, a guiding force leading humanity. I refuse to believe that we exist on this world in a state this confused state. We are cut off from our fellow man, countless numbers of people pass one another everyday without a word of greeting. We have adapted to non-communication. People in the city walk quickly, with a purpose, almost running from place to place. They walk with their heads down, so not to make eye contact with the other people on the street. Some people ride with the same company on the Metro lines for twenty years without exchanging a word. Is this how mankind is to live? Alone with our thoughts, cut off from each other, having a lifetime of private commentary on the activity surrounding you but never participating in any of it?
I look around the neighborhood we're working in today. Nothing out of the ordinary. Its your typical Tokyo suburb, uniform in everyway, with the usual assortment of school girls, old woman, little kids, cars, dogs, and plants. Some salaryman is walking down the street, clutching a leather folder and mumbling to himself. Probably worried about his mortgage. Three kids dash across the street towards a place called the Cybernia Cafe.
Now more than ever I believe that in this world there must one constant operating above all things. A guiding hand moving through out history. Someone who has an insight on the events that happen to the mass of humanity that inhabit this third rock from the sun. Perhaps we were aware of this thing in the past and lost our faith, maybe that divine contact shaped us, made us who we are and our break was the next step in the long journey that is evolution. Whatever the reason, we walk down a path towards an unknown horizon. Unable to examine the past except in the rare glance over our collective shoulders, mankind continues his journey into that void. Along the way there have been many stories of honor, betrayal, cowardice, bravery, revelation, and valor. Those unable to change or too wary to continue the journey have stopped, written accounts of their lives down in the history books and then fallen out of step to let the force of man past him/her. Perhaps they continue to watch the wonderful show that is our journey from those places where they stopped.
I am still a young man. Uncertain of my role in the events of the world I have lost my way. I have taken a switchback on the road and lost sight of that goal that so many see. I need help.
But I have faith,... faith that the guiding force will find me. She will take my hand and she will say to me, "It is done, I am alpha and omega, the beginning and the end. I will give you that is athirst of the fountain and the water of life freely. He that overcomes shall inherit all things; and I will be his god, and he shall be my son."
I want to continue on that marvelous journey into the future. Please, take my hand and show me the way.
Music: [Track3][Lain: Original Sound Track Vol. 1]
The End
Charlie
"Get your mind out of the gutter, its blocking my view."