Inanimate

(For a newer draft of this story, click here.)

Heat radiated from the pavement and hung on the sweaty skin of pedestrians. Edward Pitts and Mitchell Stevens were quickly walking to a modest eatery amidst downtown bustle for lunch. Edward spoke with excited breath and his pronunciation was staggered to the rhythm of their pace.
“The other day I was reading a book—from around the turn of the 20th century I think—and a passage was describing construction in New York City. Scaffolding and welding and the like. Anyways, the author described the sound of clanking hooves along the streets and I was completely thrown off. Hooves? I suppose I figured that cars and skyscrapers went together. For a while though, these big building and electricity were here and cars weren’t.”
“I guess.”
“Well isn’t that crazy? All of the sights and sounds of transportation was generated by living beings? Can you imagine? Most days the only animals you see besides human beings around here are house flies and the occasional robin. Back then, though, you would have seen horses all of the time.”
“So?”
“Wouldn’t that make you feel better?”
“How do you mean?”
“Life—living things—has increasingly been pushed to the periphery of our everyday experience. The common and inanimate go together. Computers, cars, phones, on and on—everything is dead, except for other people.”
“Not living, everything is not living except for other people, flies, and robins.”
“Right. Not living. So don’t you think that does something to people?”
A car horn interrupted their discussion. Both men saw a confused pedestrian crossing a street at a prohibited time. The oblivious man shuffled his feet more quickly while trying to gain his bearings by staring at a piece of paper in his hands.
“Being around inanimate objects?” Mitchell returned.
“Yeah.”
“I suppose so. Being around anything does something to people. Being around dogs makes me congested, for instance.”
Edward’s eyes widened at the first glimpse of interest shown by Mitchell.
“Good! Now, what does it do to you to be around electronic devices or combustion engines all the time?”
“Is this a discussion about smog? I told you I’m not interested in getting a different car.”
“No, not necessarily, although that applies indirectly I think.”
Outside of their destination, a woman with was livid on a cell phone. Edward and Mitchell stepped around her and entered. The chill of air conditioning and the faint citrus smell of floor cleaner were familiar and refreshing. Having both worked past the usual lunch hour, the two coworkers had their choice of stools at the counter. Edward reviewed the menu posted on the wall before him. Mitchell checked the time and thought he had 13 minutes to eat a double cheeseburger and regular order of French fries.
A disinterested young man with an amorphous mop of frazzled stood before the two and looked past them.
“Yeah, I’ll have a double cheeseburger with fries and a Coke.”
The server looked to Edward and said nothing.
“Um. Let’s try the chicken fingers and cole slaw. Water’s fine.”
The young man turned away and began the crackle of the deep fryer.
“You were saying something about being around cars and computers all day.”
“Right. So, can you imagine going to work in a carriage? Or, if you couldn’t afford the luxury—they were expensive I’m sure—just walking around and seeing horses standing around eating from their food bags or something? Wouldn’t that be great?”
“Probably wouldn’t smell so hot. You’d have to watch your step more.”
“True. But, I think it does us a lot of harm to only be having one-sided interactions all day long. You spend all day addressing these objects. It must be harder to then go into situations where there are subjects instead. Animals force you to be patient. We’ve made patience unnecessary. Back then though, you just had to be patient. If you push a horse too far, it will give up. You have to feed it and take care of it. You have to brush its hair and whatnot. Maybe sometimes you have to calm it down when there’s a loud noise. It has eyes to look at you and it has some sort of animal opinion of you—you know that. At least it registers your presence when you walk by. But now it’s all one-sided. It’s just you and the preprogrammed responses of your surroundings.”
“Or you and your coworkers.”
“Right.” Edward paused a moment to reflect upon Mitchell’s responses. “So I take it you don’t see a problem here?”
“Not really; it’s all the same. You use transportation, whether it’s breathing or not. You use it. So, it’s not like horses and buggies induce people to be more polite in society if that’s what you’re after.”
“But they have glossy eyes. Horses all have those dark glossy eyes. You’ve seen a horse up close before, haven’t you? Don’t you think you’d be different if you saw more glossy eyes every day?”
“I wouldn’t be searching them out like you seem to want to. I’d pass them by like I pass by all the suits and skirts around here.” Mitchell glanced at his watch again. He turned to Edward. “Cut to it. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I was just excited by the prospect of life being a little more natural.”
“Well, what can you do? You can’t go back to it.”
The clanking of ice in plastic cups drowned out the bubbling oil for a moment. The server brought them their drinks.
“Thanks,” said Mitchell.
“What can I do? Nothing as usual.”
“That’s the spirit.” Mitchell raised his cup towards Edward.
“I’m tired of these same old sounds. I would trade horseshoes for mufflers.”
"Get an Ipod."
"No. That won't fix anything."
"It'd give you some sound variety."
"That's not the issue and you know it." Edward sipped from his water. "This is what I'm talking about right here. We don't have the capacity to interact with one another. You are hardly paying attention. The only contributions you are making to this conversation are quick fixes because you're impatient with having to consider someone else. It's about humanizing. I want to be humanized and this day-to-day is not cutting it."
"And you think you'd be happier if the skies were filled with coal dust like at the start of the industrial revolution? No. You wouldn't. The only reason I'm impatient is because I have a low tolerance for dreamers. This funk you've been in is... annoying."
"Because I'm challenging you to empathize?"
"No, because you're filling my ears with feckless sob stories. From what I've gathered in the couple of months I’ve known you—although you are certainly nice—you go around looking for something to be unhappy about. You may not realize it, but that's what you do. And I am annoyed by it. You're a spokesperson for the word fickle because no matter how many things go right for you, or how many wishes you get, you won't pay attention long enough to enjoy it. It'll just be off to the next best utopia your discontented soul conjures up. Look, I'm sorry, but I've had a rough couple of weeks myself. Would you know that? No. Do you need to know that? No...because I have something you don't: perspective. I am resigned. I love resignation. It's my favorite color. You should try it on sometime."
"Resignation is lifeless."
"You aren't so full of vim and vigor yourself."
Mitchell sipped his soda through a straw. Water droplets cascaded over his fingers and onto the greying counter top.
"Well shit, Mitchell. You sure do know how to come down hard a person."
The server carelessly cast the plates before them. They rattled to a stop. The served started scraping the cook top. Mitchell pinched together a few fries and ate them with relish.
Still chewing, Mitchell talked as Edward poked at his cole slaw.
"I'm a bit punchy from not eating anything all day, but I've been trying the whole consolation thing with you and that never accomplished much. You are aware that most of the truths that suck are out of your control, yet you persist in being frustrated by it. Most people I would call weak only get weaker because they are the recipients of so much compassion. I have probably given you more than I should, but I'll stop now. You've got to quit coming to me with this stuff and start going somewhere else. Better still, don't go anywhere at all. Don't pick the stuff up. When you see yourself reaching for it, stop. Leave it be. Turn around and go in the opposite direction.” After taking his first bite of his cheeseburger, he asked Edward, “How's your slaw?"
"Pretty good," Edward said staring at it. He spun the contents of his bowl around with his fork.
"Good. Start with that. This food wouldn't have been so easy to come by at the turn of the twentieth century. Is it the best for us? No. But we enjoy it and that's something. You win some and you lose some. My advice would be to focus on what you win more often than on what you lose."
"I don't know about that. There are trade-off, sure. But, if you lose a lot and gain a little you'd crazy to just consider the little."
"No. You'd be smart."
"Not the kind of smart I'd want to be."
"Fine. Just hurry up and eat. We're almost late as it is." Edward licked the salt off his fingers.