A Comedy of Sorts

---

B

It is the year 2050. The Great Covid Invasion of 2020 and The Logical Revolution of 2030 have ended. The latter event was the reason I am where I am. ‘Science not only helped the economies of all the world’s countries recover after The Great Covid Invasion, but it also broke bounds by releasing a superior innovation, known as Lord Logobot, who will finally hold ranks as the world’s greatest leader, maintaining high life standards for all his followers while ridding the earth of illogical distractions.’ At least, that’s how the tweet announced it back in 2030. Consequently, they built a great steel throne for Lord Logobot and asked all “illogical distractions,” which apparently included all teachers, professors, philosophers (such as yours truly), librarians, religious leaders, fortune tellers, farmers, etc., etc. (for the full list of occupations, please turn to page 5001 of The Logical Handbook), to move to a 365,000 (and a quarter) acre space of an unknown synthetic material, which Lord Logobot had the kindness to place right in the middle of the Arctic Ocean. For twenty years, I have resided with my fellow “distractions” on this material. There are little trenches running through the material, like a spiderweb. Once a month, we receive a host of giant insects (genetically modified clones, you see) who carry food and water through the trenches into our ‘homes.’ The dear Lord Logobot has predicted that we might need to exercise our brains to decide where to place the food in our ‘homes.’ Hence, he took it upon himself to ensure that each person only owns 20 square feet of material. We have (with much gratitude) the freedom to place our possessions in any corner of that space. Not only that, but we also have a few cardboard boxes – which we use to move our possessions – which can be stacked to make a beautifully spacious shack. When it rained, however, we had trouble holding the ceilings of the shacks up, so we decided (or rather, Lord Logobot decided for us) that ceilings are ‘trivial structures and quite unnecessary burdens’ (for the full list of trivial structures, kindly turn to page 3026 of The Logical Handbook). So, relieved of the problematic ceilings, we settled down to everyday life. My shack has a direct view of the West Trench, which makes sitting on the front porch a pleasurable pastime. Across the trench, reside the pope, rabbi, and imam, in three identical hovels. A pleasant sight they would have been, if only they ever did anything. Instead, all sat on stately sagging cardboard boxes serenely contemplating the heavens, perhaps asking if the world has ended.

As a philosopher, I don’t believe the world has the capability to end by itself. I rather think (or hope) that we will emerge from this isolation to find the world restored, a beautiful resurgence of history. Oftentimes, I foolishly wish to return to my profession, to once again be able to ponder the meaning of life, for certainly there is no meaning to the savage existence that envelops us now………

As I squatted on my front porch, I saw out of the trench emerge, not a bug, mind you, but a distinguished-looking banker. Of course, bankers were considered “unnecessary burdens” (see page 3026 of You-Know-What) but I mean that he “looked” like a banker. Oh yes! Complete with black tie and shiny buckles, the man was most definitely an unnecessary burden (or was it Halloween again?) I admit that many thoughts were coursing through my mind. The most prominent being the question of whether it is remotely possible that he had come to take us back. I was about to welcome him into the foyer of my manor when I noticed that he, himself, was approaching.

Greetings, sir. I was wondering if you had a minute to nip up to Mars for a quick chat. I do apologize for disturbing your morning.

Well, I was going to take my early morning nap, you see. But if you insist……

              The journey will only take 3 minutes, sir.

That changes matters! I agree. Are you sure you would not like me to ask the cook for a biscuit?

              I appreciate your generosity sir; I do not eat biscuits.

Some tea, perhaps?

              Nor do I drink tea, sir.

To say the truth, it has been two decades since I last saw tea or biscuits, but then, one must observe the formalities. Besides, the banker was clearly a Briton.

Now, sir, if you will accompany me into the eclectic rocket…

Oh! Very good, very good! You say eclectic because you know my profession!

No, sir. Eclecticity is a much faster replacement for electricity, you see.

Yes, yes. Why not?

Precisely three minutes later, we landed on Mars. To my disbelief, I saw that it was much changed. No longer empty, aliens seemed to have planted little signposts all around. In fact, a banner above me said, “Welcome to Slumville!”

Zoom is now alien-friendly, I see! They are doing good progress in their English classes!

              We appreciate your compliment, sir. Since 2030, the aliens have preferred Zoom. The new update made their skin look greener. But Lord Logobot has sent me to show you Slumville, a city made expressly for illogical distractions who remain stubbornly alive.

It is my turn to thank you for your compliment. I assume that this city is an extension of our synthetic island.

              No, sir. You see, we need the synthetic island to build factories to produce eclecticity, and there simply is no room on Earth for illogical distractions anymore. As you may note, these signposts all refer to the land prescribed to each individual currently existing on the island. Lord Logobot has calculated, using quite a confidential algorithm, that each individual distraction now has 20 1/3000 square feet in his or her possession, to be used at his or her discretion, as opposed to the former 20 square foot restriction!

Lord Logobot is too kind. Please thank him for me. Now, if I may ask a few questions of trivial importance. First, how will we breathe?

              Just the way you are breathing now, sir. Each individual distraction will be given an oxygen tank that will ensure a plentiful supply of oxygen for 50 forthcoming years. If an individual still wishes to exist after the 50 years, though Lord Logobot highly advises against this decision, he or she will have the opportunity to order a new tank using this tablet. Please note that the tablet is only activated once every 50 years. For maintenance questions or warranty information, please contact 1-800-222-2222.

Excellent strategy. Yes, I will most definitely contact the number. Second, how will we acquire the necessary nutrition for survival?

              I commend you on your far-sight, sir. Each individual will be given a compact portable box, which contains 18,250 cans, that will provide sustenance for 50 years. A can a day –

Keeps the Logobot away, yes. I have a final question; how will we live?

              Sir? I’m not sure I understand your question. All an individual needs to exist is air to breathe, food, and water. The new can innovation provides the necessary food and water in one meal. I am not aware of the term ‘live.’ Would you kindly enlighten me?

Had I not been forced to abandon my former profession, I would have been happy to lecture you. As of now, I am merely existing, you see. Nevertheless, do you not detect that there is, ah, moral deficiency in this particular decision of Lord Logobot? Is it not, what was the precise word? Oh, yes! Unfair?

It is not our place to question the decisions of Lord Logobot, sir. One’s duty is to follow the orders of science, not to question. Questioning brings about our greatest fear.  

What? Is Lord Logobot now summoned by questioning?

              Lord Logobot does not answer to the summons of distractions. Our greatest fear is chaos.

But it is my duty. My purpose is to question. I question you now: do you not see that the forced excommunication, however nicely you may choose to ice the word, of millions of individuals, is wrong?

Nothing is wrong. Well, obviously a wire that is out of place or a misfunctioning vehicle would be wrong, but these could easily be replaced.

May lives be replaced?

             The human life is today tied to naught but the strength of science. If we are able to make a human clone, and I daresay we are much, much closer to achieving this goal……

Does not the question of cloning hold any ethical meaning in your world?

Ethics are a thing of the past, sir. Today, it is science that governs decisions. You see, Lord Logobot does not deal with right or wrong. He deals with yes or no, 0 or 1, on or off.

Alive or dead?

Oh, no! Not alive or dead, sir. Certainly not. More of existent or nonexistent. But, I have an appointment in Venus in precisely 256.5 seconds, so I must leave in 63.8 seconds. Do you agree to Lord Logobot’s offer, sir?

I am starting to believe that the world is ending. You see, when I was young, two and two didn’t always make four. But it seems that today, if five and five make six, the world will burn to sticks.

Sir, your answer please. If you have a desire to recite poetic verses, kindly order the new Alexa 6000, which will provide you with an audience of 6000 individuals (who clap).

I will not contribute to the funding of your portable audience. I will continue to live in isolation, even if it means on another planet. I refuse to exist where purpose, where right and wrong, where man is a matter of fiction.

              Yes! Existing is a much more understandable term. Well, the world has certainly changed, and with it has its terms!

I’m not sure I agree with you. When we left Earth, in your eclectic rocket, I noted that the grass was still green, the sky was still blue….

              Of course, these are still the primary colors, you know. I shudder to think how it would be if they suddenly said that green and blue are secondary colors. Abominably chaotic! Anyway, I thank you for your time, sir. I take it that you were (searches in page 5001 of You-Know-What) – a lobster?

A philosopher.

Yes, yes. You are not a lobster because you are not consumable, correct?

You pose an interesting dilemma. Apparently, I am now consumable. However, I am still not a lobster because I, unlike you, retained my humanity.

Atrociously incomprehensible! Well, good day to you Mr. Gopher. I trust that you will deliver Lord Logobot’s message to your fellow distractions?

How can I not deliver their death sentences? It was a pleasure talking to you.

              And you.

As we shook hands, I heard the slightest whirr of an engine, sensed the faintest clicking of well-oiled joints, and felt metallic fingers close around my own.

• Ayah Gouda