Writing Walter
The images flash by, flickering like an old motion picture. This movie, however, has no plot. The director, if he even exists, seems unconcerned with his audience, for this film appears to have been cut up and reassembled in some random order; while the words accompanying each frame are incomprehensible at the speed they pass.
Occasionally the visual cacophony is paused long enough for the words to register in the mind, only to resume their blinking in and out of existence.
Eventually, as a suitably interesting subject is found, the ubiquitous click is heard and the day’s wiki walk begins. The burning guilt and anxiety of the traveler, consuming his soul only a moment ago, evaporates as self-indulgent and trivial pursuits insulate him from all concern.
The thoughts and ideas recorded by others for his consumption spawn the creation and destruction of worlds that will never be known by anyone but him. At certain points, needing to declare his existence, he leaves a pithy comment with an obscure reference. This becomes a marker on the path, to which he will occasionally return. Any reactions to these markers validate his existence and sustain him, allowing him to return to his fruitless journey.
“Hard at it again?”
Her voice shook him, and his guilt, always lurking, made his skin crawl. He stared at the screen, his thoughts fleeing from the imminent encounter. She walked up behind him and looked over his shoulder. The few seconds she stood there seemed like minutes. He leaned back in his chair and grabbed the cup of coffee which had cooled and took a sip.
“I haven’t seen you writing in awhile. What are you looking at this time?” she asked. He looked at the clock. She would be leaving soon, out the door and on her way to work. He focused on that and closed the laptop.
“Just some research,” he said as he got up and headed for the bathroom and solitary safety. He felt her eyes on him, those disapproving and convicting eyes that needed avoidance.
“So you’re just going to hide again? Why won’t you talk to me anymore?”
“You better go, you don’t want to be late,” he said and closed the bathroom door. He lowered the toilet seat and sat down. Praying she would leave rather than pursue confrontation, he closed his eyes.
“Okay, I’m going… Listen, maybe you could go to the gym today. I think it’d be good for you. What do you think?”
“Yeah, maybe. See you tonight.”
He sat there for what seemed like another 5 minutes before he heard her leave. It was only then he began to think again. Maybe she was right. Maybe a workout would wake him from this daze his life had become.
Suddenly he felt cold. He stood up and turned on the shower. Removing his clothes, his mind was blank. He stepped under the warm water and his thoughts began to wander once again.
The rain was warm again. Not unheard of in this latitude but not common either. He picked up his pace as he moved through the jungle trails. The camera traps he had placed last week needed to be collected and this would be his last chance before they forced him to leave.
His grant had run out and the local authorities had never been enthusiastic about his research. He knew the pygmy orangutans existed and had collected plenty of indirect evidence, but he needed the visual proof.
The birds, which had been numerous and vocal, began to thin out as he approached his first camera location. He checked his GPS position. Yes, he was right on it, but where was the clearing? Looking up he felt the warm rain on his face and noticed the sky was greening. A slight rustling to his left and then a sound quite unnatural in the jungle caused his heart to skip. It was the sound of metal and plastic smashing together. He moved to his left and pushed the branches and undergrowth aside. Peering through he saw his clearing, and something unexpected.
In the middle was all his equipment piled together in a heap. His apprehension turned to confusion and then quickly to curiousity. He waded through the brush and approached the pile of broken cameras and mounts. Who could have done this? It had to be the local authorities, they wanted him gone and this was their not so subtle message.
“Who has done this?” he asked. “Show yourself!”
As if in response he heard some low animal vocalizations. They were an odd combination of clicks and groans which emanated from just beyond the edge of the clearing. Surprisingly the existence of wild animals only a few yards from him, still hidden by the jungle, did not induce fear.
“Show yourself!” he said again.
Slowly an entire section of jungle in front of him came to life as a group of small orange primates emerged. It was them! He had found his pygmy orangs! As he watched them approach he guessed they were about three feet in height at most. They walked upright with far more grace than any other primate he had seen.
He was entranced and didn’t notice the wind picking up as the greening sky lowered. Nothing existed at that moment but the orangs and the joy he felt.
The joy, however, quickly turned to panic as one of the orangs raised his arm and said, “Human, go.”
Suddenly the warm rain turned cold and a shiver ran down his spine.
He quickly grabbed the faucet handle and turned the knob. She hadn’t left him much hot water for his shower.
He dried himself and got dressed then moved to the dining room. On the table were his laptop and, not far away, his car keys. He looked at both, eyes moving from one to the other. Finally he sat and opened his laptop.
Flickering to life the screen displayed a photo of a small orange primate under the title, “First Baby Orangutan Born at Gresham Zoo”.
