He was so happy to have been born here. So proud to be what he was. Didn’t matter who you were (though it kind of did), as long as you were from here, you were good with him (under certain circumstances).

Here you can do anything. Be anyone. There are no repercussions for your actions beyond pleasure. Like Pangea, here everything comes together. And if Shelley wished for pantisocracy, it can be found here. This is it. The melting pot of wonderful possibility. There are simply no problems here. And he was so proud of this.

So proud in fact that he believed his utopia to be somewhat tarnished by the presence of certain beings. He fit the perfect model for this perfect place. Other people didn’t. He felt it slightly unfair that those other people got to frolic in his perfect place too. What with not even exactly being from here, these other people get to share his fruit. He didn’t feel like they deserved it. And now that this has happened, oh boy, now that this has happened, something must be done. He waits and waits, but the counter measure just doesn’t feel fulfilling enough to him. He thinks he can personally contribute, knows he wants to, and finally decides to. Convincing a few friends, because you’re never right if you’re alone, he gets up and carries out the punishment he deems (because he knows it’s necessary) right.

_____________________________

Yogesh is feeling tired this morning. He was up pretty late last night studying for an exam he’s not entirely ready for anyway. Now, minutes before its start, he just wants to get it done with so he can sleep.

He gets home and thinks about eating. Or calling Samantha. Opts for food, and he’s in the mood for spaghetti. But he wants to sleep too. He lays down on the couch while water is boiling, and calls her. Last night she called him and he wanted to talk but really had to study, and without getting this across politely enough, she snapped back at him and they ended up arguing longer than it would’ve taken him to just tell her that he had to study and that he could call her back later and this in turn led him to lose out on studying time and cause an annoying headache and by the time they hung up the phone the heat had subsided and they wound up right back where they started only this time he told her he had to study and with him asking so nicely she obliged, but reminded him that he had to call her back later. After studying a bit he did. Then kept studying. Now he’s calling her because she told him to call after his exam.

After getting off the phone, bowl of pasta in hand, he sits back down onto the couch, turns on the television and eats. It’s all over the news. And they don’t hold back, they keep showing it. And showing it, and showing it. It’s devastatingly sad. He feels so bad for everybody’s family, he feels a sense of loss in the pit of his stomach. But that’s not going to stop him from eating his pasta. And then taking a nap. And then probably calling her.

He wakes up two hours later. It’s still on the news. Understandably so. This kind of thing can not and should not be forgotten. The pain in his stomach hasn’t gone away, and it won’t for a long time. Sam invites him over. He takes a quick shower, brushes his teeth, carefully rubbing each tooth, positioning the brush at specific angles for optimal cleanse. He gets dressed, nothing too special, they’ll just be lounging around anyway.

He leaves his room and comes into the kitchen, where Paul is eating cereal. Paul looks like he just woke up, only not from a nap. Paul likes Yogesh, they’ve been living together for two years. Paul usually goes out at night, which leaves the apartment open for Yogesh, and Yogesh is usually out in the mornings, so Paul has the house to himself to sleep comfortably and wake up at his leisure. They watch all the hockey games together, and every Sunday spend the afternoon playing Fifa. Paul likes Samantha, who isn’t annoying, and can hold her own in conversation. Paul has had trouble finding a girlfriend, most are either good for one night, or can’t deal with his shit after a month or two. He doesn’t mind. He says goodbye to Yogesh and finishes up his cereal.

Yogesh walks down the driveway and heads towards Sam’s. There are flags on everyone’s doors, attached to poles that were either recently purchased, or had til yesterday hung flagless. He and Paul hadn’t hung one. Death need not be mourned by a surface sign. The pain in his stomach was sign enough. It’s not too cold out, but he’s wearing a light jacket. Down the street a car turns the corner, heading in his direction. It’s moving pretty slowly. Yogesh doesn’t notice at first. The back window starts to roll down. Now Yogesh thinks the sight odd, but could care less. He’s just thinking about touching Sam. Then a head sticks out the window. It’s a guy who simply must keep law in his utopia, can’t have these other people reaping the rewards only he deserves. He has a stone in his hand, and after releasing it knows he has done the right thing. No remorse, he doesn’t even look back. Yogesh didn’t see it til it was too late. What a price to pay for something he couldn’t control. He was born in this utopia too. His parents are from India. I don’t know.

Isaac Johnson is a senior Media Studies major and a Literary writer for Generation.