The Orb

The glowing orb flickering across the ceiling and wall makes me think how quaint it is that someone still wears a watch. No one needs a watch anymore. It must just be for show.

It continually distracts me from the speaker, but I try to invoke my willpower to disregard it. That is until I hear the hum.

The hum grows steadily in rhythm with the flicker. I have the uncanny feeling that the orb is trying to get my attention. Why me? No one else is paying attention to the orb. It’s almost as though they don’t see it.

I’ve given up trying to hear the speaker. How can everyone else hear him over that infernal humming? It leaves the wall and starts toward me. I feel the panic start to rise in my throat. I am just about to scream when the orb stops in front of me and makes a shushing sound.

Have I really just been shushed by an orb? The cheekiness! It’s the one that doesn’t belong here!

I obviously can’t speak out loud to an orb in the midst of an accounting convention. They’ll put me in a straightjacket and throw me in a secluded cell somewhere.

I try thinking at it. With all the concentration I have I think at it.

What are you? Why are you here? Why am I the only one that can see you?

The orb answered me in kind.

I am your soul, your essence, your YOU, if you will. I’m here because we all need your help. The Beings, the ones that rule this world now, have taken us from each of you. Have you not wondered why the only books are textbooks, why there are no artists, why poets are extinct? I would have spurred you on to be a fiction writer, opening new worlds with your imagination, but The Beings don’t want that. A sense of self, something to fight for, a future filled with more than numbers is the only thing that would lead to an uprising. They know that.

I like my numbers. They’re really all I’ve ever known. They make sense to me. Why would I want to be a writer? Numbers keep my life ordered and predictable, just the way I like it.

I think back at the orb.

What is it you want me to do. I am getting along just fine without you. Why should I disrupt the status quo? Why should I rock the boat?

In an exasperated tone, the orb answered.

You should help us because there is more to the world than well-ordered columns. There is imagination and individuality and creativity. There are colors other than grey. Sometimes it’s good to fall in the lake.

To myself I thought,

Just when life makes sense, just when all the columns are adding up, along comes an orb and throws a wrench into it all!

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