Drone: Chapter One

The Profound Examination of Human Evolutionary History

You know that feeling you get, in the morning, after you’ve had a one night stand?  When the girl you fucked is still lying next to you, and you’re wondering whether or not she had a good time.  You’re wondering if she did this because she actually liked you or if she was just drunk and couldn’t tell the difference.  You’re hoping its the first one.  You’re hoping that you’re worth enough for her to give a damn, even though you couldn’t give a damn when you were getting in her pants eight hours ago.  Well now the sun is casting those blue reflections on the block wall, and you’re awake and soon she will be too, and you’re hoping that when she does she will look at you and smile.  But you know that is just wishful thinking, and, every foreseeable outcome points to the obvious answer you already have on the tip of your dry tongue.  You mean nothing.

~

Craig Crenshaw, Matt Hildebrand, Timothy Stuart, and I were sitting at a window booth at Jerry’s.  It was a decent table especially for this restaurant, but I had a hunch that our luck was based on the fact that Friday wasn’t one of Jerry’s prime nights.  

We had all pounded three or four shots each before making our way from the apartment near campus to this restaurant on Jackson Street.  We were all at least buzzed, and Matt was showing signs of mild intoxication.  

I was trying to coax the waitress over to our table to get another Don Q and to try and get her number, but she seemed to be ignoring me, although I couldn’t really tell.  Craig had begun asking us what we thought of this girl he met at a club last week.  I had seen her, and although I thought she was hot, I said, “I don’t know.  I never really got a good look at her so I couldn’t say.”  This may have all seemed very calculated, but honestly I just didn’t want to get involved.  Craig always asked everyone’s opinion on everything, and whether or not our opinions actually factored into any decision he made was yet to be determined, so again I distanced myself from such matters of friends.

Matt seemed more drunk than the rest, but he was also dressed better than the rest of us so that made up for it.  He was wearing a blazer that probably cost more than everything I was wearing.  He was agreeing with Craig, who was obviously looking for approval.  He was saying, “If you’re into her then why not?”  

Craig was nodding his head.  He seemed to be saying, “Yes.  Yes.”  But he wasn’t making any noise.  Then looking at his watch in one motion he too was trying to call the waitress.  “Where the hell is this girl?  It’s been, like, ten minutes.  Christ, I came here to drink.  Not chew...fucking...ice.”

I looked at Timothy.  He was being his usual quiet self, but tonight he seemed to have something on his mind.  I very much liked everyone at the table, but Timothy was different.  He was the type of kid who had the potential to be legendary.  He raised his glass to his lips.  Sipped.  Replaced the glass.  I knew that Craig didn’t really care about everyone else’s thoughts on this girl anyway.  He really just wanted to hear what Timothy had to say about it.  

“What do you think Timothy?”  I asked, also curious.  

Timothy was wearing pleated trousers and a cardigan sweater that was complimented by a Ralph Lauren button down.  He was wearing his Wayfarers inside, (we all were) but he lowered them, and finally removed them when he started talking.  “I already fucked her.”

“What?” Craig asked.

“I said, I already fucked her.”

“I heard what you said, but now I’m asking you what you mean?”  Craig said sharply, now lowering his sunglasses.

“I think he is trying to tell you that he porked your girl, Crenshaw,”  I chimed in sarcastically. 

“No shit?” Matt said slowly.

“Goddammit, Tim.  You fucking bastard.  When?”

“It doesn’t matter.  She was terrible.  Not worth your time, believe me.”

“Fuckin’ hell.”  Craig pulled out a cigarette. “I could have decided that,” he started to light it when the waitress finally came over.  “Oh, nice of you to join us.”

“You can’t smoke in here.”  The waitress said as he lit it anyway.  

“We’re leaving.”  Craig stood up and blew smoke in the waitress’s direction.  Matt and Tim rose to leave, and I pulled out a hundred and gave it to the waitress telling her to keep the change, and then apologizing, and then getting her number.  

~

There was a briskness in the air on the streets.  Between the skyscrapers, and condos, and restaurants and cafes that were trying to be hip, and people who were doing the same.  The problem was, this city had no real art scene.  Everyone here was either an amateur, or a low paid wannabe.  There were galleries, and festivals, and shows, but no one outside this realm really paid any notice.  Essentially these people were just imitation creatives.  There was nothing real here.  It was all constructed, all imported, all disaster.  

We were now all feeling the effects of the booze and a cloud of condensed air and cigarette smoke wafted above the four of us as we traversed the street.  Crossing back towards campus Craig said loudly, “We need beer.”

“Lets get some beer then.” I said, turning toward a convenience store on the corner.  

“What we really need is some pot,” said Timothy.

“Yes.  Best idea of the night,” said Matt.  “I know a guy.”  Matt was pulling out his cell phone.  Timothy was trying to ask him who his guy was, Craig grabbed two twenty-four packs from the freezer, and we were all buying cigarettes.  

“What are we doing tonight,” I was asking as we got back to the apartment.  

“Let’s...let’s...let’s call some girls,” Craig said enthusiastically despite his intoxication. “I need some pussy.  Do you know anybody?  Who can we call?”

“No.  No chicks,” said Timothy.  

“Fuck that.  You’re getting laid, of course you don’t care.” Craig snapped back.  “Gimme a beer.”  We sat down on our crumbling leather couches.  Craig cracked a beer, Matt lit a blunt, Timothy sat down and started drinking a beer and  never stopped, and I lit a cigarette and watched the chaos.  

Timothy put his empty beer down, and grabbed another one.  He opened it, cutting the silence in the room, and spoke.  “Do you guys know why humans evolved from hunter gatherers?”  He looked at all of us.  Presently I seemed to be the only one really paying attention.  Craig was getting very drunk now and Matt was enthralled with the art of smoking his expertly crafted blunt.  

“Does it matter?” asked Matt.

“Well, I guess nothing really matters.”  Timothy retorted quickly, his tone more serious now.  I knew something was irritating Tim, but I didn’t have any idea what he was getting at.  

“Yeah, but listen.  The reason humans evolved from hunter gatherers...you know twigs and berries type shit...to farming...is all because of beer...Have you heard this?  Turns out that those motherfuckers loved gettin’ wasted.”  He took another big gulp from his beer. “They drank so much they had to start specializing just so they could grow enough rice to make malt liquor.”

“That’s fucking great,” Matt laughed out, obviously stoned.

“Who cares,” said Craig unabashedly.  “I want to talk about this girl.”

“What girl?” I asked, knowingly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Timothy retorted, “You realize that our entire existence as workers in this capitalist system is based on the fact that a couple of fuckers wanted to get drunk.”  He took another drink.  “Our entire society, government, religion, art, war, everything...it’s all because some guy was like–we need to integrate.”

“That’s really, like, deep.”  said Matt.  

“Well, I don’t have a job,”  I said.  

Our disinterest was clearly upsetting Timothy, and he was now becoming even more evangelical.  He took the blunt from Matt and stood up on the coffee table in front of all of us.  He took a massive hit, sucking in half of what was left in one huge gasp.  When he exhaled the room was full of pungent smoke.  He was sweating mildly, and his eyes became fiery, or bloodshot, or both.    

“It’s all just bullshit.  The beer isn’t the only thing either.  Take Craig for example.  You’re a fucking slut...you’re a fucking...a fucking whore...You’re a piece of shit peder-ass.”

“She was seventeen!”

“It doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t fucking matter.  That’s not the point anyway.  The point is that you’re a hypocrite.  Honestly, we all are.  I mean have you ever though about it?  I mean, why the hell do people, and by people I mean us too, have such low goddamn moral values?  Every night it’s the same goddamn bullshit man, and now we find out that our whole existence is based on fucking hops.  Its just so fucking incomprehensibly tragic, man.  Our whole existence is  based on a fucking lie, dude.”  He took another huge gulp of beer.  Now sweating quite profusely, and now visibly enflamed. His hair was combed over and slicked, but now fell into his eyes.  He slicked it back with his fingers, grabbed the roach with the tips of his thumb and pointer and took the last of it into his lungs.  

I had only taken one hit, but my world was closing in on me.  I could see everyone, but I had a strange feeling that I looked ridiculous.  My understanding of the situation was solely based on my complete trust that everything coming from Timothy’s mouth was true.  I also had a feeling that Matt and Craig were also in my situation, but I couldn’t tell if they were paying attention to Timothy.  Timothy seemed to be distracted by something, but I wanted to hear more of his sermon. 

“I totally agree, man,” I said.  

“No man.  Don’t agree with me.  That’s the whole problem.  Collectivism.  To much agreement.  There’s no innovation.  There are too many followers.” 

“You’re right.”

“Don’t agree with me, man!”

“Okay.” I said trying to show him that I understood.  He put one foot back on the table.  At that moment I knew he was completely, utterly, and totally insane.  The other two were on the verge of passing out, but he spoke to them like they were watching the birth of Christ. 

“We’ve been programmed man.  Don’t you get that?  Fucking school...it’s all just a way to make us conform...fucking history is written by the winners, man.”  He was becoming frantic.

“Yes! Yes! YES!” Matt was screaming.  

“We need to talk about the girl,” Craig mumbled.

“Fuck the girl! Society is an illusion man!”  screamed Timothy.

“You did.  You fucked her,” Craig realized.

“You’re right.” I said.

“Don’t agree with me goddammit.”  Then he suddenly forgot his words.  He grabbed another beer.  He sat down, and drank it.   I looked at Matt, who was now tipped over, unconcious.  Craig looked at me.

“You got a smoke dude?”

“Yeah.”  

He took the cigarette from my grip.  Lit it.  The apartment was quiet.  Smoke billowed.  A siren could be heard on the street below.  I got up and walked to the balcony.  The night was still cold.  The city had a look of artificiality now.  It looked like a picture of a city at night, not the real thing.  From inside I heard Timothy groan.  

“You fuck...don’t you get it?  Your life is meaningless.”