In an old building was a small yet mysterious corridor. Often vacant, a few residents on either side worked from 9 to 5. It was dark and dirty. A stream of light would pour from both ends and light up the cracking walls and the vegetation that crept inside. The floors were wet from the drippings of the rain, and the lights flickered from the bad wiring. A perfect premise for a horror film. Despite the destitute, the corridor was an enigma. It opened up to infinite possibilities. Every time someone crossed it, an event incomprehensible and completely unexpected would occur.
One day I was walking towards the washroom, on the other end. It was quiet and empty, as always. I gazed through the empty rooms, whose earlier inhabitants left a presence behind, ironical. When I got out of the washroom, I heard a commotion. It was rising from the tiny door on the right. Through the narrow opening, I saw a group of aliens staring at a computer screen. Bizarre, I thought, what do they need a computer for? They were all quite anxious; hungry–I later discovered; trying to write a computer program to bake a cake! I offered to help. Goopled “What flavour of cake is popular on Titan003”; “Chocolate! Such a chicle!” Downloaded the recipes, fixed the code and pop! Out of the floppy was a glittering chocolate cake. I bid goodbye and rushed back into the meeting I was supposed to be in, all along.
“What are we discussin' again?”, I asked. “How printers are the instrument for hyper feminism”, said a snub. I rolled my eyes and typed, Printers AND Feminism on Goople Scholar, and found an array of articles. The first one by a Harward professor claimed the manufacturing surge in Bluetooth printers caused rising numbers of fat feminists. Downloaded that. Browsed paper network and AI.ppt, printed it on the Edison, Bluetooth obviously and placed it across. They all look at me, shocked, at the irony of course. Discussion dismissed, all dispersed. I get back to the desk. Ready for another nap. Close the doors, set up the computer and lay my head on it.
I had a dream, about a pink elephant on a bicycle. It was riding towards me through the clouds. It landed on the corridor and said, “Hey, want to go on a ride?” I hopped on and saw miniature people, the aliens relishing the cake, the printers and the fat feminists. Suddenly the cycle started to drip. I figured it was a signal that I had to pee again. I woke up and walked to the washroom. As I got out the door, the Elephant receptionist was on cue, I excused myself and walked away, thinking jeez, what a weird day. Going past the empty room, I caught my reflection in the glass. “Wait, what am I seeing?” My head is just a giant globe with thoughts running astray. And I looked back at the corridor, seeming perfectly normal, turned back and smiled, in relief.