The Emulator

He sits in the corner and watches them as they move around, fake smiles on their fake plastered faces. Raucous laughter fills his ear, as he listens to them talking about some demeaning little fact about somebody. The room is lit up with their designer clothes and their flashy make up. He is the outsider. The one they don’t see, and if they did see, they would look away without a second glance. A shame on society, that’s what would cross their mind.

Yet he doesn’t give a damn. He knows he is different, different from the sham that shakes the walls of this room. His palms are sweating, but he clutches to the ballpoint pen he is holding, his notebook open, as he shies away from this orgy of deceit. Deceit towards each other and deceit towards self. At the end of the day, no one comes out alive, no one is a winner. He feels a tiny feeling of satisfaction of knowing he is not one of them.

He scribbles a bit in his notebook, he wants to leave. But something holds him back. He looks around again. He catches a glimpse of red hair. He looks. She turns around towards him, smiling dazzlingly, but looking right through him. Her long hair does justice to her sharp features and mesmerizing eyes. Her curves are what one could only fantasize about. He feels the urge in the body arising. The urge to touch such a thing of beauty can be overwhelming. He knows he has to control himself. It is difficult. Her perfectly large rounded breasts bump ever so lightly with each step she takes. He feels a hush in the room as everyone stares at her.

As she approaches, they look at her with awe and a warm smile to acknowledge her presence, which soon twists into a look of envy mixed with a pinch of hatred as she passes. Everyone is trying to outdo each other. He fixes his gaze at her eyes. She is looking at someone else. A gentleman in a black tuxedo approaches her, takes her hand in his and kisses it. He is sophisticated, wealthy, and has a look which shows that he is a slave to men’s beauty products. She giggles with pleasure as he puts his hand around her waist and looks into her eyes with his prosthetic face. They walk away together.

In the corner, sits the lonely one, still fixated on her. He feels something bitter in his throat and his head goes blank. Something burning rises up from his chest into his head. It is envy. Envy has visited him finally. He wants her. Who was that prosthetic man to take her away just like that? His hands shiver with anger. He kept it bottled up inside for so long, yet there were random outbursts reminding him that he will never be cured. He looks at them close together. He wants to kill the man. He didn’t even know him so it wouldn’t be that hard. The woman seems to be enjoying the presence of the man who was as usual, looking for something less than a commitment.

He does not look away. He stares at the couple. He knows he would like a little bit more than a commitment, yet he knew he too would be satisfied with something less, especially when it comes in a package like that. A different thought enters his head. He was thinking just like the people he loathed? The thought gets caught in the brain, and his breath gets caught in the throat. He closes his eyes and opens them. Nothing has changed in the room. It is time to make his move. It would not that be difficult, since he has studied them all very well. He stands up and adjusts his tie. He brushes off his tuxedo, and runs his finger through his hair, looking for the newly glorified, carefully careless look. His reflection in the glass does justice to what he wants to portray at that very moment. He takes his first step forward. As he gets closer to the center of the room, he feels a strange feeling enter his system.

It is a weird feeling, and weirdly it feels good. Yet there is a part of his mind that tells him to ignore the feeling. He ignores this part of the mind, and walks into the spotlight of evil and deceit. The crowd in the room finally starts to take little notice of the outsider. The one they haven’t seen before. They smile through their masks at him. He looks away, not wanting to be a part of the secret misery. His train of thought shifts once more to her.

A passerby greets him dispassionately. He grunts softly without looking. He has eyes for one thing, and one thing only. It would be easy to get her. All he had to do was become what he hated. The conscience in his head seems to have been switched off. Every step he takes towards the woman gives him more confidence. He sucks on the sham that fills the room. It becomes his opium. He looks back to the corner he was sitting in. There is a shadow of a person there, yet he can’t see the face. The shadow of a shame to society. Just for a moment he catches a glimpse of his face, the one he knew for so long looking back at him. Just for a moment, and then it’s gone. The outsider is no more. He looks away without a second glance and smiles inwardly. The emulation has begun, and the emulator focuses on his prey once more.

~ by The Unsilent on March 13, 2009.