The clunks and clangs ring in my ears as I wander in. So many different sounds are emerging from all sorts of directions. Some-- boisterous and intense, some-- softly buzzing, smoothly tangling in between all of the heavier hubbub. Everything, interconnected, like the thread and stitchwork of a well-made roll of fabric. Some sounds resonated, while others flew over my head, grazing the lobes of my ears.
There was a lot going on. Movement was blossoming from every corner in sight. Not a space wasn’t occupied. There were lines everywhere; you had your idle lines such as those in the tiles on the floor, in the planks of wood in the tables and chairs, in the various foods in sight. You also had your active lines, mainly composed of blocs of people. These active lines intermingled just like the many sounds that bounced from wall to wall. Compact in numbers, each person there had some sort of purpose; some were there for substance consumption, others were there to assist them in the process. Those who were assigned consumption, stood in line-- a line that was uniform in overall structure, however it was constantly fluctuating in length and anthropomorphic content.
Once they reached the endpoint, they were served. Those that served there, were just a few individuals who fell under the other category of occupations, those that assist. Receiving their materials, they head back to their stations. Each individual, a different representation of a specified gear, worked in partnership with other analogous gears. Some were grouped by their level of seniority, others were characterized by their interests and social class. After finishing their assignment, they return to the lineup. This queue, however, was different. Here, the individuals disposed of their remaining materials, where other individuals-- those who had the responsibility of helping the consumers-- took their used tools and scrubbed them so they could be placed in the pile of supplies, ready for the consumer’s usage. Just like in a factory, each component worked together to repeat this ongoing cycle.
I walked in line, apprehensive and unsure. Quivering, overwhelmed with the unfamiliarity, I was surrounded. I froze, almost as if my blood was replaced with ice. Hardened, stiff, the world felt like it was on a pause-- but really, it was just me. As I froze, everything around me continued on, time proceeded to pass, almost as if I wasn’t even there. I tried to break through the anxiety and did, at least, to some degree. I reached the final stage and received my supplies. Holding the components in hand, I walked over to one of the stations. Hesitant, I sat down at the closest one to the exit. Their eyes-- beady, blood-shot-- were not welcoming. Receiving glares and harsh mutters under the tongue, I proceeded to get up from the station and leave for another. Even more reluctant, I found another. This station seemed more miscellaneous, filled with people who didn’t seem to share a common trait. Receiving polite welcomes, I sat down and began to work on my assignment.
Finishing my meal, the group and I--in unison-- walked over to the final queue, where we disposed of the remaining substances. After going through the final process, I walked towards the exit, ready to leave permanently. However, I felt a certain calling within me, encouraging me to return in the future. This longing within me was so strong, I couldn’t resist. As I was walking away from the combine of the wyvern luncheonette, I made mental plans to return the next day.
There was a lot going on. Movement was blossoming from every corner in sight. Not a space wasn’t occupied. There were lines everywhere; you had your idle lines such as those in the tiles on the floor, in the planks of wood in the tables and chairs, in the various foods in sight. You also had your active lines, mainly composed of blocs of people. These active lines intermingled just like the many sounds that bounced from wall to wall. Compact in numbers, each person there had some sort of purpose; some were there for substance consumption, others were there to assist them in the process. Those who were assigned consumption, stood in line-- a line that was uniform in overall structure, however it was constantly fluctuating in length and anthropomorphic content.
Once they reached the endpoint, they were served. Those that served there, were just a few individuals who fell under the other category of occupations, those that assist. Receiving their materials, they head back to their stations. Each individual, a different representation of a specified gear, worked in partnership with other analogous gears. Some were grouped by their level of seniority, others were characterized by their interests and social class. After finishing their assignment, they return to the lineup. This queue, however, was different. Here, the individuals disposed of their remaining materials, where other individuals-- those who had the responsibility of helping the consumers-- took their used tools and scrubbed them so they could be placed in the pile of supplies, ready for the consumer’s usage. Just like in a factory, each component worked together to repeat this ongoing cycle.
I walked in line, apprehensive and unsure. Quivering, overwhelmed with the unfamiliarity, I was surrounded. I froze, almost as if my blood was replaced with ice. Hardened, stiff, the world felt like it was on a pause-- but really, it was just me. As I froze, everything around me continued on, time proceeded to pass, almost as if I wasn’t even there. I tried to break through the anxiety and did, at least, to some degree. I reached the final stage and received my supplies. Holding the components in hand, I walked over to one of the stations. Hesitant, I sat down at the closest one to the exit. Their eyes-- beady, blood-shot-- were not welcoming. Receiving glares and harsh mutters under the tongue, I proceeded to get up from the station and leave for another. Even more reluctant, I found another. This station seemed more miscellaneous, filled with people who didn’t seem to share a common trait. Receiving polite welcomes, I sat down and began to work on my assignment.
Finishing my meal, the group and I--in unison-- walked over to the final queue, where we disposed of the remaining substances. After going through the final process, I walked towards the exit, ready to leave permanently. However, I felt a certain calling within me, encouraging me to return in the future. This longing within me was so strong, I couldn’t resist. As I was walking away from the combine of the wyvern luncheonette, I made mental plans to return the next day.
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