Everyone has a box. That's the first thing we receive once we are switched on planet Earth. We don't remember what was it like in another planets, our memories are restarted before being switched. No one remembers anything from past lives...all you know once you open your eyes is your ID number and that you are assigned a box. That's all you own, that's all you have.
1-6247. That was her ID.
1-6247's eyes shined like silver once she was switched. I like to imagine that we can reach that human level sometimes and we can feel, you know. Well...at least she knows how it is like.
Her box was grey. Just like every other box that came from the factories. No one talked to her, we never talk to each other. There is nothing like chatting or calling someone anymore... mind readers changed everything back in revolt days. I heard that humans used to laugh, did you ever heard about that? It's something like letting funny sounds and sighs out your mouth in high tones. Same as "crying", I read that water come pouring out of your eyes...can you believe it?
1-6247 stared at the box and immediately knew it was hers. She grabbed it and guided herself out of the central installations. While walking out, she saw a lot of others like her carrying their boxes. They were all the same, grey and squared. Some of them carried them with ropes or laces, like carrying an animal through the streets (oh, sorry! I should explain what that means. I once saw a photograph at the national museum of humanity, it was a human carrying a creature on the street...I don't know if it was real or not but how heartless does it sound?) also they were others that had strings over their shoulders like a backpack or a bag. They looked the same but 1-6247 could tell, they weren't all the same weight. Some of them struggled to carry them, and usually the ones that looked more tired were the ones who carried them on their shoulders. She kept on following the rout back home holding her box, it was pretty light. She was comforted.
The next day, 1-6247 went out for a walk. Box was the same. Same shape, same size, same color. Days passed by and the only thing she could notice was that the box was heavier. She didn't understand why, she just kept on waking out like everyday, following the same route. It was Saturday when she decided to avoid the shortcut and take the north square instead. She saw trees, grey creatures called A-pigeons for the first time and a box lying over one of the benches. "We are not supposed to leave our boxes anytime", she thought and waited to see if someone approached. Five minutes passed after she decided to come over. It was like hers, like everybody else's. She got really close, it was the closest she ever got to another box. As she was about to touch it, the owner appeared sneaking from the back of the bench. If she could scream she would have done it. He understood she was surprised, he could feel her fast mind-beat. He waved and slowly sat next to her, his eyes moved fast from her eyes to her hands. 2-7887 gently posed his hand on hers. That way she realized, not only that his ID number was 2-7887 but that she was strongly holding her box under her arms, still afraid of the encounter. She realized something else: his hand over hers made her feel something. The touch had a texture, her box felt lighter and lighter as he continued posing his hand over hers. They didn't understand, they never had an experience like that before.
They decided to keep on doing that for a while. They met at the same bench every afternoon before sunset and touch each other's arm or hand. They soon discovered, It was the only way they could make those boxes lighter. At first the feeling could be described as "relieving" but then it started to change...it was "nice". The simple touch turned into holding hands, and soon they started walking together. That "nice" feeling suddenly felt necessary to keep going. They couldn't even feel the boxes, there was no weight when they were together. They even forgot they had them. When they said good bye, well... the weight started to grow faster and faster. The more time they spent together, the faster the weight grew when they departed. They got used to the pain, it was something new as well. It was heavy sometimes but at the end of the day they would find the way to make those boxes lighter. Even if it meant to spend whole hours holding hands, they would' ved do it.
That touch, that glimpse...it was a feeling.
(Oh, you may not know this but we don't have feelings, just humans do. At least we are not used to have them, they say they are dangerous for our species so they deleted that program from our brains. Its something that cannot always be controlled though, that's why, I guess, some of us still get to feel. I never did but I saw a doc once, it said that feeling was like time being stoped. Not only in your brain but your whole system...that's why they called it feeling, because it could be felt everywhere.)
Both of them decided to hold hands again even though they knew, they could come and try to separate them. It wasn't okay to feel, it wasn't okay to have light boxes. They got together and hold hands. All the weight disappeared, even the world. Everything was silent, still, like the biggest feeling caressing them.
1-6247 looked up at 2-7887. A golden sparkle drifted through his eye and made it's way down his face. As he touched her face she could see her own silver tear lying on his finger.
It was like a first tear.
Well, or at least that's what I thought.
I like to imagine that we can reach that human level, you know...more than one time.
