The Age of Flesh

Starr woke up on a bright Sunday afternoon and promptly went back to sleep again. Beside her, Sins lay with his back slightly arched, working away on his laptop diligently, intently scouring for new brands and companies to pitch his business to. Sins loved prospecting like this, firmly lost inside the crevices of his mind, like a continuous, magical flow of thoughts, exactly similar to how he felt while writing or making love with Starr. Magic happened with them whenever they were together. They had got high and made love late till late night, and gotten high again, and made love again. At the end of the second session, totally spent, feeling one with their mortal bodies, it felt as if they had transcended the boundaries of pleasure itself to something greater, a state of permanent bliss, only that it wasn’t. They felt absolutely normal thirty minutes later, as they cuddled together watching Breaking Bad on Starr’s laptop.

It was a pivotal phase of their lives. They were right at the intersection of youth and their impending thirties, and they had massive plans for their lives, swearing never to let go of each other, after all, it was much easier to tame life and its meandering pursuit to cause chaos to human beings, together as a team rather than sketch out a plan imagining yourself to be the be all and end all of one’s own destiny. The truth was much simpler and less chaotic, leaving more mind space to think clearly, the fact that, one’s fate, one’s destiny in life was primarily due to the actions of people around him/her and the relationships he/she has cultivated with them. Sins was always careful to cultivate the right people in his lives, preferring to network with individuals who he perceived were intellectually more sounder than him, and he could judge this fact after a thirty minute conversation with the person. He was an avid attendee to many business events held across the city from time to time, and had accumulated a wealth of personal and business contacts. It was so easy and simple to do so, that he wondered why everyone wasn’t doing it, including Starr, whose friends were several rungs below average in intellect, though he had to give them credit for getting him top quality marijuana. It was the only reason he spoke to them.

He reminiscenced how he had sought answers to questions like the nature of faith and intelligence which caused human beings to spend their lives by measuring their self-worth around subjective topics like buying a house or the latest car. Gradually he had come to the realization that the vast majority of people around the world were not used to enough physical comfort, indeed several of them went by whole lifetimes, before some person in the subsequent generation would climb up the economic chain by hook or crook, no doubt satiated and justified in the means employed because the circumstances permitted him/her to do so in good conscience, no doubt feeling the emotion of generations of suffering and toil. Only a few in the not-haves generation managed to find the right human connections to pull themselves out of a surroundings which permitted mediocrity. Obviously, once in a while there would be outliers who would tame the system according to their will, as seen fit by them. But for a statistical majority, making the right connections, and constantly thinking ahead by creating a progressive mindset is downright hard, if not impossible. Mediocrity breeds mediocrity, which becomes an endless mediocrity loop, at the mercy of ruthless politicians and drug lords.

Starr was stirring again by now, yawning incessantly for a while, before suddenly jerking wide awake, and sauntering off to the washroom. Sins watched her go in a daze, before returning to his laptop with difficulty, riled at himself by the distraction, but mentally prepared to take a break soon. He was hungry again, and thought about making some sandwiches for them. He changed his mind, and decided to call Subway, an only slightly better option, but a time-saving one because it was located one hundred meters away. He changed his mind again. He would wait for Starr and then walk to the Subway. He felt he should catch some fresh air.

Starr came out, wrapped in a towel and grinning at him plainly, her eyes mocking him for working on a Sunday, when clearly they had something better to do. Sins promptly closed his laptop and placed it aside on the wooden stool handily beside the bed.

They stayed in bed for the next four hours.

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