I am sitting in the game room, and gaze out the windows, across the street to the Cristo Rey building, where there are people sitting quietly in rows of desks staring at large screens at the front of the room. If a person in the Cristo Rey building were able to see what is going on through the colorful curtains of the maker space, maybe his or her curiosity would be peaked by the excitement around the creation of a galactic nemesis cabinet structure… which I’m convinced is actually a time machine.
The people in Cristo Rey at this moment remind me of a photograph. Their profiles all look the same each time that I glance out, the moving world around them making it all the more apparent how still they are… oh! There’s a raised hand, and the turn of a page…
And I wouldn’t fall within the categories anthropologist, or an ethnographer, or an evolutionary psychologist… I’m pretty sure that I can trust my instinctual understanding of this:
There are a bunch of people in one building, and a bunch more people in the building next to them. We are not only separated by the buildings, but we are also separated within those buildings by rooms. All around us, the world is continuous movement. This city life is trains and cars and construction, the trees are still bare of leaves, and today’s sky is a thorough blanket cover of grey. The city is humming today. The sounds are thick and submerged… we are all submerged in the hum.
And we are in our buildings, in our rooms, behind windows; but in one building there are photographs, and in the building across from it, there are some people in socks, building a time machine.