Invalid

 

I stare at a screen. I have been staring eleven hours. Sifting page after page, looking for the mildest indication that the next call might offer personhood. I cannot feel my legs just now. It is sunny outside, but I prefer the natural invisibility of my room over the pronounced one of the outdoors. Sounds of everyday life are at my window. Children calling out to each other, the booming laughter of men, music blasting from a speaker somewhere. Every single one of these individuals must possess the right documents to prove they exist. I have no recollection of how I got here. But when I did, it was without the means to announce my arrival. Day and night pass and people live their lives; not unlike how they did where I came from, but with more to live for.

I have not been able to determine how I can get noticed, but something tells me it is by proving my utility to whoever is in charge. I think it has been two years since I started trying to make myself so useful. Even a measure of hostility would not be unwelcome now. I would know I was being perceived. I cannot always believe that I am completely invisible to every living thing that I see on this planet. The alternative – that they are all in on an elaborate plan of being indifferent to my presence – is, however, even more improbable. Why do I think there is a way to get noticed? Where does this faith in integration and assimilation come from?

I pause for a second. This call seems promising. ‘Planetary onboarding for Invalids if applicable,’ the last line says. That sounds like me. I take a deep breath. At least the rest of the day will feel like meaningful work.

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