(IC) Patio Breeze

Capsuleers aren’t the kind of people that are approached often by mortals. They are seen as gods among men. They are given special treatment that would bewilder the common denizen of New Eden. On the other side of the equation, capsuleers often say they have a hard time holding on to what makes them human, not being able to explain what that even is if pressed.

The problem both sides have is that they focus almost entirely on one fact. Capsuleers are immortal. True, our implants and augmmentations give us abilities that are indeed superhuman, but the simple element of an infinite lifespan seems to create many borders and lines in the sand within and without. The fact is that people focus on death, and forget how to focus on life.

I smile. I do this because I am pondering this issue as I often ponder issues of cosmic importance, on a patio of a quaint and slightly up-scale cafe as far outside the tourist and capsuleer areas as I can get, and as close to common people as I can be. Decidedly upper-middle-class. People who are getting by as well as anyone can expect and want to pretend they are far more well-off than they actually are every once in a while. It is a Gallente planet this time around, but I will find these spots in any empire or region. I hope that means I am not the only one who does this.

I’ll hang around here all day, jumping into conversations with a smile, making new friends, sipping hot and cold concoctions all day and night. I don’t hide the fact that I am a capsuleer, and often it comes up as a topic sooner rather than later. They ask what it is like and I try to tell them in simple terms. They are almost invariably underwhelmed, expecting tales of a far more trancendent and sometimes even constantly-euphoric experience. They are surprised that I laugh and cry and love and hate. They ask me about my carnal exploits (as the prevailing logic is that any immortal will eventually become bisexual). I share as much as I can, and when they are done hearing about me, I ask about them. I ask about their families and mortgages and their hope of one day hopping a transport to some sunny resort a few thousand kilometres away if they have the money. I ask about all the mundane things that they think capsuleers are above of.

Almost always, as the shop is closing and I have a small crowd around me or rapt conversationalists, I ask why they think I am so different from them. They say it is because I can’t die. I tell them most capsuleers have forgotten how to live, but not I. Does a meal taste no less delicious if it is the hundredth time you eat it? Indeed, it tastes all the better. Why is that? The reality is that the experiences that make life worth living, especially the “mundane” ones, are what makes us human, and become more detailed and special to our fabric the more we experience them because we share them. We share with others, ourselves, the past, present and future. A lot of capsuleers forget how to do that. People think that makes us gods, but all we are is lost. So I sit on patios, sip brew and talk to people. I do everything I can in my life to make my immortality mean something, and never forget that life is for living, not dying.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a refill.


~ by psychediver on 10/13/2010.

2 Responses to “(IC) Patio Breeze”

  1. Very nice


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