Ok, another week down and another group attended. It was good stuff, and I’ll post my prompts here.
For those unaware, I’m in a wheelchair owing to a cervical spinal injury. That will inform on the following. Enjoy!
Prompt 1: Have you ever had a random encounter with a stranger that stuck with you?
The interesting thing about being paralyzed is that, unlike many who live with various disabilities, mine is completely visible and obvious. It’s tough to hide the wheelchair, after all. Thus, every interaction, especially with strangers, has, at the very least, a huge elephant in the room. Usually though, my exchanges with strangers explicitly involves my disability.
When my wife doesn’t want to be approached, she dons a scowl so that people leave her alone. It works marvelously, and though she is genuinely a warm and friendly person, everyone around her believes the opposite. She hates talking to complete strangers, so this is a strategy she employs often. I, unfortunately, do not have this luxury.
A determined scowl, for me, is a magnet for attentive strangers. It is a constant barrage of “helpfulness” that is, usually and unintentionally, condescending and demoralizing. Sure, opening a door takes a few extra seconds for me, but that’s okay, I’m used to it. However, others who see me “struggling” cannot let it go, and rush to my aid. I once had a woman yell at a grown man to hold a door for me that I wasn’t even planning to use. Her reaction upon me saying that he doesn’t need to do that? “Yes he does, you need help.”
No, lady, I really don’t. And now I have to use that door so that I’m not wasting his time, wait a few minutes for you to clear out, then go back through it so that I can check my mail in the foyer. Also, that guy has Parkinson’s, so stop yelling at him. He’s got enough to deal with.
Prompt 2: Story featuring a character who is very like you.
“That’s an older model,” the tech said, nodding towards my chair. “Why not get one of the motorized jobs? Stop working so hard?”
“It ain’t that simple,” I said as I rolled past him.
“Well, whatever fills your tires, man,” he replied as he returned to his tablet.
The shop was always cluttered, but I managed alright. Hell, if I broke something because their aisles weren’t wide enough, that was on them. Of course, I went as carefully as I could. I knew the owner, and I didn’t want to break his merchandise.
I rolled around the back and found Jim of Jim’s Tech Ware. He nodded to me, but was helping someone out with a visor. It was last year’s hot new model, so it was already cheap and antiquated. Perfect thing for a guy like Jim to sell.
Jim finished up the sale, swiped the guy’s chip, and came back to me. “Whatchya got for me today, Stan?”
I smirked, and dropped my bag upside down on the table between us. As I pulled it back up, it left a battered can, taped over with alum-guard, about the size of a grapefruit. The can itself was hobbled together from several pieces of alum, but the power and video ports were gleaming and new. They were good stuff. I know, I installed them myself.
“Bit big for a handheld, and kinda small for anything better. What is it?” Jim turned it over in his hands, inspecting the aluminum seal. It was good, of course, but he didn’t want to fry the gear when he turned it on.
“Just jack it in and you’ll see,” I responded, smirk widening.
Jim shrugged, then lugged over a monitor and power supply. Two universal plugs later, and the boot sequence of the monitor scrolled. It flickered with the rhythmic pulse of the Essence, and the scrolling text went past faster than we could see because of it.
The text faded to black as the last few sequences completed, and an image of a face emerged. It was CGI, of course, and rough on the relatively low resolution of this bench monitor, but it was clear enough. Feminine, with a strong gaze. It spoke.
“Greetings, and welcome to Grandview Hospital. I am Minerva, and I’ll be glad to assist you. What seems to be the trouble?” the image said in a sweet soprano with a calculated calmness to her tone.
“Holy shit,” Jim whispered. “This real? How did you find one intact?”
“Got lucky. Happened to be scavving in this hospital, and found a crate with a lining warning. Lead, you know? Dangerous stuff, so they put the warning on all those boxes back in the day. Usually, I would just open it up and check it for PSUs and anything else still workable, but this one was small enough that I could tow it back to the abode.”
I leaned in, getting to the exciting bit. “I opened it in the workshop, and it turns out the lead is lining an aluminum case. Pure luck, this thing was 100% intact, and still running on a low power plant to save RAM.”