What If? :: A Parallelistic, Totally Contradictory Account On the Two Possible Realities of A Single Choice that I Made At Some Random Point Within My Day.

There are an infinite number of consequences to the countless choices you make amongst your day. In the end, there are only two options to the basic question; yes or no. You either do it or you don’t. In reality, whatever you choose will have a result of its own, and you will not experience the same circumstances as one whom may have chosen differently. You will never know the other side of the question once you have chosen your answer. That is why people always use the wise-worded phrase, “choose carefully”.

But what if you could know the parallel reflex sequence of your very actions, before you even carried them out? What if you could bear witness to the counteractive nature of a decision; see for yourself what the opposition had in mind? What if you were given the answer to every breaking question; the answer simply lying in your two-faced perception by which permitted you to experience both prospects endowed by a made choice, defying the principal that one cause has one effect. And if you are not pleased by the outcome, the alternative choice remain at your service. Who wouldn’t choose the “what if” scenario granting you the power to make the right decision every time? After all, a single choice possesses the power to direct what happens next.

The following depicts a world that grants two possible futures that purely depend on each of the two sides of a choice. In the real world, time would never allow of this phenomenon to take place. On the contrary…

 

Scenario 1 :: [real life]

Date: sometime in August

Time: 9:27 pm


Dear WIC (What If Column),

Today I was crossed by a very deceiving decision. There was this new ice cream shop that opened up in Downtown  this morning called “Cherry-On-Top”; named by it’s manufacturer, Jerry. I’m sure that among his search for the name that brands his shop, he was faced with the misfortune of not being able to replace the word “cherry” with his own name to incorporate himself into the title of his creation, seeing as that would be an inappropriately deceiving name for a company. Anyways, I made plans to go for sure after work. But that changed by the end of the day.

I was assigned a bunch of additional paperwork due by the late hour of closing time, 6pm. I was originally suppose to get off at 4 but that was no longer a possibility. I wanted to leave for COT’s a little bit earlier than when work allowed; since COT’s just opened up, I anticipated there would certainly be a lineup.

I had anticipated correctly. The line ran around the entire block and a little into a local neighborhood! There were people snacking while seated on foldable chairs, as though waiting to be let into a stadium for a concert. I contemplated whether or not to join the endless conga line; was it really that worth it? I figured it must’ve been if there was that much of a lineup for something as available as fast food. So I claimed my place at the very back of the landscape-bound skyscraper.

2 hours later…

My knees were buckling, my posture felt faked as though I had to actually try in order to stand up straight. I scavenged the single-filed crowd before me for a distraction from the causeless pain. I noticed something peculiar. There was a blind man. He was feeling the sidewalk barely even a centimeter ahead of him with the tip of a white feeler stick. I assumed he was refraining from reaching too far and risking poking someone from behind. And then I noticed something even more peculiar. At approximately every five-minute interval, groups of two to three people were peeling off the line from behind him and replacing themselves in the line directly in front of him.

He was obviously helpless in this situation. And how I despised those despicable civilians for taking advantage of the man’s imparity. But I can’t say that-for at least a split second-I didn’t consider budging the man myself. The line was barely moving, and it brought out the worst in people. Especially the people that had arrived even later to me; if I didn’t move for so much as a second when the person before me had stepped forward just a bit, the impatient couple preceding behind me in the line would either say it to my face to “move up!”-because I was the one clearly holding up the line-or otherwise, they would intentionally clear their throat very loudly and aggressively.

I hated the experience that came before the reward. But I wasn’t about to throw away my moral humanity over a huge lineup that happened to have stood between me and what I wanted.

Scenario 1 :: [what if]

Date: sometime in August

Time: 9:27 pm


Dear WIC,

I budged a blind man in a lineup today. Before all you readers go ahead and judge me, I must say the lineup was endless-a 3-hour wait was all that stood between me and COT’s critically-appraised ice cream! I don’t know why I did it, I just knew I had to. The act cut me 1 and a half hours from what would’ve otherwise been a 3-hour long waste of time. I mean, the man still got his ice cream-I presume. Although, when I left after redeeming my wrongfully-earned reward, the lineup had barely changed. I guess I influenced others to budge him as well. In that case, he was never going to get his ice cream. But I wasn’t the one who initiated the budging method, it was an impatient gang of teenage boys whom, prior to budging the blind man, had actually originally stood well behind me in the line.

I would normally never resort to such a petty crime such as taking advantage of a civilian’s disability. However, my legs were buckling after an extended shift at work, and my stance was killing me. The pain was getting worse by the unbearable hour for which I had been waiting in line for. This is no excuse, I am well aware of that, but I wasn’t a lone criminal today. There were others before me, and I took on after them.

I don’t know how to feel about this, but it sure effected the happiness I was suppose to feel when finally attaining my long-awaited reward.

tumblr_mlav4ow6fa1s5jjtzo1_500

 

 

Skip to toolbar