THE MAKERS
It is said that in the future there are no beaches or rivers and human labour will have no use or value. In anticipation of that time the androids will direct all humans to the task of the most enduring and fulfilling work.
Some of us are set with little hammers with which to smash large rocks into stones.
Some of us sort those stones by size.
Some of us roll those rough stones on the floor with our hands, simulating a century of surf or rushing spring melt. Others of us sort those resulting pebbles by size and colour.
No one knows of anything but their own task: not why they themselves are there, not of the whereabouts of any others, not from where their material comes nor where it goes, and not of their materials' ultimate purpose.
And with such lasting and meaningful work who could possibly care?
