Things That Don’t Exist

There’s a machine sitting somewhere inside a giant factory. And, that factory is located in a part of the world

that doesn’t exist

for any of us.

Which is to say…we know this place exists in theory because we’re logical human beings, and, we know that it has to

exist.

We know

there are people and buildings and cars and traffic lights in this place. We know there is a mayor and a public library and a man who goes to the same deli every morning to get the same cup of coffee as he takes the same route to work. Of course,

all of these things are nothing more than a statement of what has to exist anywhere.

The place that doesn’t exist is generic. And, universal.

But, the machine that doesn’t exist could be much more specific.

Even though it doesn’t exist, this machine does something.

It could do something wonderful or incredible or something we couldn’t possibly fathom.

But, this machine, this specific machine, is actually one of the last steps in the assembly line at the Starburst factory. This machine takes the processed, artificial, fabricated goo, and molds it

into the tight squares of sweetness that stick to your teeth after you remove the paper wrapper and pop the candy into your mouth. It molds the goo into squares because a circle just wouldn’t do (neither would a rectangle or a triangle).

It molds these squares for minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years on end.

Working and humming and churning and separating and manipulating and emitting.

It does these things without complaint.

A marvel of consistency and a monument to ignorance.

The people who work with this machine might as well live on Mars. If we ever met these people, they would probably tell us that the machine is gigantic and extremely loud and perhaps even a bit dour.

But,

of course,

we’ll never talk to these people about that machine.

Because we don’t know these people and we don’t think about that machine.

The reason we don’t think about that machine is because we can’t. Because, considering that machine is insane and useless and pointless and slightly maddening.

Because, that machine, just like the place in which it resides, doesn’t really exist. Or, does it?