"Wishes" - an exercise in creative writing from the recesses of a 27-year old mind in the year 1999!

I dread those times, when even the ringing of the phone sends me off into downward subjective spirals. Spirals of longing that lead to the land of unfulfilled wishes. It might or might not always have been like this, the process of acquiring self-awareness can be a long one, and I am still relatively young. I sit in silence nowadays, patiently accepting what the visitors throw down for me, scraps of long forgotten delicacies, and the rotten fruit and vegetables and stones that stain my now gruesome features and leave scars that only I notice for I have so many already.

But I was youthful and joyous once, with the vision of a perfect, unspoiled world gradually formulating itself in my head. I knew my family and friends, and was at one with all that constituted my little universe. I was of course a child then, strong-willed, agile and sharp, without the cynicism and bad habits of adulthood. I was ignorant of technology and the way it embellishes life and hides the cruelty that lies at its core. I had simplicity and satisfaction, and now, with my useless retrospective vision, I would gladly inform my younger self that that was all I would ever need, all I would ever want from life. The younger me would never have listened of course, for how can the fire of curiosity and headstrong ambition ever be extinguished by a few drops of mature, post-cynical advice? Life had no end then and I was infallible.

And so when it came, I jumped eagerly at the opportunity and auditioned for the part. Five children from the entire land, vetted and selected to be the most refined, the cleverest and the most powerful. We were the ones to be given the overview, to be shown the master-plan from above, the all-encompassing vision infinitely superior to the view from the ground - which saw no more than the immediate moment, the surrounding houses, the narrow congested lanes of mediocrity. We were chosen to rule and control, to perceive everything, to implement the vision at any cost.

What splendour for such a small price I thought at the time, a little tap-tapping at my brain by the wizards of technology, a minor readjustment of the essence of me; a restructuring, they said- dollops of sugar concealing the poison beneath. A minor operation and the world would be mine, all mine, they said. And I believed them in my vigour, because I wanted to and because I was hungry for what they promised and perhaps too lazy to look for it on my own. How can one know the outcome at the very outset? I who was so sure of myself and my little universe felt that I could meet every challenge and thrust aside any sword that might be pointed in my direction. And I lived the illusion for a while, crawling through the tunnels of power until it was too late, I had worn myself out for a lost cause and began to realize what I had given up in the process.

Yes I have had plenty of time to regret all that now, years of sitting in my cage, silent and unassuming; ears sensing the jeers and crude comments and horrified reactions of those who behold the likes of us for the first time; eyes in half closed slits watching the mob I had so despised in youth, as they point and aim and gesticulate excitedly to one another. Ours is a strange society, laypeople here are allowed but one brief glimpse of former rulers in their lifetimes, and they are at complete liberty to express fear and hatred of authority in any way they wish.

I no longer despise them now, but oh how I envy them their simplicity. Instead of scattered individuals blindly groping their way through life, I see families in happy units; couples holding hands and hopelessly promising each other the earth, the world that I once wielded so much power over. They are my only comfort now, those innocent contented folk, my final contact with normality before the telephone rings once more and the order comes to lock me away in the dark forever.