Edwin H. Lewis Fiction 1st Prize Mindfulness

Jessica Burrell

The machine in the middle of the town square didn’t look like a machine anymore. It looked like a hunk of metal that housed vines, shrubbery, and sharp flowers. The woman, Mindfulness, did not come within 10 feet of the machine if she could help it. She remembered its glory days.

Citizens of the town were forced to transit through the town square to shop, to pick up their children, to conduct their everyday business. That was the design of the state’s first in command — the government official who set the rules and regulations for every town. This state’s first in command was loud and brash, angrily reminding the people of the truths they already knew. Too many people, not enough food. Too many people, not enough clean water. Too many people, not enough supplies to house them. The second in command oversaw the implementation of policies and practices that aimed to combat these struggles. The second in command was soft spoken, but their apologetic demeanor did nothing to stop the unveiling of the Owls.

The Owls were a solution of sorts. Rather than removing one group of people from society — the poor, the old, or the criminal — the Owls picked their victims at random. Some protested that whatever coding and machinery went into the Owls couldn’t be randomized. A certain selection criteria had to be met, and those that fit the secret criteria were at more risk than others. It wasn’t fair, they cried. The government did not tolerate such claims.

Over the years, society conceded to the Owl machine. It seemed to truly select its targets at random. The girl could remember several faces that the Owl took: the shopkeeper, a young boy, a math teacher, one of the town’s oldest residents. It didn’t happen often, but if someone missed a lot of school or work, one could accurately assume that their family was adjusting to the death of a loved one.

It had been twelve years since the last death. Mindfulness didn’t know when or where, but she noticed people beginning to act as if the Owl was just an old town artifact. She saw teenagers dare each other to run up and touch it, or throw something at it. One morning, Mindfulness saw a worker scrubbing graffiti paint from the machine, wincing with every touch of his rag-covered hand against the medal. She was sick to her stomach, Who would be so reckless with the Owl and make someone else clean up their mess?

Mindfulness’s stomach flipped with confusion when she heard town residents complain about things they would never have dreamt of twelve years ago. Parents admonished their children for not perfecting their test scores. Employers gossiped about employees who took sick days. People in the shops complained about their food choices, some even putting the food to waste. Mindfulness couldn’t begin to understand the change in society. People used to come together to support each other. She pondered these thoughts as she wandered through the square. Life is so precious, she frowned, why do we choose to forget?

Mindfulness heard multiple voices cry out. She turned to see people flee as the Owl began to rotate its infamous head, snapping the vines and flowers that had grown there for over a decade. Its mechanical eyes blinked at the people in the town square. Mindfulness dropped her bag and opened her arms towards the machine. I have lived.