Through the Window

It’s 9 a.m. and I’m sitting in a computer room with air conditioning blowing in my eyes. It finally stopped raining.

A small blue van arrives and stops accross the street from the building where I’m sitting. Three men step out. One man is about sixty years old, the other two are around twenty-five. One of the two younger men opens the back of the van and pulls out three sticks. When I look more closely these sticks turn out to be scrapers.

They sit down for a minute. One pulls a big bottle from his jacket, pours some of its contents into a platic cup and hands it to the older man. The older man tries to find something in his pockets. After a minute he pulls out a little box with pills. He puts one in his mouth and tries to swallow it using the contents of the cup, which I now assume, is water.

All three of them grab their scrapers and start poking into the ground. Poke. Poke. Poke.

I turn my head from the window to my computer screen. Somebody else enters the room I’m working in. He greets me; sits down; opens up his suit case; gets his laptop out; opens it and boots it. After three minutes he starts typing.

My screen is still empty.

I look outside. The three men are still there. One has put a jacket on by now. They’re still poking. One bows, pulls and ends up with a hand full of weed. He throws it away and continues scraping. Two ducks tottle towards the scraping men. They sit down and start looking at them. The men continue scraping and poking.

“Are we done here?” one of the younger boys asks the older man, “Not at all, there’s still a lot of junk there and there.” They continue scraping.

The ducks look bored. They stand up and wander accross the street. One looks at me through the window. I look back. They turn around and walk towards the pond. A minute later I see both of them are swiming in it.

I look at the three men. They’re still poking. I look at my computer screen. Still empty. I decide it’s time to fix the life-cycle model of Archium’s runtime environment. First step in that process is to find out what that even means.

I start reading the incomprehensible pile of paper lying in front of me. By noon I get something to eat and walk around the building to clear my head. The three men are still scraping and poking.

I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to understand the poorly documented beast that is Archium. I write down some remarks in the margin.

At four in the afternoon the three men pack up their things and walk towards the blue van. They look satisfied. The green accross the street looks very neat.

At five I leave the computer room I’ve been sitting in the whole day, with barely any results but a head ache.

How did you change the world today?