Dan Sandman

#28 The First Men in the Moon

In Autobiography, Books, Comedy, Fiction, Non-Fiction, Science Fiction on 07/07/2017 at 12:00 pm

#28 The First Men in the MoonI was in Keats Library, working on a particularly difficult passage of my journal, when the lights went out again. I asked the elderly lady to put the lights back on and she did. My mistake, the trap I set for myself, was to say I wear glasses and then proceed to read without them on.

“Look. He’s not even wearing glasses.”

I stood up, waving my H. G. Wells novel at her.

“I’m short-sighted, that’s why I’m not wearing my glasses. When you keep turning the light off I have to adjust where to look. See. You can’t just keep turning the light on and off all the time. If you want the light off, you need to ask the staff or the volunteers. Or we should ask the people of the library what they want. Get them to take a vote. Most of them would probably want the light on. Especially if they’re trying to read.”

I looked around for support.

“What do you want? Do you want the light on?”

Sitting between us was another Tuesday regular. The guy who looks at graphs on his laptop and goes outside to answer his mobile every now and then.

“I just want what makes her happy. She’s an old lady. We’re contemporaries.”

“We’re not contemporaries.”

“We’re from the same generation. She’s my grandmother’s age. I want whatever will make her happy. We should do what we can to help her.”

“But I do usually help her. And age has nothing to with it. A moment ago, an old man was reading the paper and he wanted the light on because he was reading. It’s about whether people want the light on or off. Either we have it completely on or completely off.”

I looked around at the other people on their laptops. The lights gleamed down upon my forehead. Sensing my retreat, my opponent attacked.

“Well, I would like the lights off.” She said.

“Okay. Actually, I don’t mind whether they’re on or off. As long as its always on or always off.”

“I’ve had cataracts.”

“Eyesight has nothing to do with it.”

“The light makes the computer glare. I want the lights off.”

“It’s the changing of the light that bothers people. Makes them them loose concentration.”

“It’s better without the glare.”

And there it was, the comedy of the situation. Like the clicking of the light-switch itself, a verbal jostle between positive and negative polarities. Faces remained buried in laptops and I walked back to my seat. All the nice old lady wanted was attention and this was her way of getting it. I could see why I had lost control. It was the snide comment about the glasses that had set me off, in this war of the library lights. We either make her happy or we don’t make her happy. Either way, no work gets done when the peace is broken.

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