My name is Nobody, and I reside in the city. Blazing lights and smoky alleyways and crashing noises. There isn't anybody who sees me. They brush right past me with their clicking heels and their screeching ringtones and the pretentiousness of the twenty-first century.
I walk alone, hands shoved into my pockets, staring at the passersby as they streamline past me. Their music is the call of the technological species, the laptops and iPhones and GPS that guide them. They are all so stranded in virtuality that they don't bother to resurface.
The same goes for the government. While officials sit on their bloated asses on Capitol Hill and watch children slice their arms and wound with words and die, they observe adults getting fired and lacking dental insurance and turning to cocaine. They laugh at the technology-driven world while they broadcast their filibusters and guzzle down their five dollar lattes and criticize the president for not doing things.
Elderly collapse in their nursing homes, and mothers give birth to stillborns, but still the days keep coming. Poor gay kids are left to die and toddlers are kidnapped and murderers receive the death penalty. Another abortion, another suicide, another kid who failed their algebra test, another bum forced to live with his parents. Another, another, another, another nobody.
The shit-faced gang gathers around a wasted and clueless party girl. A woman bends over and sobs over the filthy dishes in the sink.
Do you hear the call of your people? Because I hear the call of Nobody.
"The Call of Nobody" © 2013 Lyzzy Redd. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,, or transmitted, in any form or in any means - by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise - without prior written permission. Email firstname.lastname@example.org with any concerns.
The voice in the recording is me, Lyzzy Redd.