Welcome to a world of zealous civility...
Polite Conversation at a Bus Stop
Haven Garnett stood at the bus
stop, waiting to catch a ride home. It was a cool December evening, threatening
to drop below 80°, and he was alone.
A sharp sound drew his
attention—the clicking of heels on concrete. A figure, wrapped in a thick coat,
with a warm, open face, sat on the bench and pulled out an Easy Polite
Communication device. It was sleek and rectangular, and emitted a cheery chime
as it booted up.
Haven pulled out his own EzPC and
turned it on. Data flashed across the screen—everything he would need to ensure
his conversation with his fellow human would be cordial and civilized. It was a
mystery to him how anyone managed to communicate before the Conversation
Standardization Act of 2042 and formation of the Tolerance Office of Fairness
and Respect. His grandfather told him of those dark times—people saying all
sorts of things to each other without any consideration to how anyone felt! What
unenlightened times those must have been.
The person sitting smiled at him
using the Standard Smile—no teeth, only the corners of the mouth turned up—as
their devices synced. “Greetings, individual. May I engage you in conversation?”
Haven Standard Smiled back. “Yes,
you may. Thank you for your sensitivity.” He glanced at his EzPC. It was
unusually slow today, probably those uncultured hackers negatively affecting the
system to make polite conversation difficult.
So while he waited, he pulled another
greeting out from memory—one of many drilled into him during his schooling, “I
call myself Haven Garnett. May I wish you a pleasant near-the-end-of-the-Gregorian-calendar-year
holiday celebration of your personal preference, or perhaps a pleasant normal
day should you decide not to partake in any specific celebration?”
“You may, Haven Garnett. I
appreciate your pleasantry. I call myself Poppy Cater.” Poppy brushed Poppy’s
hair back, adjusting the Trigger Guard—a small headband with two plastic disks
just above each of Poppy’s ears. It was the same model Haven, and indeed most
of the civilized world, wore at almost all times. “And may I also wish you a pleasant
near-the-end-of-the-Gregorian-calendar-year holiday celebration of your
personal preference, or perhaps a pleasant normal day should you decide not to
partake in any specific celebration?”
“You may, Poppy Cater. I
appreciate your pleasantry.” A soft bong
announced the completion of their EzPC sync. Poppy Cater’s information appeared
onscreen.
Identifies as 33-year-old, single, heterosexual female. Preferred
pronoun: she/her. Identifies as a Monday Buddhist. Identifies as Greek-French American.
Triggers include: dogs, divorce, frowns, cacti, knights, winking, awkward pauses
in conversation, Gouda cheese, and the word “hypoallergenic.” Haven was
very glad to have filled the silence before. How cruel he would have been had
he waited to speak!
Looking up from her screen,
Poppy considered him with a Safe Face—her expression carefully blank—and seemed
to settle on a topic. “I personally enjoy this weather as it currently is. May
I ask your opinion on our current weather?”
Small talk, delightful. Haven
welcomed it after the horrible day he’d had. During the midday meal break, a fellow
equally-important-worker had so rudely asked how someone was without asking for permission! And oh
how everyone squirmed! The askee had answered the equally-important-worker’s question,
but the pain still showed in the their eyes. Even though the
equally-important-worker apologized for being so insensitive, the scene still
made Haven sick.
“You may,” Haven said. “I have a
preference for warmer weather, but I respect your decision to enjoy the weather
as it is now, Poppy Cater.”
“And I respect your opinion as
well, Haven Garnett.”
Out of the corner of his eye,
Haven spotted someone approach. The individual appeared male, but his EzPC informed
him the human identified as multiple people. “Respectful greetings,
collective,” Haven said as the persons passed.
The collective Standard Smiled.
“And to you as well,” they paused to check their EzPC, “good sir.”
When the community of one had
past, Haven noticed Poppy fidgeting, so he resumed the conversation. “May I ask
how your day was, Poppy Cater?”
She looked up at him gratefully.
“You may. It was pleasant. I did some cloud watching with one of my
employees-of-equal-status. That person was corrected by another individual on
the pronunciation of the word ‘encyclopedia,’ so I inquired if that person wanted
to leave the negative space…”
Haven raised his hand and waited
until Poppy stopped talking and gestured to him with both hands held palm up
before her—so that he knew she acknowledged and accepted his desire to speak.
“Thank you for allowing my
interruption. I apologize for it, but I express my condolences to you and your
employee-of-equal-status for the trauma of experiencing such an event. An event
similar to yours occurred with me today. I am still feeling unpleasant from
that experience.” He shook his head. “It is my opinion that there is no excuse
for such inconsiderate behavior. Was your employee-of-equal-status able to
enjoy your shared activity?”
“I express my condolences for
having to experience a similar trauma and agree with your well-thought-out
opinion. To answer your inquiry, yes, we both enjoyed our shared activity. We
saw some animals that elicited a pleasant state of mind for us both. We saw…”
She glanced at the EzPC, likely checking his triggers to avoid causing an
incident. When she set the device down, she continued, “We saw a Giraffa camelopardalis. A pod of Delphinus delphis. And a pride of Panthera Leo.”
“That sounds like an enjoyable
activity. I am pleased to hear your employee-of-equal-status was able to enjoy
their experience after being victimized like that.”
“Yes, I am also pleased. That
individual has much courage to keep a polite front after a Civilized Discourse
Breach until they were able to find an Expression Room to let out their pain
and then to be able to recover after only five hours. I gave that individual a
Bravery Medal.”
“That individual deserves it. May
I ask who committed the breach?”
Tears formed in Poppy’s eyes as
she appeared to recall the traumatic event.
Haven felt awful, he had not
meant to trigger her. “I am sorry. I did not mean to cause you distress.”
“It is okay, Haven Garnett. I
appreciate your sensitivity. It is still fresh for me.” After pulling a tissue
from her purse and dabbing her eyes, Poppy answered his question. “They were an
individual-of-greater-life-experience, born in the late 1990s. I understand that
sometimes it is difficult for them to communicate sensitively, but that does
not excuse their behavior. They should know better, in my opinion. It creates
distress in me when they try to hide their rudeness by saying things like, ‘I
wasn’t trying to be mean,’ or ‘I was just trying to help.’ It’s like they don’t know what they say is far more important than
what they intend to say.”
Although he wanted to do
something to alleviate Poppy’s pain, Haven didn’t want her to think he thought she
was incapable of taking care of herself. “I hear you and respect your opinion.
It is a valid one, which I also agree with. That there are still people out
there who think they aren’t doing anything wrong because they aren’t meaning
for their words to be hurtful…it speaks to the culture of insensitivity those
individuals grew up in.” Haven’s stomach heaved, his voice grew tight. “Excuse
me. This subject is triggering me. May we move on?”
“Yes, thank you for voicing your
distress. I apologize for having this conversation move into a place you don’t
feel safe in. We no longer need to discuss this, should you desire to move on
to another topic of your choosing.”
“I appreciate your willingness
to help me avoid discomfort.”
Before Haven could find a new
topic, he noticed an individual-of-less-life-experience cross the street. His
device informed him the person—Hashtag Umscheid—was nine, and identified as
male.
When Hashtag sat beside Poppy on
the bench, she turned to him and said, “Well hello
young-but-still-just-as-important-as-anyone-else individual, may I inquire as
to your current state of mind?”
“Happy,” was all he said. He
didn’t pass the conversation ball back to Poppy.
This made Haven uneasy, and it
appeared to do the same to Poppy. Did this kid have no manners? But he was a
child, and, as everyone knew, society needed to ensure such delicate minds were
sheltered from discomfort, lest that emotional trauma scar them for the rest of
their lives.
As a result, Haven was kind. “And
may I inquire as to why you are in a pleasant state of mind?”
The kid looked up at him.
Something about his eyes looked mischievous, almost impish. “Well,” he said, tone
polite, “because it’s…Christmas.”
Haven and Poppy gasped and leapt
back.
A wailing siren pierced the air.
Ear covers flipped down from Haven’s and Poppy’s Trigger Guards. From the
earpieces, and the speakers mounted on every corner, a polite, androgynous
voice called out, “Trigger detected. Please head for the nearest Secure Among
Friends Enclosure. A violation of the Public Civility has occurred. You will be
informed when the vicinity has been cleansed of triggers.”
Poppy and Haven jogged toward a
large sign with glowing, open arms directing them to the closest Enclosure.
Tears fell from Poppy’s eyes, her face pale.
It felt as though Haven’s chest
were being crushed. It was hard to breathe.
As they stepped into the bunker
with dozens of other wide-eyed citizens, Haven took one last look back.
Hashtag was laughing. Then he spotted
Haven watching him and hurled something at him before making an obscene gesture.
That one finger was all Haven
could take. Something snapped. Tears stung his eyes. He couldn’t stop
hyperventilating. He felt lightheaded. His vision narrowed.
As he collapsed, the last thing
he saw before losing consciousness was a figurine of rotund, smiling, bearded
man dressed in red—and wondered who it was.
