It was a lazy morning and Whitford City was all but deserted. Whitford City is a shopping centre which in my mind accompanies the jingle “We whit-ford city on rock and roll,” purely because of its unimpressive nature. The only thing open was McDonalds, where I was heading for the usual wake-me-up of rubber muffin and water-ocino.
Some mornings I go there to bathe in the quiet before the storm of onrushing shoppers - the inevitable stampede of that strange species blessed with a glint in their eye for objects of possession. In this quiet state of desertion, when it’s too early for the suction-rich tentacles of consumerism to have yet reached in to gobble up their breakfast, one has the space to allow his mind to receive a distinct thing: unclamoured thought.
But on this particular morning, despite the usual calm, I could feel a distinct buzz of anticipation. As I turned the corner towards the long corridor to the Centre of hunger salvation and the Provider of the economy (McDonalds), I noticed a male-dominated cue in single file, stretching the length of the mall. They were an ecclectic lot, appearing individually unruly, but at a general glance, arrayed as a perfect chain which at each moment accepted a new link at its terminus. They were young and somewhat dishevelled, but in their stance they promised to abide by the law of the land. I did not see one exchange a word. As I progressed further down the corridor, I saw the reason for their order - four security guards who pulled the short straw, having been sent in as reinforcements this morning.
“What’s going on here?” I asked one of the guards, who was taken aback by the unexpected need to exude words from his mouth so early in the day.
“Video game release - Warkraft,” said the gentle giant. I could feel the creeks in his musculature as he forced the day’s first smile onto his face.
“Ah, it all make sense,” I thought. This time as I gazed back over the chain, I could see its individual links, which included:
1 - A short adolescent with a crop cut and long black cloak, undoubtedly hiding his pyjamas.
2 - A jolly taller fellow with brown silky hair to the waist, sporting a drooped stance and a fuzzy goatee around a bright smile, a smile of recognition that said “now you understand why we have braved the world at this ungodly hour, for the love of something that usually has us sleeping in at hours like this.” I understood perfectly, there was no need for words as we exchanged glances. In his smile, he showed the cheek of assuming that we both knew, which we did, the silliness of this important pursuit.
3 - A pretty young Eurasian who looked like she stepped out of a Gwen Stefani video clip - about 3 days ago, not having showered since. Her hair was such a rich black it looked like it had been highlighted with mascara.
I glanced past the quota of 3 shoppers at a time making their anticipated purchase, and looked back to see a yet longer chain.
Returning to my journey, I glumly traversed the remaining corridor to the promised land of Golden Arches. What a sad reality that we should awake from a state of perpetual slumber content with a life all too sullied by news of war and disease, for the promise of the new Warkraft? (I take the liberty of spelling it with a “k” only by assumption that a game by that name must needs be misspelt and conjoined, though I could be wrong, having never heard of it.)
I wondered if there will still be war when our generation one day assume the power of governance. Do we leave much promise when our greatest hobbies and obsessions focus in on pleasure in imbecilic games of warfare and the nuances of violence?
In these obsessions do we rob the future of peace and tranquillity? Would we not be better focusing our time and energy on more moderate pursuits? It was at this moment of clarity that this lazy morning got me thinking: Peacekraft… Now there’s an idea.
P.S. Dear reader, sorry to mislead you if you thought this posting would be about Kraft cheese or mayonnaise.