Location: Downtown | Plaza Date: Sunday, August 12th Time: 4:17 PM ((closed to @caseyhxndrix))
The better part of 10 years was a long time to go without a television - in the age of the millennial, the technologically savvy, the social media addicted, it was all but unheard of. But the desert hadn’t afforded much in the way of technology, and what they had was used sparingly, fraught with warnings of dependence that wouldn’t be sustainable when the world took a nosedive and there’d be no other option but to go without.
But even when he’d had the opportunity to watch, presented with things like TV and convenience stores and free time, Sterling had been wary of them like mirages, false hopes that were as dangerous as they were tempting. There were other things that needed to be done, always. Sitting still for hours on end without anything to show for it felt like a cardinal sin committed against the church of preparation where he’d been indoctrinated - fed the communion of filtered information, taught hymns of productivity, prayed over with the words of the afraid, blessed for his seriousness when he should have been carefree.
It was still a mentality he was unlearning, and maybe he’d eventually do that where that process could be seen, but... not yet. So he dodged or ignored questions, if they ever arose, about where he went on Sunday afternoons, and made his way to the movie theater downtown, buying a single ticket for whatever outdated movie they were playing for re-run night.
He’d made his way through a series of terrible 80′s movies at the end of last season before returning home for the summer, where he’d tried to adjust to the convenience of Netflix. But trying to watch something at home had proven impossible, too many distractions and opportunities everywhere he looked, and, lacking the rationale that he’d at least paid for the experience, had gotten up and walked away through several movies before giving up on the endeavor entirely. He’d missed the ritual of it, the isolation and the sureness with which the huge screen and encapsulating audio commanded his attention and wouldn’t permit him to think about anything else for a while.
So heedless of any familiar observers, he bought a ticket for Toy Story at the window and headed into the building. It wasn’t unlike coming back to a friend’s house after a long time away - if he’d known to compare the two - as the familiar carpet and poster displays welcomed him with colors and shapes and brightness he’d thought so garish and hedonistic on his first few visits. Armed with the largest water bottle the concession offered, he slipped into the dim theater.
