THE COMPLEX - DEVASHISH

It is day and the sun shines down, hot, onto the neighborhood. But even under the brightest of lights the complex is a fractal of itself. It was a layout with a network of lanes, the kind of structure they preferred these days which was quite unlike back then when they built as and where they went (to conquer). Now they planned out space in order to optimize it. Maps started looking like mazes and shortly everything looked all the same.
People began to get lost. There were no landmarks.
I don’t know where I am. I don’t know where I’m going? Should I turn left or go straight? Should I follow the man before me or should I follow my own instincts? I don’t know where I’m headed and it unnerves me. I have never felt this feeling before. Nobody recognizes me, takes any notice, or pays heed to me. Where have I come to?
She walks with her head high; her pointy shoes cut people out of her way as she walks towards her car. The address is on the paper that 3.3 had given her in her hand for her regular site visit.

She drives through the crowded streets further away from her office, which she yearns to get back to. Piles of uncategorized projects lie in her cabinet which 3.2 was quick to say he’d take care of. The papers that 3 had to file were still not on her table when she left.

“He should pray to god he gets them there.“
She was the end-all of the company. She’d made her way up as high as anyone could’ve hoped to. She’d always known what she was doing and what she wanted no matter who those pointy shoes had to impale. It was her confidence, and that skirt that winked its way past everyone. She walked through the office as though she owned everyone in it. People around her were all lesser than the standard, with an opinion and a say that she governed. Where had she come from? Who helped her establish such authority? They did… or at least to some extent.
She pulls over at the entrance to what seems to be a residential complex. She removes her sunglasses and perches them high on her head. Her eyes study the space for a minute as though they were mapping her next move through this unfamiliar territory. She gets out of the car.

There are people walking about in front of her. Each of them walks a few steps and stops. They look around, left, right, and then at their feet. They scratch their heads, mutter to themselves and look at other people around them helplessly. They are sweaty, clumsy and unsure.

She moves out into the complex, the address in her hand she walks down the road. House number 55, 56, 57, 58…. She needed number 62. She turns right as the road curves. House number 59, 60, 61, 55, 56, 57, 58… and she’s back to where she started.

She can see her car parked outside the entrance. She looks around at the other people. A man walks by her in a yellow shirt. “Hey you! In the yellow…” She calls out but he pays no attention. “HEY!” He almost looks back at her. A fat man walks out from the neighboring lane all sweaty and frantic. His lower lip is quivering. She goes to him but he doesn’t see her either. She snaps her fingers in his face but he continues to look bewildered.
“Excuse me..” she says and suddenly his eyes fix upon hers.
She stumbles.
They are the most brilliant green. He suddenly looks calmer.
He asks her “Could you be (he pauses) …ever so kind as to (pauses gain) …help me find a certain house number 57?”
“Yes” she answers uncertainly. “It’s back that way.”
“Oh, alright.” ,“Thank you… umm… very much” and with that he scratches his head and walks off to where her hand was still pointed.

But what was she supposed to do now? Should she follow the person in front of her or her own instincts? She didn’t know where she was headed and it unnerved her. She had never felt this before. Nobody recognized her or took any notice. Where had she come to?
And why were there no landmarks?!

Something she could name more than just numbers.

What was this place? Every house looked the same? Everybody looked at the houses that looked the same and soon the numbers, the roads, the people, the houses and the entire landscape seemed to be boxing her in. Her head began to swoon under the scorching sun and the sweat got into her eyes and blurred her vision. The houses began to move and soon the entire neighborhood seemed to have repositioned itself.
Everybody reacted the same way around her. “Help us, please!” they cried. And through the sweat and the tears and the people she saw her car but it seemed to have lost its shine. She ambled toward it. Fumbled with the keys. Opened the car door and drove off.

She tries to take her mind off her experience as she drives.
“Think about work” she tells herself.
“Think about the files on your table!
Think about who was supposed to have the projects in your cabinet filed and ready…
Think about him.
Think about 3 point… 3 point… 3 point who?!
WHAT IS HIS NAME?!


AVY COMMENTS:
This story also has the possibility of becoming a great sci-fi story dealing with both memory (landmarks) and their juxtapositioning/relationship with outer landmarks.
Push it into that space.
There are contradictions within your narrative. The plot is there but you have to flesh it out.
There is a need for some sort of history as to the need for and creation of such a landscape without landmarks. But it raises too many questions – do people ever venture out for fear of losing themselves? What sort of people venture out? Why did she have to get into this mess? What was she looking for? Who runs these landscapes/housing colonies? What do they get out of all this? Etc etc.
Flesh it all out – your story is there and is ready to be revealed – work on it. Memory, mnemonics, control through flattened landscapes – etc – these are the elements of your tale. Work it out.