I feel grateful for living in an era of not needing me to manually start a fire by myself, though the gratefulness turn sour because I don't have the innate knowledge and the drive to start one, even though the fire is an important aspect of life.
Humanity should be grateful for the discovery of fire. Cavemen get sturdier for eating cooked meat, healthier in keeping them warm from winter, safer on the night full of predators and smarter when they have the time to think and tinker new technology to improve their lives.
Though fire may be considered as the true Forbidden since once you apply the fruit for yourself, it gives excuses for humans to consume in order to obtain more, burn down civilizations to gain power and eventually, create a timeline where people are stuck in a twisted experiment like me.
These are my thoughts, like fire burning from a source, flames reaching wildly to different winds, futilely spreading their influence until the source inevitably gone out of energy to sustain them.
Kind of like life huh? Like what am I doing right now?
I have done fully filling up the petrol, the caravan is in tip-top condition and I have set the next area for the auto-drive system. But I do not drive right now, because the fire is still burning and I do not think it is the best idea to leave it be, and I'm just too physically and mentally tired to drive for this day. So I plan to take my first rest in this weird, artificial, educational and ultimately lonely place.
As I decide on it, I realize I might have stink after painting and burning, not to mention having my clothes be dirtied. So I take off my clothes, shirt & pants neatly folded to the tabletop and quickly run to the area that is under the picture of a shower head pouring out water.
I ought to be shameful for running out naked, but without anybody to criticize or warn my indecency, I think I am able to have the luxury of not caring for now.
The shower area though is plain, as I can see under 5 things in my own two eyes, there consists a showerhead, just one switch and fortunately, a tower for modesty. I'm surprised the place is generous enough to give me one.
When I turn on the shower head and let the water flow through me, I feel I am in bliss. The water, with every warm sprinkle tickling my skin, gets me to sigh pleasurably again and again. It's too bad there's no shampoo to make some bubbles to play with, as I would try to make myself zestfully clean, towel rubbing all over me in confidence after the playtime if over. Alas, I have to settle for covering my lower part with the towel after I dry off. Without any other clothing with me when I come here, I intend this place won't be stingy enough to not give me the one for the rest of my journey.
At first, I want to sleep inside the caravan and try out the bed, the burning fire looked afar gives me second thoughts. So carrying 2 containers full of cookies from the tabletop, I am going to celebrate my arrival in this place by having a makeshift camping party...for one.
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The party for one is as short as consuming a jar of bland chocolate cookie, I don't really need it, and the promised benefits of improving my motivation end up being depressing. I have my fill of conversing with my mind for today, I already sang what I want without any filter at all, I can't even share this ridiculously plain cookie whose only trait is being edible to other gullible lemmings who like cookies or share that this fire burning in the campfire right now is made by me. Partially made by me as I did half of the hard work.
But then again, if this party has actual humans participating in this, I bet I won't be actively joining anybody for a chat and let someone else handle the mood of the party go with better food, drinks, games, actual wildlife and fire.
There will at least be barbeque, not uninspiring bits that should not be labeled as cookies; lemonade, not water filled in the container at an inspiring minute; playing charades or telling stories, not making songs with illogical word plotting; being embarrassed to go to a woods to do your business, not have an convenient toilet without anybody caring you having too much water when you find your first water source, fire instantly made from scratch, not trying to start fire using flint again, while the fire is still going on.
I justify myself that I need the knife and if I want to prevent the weird, mechanical trees from beeping I have to do this. The bigger reason though is because I don't believe making fire from flint is as hard as those ladies on television claimed.
I hack the flint with the knife for a period of time, being impatient I read the pamphlet again. Realize what a fool I am after I look at the picture, I resume the fire making by almost slicing down the flint, where the ember is almost visible for the first time. Taking another while, I manage to gather enough amber to the cloth to start a fire to the hay ball, and the rest is quick history.
Throwing the ball of fire to the already burning circle, the last event for the party is officially over, addressing no one in particular. Sweat, already showing from being close to the bonfire, has overflow my body again, wasting my time at the shower. Though this time I'm definitely tired, but happy for my work. I have made fire without matches.
Wiping off the sweat with my towel and gulping down the water, I reach the tent and sleep for the first time in this place.
When I wake up the next day, the proud fire reduced to ashes, I realize it is a horrible decision in my part.
When you sleep hours on a relatively hard floor without a blanket or even any upper clothing in a foreign place, leaving your keys to the caravan unattended, knife placed beside the fire and generally being careless without really knowing the rules, having your neck hurt as your biggest issue is easily one of the softest punishments you can get in this world.
Aside from having a dream that yanks you out of familiar comfort.