Chapter 1
Once again, contrary to my plans though perhaps aligned with my instincts, I passed on a marketing opportunity. The fear of loss paralyzes me. My consistent failures in this particular market haunt me, even at the collaborator’s tables a rare disappointment indeed.
The library’s early closure today pushes me toward my next task. Sustenance beckons, after all. It may be meager, but it’s something. This one-time opportunity, though less promising than working my usual location, demands immediate attention.
Tomorrow brings a different venue. My aspirations have shrunk to hoping for a modest meal. Gone are the days when earnings covered both ample medication and marketing needs.
As much as I love its libraries, its all-night cafes, and the progress they inspire in my pursuits, I may eventually have to abandon the North, returning to the warmth and profitability of the South. I doubt there is a location where I can collect a substantial sum anymore, despite today being Friday. Debit cards are so ubiquitous; cash so rare. I abstained from purchasing my medication down South to save cash for marketing. However, it is so difficult to turn a profit in these northern markets that it’s hardly worth putting myself through the mental agony of several un-medicated days.
I want to continue at the library pursuing my pursuits; despite knowing I have no money in my pockets to stay in a respectable cafe tonight. I don’t want to spend another night in the cold like last night, so I’ll have no alternative but to go to the free cafes. What a dirty and depressing atmosphere! I try to convince myself that the establishment is good just because their coffee is very good, but I really hate having spent the night there. But I suppose that’s the price of such magnificent libraries.
The door of the free cafe was open. Usually, one had to attract the attention of the person behind the counter to open the door. I stepped forward and declared my false name: ”Igor.”
“Sorry, we’re full. You have to leave now.”
“Okay, I understand. But can I have a coffee before I leave?”
“Go ahead, but after that, you leave,” he replied.
I noticed a slight nod from him before I introduced myself as a newcomer. Thinking about it, he seemed uncertain if I was already a customer. I should have taken advantage of this to enter without hesitation. I would then have had a place to spend the night.
The tarp on the roof of the work site has dried a bit from the rain. I wrapped myself in the tarp and was able to stay a little warmer before the dawn task.
They’re starting to get tired of seeing me collect funds after the dawn task. They can ask me not to do it in front of the place, but they can’t stop me from standing on the sidewalk a little way from the place.
In a few minutes, I should accomplish the Task. This duty should be a source of pleasure. Its results are healthy, lucrative, and refreshing. Yet, after all these years, it remains a burden. It is undeniably beneficial to take short breaks every day to recharge, engage in light exercises, socialize, or even earn money. I don’t particularly want to go there. I’m already late, and yet, I’m still sitting here instead of going there. It is imperative that I earn money.
I want to continue at the library to pursue my own pursuits, even though I know there’s no money in my pockets to stay in a respectable cafe tonight. I don’t want to spend another night in the cold like last night, so I’ll have no alternative but to go to the free cafe. What a dirty and depressing atmosphere. I try to convince myself that the establishment is OK just because their coffee is very good, but I really hate having to spend the night there. But I suppose that’s the price of enjoying such magnificent libraries.
I find myself in a difficult situation, sacrificing meals for my passionate research in the library aisles. Surviving cold nights has become unbearable, and I must take better care of myself.
Following someone’s advice, I resorted to using plastic trash cans to warm up, hiding behind walls to stay relatively warm. I was denied accommodation at the task site, which particularly embittered me toward them given the extreme weather conditions.
My days revolve around dawn, noon, and other task periods. I get up early, take my medication, and manage with minimal food purchases. Collecting money is a challenge, especially in the morning when people have less cash on them.
The many holidays of the Nordics affect my routine, closing libraries, markets, and pharmacies. These days, I’m forced to find other ways to pass the time, often sitting in the empty task place between periods.
I’m torn between prioritizing meditation and sleep over seeking medication. An experience in the South showed me I could do without medication with more rest, but I’m unsure if it was the rest or the perceived “inferior” quality of Southern medication that made the difference.
It seems necessary to approach management for help, but I’m apprehensive due to past misunderstandings. I continue to collect coins from task participants, although cash is becoming scarce with the advent of debit cards these days.
Sometimes, I fall asleep during tasks, and others let me rest. On rainy nights, I find myself on the roof, wishing for the shelter of the metro. Train conductors give me a hard time when I doze off.
As I approach the end of my fifteen years of service to the Task Master, I struggle to maintain a pleasant attitude. I’m looking for a specific colleague who has shown generosity in the past.
I constantly weigh my options: should I seek refuge in the South, in the woods, or face my karma in the West? For now, I continue to balance my passion for research with my physical needs, navigating the complex world of the Task and its participants.
This season, I can no longer keep up with the rhythm imposed by the task schedule. Adhering to it would require total devotion, to the exclusion of everything else. Perhaps this is the Task Master’s design. I would have loved to redouble my efforts in this last decade of my participation. But I’m no longer capable of it. Gone is the zeal that brought me this far. The ardor of my youth has passed. After dedicating most of my day to these chores, I’ve barely been rewarded enough to procure medication and sustenance. The idea of going out for the next task hardly appeals to me. Forcing myself to do so would prevent me from advancing in my own pursuits.
I’m already late, and yet I sit here instead of going. It’s imperative I obtain more than usual today. Why must some things become daily obligations? Very close to this cafe, there are people dutifully performing their task. But I decided to be here with my thoughts. According to Zen Buddhism, thoughts are almost like the devil. They must be chased away. Only mental silence is sacred. Thinking too much is the opposite of spirituality. But I confer a particular status to thoughts by ritualizing them through these journal entries rather than through prayer, meditation (or medication). Perhaps, thinking and writing are the path to paradise. But can paradise sometimes be depressing?
Yesterday, I was happy to have finally gone, but I confronted the usual interior battle. I made some gains and, today, I’ll likely do the same. It’s difficult to go regularly, despite the positive results. To compensate for my laziness, I will go three times a day, though it ought to be five.
I must mentally prepare myself early to tackle it. Thus, it is imperative that I accomplish writing before the departure time. Otherwise, I find myself devoid of inspiration, as my anxiety only expresses itself through the passage of time towards that undesirable hour. It is unavoidable that I will go there today, as the month is coming to an end. I need clothing and means of transportation.
As the sun moves quickly at this time of year, I remain in the task location. I wonder why spirituality is closely associated with the idea of regularity. In the tumult of my own routine, I admire the graceful regularity of a mass, or the tasks accomplished by Buddhist monks. Their actions seem to be a sacred ballet, a dance with regularity that eludes my own steps. Why, despite the beauty of this constancy, am I unable to find the same harmony?
Dawn heralds a new day filled with reflection and questioning. Seated on the mat, I strive to make sense of this seemingly endless routine. A strange mix of apprehension and anticipation fills me as I receive a handful of bills from a generous stranger. I wonder if this daily ritual is truly the only path to financial stability. The bills changing hands become an ambiguous symbol of dependence and autonomy. Money, once again, becomes the means to continue my quest, a quest whose contours remain blurry even after all these years.
Someone once advised, the keys to staying warm on a cold night: 1) Get out of the wind. 2) Get yourself some plastic. That’s it. I found two clean plastic trash containers. Covering my lower extremities with one, then my head and torso with the other, behind a walled area, I was able to stay relatively warm. It’s not the first time I’ve been refused accommodation at a location of the task but the fact they offered then reneged, combined with the extreme weather especially embitters me toward them.Waking up slightly before the access code was activated for the dawn task, I have some medication then walk to the twenty-four-hour cafe where I have enough to buy a cookie, hoping that’s OK because I’ll only be staying a few minutes. There’s not much I can collect in the morning. If there’s a time-of-day when people are least likely to carry cash, it’s now. But I may be able get some proper sleep. I was able to get just enough to eat at the dawn task, which is good in that it motivates me to go out for the noon task for medication and perhaps more to eat. I may even be surprised with enough for a marketing excursion. I must stay more disciplined in my pursuits given the rapidity with which the task periods occur this time of year.
As much as I love its libraries, its all-night cafes and the progress they motivate in my pursuits, I may eventually have to abandon the North, returning to the warmth and profitability of the South. I doubt there is a location where I can collect a substantial sum anymore, despite today being Friday.
Debit cards are so ubiquitous, cash so rare. I abstained from purchasing my medication down South to save cash for marketing. However, it is so difficult to turn a profit in these northern markets that it’s hardly worth putting myself through the mental agony of several un-medicated days.
I might as well make the best of being here while events down South remain uncertain. I just realized I missed another Task. I really need the cash. And if I can’t get that, hopefully someone will offer me a decent meal.
There’s always the next Task period within a couple or so hours. I wouldn’t have had the time to attend both this time year anyway. At least the pharmacy is open late today.
It’s time to start collecting my due from Management. The rest of the rank and file would have me believe they’re as impoverished as I.
Being a usually nice day today, I must take advantage and go to the Task. Someone said, any opportunity you have for moving your body is a good thing. I disagree, but I need all the comforting thoughts I can get to motivate myself to go. One would think being broke and hungry is enough. After the long walk to the location of the Task the I learned the entry code from a participant who had just exited. I didn’t bother talking Management. Instead, taking affairs into my own hands, I claimed my lunch at the restaurant downstairs.
Waiting for someone to show up and help me seemed too time costly. Yesterday I claimed my morning coffee. I don’t want to start igniting vessels again, but one must eat and drink coffee.
The meal was a heavy one, praise H. The next task location is much further down the street from this cafe where I’m taking a short break from walking. The sun is declining fast, and I must arrive at the next location to find enough cash still in circulation before the pharmacies close.
I obtained what needed for meds after an arduous Task. I had to stand there and get rejected by at least fifty participants before I had enough for meds. Thankfully I am still stuffed from the lunch I claimed earlier. I took a nap outside the pharmacy.
After taking another on the train and outside by the bus stop, the weather being impeccably nice, I’m back in a cafe waiting for the time I can access the location of the Task just before dawn.
