Too Late for the Humans

 

In the morning I usually eat muesli.

IKEA on a Monday morning, store just open, piano music on the Tannoy, a few shoppers in masks looking and pointing. There's a synchronized shuffle in the way we move, all maintaining a safe distance. It's a peculiar place to be. Walking idly around, not really planning a purchase, just following the arrows and staring into simulated rooms on the left and right. Like a strange voyeuristic out of body trip, empty spaces, plastic fruit, wine bottles and pretend notes on pin boards. My mind is now filming it all, as if in an abandoned house or hospital for some shaky, hand held YouTube Channel.

I continue my retailing shuffle as if I'm sneaking through that vacant care home, or a mental health ward just after a false fire alarm had sounded and the evacuation exercise was complete, though nobody bothered to switch off the piped music piano track. Somewhere up above, beyond the golden clouds, perhaps God's great judgement is finally underway. All the beds are made, objects are placed here and there but nobody touches them, too late for the humans now, we've run out of sleep time. It's an immersive experience being here at the edge of the rapture but still without the full picture.

After a twenty five minute wander and ponder I was done. At the robot till I handed over an electrical signal to give them £17.50 and received a bamboo tray, a soap dish, a phone holder and some sticky pads in return. Then across to the cafe for a packet of muesli and a take away coffee. Unfortunately there were no jars of roll-mop herring available from the fridge, I was somewhat disappointed to find this out. What a time to be alive (assuming that we are indeed alive).