The Free Lance Existentialist

It was December 31, 2084. Alex and his friends had gathered in their usual New Year's spot--Alex's East Hampton beach house. Although the earlier part of the century's insatiable thirst for commercialism had sprouted up shopping malls, Apple stores, and Outback Steakhouses in much of the Hamptons--severely reducing its classic, elite charm--there were still those spots a bit further north towards Montawk where the rich could play separately, and enjoy their mansions on the beach. Such were the pleasures of Alex, Michael and their friends.

Alex and Michael were free lance philosophers. This was a profession that started early on in the 2000s. Initially it was not much more then a gag, or a ploy. People would employ these philosophers the way they would employ psychiatrists and therapists. Clients all had their own unique issues, and for whatever reason, they retained something from the Greek Philosophy 101 class they took freshmen year at their liberal arts university. It wasn't something profound, something that they could use on their own merit to apply to their life's problems, more something that seemed to say to them: "Hey, maybe that Pluto guy had an answer for this. I remember him being pretty 'on the money.'"

So that "something" that these people lacked, was provided by the free lance philosopher. The client would enter their mahogany decorated offices and see volumes upon volumes of ancient texts. They would then describe their problem, and the free lance philosopher would go to his bookshelf and find just the right text for his client's discrepancy. They would read select passages from it, and then explain it, in lay-man's terms of course, so that the client could understand it profundity. They would thus leave the office with their own sense of profundity. Perhaps, if the free lancer was very good, they would exit with a temporary sense of enlightenment as well. Now of course the descriptions of these texts were always swayed this way and that so that there would be some "real life" applications, not merely hypothetical ones. That is after all what the client wanted.

Since the many problems of the world and its population are varied, each free lance philosopher specified in an area of philosophy. If you were having a moral dilemma you would consult the free lance Ethicist. If you lost your faith in God, you would go to see the free lance Meta-physicist. Poets and artists who lost their creative inspiration would see people like Alex's friend Michael, the free lance Aesthete. People who had felt like they lost their identity, had been leading a false life, or felt overcome by immense despair would see Alex, the free lance Existentialist.

Somewhere around the mid 50's, it seemed not just most people but nearly the world over had, what existentialists refer to as a crisis of self. Anything really could have been the cause. The world had been growing steadily smaller since the end of the 20th century. Lines were blurring, the analog life was replaced by the digital. Families spent quality time over video chats and books were read on pockets sized touch pads. Maybe this mind of the Earth finally separated itself wholly from its body and became lost in the cosmos. Whatever the reason, the demand for free lance philosophers sky rocketed. And admits this great increase in want of substance, knowledge, and understanding, the free lance Existentialists rose straight to the top. Their advice was sought after by celebrities, athletes, and world leaders.

Alex loved his job. Yes, he had grown up loving Camus and Sartre and the like, but what he really loved was the high, and sense of entitlement he got by starting of sentences to our president which phrases like "Now if you are to full realize your will to power, nay, this country's natural will to power...", or, "You see Mr. President, the truth the edifies..." Alex loved his job. And he was quite good at it. He was the most request free lance Existentialist in country, working on the world.

So this New Years their was much to celebrate. Philosophy had, after centuries of what felt like harsh neglect, fought back to the top of the world. Alex was at the top of the top. He had an upper east side penthouse, and beautiful wife, beautiful children, and his perfectly decorated (right down to the kitchen curtains) beach house in East Hampton. He, his friend Michael the Aesthete, and the Ethicists, Empiricists, Rationalists, and Meta-physicists were joyously celebrating as the evening got later and the clock faster approached midnight.

Considering himself a cultured man, Alex liked to partake in the Spanish tradition of eating grapes at New Years. One for each gong of the clock. He had visited Spain and a teenager and this had always stuck with him. So this year, like every other year, a large bowl of grapes was brought out around 11:50pm in anticipation of the ceremony. Ten minutes later the first gong came and Alex and his friends started inhaling the grapes. One gong after another proceeded, each time the next closer to the last, moving faster and faster. Intent on eating a grape per gong, and not missing but one, Alex stuffed grape after grape into his mouth.

The final gong came and everyone joyously shouted "Happy New Year!" The music came on and everyone hugged and kissed each other. Alex, collapsed to his knees, clutching his throat. His faced turned a purple similar to the color of the grapes he had just been inhaling. Amidst their jubilation, and caught up in their own intellects, his philosopher companions failed to notice his gasps at breath. Just before losing the consciousness he so highly valued, Alex had what he believed was a quintessential existential moment. Time stood still. His mind became clear, and he thought of his wife and children and the immense love he had for them. Then he looked around at Michael and his friends and thought of the companionship and joy they had brought him throughout life. He then looked around at his East Hampton house. His foyer, his living room. He thought of the six marble bathrooms. He looked over his shoulder at the curtains hanging above the kitchen sink. With that image in his mind, Alex smiled a big, happy smile, and laid his head down.