Experiment in Indifference

It was gnawing.

It had happened over many years. The moment could not be pinpointed. There was not just one moment. In hindsight, those many moments could have been seen, could be noticed. This town was an experiment.

It was hungry.

This town was at the far reaches of the continent of plains, and savannahs, and lions and gazelles. It was landlocked on all sides by these things. The nearest settlement of humans was a day’s ride away. And that one was ten times bigger than this one. This town offered nothing to the other but some of its young people, who, driven by the lure of money packed up their meager belongings, and left. Driven by the hunger of more, of material things, they rode to the city in cars, using their parents’ hard earned money, believing they would find employment as soon as they reached.

It was angry.

They would not. In fact, it would be many months before any of them would find anything, scraping off of scraps taken from large dumpsters in dirty alleys. They would scrounge and beg, too ashamed to go home empty handed after all the pomp and ceremony with which they had left. Then they would find employment driving cars for people, and they would be too ashamed to go home.

It was growling.

The town was forgotten, so much so that some maps didn’t even show it. So much so that government census takers did not bother to go to it, corrupt, inefficient, and lazy as they were, they did go to all the others.

It was grumbling.

The town was hot, buildings sparse, huts more than they were buildings. But each painted with color, that reminded one of more cheerful times. The sun bore down heavily on the town every day, each day hotter than the last. The dust was swirling, dry, parched. Slow walking, sometimes fast and agitated, mostly without energy. It smelled of rot and decay. Yet hundreds of people lived here. The air felt rough, as if there was poison in the atmosphere. Sharp, pricking needles.

It was ravenous.

It had happened over many years. The moment could not be pinpointed. The exact moment where one could look and say ‘Aha’. No, the moment could not be pinpointed. The blame could not be attributed but to what it had always been attributed to, conspiracy theories that involved the government, the west, the jews, or the christians. But the town was small and unimportant. Who would listen to them. No one knew for sure but for the Organization. They had orchestrated the whole thing.

It was never full.

Slowly they had taken away the town’s communication, they had placed people high up in the government of the country, they had influenced map makers. They had removed the town from the map. They had cut off all outside communication. Over many months. The founder wanted to see this expedited. He had his reasons. He always had good reasons. This had been an experiment in indifference. They had slowly choked off food supplies, caused the drought, poisoned the land in the dark of night, and the middle of the day, the townsfolk always unaware. Slowly they had started to get hungry. No one cared. No one knew.

The hunger took hold.