motors would clash with each other
656 Words
Initially, the reasons worked.
One thing led to another, albeit a thin one. He finished cleaning, then made coffee. After drinking it, he went out to buy something. After buying it, he returned, set it down, and thought about the next thing. Each action gave itself a temporary excuse to exist.
But at some point, they began to clash.
He stood before the table, holding the item he had just bought, and didn't know what to do with it. If he put it away, the purchase would be pointless. If he left it there, it would take up space without serving any other purpose. Both options were reasonable, and therefore, neither led anywhere.
He put it down.
The next thought came more slowly.
Clean again?
The table had just been cleaned. The repetition didn't create a sense of progress. It just circled.
He walked into the living room, then back to the kitchen. After a few steps, he stopped. Not because he was tired. Just because the reasons he'd just created weren't lined up anymore. They started crowding together.
He realized he was holding too many "things to do" in his head, but none strong enough to be the main thing. Each reason pushed him in a very slight direction, and their combined force canceled each other out.
He sat down.
Immediately, another reason appeared: sitting for too long isn't good.
He stood up.
He hadn't been standing long when another reason came in: standing wouldn't do any good either.
He sat down again.
This sequence wasn't dramatic. It repeated in silence. His body began to feel a strange kind of fatigue—not from doing too much, but from constantly having to convince himself.
He tried reading something.
He opened a page. Read a few lines. Not because the content was difficult, but because there was no reason to continue, his eyes slipped away from the words. He turned to another section, then closed it. Reading used to be a contextualized act. Now it's just a fragment of uncontrolled movement.
He looked at his watch.
Not to check the time. Just to see if time was moving. It was moving. Steady. But it wasn't carrying anything else.
A very light feeling began to rise in his chest. It wasn't clear whether it was annoyance, weariness, or emptiness. Just a small pressure created by asynchronous motors.
He realized:
false reasons work well when standing alone.
But when placed together,
they begin to demand priority.
And there's nothing to arbitrate.
Before, the order was always decided from the outside. No thought. No choice. Now each action has to claim its place, and he is the one who has to be the referee for even the smallest things.
He stood in the middle of the room.
Doing nothing for a few minutes.
Not because he was giving up.
It was simply because his makeshift system of reasons was too noisy.
When he stood still, the reasons stood still with him. None won. None lost. But this silence wasn't restful. It was like an engine stuck between two gears.
He felt a slight tension in his neck and shoulders.
A thought arose, very neutral:
If I do nothing more, nothing bad will happen immediately.
This thought wasn't comforting. It only confirmed that there was no strong enough counterforce to punish stopping.
He returned to his chair, sat down again.
This time, he didn't stand up immediately. Not because he had chosen to sit. But because there were no longer any clear reasons to contradict them.
The false reasons were still there, hovering. But they no longer pulled him along. They began to dissolve themselves, leaving an unsettling void.
He realized something very cold, very clear:
without a main shaft,
all the auxiliary motors would clash with each other
until movement became expensive.
The days went on.
But for the first time,
keeping it running
began to create real friction.
- Writer
