The IDIOTRIX

[Author’s note:
     I don’t particularly like this story. I wrote it somewhat in a flash in probably 2022. I edited and revised once or twice after that, but did not change much.
It seems to be too much of a just-so story (meaning that it wraps up or gives the punchline just at the very end, in a way that, to me, seems like it’s trying to be clever). It also does not describe the world it is taking place in as much as I would like it to, but it’s meant to be a short thing and not very expansive, anyway (or at least that’s my excuse, I guess…). 
The story is not copy-written as of the date when I share it here, able to be publicly viewed by anyone. I hope to revise this once again, foreseeably enacting some major changes, or lengthening it; and include it as part of a future copy-written, printed, and published work.
I do feel like it’s decent as it is. But I also feel that it is a beginner’s written story; fairing well, perhaps, in a 1950s magazine that contained short stories of veritably (or necessarily) just okay calibre. Also, very importantly, it is tragic. And I don’t want it to be so.]

Now (after the self-criticism), I’ll include a true, and positive appraisal:

     If a company has plans to offer a new product or services, it must file a new application to cover these goods and services marketed under the brand.
Owned by Dish Network after 2011, in 2024 a new trademark application was filed by the owner to use the Blockbuster brand for nightclubs, restaurants, and a center of amusement attractions…

After completing this story, my incredulity in such a concept that is featured in its narrative was removed as I I happened upon several instances of individuals with plans of mall resurrections aiming for ‘complete 1990’s experiences,’ labelling such an idea as a “come-back as a ‘store experience’”, claiming that movie theaters alone would be too risky to depend on for the investment needed, and that, “The nostalgia alone will drive sales,” and “you can get a movie on the way out.”

***

I strap a TV monitor to my chest
so that all who approach can see themselves
and respond appropriately.
(Bill Knot, “Crash Course,” 1983)

     F showed up to the cinema. It was his first time. His grandpa had mumbled some words; some disapproving sentiment… F hadn’t heard. Grandpa muttered a lot, and would not clarify when questioned on what he said. F went out the door and walked a few blocks in the sun. The weather was cool. Mid-morning was beginning to feel cool and dewy; it had been similarly nice for the litter pick-up that some neighborhood group had held last Saturday morning in which he had volunteered. The converse shoes he always slipped on were uncomfortable for walking, always, but pain paid for style, F thought. Just barely 17 was a good age to be: freedom he never knew he would miss. He would even come to think, later, that he also missed not knowing what he had been missing at the time…
He anticipated that his friends would bring a girl that had been orbiting their circle of friends but had not yet been fully caught yet in its gravitational pull; a lone planet approaching on one end of its own elliptical swing. She was nice and fun, and always looked happy. She had that smile…
He was thinking about this and other things and before he knew it had crossed the parking lot and was entering the cinema.
A new business model had arisen: a partnership; sponsorship of one or several production studios by a corporation, complete ownership and control by mandate. Many, in fact, largely successful (read, lucrative) examples of this had been done -it was now ubiquitous across the country- of purchasing and renovating old but not yet decrepit malls across the country. Renovating, making them shiny, modern, comfortable.  Just making sure that each and every store area was filled with items just “needed” enough by any and every one; disposable enough to rake in plenty from sales; like the “dollar stores” of old. But also a 2nd tier of outlets in which the intellectual properties, characters, etc, were sold exclusively, in all shapes, sizes and textures; both edible and inedible forms. But none of these items lasted nor were owned long by the consumers anyway… People loved these things. It felt like doing something, to buy things; and young people like the nostalgia of doing it in person (with plastic card, of course, as paper money was not a thing anyone thought about). F was too young in the world to know much about these concepts that crossed time (generations).
People felt it was part of the whole experience of going to this “fun” place… shrine of possessions, but for F the cinema was the only real attraction, amongst all other distractions, and this is not a glowing comment to the quality of what the associated production studios offered. But F preferred memories to possessions which to him seemed to have no life in them… F had a lot of thoughts that differed from the way other people said they saw things, and because of this had learned to be a little quiet.
The films were produced and rolled just like the production of the items the stores sold, on contract and by schedule they premiered; so many per month, and per year. They were the definition of cheap: the shots, editing, and dialogue, only the emotions in the acting were turned up to kabuki levels. As if the producers and studios knew people did not care about anything that resembled artistic choice, but did need at least the drama to be sharp (or blunt?) enough to do something to their feelings of the viewers.
He met his friends just inside the automatic doors at the entrance, most of them anyway: and a 4th, nearby, Ernesto, who sat feet away on the edge of the indoor fountain. With the ceilings high, the placed echoed, but the sound of the fountain should been louder, F thought…While the 5th and 6th, (the only couple in today’s group), Tiffany and John, were standing by the soda-machine near the concessions; John was filling the drinks for both of them. Tiffany and John seemed so normal together as a couple. Caring but comfortable. F wished he could find that… he assumed he would, naturally, one day, the unknown, far-off “one-day” people mention.
They greeted each other, all, as Tiffany and John walked over and rejoined the now-complete throng.
They all were happy and F was glad he had them all, each one, as a friend. Ernesto was a bit of a loner but actually he just spoke less and thought a little more. Mature, F thought. He just acted more like a calmer 19 or 20 year old. Not 17 like he was.
The others were all 16, all in the same age group and year-grade in school. John was oldest and Tiffany the youngest, but they were all different only by months, anyway. They all liked each other.
F had learned early in life to be quiet, not share all he thought; had learned that he had always made and kept more friends that way. it attracted more and annoyed less people. It was the best default-mode.
They all spoke a moment and John asked if everyone had “tickets”, which they did, and so all confirmed in the affirmative vocally or by nodding. They all walked into the screening room, number 22, and sat down together.
One of the friend group, Fred, turned to F, saying, “Walk near me: I will walk near Sarah, and switch seats, if we get it right, we’ll make Sarah sit next to you.”
He said this tipping his head forward, pushing his eyes out of their sockets (if that were possible) and lifting his eyebrow as a period to his plan. And then his looked turned into a serious stare, as if he was shouting with his eyes at F, “Do it!” F thought this meant he did not respond quickly enough. So, he quickly pushed out an agreement: barely a, “mm-hm.”  F thought Fred was being a good, intuitive friend. F could not recall directly mentioning that he wished to make friends with Sarah. F continued his pause too long and the theater went dark as something started on screen. Only the useless corporate announcements that filled the time before anything real started.
Fred did, to F’s amazement, navigate successfully through the group and accomplished the achievement of standing in front of the 3rd seat from the walkway on the right of them, with F then at the next, the 2nd to the end, and Sarah on the end. She sat, and F glanced at Fred still standing, with whatever was on the screen flashing plenty of light that allowed F to witness Fred’s grinning, self-satisfied face. F thought, in the most friendly way, “the bastard did it…Props and thanks to him.” Fred was good at doing things like this. F was very grateful and proud to have a friend so thoughtful, ready to act, and just smooth. And it had all occurred momentarily while F was “away” in his own thoughts…
With Smiling Sarah on his right.  F realized it was up to him now…to make progress, whatever form that may take. Now he would take a step… but what? Maybe he could find what John and Tiffany had… but then he thought to himself, “one step at a time, Me“, and calmed himself.
“It’s beginning,..“ he thought, also; the film was. Or whatever this ad before the film was. F tried to look at her to his right; he strained to somehow glance to his right totally but without turning his head at all, -she could not notice!- but this was impossible. He wished the skin and skull around his eyes and their sockets was transparent. He gave himself a headache.
The ad playing was explaining some aspect of the presentation of the feature film. It reminded him of the ignorable, uber-polite, instructional videos shown before take-off of a commercial flight, with the actors moving and speaking in a truly unnatural manner.
He kept thinking about the next step he would take, he had to; this was the opportunity he had been wanting. she touched his arm as she pointed, laughing at something on the screen. “Ho-Lee Shit.” He hadn’t anticipated this. And tried to re-strategize mentally from this new position. Again, something happened around or involving him, while he was contemplating.
At this moment his attention was diverted to a small icon at the bottom of the screen on the right side: a kind of emotion displayed on a face, like those doctors’ charts for judging pain.
Just then a man chuckled in some unseen portion of the room. F glanced in the direction of that sound and a small group all moaned in disgust and visibly did a motion as if rolling eyes strongly could sway their entire heads and upper torsos. F thought he had hallucinated. And stared towards this group closely. A man in the midst of the group then sighed, and let out a laugh, closing his eyes, shaking his head as he looked to the ceiling. He engaged in this for a moment, and then simultaneously they all went from the position of being turned towards him to facing and watching the screen once again, all of them of; the man they had reacted to became quiet, opened his eyes, shut his mouth, and paid attention again.
Like the rest of them. F was perplexed. He had witnessed a momentary microcosm: a mini-universe; a bubble of dream-world that popped up in the real-world… But it was all rhythmic and seemed so natural. The movement of all them as if to correct the man who…did something wrong.  F rationalized this could be a prank by the others in the group if it had really happened the way he saw, but now that it was passed and no one else around him seemed to notice, he wondered if he even had.
Somehow, after seeing something so incongruent with the general preconception of reality, how things should go, his thoughts quickly fluttered away from that. And he was forced back to the task of accomplishing something towards Sarah to the right of him. He was about to, somehow, maybe, put his arm around her? He put himself to thinking again, as if thinking was better than just doing. Fred on his left glanced his way again and gave a nod, as if saying, “You got this,” but also, “it’s up to you now…” with definitely a hint of, “I am expecting you to do it.” F thought this was encouraging of him but pushy. Fred wanted to see him succeed, be happy. That is good, at least, F thought.
Just then, on screen, a character, a larger person, fell down. F had been paying practically no attention to the narrative of the film and so had not the slightest idea who it was or why they fell down. The scene was a sidewalk, and the camera stayed awhile on the person just there, down on the ground. For whatever reason, this caused F to laugh, or, chuckle so slightly but audibly. He reacted just a moment too soon; if he had waited a moment his display would have been drowned out by the rest the audience reacting to the icon on the bottom right of the screen and what it instructed, the icon that F now saw a moment later: it was showing a sad face, small tears moving the cheeks. The people around him shifted nervously. The boys cleared some throats and glanced around, probably hoping for him that this faux-pas was not heard, or feeling sorry for him for how he now seemed to Sarah -as if he blew it. F did not understand why or how but it dawned on him right before he looked toward her on his right because he felt her draw away, completely fold into herself. She looked shocked, flushed, and now had isolated herself from him, sitting as far away from him as she could while being in the seat next to him. He felt devastated; as far as she had moved away from him was not as far as his hope sunk within himself. He had blown whatever good she had seemed to have thought of him, destroyed whatever she was attracted to in him with whatever he had chosen to let be seen by her and the other friends.
He stayed as quiet as he could. He recalled the group, the man in their midst and their reactions just a few minutes prior, and realized the same had happened to him, or seemed to, and this meant, firstly, that the occurrence he had witnessed had actually happened… and secondly, a question: why – and why to him? What were the rules he could learn and keep to avoid this again. Again, what seemed odd, completely novel, escaped from his ability to continue to analyze it, and after perhaps 30 long minutes of the film he again became focused on the task at hand.  Sarah had slowly moved back to the middle of her own seat at his right, and had actually placed her arm on the arm-rest between them. F saw that all her focus was on the screen, and she had lost all playful attention to him she had shown for a moment previously. He thought to do something now, but also somehow knew inside himself that it was not the correct thing to try right now…He carefully placed his hand near hers, touching slightly, and to this, she looked at him with full attention quickly taken from the screen to him, but not in a good way. She moved her hand down to her side at the speed of light, and, embarrassed to be noticed, flashed her gaze back to the screen, but now definitely thinking of other things -and negatively. This crushed F; he was demoralized. He decided to leave her alone. Maybe try to apologize or see how she felt through the other friends later.
A scene began in the film that was one of conflict between two characters. They began raising their voices and coming closer to each other as the situation escalated. It appeared they were close to becoming physically violent one to another, and as the screen showed one shove the other using his hand on the other’s shoulder, the icon displayed anger, but F, being shaken up at dramatic rejection by Sarah of his tiny advance, he let out a sigh that sounded slightly sad, a little too much exhale, a little too much vocalization; now this upset F not only because he was self-conscious; he liked knowing how he was representing himself to others, but also because, again, it happened(!) This small, stupid choice had upset, illogically, the surrounding crowd, all of them, not only his group of friends. Nearly all of the people seated in the row immediately in front of where F and his friends were sitting turned their heads: first to decide from whom came the unapproved or undirected display, and soon, seeing his face which did not hide his guilt, focused on him and declared, “No!” After which they promptly, oddly and too-quickly turned back to face the screen. They didn’t want to miss following the prompt.
This sent F into an emotional tunnel. Now confused, disappointed, rebuffed, by two separate and distinct issues. And after so ignorantly, innocently, turning Sarah off from him… this broke him. The two issues were not completely separate; whatever he was misunderstanding in this group activity was the same that had put Sarah off. It now was a singular obstacle he could attack, figure-out… but how?
                                         * * *
He had never known why people were drawn back to such an old-fashioned, even retro fad like public cinemas. They hadn’t been profitable in and of themselves for decades.
He was then addressed quietly but directly from two seats to the left of Fred on his left by Ernesto. F glanced and Ernesto only shook his head but with eyes which contained real fear. As if he was truly worried for F, and not about Sarah. Ernesto must have seen the confusion in F’s stare because he then followed it with a stare that was calm but direct, serious, demanding, but caring, and mouthed the word, Stop. F saw he cared but he wondered why it was so serious, grave even. Did they think he was playing a joke -misbehaving on purpose, just being contrarian to try to get a laugh? It did help him to come out of his feelings but only increased dread and stakes of solving this, understanding it.
He sat back for a minute. He just wanted to go home. It had been so pleasant outside this morning. So normal. He was a good person. Why did today have to go so weird, and why did he not understand? He was going to ask some, not all, of his friends about this new thing, and what the correct behavior was, but the icon showed him that. The question to answer was why the hell did people freak out if someone doesn’t act out in this stupid kindergarten-like practice? Like doing the correct motions and hand-signs to a song the teacher puts on. Just as he was thinking this, and, again, right before the icon appeared to direct him, he whispered to himself concerning his thought of this previously unknown group-movie-watching mandatory rite, his words, barely audible, were, “-stupid shit…” His full thought concerning this day and its events had been, “Fuck this stupid shit,” but only those two sounds had come out audibly. But they were heard by all. It was now the very end of the film; the last moment of the scene, and this emotional climax had been incongruent with what was to be called for by the icon which appeared a second later on the black screen, right before the credits would appear. It didn’t matter what it was. Others saw it; F didn’t. Not over all the raucous disapproval and commotion that grew and surrounded him in an instant; bodies standing up, flooding his vision, overcoming his hearing.
The screen went dark. Now it really was the end. Some lights came up. But first F quickly, too quickly, saw small flashlights that were carried by two of the theater staff who were leading two security guards. They came towards him. The friends leaned out of the way -faded away is more accurate- whether they chose to consciously abandon him or not. He didn’t blame them; in the end he was made to understand.
Police were called. Parents were notified. He was lucky to be 17; still just young enough that it would not go on his permanent criminal record. But his record of Emotional Health would be marked, and this was worse than anything; and, of course. he would be watched. Before then he never knew he was guilty of what he was. He would have later prayed to God to take it from him if that wasn’t a ridiculous idea, which everyone told him it was, and so he didn’t.
                                        ***
Life in the Treatment Center was not enjoyable, but the subsequent time spent at the separate Recovery Center was free, and relaxing, as much as it could be. He learned what it had meant; that which had confounded him; and now he could respond as one should, which is as all the rest do. He even became funny to his friends, genuinely. They listened to him. Well, he did speak more, or, closer to what was considered a normal amount. But now the words that came to his mind and left his mouth only an instant later seemed to be what others had on the brain and on the tip of their tongues as well.