Week 32: running stitch THE MUSEUM OF USELESS PURSUIT by Sheryl Gwyther Imaging her thoughts as a void of grey sky, Miranda Petal waits until the machine scans her mind. It beeps green and she walks through the security gates at Canberra’s Museum of Useless Pursuit, thankful the government hadn’t engineered a way to control people’s thoughts. Yet. Miranda averts her eyes from the black-uniformed, helmeted security guards who stand at every exhibition entrance, annihilator guns gripped in readiness of … what? Starting a revolution? Here? She snorts, silently. Nobody’s that stupid. The only people who visit this museum now are teachers leading school groups, old people looking for nostalgic hits, and writers like herself researching information for a government department. She passes quickly through the exhibits of banned and illegal occupations – the Music of the Old World display; instruments of all shapes, sizes and makes behind glass, holograms playing every imaginable composition from the past. A commentary rattles on about how The Cleansing ensured humans’ lives will never be wasted again. The holograph musicians play Vivaldi’s Winter. An elderly couple stare through the glass, tears running down their cheeks. A guard harries them on. Miranda moves with the crowds past the Art of the Old World. They’re all there – Michelangelo, Picasso, Vermeer, Whitley, Preston, Namatjira, Warhol, Kahlo… endless art works at the button’s touch. The electronic voice’s false sincerity drones on about the distractions humans once needed. She slips through the side rooms dedicated to the useless pursuits of Map Makers, Wood Workers, Knitters, Gardeners, Toy Makers, and past the Hall of Storytellers, Poets and Authors. Most people walks with glazed eyes and dull faces. Some do not. Two men pass each other. Miranda sees a quick movement – the secret sign, a thumb touching a forefinger – his prehensile sign is reciprocated. The revolutionary symbol – We’re Humans Not Animals. She looks away quickly. Best not be caught noticing. The guards are trained to notice. Finally, she reaches the exhibit she’s come to see. The Room of Sewing, Quilting and Weaving. Holograms, mostly of women throughout the ages. Miranda peers into a glass case filled with scissors, tape measures, pinking shears, spools of cotton, buttons, hooks and eyes, thimbles and the most forbidden of all, needles. The electronic voice continues overhead. Please report anyone carrying or using these suspicious items. Consider the safety of our democracy and the good of the people. The Cleansing lives on. Miranda snorts again. Good of the people? There is no democracy – corporations rule the global puppet governments, wealthy and powerful beyond belief. But still, they’re afraid of ordinary citizens … those who think and question for themselves. Those who continue the revolution. Miranda Petal fingers the small bag in her pocket – inside is a wooden thimble, a spool of red silken thread, a silver needle and her great-grandmother’s sampler, passed on … lest they forget. Her mind runs through the litany … Chain Stitch. Back Stitch. Cross Stitch. Satin Stitch. Daisy Stitch. Running Stitch… ©Sheryl Gwyther 2014 487 words Image: From the gorgeous Stitchingwithkittens blog. stitchingwithkittens.blogspot.au/
Posted on: Sun, 12 Oct 2014 23:33:35 +0000
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