There was a time.

A time, high and far off, away from this time.

A time that never was and still is.

A time when They ruled.

You’d walk down the street, and They would walk around you. They had faces, most of them, but no names. The were anonymous, They were the legion. And They ran the world.

You’d flip on the television, go to the news. “They killed Osama.” “They opened another bank on Tuesday.” “They planted another car bomb.” They’d say all these things, but They’d rarely show you Their faces, and never tell you who They were. Not a name. Maybe a face, but not a name. You didn’t know who They were. No one did.

They wrote the newspapers. They packed your canned foods. They made your medicine. They conducted your mail. They ran all the trains, managed all the restaurants, and staffed all the cargo ships. They were the government, They were the admins, They erected roads, train tracks, phone lines and buildings. Some had faces; not one had a name. You didn’t know why. And you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to care enough.

They worked in your company, They ran corporate headquaters. They made calls, They made cuts, They made mergers, They turned profits. They signed your paycheck in a mass of squiggles and transferred you money from Their nameless Swiss bank account. They were some of the people round the office you didn’t hear about much, They came and went and occasionally were fired and left a huge empty office for someone to be promoted into. They weren’t there as much as they were.

And They weren’t important. They were also the fat American family that you heard was becoming a national standard. They were those businessmen who ate lunch at one restaurant every day for all those years and never bothered to learn the waitress’s name. They were the ones who made under ten thousand dollars annually, were the ones who were evicted from all those empty apartments with the windows boarded up. They were the ones who went off to war with no home to come back to. The ones who dropped out of university to live their lives but could never earn a penny. They were all around. And some had faces, but none had names. And you just wouldn’t know why.

They were your neighbors too. They were the man who came out every morning in his bathrobe to get his newspaper, not once so much as muttering “hello.” The  disabled lady who lived down the street, who you saw being dropped off by a short white bus every so often. They were the people on the bus who helped her inside, and never wore nametags. They were the people around the block whose barbecue you always smelled but never heard even the slightest chatter. They are all the people who came to call on the old woman across the street, but never seemed to do more than come and go with not a single greeting or farewell. Sometimes you wondered if They had ever really been there.

At the movies, they filled the seats in the back and sometimes laughed in the background as if there was someone to take notice. At the theater, they were those lucky bastards with the box seats, high up and not particularly close to anyone. At pot lucks, they brought most of the food and ate it just before you got there. They were all those faces at rallies who never did anything more than hold signs. You saw Them once and never again. You wouldn’t need to see Them.

They had no names. Of this you were sure. There was a reason nobody told you Their names. There was a reason why They didn’t wear nametags, why Their names were never announced on the news, why They never introduced themselves with a polite “Hi, my name is.” They would tell you nothing because They had nothing to tell. They were not a name. They were just a face in the background.

You never knew, but they were less than a face. They were a place filler, someone to be who someone else wasn’t. Someone to be what no one else could; someone to be what nobody else would. They were there to make you realize how good you had it, and how much you didn’t have. They made the world seem so big; They made you seem so small. You saw them everywhere, and you followed their influences. They filled the void you left, and created a void for you to experience. And They made you feel their emptiness.

But most of all, They made you feel special. They made you feel their emptiness and lonliness, forced example that you wouldn’t want to follow down your throat. They game you something to work towards, and They gave you something to work to keep away from. The ones with out friends made you cherish what friends you had. The ones with friends showed you how. By being someone to avoid They guided you on your path, And They loved you. Each and every nameless face loved you, because you were what They worked for, why They tolerated all the bitterness and sorrows. But you’d still be uneased by them, because They weren’t totally there, and you weren’t sure why.

My world though. My world has no “Them.” All the anonymous have names, ones you can research in the blink of an eye. Every person I meet on the street could be one who’s name I say for the rest of my life. I know all of the people who live on my block. I say hello to my co-workers and occasionally chat with my boss. My friends know everyone who I don’t. Some of them are executives who sit in box seats at theaters. Some are drunkards who get evicted from their apartments. People who work in stores all wear nametags. The news is a flood of names. The entire world, the huge, immense world, with billions of names in it, is right in front of me at the push of a button.

And as miserable as I might be from eating at the same restaurant every day and never saying hello to the waitress, I grow strong on my own in my world where anyone can happen.

I am so glad to live in my time.

My not-so-far-off time.

Because my time is free.

And I

Am not you.