You are looking for 42. \n\nYou are trying to keep in mind that North is up, South is down, West is left, and East is right. \n\nSo you go [[North]].

You find someone. They are literally right in front of you, but you don't know for how much longer. You know what you have to do, but you hesitate. \n\n[[Ask them where to go]]\n\n[[Find your own way]]

Nope. That's East to the right. Try again. [[Go West]].

FIVE.\n\n[[Just ...]]

It is taking a long time. You are long past the point of hating this. Usually you'd have someone take you there, a relative or a friend, but this was supposed to be easier this time around. Besides, you are tired of feeling dependent on someone or something else. \n\nIt all blurs together as you start to lose focus. As you start to no longer care. Still, [[you go to 42 West |You go to 42 West]].

[[Displacement]]

As they explain that you can appeal this decision though, as such, they will not assist you any further, you aren't really listening to them. It's important, true. You need to fight this. But suddenly, you just don't care. \n\nThe pain in your head is back and you just want to get out this place. You just want to stop being still. You are, frankly, [[done]].

The representative gives you your papers back and gives you the news. \n\nAccording to the agency's protocols, [[you do not have a permanent disability]].

How in another world, your physical tics would be considered the beginnings of [[movement and dance]].

You realize you've been rocking back and forth. You wonder if your fingers have been moving too, or how much of what you were thinking remained an internal monologue instead of something muttered from your mouth. \n\nLooking at that representative, you see the people who told you stop fidgeting, the ones that didn't understand why you moved like that, the ones that had the temerity to //laugh// at you. \n\nDo you [[tell them the truth]], or do you attempt to [[still yourself]]?

You are going the right direction now. Or so it seems. You're looking for the numbers. Remember, you are searching for [[42]].

"You think you're pretty funny, huh? Well, I've heard that same joke my entire life. And, really, it's getting pretty old. \n\n"You know exactly //why// I'm here. I had to wake up early in the morning, find this place, deal with your lack of a number scheme, and you have the audacity to call attention to the very thing I'm doing to cope with all of this when I just want to stay at home, away from this //frustrating// place and attitude and continue doing my thing at my own pace with as few stressors as possible."\n\nOf course, even though you really want to, [[you don't say this|still yourself]]."

Nope. Sorry. You are actually going South from your position. Down instead of up. All right. Now go North, then [[South]].

You have a feeling that it will take more time for them to translate compass directions into left, right, up, and down. You've never understood how you can know where North is when the idea of location is just so ... relative to [[where you are]]. \n\n

You fight off embarrassment and ask them if they can put the directions into left and right terms. They blink at you. But to their credit, they try. You even write it down and hope to sort it out as you go along. \n\nAnd then you feel even more embarrassed as you know that this is just the beginning. That you need even [[more than directions]].

35. 39. \n\n41.\n\n43? \n\n[[Where's 42]]?

Is that now you will never have to memorize //this place//: that perhaps now you can forget it all entirely in the drawers where you lose your information, out of sight and -- forever -- [[out of mind]].

Namely: the psychogeographical journey of mapping out spaces simply by traveling through and being [[a part of them]].

And [[your one consolation]] over their agency's rejection:

No. It is confusing even to write this. You are going [[East]].

[[If only it were that easy]].

How your lack of spatial sense would be an excuse to wander around and pay attention to [[to the finer details]] of your surroundings.

You are 42 East. Not West. \n\nThat explains a lot. It's beginning [[to get to you a bit]] ...

Displacement

You actually navigate better when you have area-specific details to go by: specifically landmarks. \n\nIt's ironic. You can't read a map, but when you find something that stands out in a place, if you know what you're looking for, it helps you in a very similar way. \n\nDo you ask the person [[if there are landmarks]] they can tell you about? Or [[do you not bother|You go off]]?

You will yourself to be still. You school your face into a neutral, tight, iron mask. That's just what anyone here needs. An excuse. You quietly state that you are all right even as you feel the invisible tender-hooks in your temples pull at your eye-sockets. \n\n[[The representative speaks]].

"All right." You say. "I'm willing to take the initiative. What do you suggest that I do?"\n\nYou wait for clarification. \n\nThe representative shrugs.\n\n"I don't know. That is your responsibility. [[That is your issue|get this over with]]."

They might as well be saying that you're just lazy.\n\nIt wouldn't be the first time. \n\nYou know you need to focus. You know you need to concentrate. As the representative mentions how you could have dealt with this, how you can, how you should have, how you must take //the initiative// to do what you need to do, you might as well be thinking those same thoughts aloud. \n\nMaybe, right now, you actually are. \n\nDo you ask them [[what you need to do]]? Or do you just want to [[get this over with]]? \n\n

It's nothing you haven't heard before. \n\nThey tell you that you have to work. They tell you that everyone else has their issues and that you need to work past yours. They condescend to tell you that, if you don't necessarily have the education and the background, you have the intelligence to work for a living. \n\nThey tell you that, right now, you are in a serious place. You need to take it seriously. You need to focus on [[what is at stake]].

They shake their head at you, perplexed. It's hard to explain to them why you are asking this. They tell you that you should find an app for that, but if you just follow their directions, you will be fine. \n\nYou realize you've reached the limits of this individual's patience. A part of you would like to say that if you could navigate the Internet well enough on your own, and had basic programming experience, maybe you //could// find an app that dealt in landmarks. Or maybe even make one.\n\nAnd this is assuming you even have, or can afford an android or mobile phone that's app-worthy.\n\nBut you don't say anything aside from a thank you. [[You go off]].

Did you pass the intersection of places that you were supposed to? \n\n[[Do you find 42]]?

They ask to see your documents. You know the ones. You've been collecting them for some time now by necessity. You open up your bag and fumble with the papers. There is a heaviness growing inside of your head, underneath your brow. You're [[hoping it will go away]].

Of course it's 5. Well, no. It's not really five, but the numbers that you had help with putting together, that you went through yourself, the symbolic logic that mathematics ultimately means to others might as well be this equation for your chagrin. \n\nThe representative patiently, condescendingly, explains what you did wrong. And all you can think to yourself is how was it not 4? How do the numbers outside not line up to make 42 in [[logical order]]?

You do. You track that number down. \n\nYou are exactly where you need to be, but ... something's nagging at you. [[You look at the directions]].

You've had some bad experiences with these kinds of interactions, and even the more positive ones have proven no less frustrating. \n\n[[You go off]].

fi ...\n\n[[Disappearing]]

42 West. \n\nYou've found the place. //Finally.//\n\nThe representative meets with you. It doesn't take long, despite all the time you've spent trying to get here, and you get [[down to business]].

All right. You found a corner. Unfortunately, it's the wrong corner. You're not going South. You're North again. Go South. [[Try again]].

Well, that seems to be the corner. And you are moving down. Now go left. Go [[West]].

You say these are the right numbers. That you did everything properly. You go through the calculations in your head, slowly, methodically, painstakingly. The representative stares at you with a familiar look of impatience. \n\nYou know you remember this. [[It ...]]

They are polite enough. They tell you that you need to go North to a corner, then South, then West until you pass one place. Remember to look for the number 42. \n\nDo you ask them to direct you in terms of [[left or right]]? \n\nOr do you try to [[make do]]?

five.\n\n[[Keeps ...]]

You get the documents. They review them quietly, even as the pounding in your head begins to synchronize with your chest. You are really hoping this isn't going to happen right now. You really don't need this right now. Maybe it's because you had to wake up too early, as you usually have trouble sleeping. Maybe it's because you didn't eat in time. Or maybe it is just [[the situation and all of this]].

The headache and copper on your tongue subside, the cold spot in your diaphragm recedes, and you //know// in the core of you that everything you showed them was right. 2+2 does equal 4. Doesn't it? \n\nThe old humiliation eats away at your insides like acid. But you hold on to both the anxiety and the anchor of your rightness in that chair in that place.\n\nIt's then that the representative does it. \n\n[["Are you all right?"]]

You usually make more eloquent pieces than this. And, honestly, you probably won't replay this story. You just won't have the patience for it if you've got any choice in the matter. \n\nBut right now you have an appointment that you need to keep and you need to [[ask for directions]].

Your weakness in basic mathematics would be a reason for your brain to compensation in the areas of linguistics, language, and art towards [[your greatest performance]].

The representative interrupts you and says.\n\n"No. [[2+2 = 5]]."

As you think about your long uncomfortable trek home, you fantasize over [[what you really wanted to say]] to the representative.

The End

Matthew Kirshenblatt

You wish you could get your phone to do it, but as you have problems with the very concepts of the compass arrows and your place in them, you wouldn't even know how to program an app on your phone and apps can be very confusing. \n\nAnd this makes the assumption that you have access to, or can even afford, a phone that is app-worthy. \n\nSo there it is then. [[You go off]].

Welp. You found it, but you missed the intersection. [[Go back]].

They tell you there is an issue. \n\nOf course there's an issue. They say that the numbers don't add up. They are looking at your numbers. \n\n[[2+2 = 4]]\n\n[[2+2 = 5]]