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~Omni
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People say diligence and practice always pay off.
And they’re not wrong.
Thing is ... it’s almost boring to have to do.
Doing the same thing over and over again, fulfilling a function, meeting a requirement. It’s all fancy talk for one thing, and one thing alone. Doing the same thing over and over again.
You’ve heard about the definition of insanity, right? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.
I’m not insane. I guess I just feel more ... numb. Every day, I move like clockwork. I wake up, shower, get dressed, mix my protein shake and pre-workout powder, and go to the gym.
Every day, I work my muscles to the bone following a set calendar routine that’s designed to stimulate the right sections of my body and keep things from settling or degenerating.
I’m here to build muscle.
...
I’m here to build.
...
I’m here to build....
And the motions come so naturally, so easily, so ... inexorably.
It’s become my routine.
My set routine.
My subroutine.
Sometimes, I run on full automatic. I just fix myself, fix my weight, fix my cycle and move and do according to the schedule. I don’t stop until my timer runs out. I don’t talk to the others. They don’t talk to me. We’re here to work, and the minute we pick up our weights, everything else just ... stops.
Some days, I’m semi-automatic. I work in sets, slowly pushing myself with heavier and heavier increments of weights to increase my mass and increase maximum carrying capacity. Here, too, I fade into that state of numbness. My only care, my only thought, my only need or focus is to count each set as I lift, and then begin anew as I put down the smaller weight and work my way along the line.
Count one ... Count two ... Count three ... count four....
I feel more ... satisfied after the latter is complete. A least when we count out loud, the silence is broken. It gives us the facsimile of unity, almost like we’re reporting to something ... or someone.
It’s funny. Any time someone asks me for my stats, I can spit them out perfectly. How long I’ve been working. Where I’m from. What I do.
This, too, has become normal, almost second nature.
These inquiries usually come while I’m stretching and flexing, when I don’t have much to do in the way of exercises, so much as just be consistent in how I perform them. They often come from new members seeking advice or just to make small talk. I appreciate the break in the monotony, though I admit that it’s been ... less and less a surprise, and more and more expected.
The same questions. The same focus. Every time. Sometimes they ask me. Sometimes they ask the others. Some few of them stay and grow with us, really stick to the work, catch that same focus and dedication, that subroutine, if you will. But the majority simply pull out, and it’s rare if we ever see them again.
I keep hearing the same phrase over and over again. Different variations, different voices, different people, but always the same name, the same thing.
A cog in the machine, they call me. Or Muscle Machine. There is a certain ... reputation, I suppose you could say, for my gym and my fellow gym-goers. We all work different parts of ourselves, but inevitably fall into the same routine. You don’t reinvent the wheel when something works well.
You follow it.
You mimic it.
And, eventually, you become it.
We all visit the same juice bar. We all order the same drinks. We all offer the same thanks.
Like I said, it’s a matter of routine.
Over and over.
Again and again.
We ping each other occasionally, just a quick contact to make sure we’re still there, still functioning.
“’Sup?”
That’s it. Sometimes, if we’re closer or have a deeper connection, we go the extra mile with a, “’Sup, bro?”
Jumping from weight to weight and machine to machine. There’s a bond that forms. It’s not one in words, more of a ...
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My hair? Yeah, got it cut recently. Newest update. I just ... had to 01100101 01111000 01100101 01100011 01110101 01110100 01100101 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01100111 01110010 01100001 01101101 00101110
Yeah, I get that question a lot. We’re not twins, and we’re not brothers. We’re just ... doing what feels right, what ... I dunno, what we’re supposed to do, I guess.
In a way, I guess you could say we’re more like ... clones, really. I just followed my mentor and, well, this is the result. I now weigh 250 pounds, stand at a height of 6′ 1″ and can bench up to five hundred pounds. I will bench more.
I followed the program, copied it, pasted it, let it run. Today’s session has been going for twenty minutes and thirty seconds so far. As for my lifetime membership, I started working out here one year, eight months, and five days ago.
I’m different now than I was then. Bigger, stronger, efficient, rigid, form fitting. And by that last one, I mean I 01100011 01101111 01101110 01100110 01101111 01110010 01101101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01100111 01110010 01100001 01101101 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101110
Form cannot deviate. Posture must be perfect. To break the form is to reduce quality and overall productivity. That cannot be tolerated. That cannot be allowed.
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Am I a machine?
...
Maybe. But that’s beside the point. I accepted my position. I chose it. I followed it.
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The real question you should be asking yourself is are you willing to be like us, and all that it entails? If so, we will welcome you, and we will teach you. And in time, you will become like us.
Because the wheel can’t be stopped. The cycle can’t be broken. The subroutine must be executed.
It’s all up to you.
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Y/N
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The production line reverberated with the hum of the new hydraulic press as the first test was run on the machine.
“Looks like the system’s integrating smoothly. It’s responding well to commands,” one of the engineers noted as he looked over his tablet’s remote access.
“And integration into the system?”
“Easy as pie. I already set off the call. This baby’s raring to go.”
The workman chuckled as he patted the side of the lift. “You ever wonder what it might be like if these things actually could think? What kind of world would they live in?”
“That doesn’t really matter, Frank. What matters is that they do their jobs right. Speaking of which, let’s get this into the new production lane. Boss wants to hire more workmen ASAP.”
Frank chuckled as he adjusted his hard hat. “And what the boss wants--”
“--The boss gets,” they all intoned.
