I'd picked Monday for the late evening part of the project, as it coincided with Cornerhouse's popular Reel Deal offer, so I thought there might be some interesting people knocking about. The first thing I saw was a girl trying to bring her bike into the foyer, something I've never seen before! Not surprisingly, she didn't succeed, but she did manage to make her way into the fourth and final story. This one's about a fixie - I'd spotted a few as the days passed and on Monday a really cool fixie rocked up, albeit very briefly, so that became the steed of the story. It tells a true-life tale of a friend of mine who left a bike unlocked outside a shop and was surprised to come out and find that it had mysteriously disappeared - still, the brakes didn't work and he only liked the pedals, hence that mention in the piece. His bike didn't reappear, however, but I wanted to bring the idea of karma into the piece, as I'd got some stick the day before, and was thinking about the idea of whether what goes around
does come around.
--
What Goes Around, Comes Around
By Sarah-Clare Conlon
It probably hadn't been the brightest idea to leave your
fancy fixie outside unattended while you nipped into the gallery to pick up the
latest brochure. But the security guard wouldn't let you drag it across the
freshly polished parquet and you were going to pop in and out quick-sharp, so
you leant it against the chrome hoops, hidden within the melée of other bikes.
The trouble was, you knew too many people, and you were
instantly spotted sneaking in and trying to streak back out. A former colleague
collared you, the strangely over-excitable bloke from accounts who could never
be quietened once he'd found his flow. And he found his flow easily. You nodded
politely at his updates, jigging slightly from foot to foot, and eventually you
managed to make your excuses and escape into the blinding glare of the sun.
Your eyes straight away made out quite clearly the shape of what was missing.
It was such a shame; you'd particularly loved those pedals, so aesthetically
pleasing.
Then, while sulkily riding the sweaty bus home, you clocked
your bike propped outside a shop and you dived off as passengers were pushing
their way on board. Your legs had never pumped so fast as you made your getaway
and pondered the chances of karma. Listening to the woes of others would only
make you a stronger person.
