Four are ok

This is an attempt to a Short Story. Read it as such, with discretion. I aim to write stories more often, I don't know why for sure. But if you like them, please let me know. Here goes....

Every morning was similar. There was heat, humidity, dust, and some wind, dragging itself nonchalantly through whatever little of the city remained after the municipal digging. Swathes of well-dressed undead made their way through the tiny tributaries of dirt and stone, a sad reminder of the road that had once existed. Their faces are different, but they all look the same. Some carry a bag on their shoulders, others carry their food. Some appear proud, some happy, most just go with the flow. "Kohinoor", he yelled at the top of the voice. The voice that commanded respect, authority, and a rebellious streak to defy all odds. The well-dressed roaches scurried towards him, rummaging through the construction torn alley. The rickshaw was as close to a vehicle as one could claim. It had two and a half seats at the back, and almost one seat at the front. In all, it was enough for five. There was open defiance, not only against traffic laws, safety norms, basic civility, but also against the fundamental laws of physics and geometry. Three of them cramped themselves at the back, while one tried to cling to the auto driver on his seat. Unnatural number of vehicles and pedestrians clogged that junction, but it was merely routine for him.

Kohinoor was 1.5 KM away from Vidyavihar station. Was it far enough for anyone to walk? Yes, and no. A few decades ago, one could not imagine taking a ride for such a short distance. But then it would also take some time. Say 20 mins for a briskly walking healthy adult. Again, not something the elite working in glass clad offices could afford. They had much important things to focus on. They had Instagram, Linkedin, or even Twitter. Some outdated remnants even had Facebook. Busy times. Walking from one point to another was inefficient use of time. At least that's what Mr. A heard from the celebrated life coach. Mr. A wakes up every morning and puts on a motivational video of this life coach who helps you make your life better. He says you need to wake up at sunrise, exercise, and then meditate. Read all about the world, try to be as efficient as possible. Time is slipping, and there's so much to achieve. So Mr. A has been trying to wake up at sunrise every day, failing every day, feeling good and bad at the same time. Feeling bad that he couldn't, but feeling good from the hope that he will tomorrow, perhaps one day. It kept the hamster wheel going. The hamster wheel is good for business. Mr. A was the first one to jump in. A small victory on the road to office, check. Today is a good day, he thought. Efficiency does work, indeed. There will come a time when he cuts down the commute time from 75 mins to 63 mins, and that will mean a whopping 16% extra time for all the other tasks. Nothing can stop him from being rich. He must keep at it, make sure he pays that SIP instalment every month, and eat healthy. Losers focus on hurdles; winners focus on the goal. Losers never try to improve. Take the auto driver. Along that 1.5 Km long, 3m wide excuse of a road, there were three traffic signals, two three-ways crossroads, buses, trucks, pedestrians, scooters, birds, dogs, hawkers, garbage, garbage trucks, political rallies, statues, and sometimes barricades manned by demoted policemen. But the auto driver always made it in 4 mins 35 secs. He did not follow the life coach, sadly. Or else he would've known that he could increase his earnings by trying to cut down the 35 secs. Probably that's why he was on the front seat, and Mr. A was at the back.

Next to Mr. A was, you guessed it right, Mr. B. He was relatively stressed, for his was not a lucky morning. Some news about some industry changes, regulation updates, paradigm shifts. He was ye close to yelling on the phone. His latest Apple with state-of-the-art pods failed to convince the network companies that his call was important. So, he is stuck struggling in a broken connection. He cannot stress enough that electric vehicles are the future, that Al is going to take over everything, that the demographics are on a decline and that consumption patterns suggest a slowing economy. We need to buy this, sell that, hold this and dump that. The fate of a small percentage of money of a small percentage of people in this ultra complex world rested on his nimble but firm shoulders. One wrong call and it could mean losing so much money, credibility. How could he not know the future, it was his job to know the future. To predict it and make more money out of less money. True that the world is dynamic, and that you cannot truly predict what happens in the next 10 mins, not at least the next 10 years. But those are excuses for puny losers. Winners don't make excuses. Winners are visionaries. They see the big picture beyond the mundane. They see that most fuelled autos will be replaced by electric self-driving pods in a developed country by 2047. So, the auto he is sitting in will be redundant. Along with the driver. Poor driver, Mr. B thought to himself. He doesn't know he will cease to have this job in the next 15 years. He is so engrossed in just plying people to and fro, he needs upskilling. Good that I'm already taking this Al certificate course online. I can upgrade my skills, and then I shall be ahead of or at least with the time.

You very well know that the next two people are going to be C and D. The one on back will be called Ms. C and the one in the front will be Mr. D. Both relatively quiet. They had made peace with the process. They weren't as alive as Mr. and Mr. B, but just alive enough to stay within that rocking metal frame, without falling during the mad max expedition. Ms. C was concerned that her promotion is due but there aren't very bright signs of that going through. She had been doing this for five years now, but there's always something. Sometimes she thought its misogyny, sometimes just hard luck. But the result was the same, frustration. So much, that it had wearied down her ability to be frustrated. She could find another job, after all five years was a long time. But how does one let go of something you have built with such effort. It was like raising a baby and giving it away. People thought she lacked the will to step out of her comfort zone. But they wouldn't understand. How could they? They were not as lucky as the auto driver. Always on the move. Never stuck in a place. Going to a target, moving ahead, never looking back, or sideways. Literally.

Mr. D on the other hand was an ungrateful jerk. He always had petty inconveniences on the mind. Instead of being grateful for getting a ride, his mind was silently complaining on how unsafe the front seat is, or how rash the drive is. Instead of being grateful for a job, he always sulked about how toxic his coworkers were, or how the job sucked the soul out of his life. How petty is one to be always complaining about the hazardous air quality, broken traffic, uncivilised public transport, corruption, unclean water, flooding streets, and impossible housing prices while one gets to live in the richest city of the country both in terms of GDP and number of billionaires. Such petty thoughts only add stress, while taking away the simple joys of life. For example, the auto driver only charges 10 for such a quick ride, without which he would have to walk a whole of 1.5Km. Wasn't that something to be happy about? Not to the unsatisfied. Things will never be enough for them. The auto driver is satisfied. He never tries to add a fifth passenger. Four are ok.