On impenetrability
It is said that no man is an island. Literally, no one is. Figuratively, no one is, either.
One cannot exist as if he alone does. We ought to trade, communicate, and connect. For example, the PC game Mr. Prepper is a simulation survival game where a man named Mr. Prepper lives his day-to-day life in Murricaville. He plans to escape, yet he cannot do it alone. He ought to smoothen his connection to people nearby by trading to them. He needs things from people’s resources and expertise just as how his stuff is needed by them. A man surveys his house on a regular basis, checking if he does something illegal and suspicious. Should Mr. Prepper unwittingly manage his household, the inspector will find out his underground lair or workshop, which would surely lead to Mr. Prepper’s arrest.
Perhaps, the fact that there exists a game such as Mr. Prepper among other similar ones demands our closer inspection of our very impenetrability as dear humans. We do not want to be read as if we are an open book with fine prints that are set in boldface. We want our secrets kept deeply. We want our whereabouts unknown. We want our next steps rather not queried by others. It is as if there is some sense of comfort in living inside a bunker.
Murricaville is the symbol of a society where control is too much, and Mr. Prepper is someone who wants freedom.
However, in today’s society and the coming of social media, we think or feel that everyone’s eyes are on us, prying and suspecting of our next move. They also subtly look into our social status — on where we are at, have we secured a job, or have we just married yet, among other conventional, normatively expected things for a growing man or woman.
Mr. Prepper is just that lone relatable fictional being. He lives on his own. He wakes up. He dines in — well, he does not, because he just literally eats foodstuff. He sleeps. He goes to the forest. He crafts. He walks to and fro. He just freaking lives.
Meanwhile, the well-dressed, all-black man, also known as the inspector is the picture of society. Maybe he is a friend, a relative, a co-worker, among others. He stops by from time to time, with an intent to connect to you, have a chat, have a meal, have a cup of coffee, or whatever. But we know deep within that such a soul is just inspecting what you have inside your house and judging your capacity as a human being. And yet Mr. Prepper is you, managing to hide the reality that you are having — a busy life deep underground, crafting and positioning things as well as planting vegetables for preparedness or survival.
Our impenetrability is something we take pride in. We want a silent life where one day a rocket comes about the surface of the earth, rushing up to the sky, and all the people in the neighborhood are just beholding the brilliant you who have been planning this escape all along. We plan in silence, our ‘success’ screams after.
Yet apart from that, what appears rather fascinating is that Mr. Prepper has lived a life full of freedom already just by living his life and managing to put up a rocket of his own. His life full of activity, filled with passion, and driven by purpose means a life saturated by freedom in itself. After all, psychoanalysis informs us that we desire desire itself. Mr. Prepper desires freedom, and once he flees Murricaville, he would sorely miss his life therein.
