Post by airbournebearcarcass on Jun 12, 2015 8:34:04 GMT
It has been a while since I logged on to this forum, but I still exist! Here is the proof!
BYSTANDER
A car crash happened nearby a bus station where I was waiting for a bus. A black sedan rammed into the rear end of a grey sedan, which in turn knocked down a cyclist. The deformed bicycle skidded a few metres along the road while the cyclist flew a bit further before landing with a thud. All the eggs the cyclist was carrying scattered and splattered all over the road, the eggs’ contents flowing out just like the bleeding cyclist. The cyclist was a middle-aged man who might have been on his way home after a trip to the market nearby, judging from the brown eggs loaded in his bicycle. A crowd soon gathered about the scene, and out of curiosity I found myself drawn to the crowd.
The two drivers got out of their car, initially looking a bit stunned their eyes scanned the extent of the damage of the crash, undoubtedly seeing the injured and whining cyclist in the process. The stunned expression on their faces soon turned into anger as they started arguing with each other, their voice full of indignation as if life had been unjust to them. Their hands pointed and made obscene gestures while their mouths unleashed torrents of expletives with absolutely no regard for the children within hearing range or the cyclist who was whimpering in pain. Intrigued, I found my eyes glued to the cyclist whose life drained out of him second by second as the two drivers argued, grim reaper was sucking his blood out of him like a vampire. The crowd was fairly large and since nowadays most people carry a mobile phone with them, not to mention a payphone was located just a few steps away from the edge of the crowd, anyone could just easily call the ambulance and the cyclist would be saved. It was shockingly simple to save the man’s life.
A little girl was the first to make a move, she tugged at her mother’s sleeve and asked the mother to call the ambulance. I studied the expression of the mother, she was looking at the injured cyclist with sympathy plastered on her face, yet the mother replied with a stern ‘no’. Undeterred, the girl tried to walk to the payphone to call the ambulance herself but unfortunately she was stopped by the mother who gripped her arm with such strength that the little girl grimaced. “It is none of our business,” said the mother in a rebuking tone, as if the little girl violated some kind of social norm. The girl nodded in response, seemingly convinced by the mother, only then did the mother loosen her grip on the child. I felt my blood boil at the sight; the child appeared to have undergone good character education at school yet her decent character—her willingness to help a person, was crushed by her mother’s self-centred morality. Under a mother like that the little girl might grow up to become just as selfish, and then she would pass on the same self-centred morality to the next generation; what a bright and promising future for humanity.
I took a look at three young men who were literally pushing one another, I supposed they were friends. Person A pushed person B demanding person B to call the ambulance, and then person B performed repeated the same actions at person C, in return person C reciprocated the sentiment back to person A. In the end none took the responsibility of calling the ambulance, person A told his friends his accent is too heavy to be understood over the phone, person B claimed he had no idea how to operate a phone (either mobile or payphone) while person C asserted he was also incapable of operating a phone of any kind due to his oily fingers. So in lieu of getting help for the injured cyclist the three young men elected to stuff their hands into their pockets as they looked on nonchalantly, as the sense of responsibility diffused out of them, surely they had nothing to worry about since so obviously someone else competent would call the ambulance in their stead. By then my blood was vaporising; the cyclist was bloody right bleeding in front of them yet they were giving such pathetic excuses, would any of them still do the same if the middle-aged cyclist was their father? These people’s attitude, is it a representative of the working population’s way of thinking?
My eyes darted to a group of youth, there were three of them. One was gripping onto his smartphone, recording a video of the carnage—the wrecked cars and the bleeding cyclist, as well as the two arguing drivers. The second was busily imitating the way the two drivers argued, performing like a seasoned comedian, the second youth skilfully exaggerated the drivers’ bodily movements turning the whole dispute into a hilarious caricature. If not because there was a cyclist bleeding out there, I would have laughed. The third youth, however, had no such inhibition as he laughed and laughed as if the second youth’s acting was the funniest thing he had seen in his life. The youth laughed so hard that he had difficulty standing straight, he laughed while he stumbled around and clapped at the same time, he laughed while the cyclist bled. None of them displayed any intention of helping the bleeding cyclist. The youth was not the only one who was filming or taking photos, there were lots of people struggling to get a better view of the scene while either gripping their camera-equipped phones in their hands or holding their phones high, in a desperate attempt to capture the wrecked cars and especially the bleeding cyclist. All these people had their phones clutched in their hands, yet none called the ambulance. I suppose if they put the videos on the internet they could get themselves some views, or with the videos they could ‘brag’ to some friends, or they could earn some money if they sell their footages to the news channels (after all, “if it bleeds it leads”). There are just people with an affinity towards videos and photos of that sort—accidents and crime scenes, enough of them to potentially fuel an industry. Humans are simply more advanced than other animals.
Finally, after a few minutes a wheelchair-bound old woman slowly pushed herself to the payphone and called the ambulance. The lady’s skin looked extremely weathered, in fact she looked older than radio itself. Curiously both her legs were missing; perhaps she had been a victim of an accident before. Why did the numerous able-bodied phone-carrying young men and women in the crowd chose to leave the cyclist to die while a disabled old woman stood up (not literally) for the gravely injured cyclist?
Unfortunately by the time the ambulance arrived the cyclist was dead, later I learned from television news that the cyclist left behind a young child and a terminally ill widow.
Those who gaped at the scene and did nothing to help, those who quickly left the scene when they realised it was a car crash involving an injured cyclist, and the two drivers, it was their inaction which killed the cyclist. Like the mother had said to her daughter, the crash resulting in a hit cyclist was none of the bystanders’ business hence they have no obligation to help the cyclist. So why should they be bothered that the cyclist died? Why should society give a damn? Besides, statistically speaking with the vast number of people who die each and every day, the death of the cyclist was not special or remarkable in any way; filler for evening news and a job for the funeral industry, nothing more. But since when has society becomes so irresponsible? So uncaring? So calloused and unfeeling? As far as I am concerned, those bystanders have blood on their hands.
Anyway that was the rant I made to my friend as I detailed my encounter and observations, I was somewhat expecting the friend to praise me for my good observations or join me in a cynical rant about society being corrupted, instead the friend asked me an important question which never crossed my mind.
“Why didn’t you just call the ambulance yourself? You could have saved the cyclist!”
This story is fictional, thankfully I don't have to find out whether I am one of the bystanders. I don't believe real life people will be so apathetic, since I am trying very hard to produce something cynical and pessimistic, but it is surprisingly satisfying to write this kind of story for some reason I can't quite explain. I am actually trying to demonstrate what bystander's syndrome may look like as well as to portray the narrator as someone cynical, self-righteous and hypocritical (the narrator himself may be unaware of his own hypocrisy)—he mentally distanced himself from the bystanders as he criticised and condemned the bystanders for their actions/inaction when the narrator himself was one of the bystanders (or rather a bystander watching bystanders watching an accident) and was guilty of inaction himself, waiting for someone else to call the ambulance, something which he didn't seem realise. Anyway for those who managed to stick to the end of the story, I wonder what kind of impression do you form of the narrator.
The two drivers got out of their car, initially looking a bit stunned their eyes scanned the extent of the damage of the crash, undoubtedly seeing the injured and whining cyclist in the process. The stunned expression on their faces soon turned into anger as they started arguing with each other, their voice full of indignation as if life had been unjust to them. Their hands pointed and made obscene gestures while their mouths unleashed torrents of expletives with absolutely no regard for the children within hearing range or the cyclist who was whimpering in pain. Intrigued, I found my eyes glued to the cyclist whose life drained out of him second by second as the two drivers argued, grim reaper was sucking his blood out of him like a vampire. The crowd was fairly large and since nowadays most people carry a mobile phone with them, not to mention a payphone was located just a few steps away from the edge of the crowd, anyone could just easily call the ambulance and the cyclist would be saved. It was shockingly simple to save the man’s life.
A little girl was the first to make a move, she tugged at her mother’s sleeve and asked the mother to call the ambulance. I studied the expression of the mother, she was looking at the injured cyclist with sympathy plastered on her face, yet the mother replied with a stern ‘no’. Undeterred, the girl tried to walk to the payphone to call the ambulance herself but unfortunately she was stopped by the mother who gripped her arm with such strength that the little girl grimaced. “It is none of our business,” said the mother in a rebuking tone, as if the little girl violated some kind of social norm. The girl nodded in response, seemingly convinced by the mother, only then did the mother loosen her grip on the child. I felt my blood boil at the sight; the child appeared to have undergone good character education at school yet her decent character—her willingness to help a person, was crushed by her mother’s self-centred morality. Under a mother like that the little girl might grow up to become just as selfish, and then she would pass on the same self-centred morality to the next generation; what a bright and promising future for humanity.
I took a look at three young men who were literally pushing one another, I supposed they were friends. Person A pushed person B demanding person B to call the ambulance, and then person B performed repeated the same actions at person C, in return person C reciprocated the sentiment back to person A. In the end none took the responsibility of calling the ambulance, person A told his friends his accent is too heavy to be understood over the phone, person B claimed he had no idea how to operate a phone (either mobile or payphone) while person C asserted he was also incapable of operating a phone of any kind due to his oily fingers. So in lieu of getting help for the injured cyclist the three young men elected to stuff their hands into their pockets as they looked on nonchalantly, as the sense of responsibility diffused out of them, surely they had nothing to worry about since so obviously someone else competent would call the ambulance in their stead. By then my blood was vaporising; the cyclist was bloody right bleeding in front of them yet they were giving such pathetic excuses, would any of them still do the same if the middle-aged cyclist was their father? These people’s attitude, is it a representative of the working population’s way of thinking?
My eyes darted to a group of youth, there were three of them. One was gripping onto his smartphone, recording a video of the carnage—the wrecked cars and the bleeding cyclist, as well as the two arguing drivers. The second was busily imitating the way the two drivers argued, performing like a seasoned comedian, the second youth skilfully exaggerated the drivers’ bodily movements turning the whole dispute into a hilarious caricature. If not because there was a cyclist bleeding out there, I would have laughed. The third youth, however, had no such inhibition as he laughed and laughed as if the second youth’s acting was the funniest thing he had seen in his life. The youth laughed so hard that he had difficulty standing straight, he laughed while he stumbled around and clapped at the same time, he laughed while the cyclist bled. None of them displayed any intention of helping the bleeding cyclist. The youth was not the only one who was filming or taking photos, there were lots of people struggling to get a better view of the scene while either gripping their camera-equipped phones in their hands or holding their phones high, in a desperate attempt to capture the wrecked cars and especially the bleeding cyclist. All these people had their phones clutched in their hands, yet none called the ambulance. I suppose if they put the videos on the internet they could get themselves some views, or with the videos they could ‘brag’ to some friends, or they could earn some money if they sell their footages to the news channels (after all, “if it bleeds it leads”). There are just people with an affinity towards videos and photos of that sort—accidents and crime scenes, enough of them to potentially fuel an industry. Humans are simply more advanced than other animals.
Finally, after a few minutes a wheelchair-bound old woman slowly pushed herself to the payphone and called the ambulance. The lady’s skin looked extremely weathered, in fact she looked older than radio itself. Curiously both her legs were missing; perhaps she had been a victim of an accident before. Why did the numerous able-bodied phone-carrying young men and women in the crowd chose to leave the cyclist to die while a disabled old woman stood up (not literally) for the gravely injured cyclist?
Unfortunately by the time the ambulance arrived the cyclist was dead, later I learned from television news that the cyclist left behind a young child and a terminally ill widow.
Those who gaped at the scene and did nothing to help, those who quickly left the scene when they realised it was a car crash involving an injured cyclist, and the two drivers, it was their inaction which killed the cyclist. Like the mother had said to her daughter, the crash resulting in a hit cyclist was none of the bystanders’ business hence they have no obligation to help the cyclist. So why should they be bothered that the cyclist died? Why should society give a damn? Besides, statistically speaking with the vast number of people who die each and every day, the death of the cyclist was not special or remarkable in any way; filler for evening news and a job for the funeral industry, nothing more. But since when has society becomes so irresponsible? So uncaring? So calloused and unfeeling? As far as I am concerned, those bystanders have blood on their hands.
Anyway that was the rant I made to my friend as I detailed my encounter and observations, I was somewhat expecting the friend to praise me for my good observations or join me in a cynical rant about society being corrupted, instead the friend asked me an important question which never crossed my mind.
“Why didn’t you just call the ambulance yourself? You could have saved the cyclist!”
This story is fictional, thankfully I don't have to find out whether I am one of the bystanders. I don't believe real life people will be so apathetic, since I am trying very hard to produce something cynical and pessimistic, but it is surprisingly satisfying to write this kind of story for some reason I can't quite explain. I am actually trying to demonstrate what bystander's syndrome may look like as well as to portray the narrator as someone cynical, self-righteous and hypocritical (the narrator himself may be unaware of his own hypocrisy)—he mentally distanced himself from the bystanders as he criticised and condemned the bystanders for their actions/inaction when the narrator himself was one of the bystanders (or rather a bystander watching bystanders watching an accident) and was guilty of inaction himself, waiting for someone else to call the ambulance, something which he didn't seem realise. Anyway for those who managed to stick to the end of the story, I wonder what kind of impression do you form of the narrator.