I roll down the windows of my rust-coloured Toyota to adjust the side view mirror. I peer my head out the window to check if my car would hit the passenger-parked sun-yellow Volvo. I shift my car to reverse and hit the accelerator till I hear a thud. I look back again and the yellow paint has chipped off from the edge and the metal is visible. I hit the brakes and sighed. My watch reads 16:05. I ruffle my hair to make it look hastily combed and I adjust my collar. I open the door and step out slowly feeling a little dizzy. The sun is still bright and the large, blue Walmart sign blocks a third of it. I bring my left hand to my eyes and scowl at the heat. I walk towards the trolley lane. The trolly hesitantly unlocks from the others in the long chain of trolleys. The entrance to Walmart is a huge, beige archway. The trolley makes a whining sound and one of its wheels is awkwardly pointed outwards and not in motion. I sigh and walk faster.

Walmart walls from the inside look like a string of woven firefly nests. The ceiling is covered with horizontal, silver metal rods and stands. The white lights attached to the rods appear like a cotton branch attached with evenly spaced white buds. The first floor above is a sitting and dining area with lots of empty tables and chairs. The place almost looks deserted if not for its fresh coat of white and grey paint. I look around and I am perplexed by the emptiness of the store. It’s a Sunday evening and there’s no one to be seen around on an off-day. I almost knock myself out as I look at the number of shopping aisles on either side of where I am standing.

“This doesn’t look like a normal Walmart. There are almost thousands of fucking aisles!”, I say to myself.

“Because it is not. Welcome to Walmart-Plus, How may I assist you today?”, I hear a voice from behind me. I turn around and see someone in what appears to be a toga-wearing the standard Walmart uniform, a blue, thin vest. I don’t believe my eyes and squint confusingly looking at the figure.

“No, that’s not a toga for Zeus’ sake. I know what you’re thinking. It’s a chiton and a cloak. Those Roman assholes wear a Toga. I’m greek.”, the man says. I am both impressed and doubtful at the same time. His face is old, woven with fine lines and stretch marks. His figure is not very burly but his silhouette and the white lights reflecting on his shiny, oiled and tan skin give off an air of authority, pride and indifference. His hair is curly and tied in a neat man-bun behind with the loose strands flowing till the sleeves of his vest. I look at his employee nametag and it reads: Socrates.

“Wait. Are you for real Socrates, the daddy of philosophy?”, I ask him, chuckling almost unbelievably.

“Why, yes. We prefer patér but you can also call me táta. I am the As for me, All that I know is that I know nothing guy in the flesh, almost. I see you’ve found the realm of reality.”, he shrugs and says as he directs me towards the aisles. The board hanging from the firefly nest reads: Toiletries and Sanitary Products.

“We have special toiletries and sanitary products. You’ll find them in every size and shape. Let’s just say they are very maniae. It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen spanios boy”, he says with a smirky smile on his face. There are toothbrushes, toothpaste tubes, tongue cleaners, soaps, face/body washes, shampoos, and conditioners in all colours, shapes, sizes and textures. I pick up a sparkling toothpaste tube. The label reads: Glitter toothpaste to add some pop and shine in your life. I squeeze some past out and it’s a brilliant magenta red with sparkles.

“I’ve never ever ever seen this toothpaste in my life. And what the fuck do you mean the realm of reality?”, I ask him confused more than ever. I pick up the glitter toothpaste, a toothbrush shaped like a tooth with the softest and thinnest bristles ever and a soap that claims it never ends or slips out of your hand and drop them in my shopping cart greedily.

“This is the realm of reality. The very unexplained meaning of life that I and many others after me had tried to unsuccessfully understand.”, he says as a matter of factly.

“The realm of reality is a magical Walmart?”, I ask funnily.

“Dear boy, what is reality but a Walmart. There’s no magic here but just manifestations of materialistic wishes that people, anyone who’s ever existed has asked for. A soap that makes me look young and glowing forever, a biscuit that cuts down fat like a sharp knife slicing tomatoes on a wooden chopping board and etc.”, he says as he moves towards the next aisle. The sign reads oils, sauces and condiments.

“But why a Walmart-Plus of all places? Also is it real that you guys used stones for toilet paper?”, I ask Socrates. I look at the various tomato ketchups, salad dressing, balsamic vinegar and poutine containers kept together. Each product is different from another and I realise I have never seen anything like this ever before. What kind of things do people wish for? How many of these wishes are nothing but mere manifestations? Do any of these wishes go unfulfilled or are people just unhappy?

“Think about it in a philosophical way. A Walmart-plus completely dedicated to housing any and everything you’ve ever asked for except that these things don’t really exist in your normal life. People keep wishing for things that they do not really want because they are consumed by what you guys call consumerist culture. They are so blinded by the glamorous things and entities that they desperately want to possess that in the process of running through thousands of aisles in life, they forget to really appreciate what really matters in the end. You are not going to be buried with your expensive furniture or pots of money and gold coins. In the end, you desert the very things you so passionately loved because you don't have control over life and death”, Socrates says and I look at him in awe and wonder.

“You didn’t answer my question though”, I say as I look at him.

“Moros! Didn’t I just give you a beautiful analogy about what life really is?”, he says and looks at me like I am a bug. This guy is so dramatic like he was on his death trial. I roll my eyes and look at him. He looks back sternly. We have already surpassed the board sign that read: Screws, nails, hammers and tools.

“I meant the stone for toilet paper”, I say meekly as I smile.

“I shall ignore this blasphēmia question. Welcome kid to Walmart-Plus. You’re on the journey of life. We shall be of assistance”, he looks at Socrates with sincere eyes.

“Ah, Plato. You’re here as well.”, Socrates says sarcastically with a hint of annoyance. Plato, quick to notice, just nods sincerely.

“I didn’t mean to write the books. I know you think writing destroys memory and weakens the mind. But I disagree completely. Writing enables us to further reflect on what we think. Writing also plēróō us up with more thoughts. Yes but I still want those nonsensical poets to be banished, a menace to society.”, Plato says discerningly. Socrates looks at him unsettlingly.

“He’s not wrong, Socrates. I mean if homeboy here did not write down what you guys used to pillow talk about I wouldn’t have taken philosophy as my major to understand the big G and L questions.”, I say and point towards Plato. He smiles at me. I smile as I look at the items in the aisle: Diary, meat and eggs. What better to be in the realm of reality but with bffs of life and all its questions?

“Why is the chicken so fat and plump? It looks uncanny.”, I ask as I poke a naked chicken’s pink skin. It feels like a plump piece of jelly. I look around and see huge gallons of milk with crying cows on its labels. The label promises an unlimited protein supply for bodybuilders. I pick up a carton.

“That’s because these chickens and all the dairy and meat products here are the manifestations of oikonomia and consumerism. Man inherently is always biased. Man in his nature is Pleonexia and often commits blunders on his fellow anthropos and fusis.His eros takes over his logos and thymos leading to disorder and chaos in the world. But the capitalists are forever happy as they are wealthy”, Plato says and Socrates nods in full agreement.

“Yeah, but come on. Money is what fuels the economy. It is what fuels the state to carry out its functions. Money keeps us motivated and running. What are we without money, just poor? Don’t you think so? If capitalists become capitalists we need to see what enables them to become capitalists.”, I say as we walk down the next aisle dropping a plumpy chicken and extra-protein eggs in my basket. The sign board reads Bakery and Breads.

“You are absolutely right my boy. Power is what makes us going, Power and authority. You need to climb the ranks of society through assertion or corruption. It is in our human nature, la natura umana. Humans inherently are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly and covetous. We have the ability to do good but only when it is in our self-interest”, came a voice from a rat-looking, skinny man with beady and mischievous eyes.

“Gah, Machiavelli, not you. How dare you stand in front of us?”, beamed Socrates with his nostrils huffing. Plato glared at Machiavelli’s direction as if ready to punch him in the nose. The baked goods aisle smells heavenly almost as if the person who baked this put his blood, sweat and tears into it. I pick up a piece of pie and the label reads: Bread from the poor. I sniff it and it smells heavenly and delicious. I quickly sneak one into my basket, almost feeling guilty.

“Yo, dad, chill! He’s not wrong. At least in contemporary times, his ideas and thoughts are appreciated by most capitalists. It is frustrating and unfair, but isn’t life all about acceptance?”, I say as we walk towards the next aisle with the board that reads: Fruits, Vegetables and nuts.

“But is the meaning of life only money? Does money, mere printed paper hold as much value over human life that we blindly let it run our judgments and predicaments? Should we give anyone, or in this case a mere anything, so much power and autonomy over us?”, asks Plato and I go blank for a minute as I realize he is talking like my father.

“Whoa! Those are some big eggplants. Oh my god, look at those peaches. They’re the biggest peaches I‘ve seen. I look around quickly to see if anyone’s noticing me. I take a bite of the peach and I can taste its sweet succulency. The barcode board below the peaches stand reads: Peaches for bigger butts and I immediately cough out the peach I’d eaten.

“Ha-ha, yes the peaches are always enticing in the Realm of Reality. Almost everyone makes the same mistake. You should try the zestiest oranges, they’re addictive like money and power. Hi, I’m Aristotle. How can I assist you in the Realm of Reality?”, says a man with neat-looking short hair and a beard. His eyes are calm and he looks composed.

“Aristotle, my man! How could there be a philosopher’s convention at a magical Walmart without Aristotle?”, I tell him as I squeal excitedly. Ever since I’ve begun pursuing philosophy as my major in college, I’ve always been fascinated by the neutral yet firm stance that Aristotle approaches towards society, politics and metaphysics. I remember being obsessed with Aristotle in class 6 because my father had The Poetics on his bookshelf. He used to read me Aristotle’s works and would make up fictional anecdotes to apply his theoretical knowledge so I could understand better. This was our nightly ritual and I would always look forward to receiving catharsis when our night philosophy stories ended. We were asked to talk about our role models in class and I had already made up my mind.

“I want to be Aristotle when I grow up”, I said with pride beaming off of my face. The other kids started giggling and laughter ruptured and echoed from the grey battered walls. I looked around the class and everyone was snickering. I hadn’t said the obvious answers to this monotonous question that every other kid had before me. The accepted ones were Superman, the president, Hillary Clinton and Gandhi. I was dumbfounded and looked at the teacher tearfully.

“It’s okay Timmy, next time don’t just say a random person’s name just because they are famous”, she said as she patted my head. I felt uneasy because Aristotle was not random, he was my hero. He was someone I felt passionately about. He was a core memory that I shared with my now dead father. I remember how fervently I felt about philosophy and now I treat it as a mere subject to pass my college classes with.

“Timmy cheer up, even if you’ve forgotten or hapax legomenon, you can still find your purpose. You can still dig deep for the profound love you had for philosophy. Remember like I said: the goal of education is identical to the goal of man. An ideal man realises that his happiness is linked to his virtue. Virtue is linked to education and habit. You need to realise your virtue and make your own happiness”, Aristotle says as he hands me seedless strawberries that are as ripe as Red Riding Hood’s blushing cheeks.

“Wow, thanks. Every now and then I forget why I ever really got into philosophy”, I say remotely. I only discuss philosophy with my friends when I want to blow their minds or with girls when I want to impress them with my intellect. Have I been caught up with all the materialistic wishes that I non-ideally seek for a sense of false gratification? Is this sense of superficial joy and satisfaction worth losing my sense of self everyday?

“He’s right, we are so caught up behind trying to accumulate wealth and power and engage in a false sense of materialistic reality that we lose parts of our ‘self’. We disintegrate from things that really matter. We are away from nature. We are not living in any forms of reality. We are at multiple removes from mundane things, things that make us human”, Plato says with a disheartened look. I shy away from him. I remember simpler times when I was a child, naive trying to make my day about only having fun and being good. Now I look at myself and a stubble-ridden, ageing, under-eye bags ornate man looks back at me. I look at someone who’s long ago given up on his ideals and is always looking forward to superficiality. I realise painfully that I have become the same person I absolutely despised.

“I couldn’t agree any less. Man’s hunger for power and wealth makes him blind. In the virilious process of acquiring more than what he needs or can handle, he forgets to vivi nel presente. Although I argue for man’s aspiration for power, it often turns into a crazy obsession. When it remains unfulfilled, man is in grief. When it remains fulfilled, man has lost way too much time. Time cannot be gotten back”, Machiavelli says and everyone nods in agreement with him.

I walk down the aisle with my head hung low. I can feel the uneasiness in my stomach. The similar feeling of me sinking because of the weight of the thoughts in my head. I feel sick, like an ice cube that's melting and there is a sharp pain of guilt and grief in my heart. There’s another feeling that I couldn’t identify until now and the hairs on my arms stand up in fear.

“Guys, I hate to kill this buzz party but am I like dead?”, I ask the gathering in front of me. They all look straight at me as if I am an actual bug.

“Okay, you gotta stop looking at me like I am a cicada you wanna shoo away. I don’t understand why I am here?”, I ask them confusingly. All of them look at me with sympathy in their eyes. I shrug in confusion.

“No, you’re not dead. You’re subconsciously straying away. You’re in the realm of reality. You’re in the realm of consciousness and of awareness. Everything you want to know is right in front of you”, Socrates replies as he pats my shoulder with his bulky arms.

“So if I get this right, I am in Walmart-plus also known as the Realm of Reality because all the answers I am looking for are right here?”, I ask as I try to understand what is happening around me.

“Precisely! What is life but a Walmart-Plus. It is the manifestation of all our materialistic wishes, all our ‘if i had this and I want that’. What is life if not grocery shopping down countless aisles of mistakes, learning, knowledge and hunger?”, Aristotle replies and Plato smiles proudly at him.

“So tell me then, what is the secret of the universe? You’re dead so you must know? Do we live within a simulation? Am I really me or not? Does hell and heaven exist?”, I ask them breathlessly.

“All the answers you need are right here. You need to look for what you exactly seek”, Plato says as he disappears into thin air as if someone has summoned him. Slowly, they all disintegrate until there’s nothing left of them.

I look around in confusion. I scratch my head as I walk to the cash counter at the extreme left end, near the large exit doors with metal detectors. The cashier is a young woman in her 20’s. Her name tag reads: Amelia.

“Are you a philosopher as well?”, I ask nudgingly.

“No boy, don’t waste my time or play games with me”, she snaps at me as she scans all the items in my cart.

“Your total is 34 dollars and 5 cents, is that cash or card?”, she asks me. I look at the shopping bag in front of me and everything it holds and I stand there as I debate the new dilemma I am in. 

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