Eleven drank her coffee facing the window of the café. Soft jazz played in the background, its melody was soothing. The warmth of her coffee was a welcoming feeling after the chilling winds that were characteristic around Central Station. The café was near the main entrance of the station which gave Eleven the opportunity to watch the crowd from a comfortable place. She saw all kinds of different people passing by. Hundreds of humans, individuals, groups or communities passed her view. The mass that’s called society. These hundreds of bodies house the mind that forms opinions and calls forth actions. Society represents the fruits of our decisions, needs, values and morals. All these individual bodies call something inside themselves I. All these minds scream, rant, sing, praise, hope and doubt. One thought could be the exact opposite of the thought of a neighbour, but it would almost never collide. Eleven felt amazed that this massive body of individuals did not fragment and crash. All these different individuals find it the most ordinary thing in the world to walk amongst total strangers. ‘All of society, communities, friends and other groups, are built on trust.’ Where did everyone get this trust? Are you given a package of 100g when you’re born? Maybe trust would be a liquid… maybe its in mother’s milk. ‘Trust, delivered by tit’.

Eleven looked around the café. It was crowded for such a small place. Even though the place was famous for its cakes and pies nobody had anything with their drink. Most drank coffee, only the two women behind her, chatting loudly, drank tea. Her cappuccino hadn’t tasted half that bad. When Eleven walked in she felt extra adventurous and ordered her favourite drink with a contemporary touch. She felt amazed how quickly cafes were to pick up on trends concerning food. Currently the trend, or fad, was Veganism. Eleven didn’t know much about it, she didn’t care, but was nonetheless in to give it a shot. When it arrived it was delivered by a clerk that spoke as if AI had already replaced all human forces in the food industry. Every sip had tasted like amaretti cookies, and she decided to order another one.

The setting of the café complemented her mood perfectly. The caffeine had warmed her body nicely and she felt relaxed and content. As her second cappuccino arrived she wrapped her hands around the cup and let her gaze stare over its edge into the outside world. This was when Eleven was most at ease. On a crappy faux-leather bar stool, with a piece of cut wood to write on in front of her. With a pen that traveled half the globe and then some more, and coffee that had gone trough the same. Polluting lungs everywhere it went and creating slavery in its wake. Facing shops in the opposite buildings selling clothing made in sweatshops. Demanding people to work twenty hours straight in unsafe buildings. And here Eleven sat, enjoying herself amongst all this misery.