Chapter 2: The Audience of Bystanders
A few days later, Riya walked through the crowded city center, her gimbal-stabilized camera in hand. She was filming a "Day in my Life" vlog. The city served as a backdrop, nothing more than a set for her production.
"Without warning, the shrill cry of skidding rubber sliced through the city's hum." A few yards ahead, a delivery biker skidded on the wet pavement, crashing into a fruit stall. Oranges and apples rolled everywhere, and the young man lay pinned under his heavy bike, groaning in pain.
Riya stopped. Her heart hammered, but her first instinct wasn't to run and lift the bike. It was to check if her camera was recording.
She wasn't alone. Within seconds, a circle of people formed around the injured man. But no one reached out a hand. Instead, twenty smartphones rose in unison, like cold barrels aimed at a target. The flashes flickered like strobe lights at a club.
"Someone call an ambulance!" a woman shrieked, yet her fingers never left her screen to actually place the call. She was too busy getting a close-up of the victim's bleeding knee.
Riya felt a strange chill. She looked at her screen. The "Live" viewer count was exploding. Comments came in: "OMG, is he dead?" "Great footage, Riya!" "The world is so dangerous. Stay safe, queen!"
She found herself narrating to her followers, "Guys, it's so tragic here." There's been a terrible accident. Look at all this chaos." "Honestly, I'm so devastated right now; I can barely breathe watching this ."
She said her heart was breaking, but she didn't move. She stayed behind the lens. She saw the victim look up, his eyes searching the crowd for a savior, only to find a wall of glass and black lenses staring back at him. He wasn't a human to them anymore; he was content. To the lenses surrounding him, he was no longer a human in pain; he was just a goldmine for digital traffic.
Riya caught her own reflection in a shop window. She looked like a vulture, hovering over pain just to feed her feed. For a split second, she felt a wave of disgust, but then a donation popped up on her screen.
The guilt vanished. The virtual trap had numbed her soul. She adjusted the focus, stepped closer to the blood on the pavement, and whispered to her audience, "Don't forget to like and share this stream to spread awareness about road safety."
The irony was lost on her. She was filming the death of empathy, and she was the lead cinematographer.