Without Sin by Patrick Carella, black coffee

He discovered why it’s called Rockland County the first time he sunk a shovel in his backyard.
Rocks.
Every time he sunk it—ding—another one.
By the end of the day, there were more rocks than dirt.

The meeting began.
James stood up, rigid in his convictions that this was going to be the next big thing.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I present, the Earth Shoe 2.0.’
Brows raised.
‘We take the basic design, but manufacture with modern sensibilities:
‘Bamboo uppers.’
‘Recycled soles.’
‘Non-gendered sizing.’
Charts flipped furiously.
A long pause.
‘What else ya got?’
James felt prickles in his face—like getting splashed with seltzer.
‘Well, it’s a classic design and retro is very in. It can be the next Uggs.’
‘Jim, I know you’re passionate about this project. But I lived through Earth Shoes. I lived through Lil Abners, Jellies, and hiking boots. There’s a reason people stopped wearing them.’
A pause.
‘They’re ugly.’

There was no getting around that. The poor Earth Shoe was ugly by design—its slanted toe box, and backwards heel appealed largely to the muesli crowd.
‘But those were ergonomic breakthroughs.’
Another pause.
‘Look Jim, we’re looking for a quick hit. Something retro, but novel. Easy to make. Low manufacturing costs. Think Hula Hoop. Everyone had one, right?’

Yardwork was therapeutic. Besides, he found, it was a way to think without sitting behind a desk.
The flat of pachysandra sat in front of him.
Parachute pants. CB radios. Hacky sacks. Garbage pail kids.
Nah.
The day wore on. The flat was going in surprisingly smooth.
The sun still stung his skin. It was April.
He felt his back creak as he grabbed the shovel.
Ding.
I knew it.
Ding.
Friggin…
Ding.
Ding.

The backpack hit the mica surface of the table with a thump. James got there early.
Some made remarks, others just stared.
‘So Jim, what have you got?’ The boss liked James.
James motioned his eyes towards the middle of the table.
‘Yeah so?’
Pause.
‘Oh no, a Pet Rock? That’s even worse than the Earth Shoes.’
‘Hold on!’
There was authority in how James said it.
‘These things were immensely popular in the 70s. Everybody had one.’
He held up a photo of small cardboard cage. The letters Pet Rock were inked across the top.
The boss looked bored. The rest of the room was surprised.
‘Nothing to manufacture except the plain brown boxes.’
The boss stopped smiling.
‘Think of the age we live in: people are more disengaged than ever. They’ve stopped talking. Stopped going places. DoorDash. Telemedicine. Shit, no one even dates the way they used to. They have nothing to tell them, ‘hey, it’s okay, I’m going to stand by you no matter what. You can hold me, talk to me. I’m here, I exist.’ You know, a friend.’
‘It’s a rock.’ The boss started smiling again.
‘Why not? It’s tactile. It has weight. Mass. It doesn’t live in a cloud. It sits right beside you. Always.’
Pause.
‘These were a joke.’
‘Look, we ran the numbers. People need something to believe in. Nobody trusts the news.’
‘A rock.’
‘It’s not just a rock. It won’t talk back. It won’t body shame. It doesn’t judge. It just is—a companion/security blanket/confidence booster all-in-one. This rock is an extension of you.’
‘I’m not committing to anything until we test it.’
James lingered after the room cleared. One of the samples sat near the edge of the table. He picked it up.
It surprised him—cool, heavier than it looked.

The boxes were assembled in a warehouse. Gloved hands placed the rocks in their new homes.
Black ink dried that spelled Rock The World.

The commercial aired late at night:

Open on a millennial-type in a suit in front of a white seamless background. He is holding a rock while talking to the camera.
Man: You need a friend like this.
For times like these.
For when people fail you.
Misinform you.
Judge you.
You need something to stand by you.
And always tell it like it is.
Day or night.
24/7.
Steady. Solid.
Your new best friend.
It’s time to Rock The World.

The warehouse remained undisturbed—the rocks settled comfortably in their indented homes.
Dust settled on the boxes.
James kept one on his desk.
Sometimes he’d reach for it mid-email, mid-call—just to feel the weight.

2 am. The bright light and a man’s powerful voice woke Marlowe out of her ear buds.
‘No way.’
@marlowe.lives — Story: ‘Wait—has anyone seen this? It’s a rock. They’re calling it empowerment.’
@marlowe.lives — X: just saw a commercial for a self-empowerment rock and I hate that I didn’t dismiss it
@marlowe.lives — Story: ‘Okay. I got it.’
@marlowe.lives — Reel: ‘It came.’ ‘…it’s heavier than I expected.’ ‘It has already chosen you.’
@marlowe.lives — Post: ‘Morning felt quieter.’ #Grant
Comments: @ellie.vibes: that’s how it starts @kiraresponds: you don’t realize how loud it was before
@marlowe.lives — X: me a week ago: it’s just a rock me now: where is Grant
@devonwrites — X: 2 million sold this week alone
@brand.account — Post: Over 5 million placed. Thank you for listening.
@marlowe.lives — Story (responses): @ellie.vibes: ‘Slow down.’ @kiraresponds: ‘You already know.’ @devonwrites: ‘They don’t like being misplaced.’
@marlowe.lives — Live (clipped): ‘I don’t think it changes. I think you do.’
@culturewire — X: fastest-growing consumer object in recorded history
@marlowe.lives — Post: ‘Some things aren’t for everyone.’ #Grant

A second warehouse was opened. Contracts were reached with stone and aggregate companies.
The rocks were everywhere now.
James started carrying it without realizing when that began.
Desk to pocket. Pocket to nightstand. Back again.
He caught himself once, holding it during a meeting, thumb pressed along its edge like it might say something if he waited long enough.

The first time he saw the report, James was alone.

ANCHOR:
Good evening. We begin tonight with a developing story out of Westchester County, where authorities are investigating a fatal incident involving one of the recently popular companion rocks.

CUT TO REPORTER (live):
Dan, police were called to the home behind me earlier this afternoon. A 34-year-old man was pronounced dead at the scene. Officials say the cause of death was blunt force trauma.

(beat)

A rock was recovered nearby.

ANCHOR:
Recovered nearby.

REPORTER:
Yes.

One person is in custody. Neighbors describe him as quiet.
They say he was often seen carrying the object with him.
The company released a brief statement earlier this evening.

GRAPHIC — STATEMENT:
‘We remind all users that their rock is a reflection of themselves. Please engage responsibly at all times.’

ANCHOR:
A reflection of themselves.

REPORTER:
Yes.

ANCHOR:
All right. We’ll continue to follow this story as more details become available.

James looked down at his own.
Same weight.
Nothing different.
He set it on the table.
Then, after a moment, pulled it back toward him.

More stories followed. At first, isolated. Then not.
In several unrelated cases, witnesses described the same words before the attack.
The phrase ‘without sin.’
No connection has been confirmed.
London. São Paulo. Manila.
Different places. Same words.
‘Without sin.’
They stopped mentioning the brand.
People had rocks already.
James kept his close.

Bio:

Patrick Carella spent decades writing advertising and commercials before turning to fiction. His work blends the surreal with the everyday. He lives in New York.

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