"EENT! EENT! EENT! EENT! EENT!" cried the alarm clock.
John awoke to the same scene he awoke to every morning. First the alarm, with its incessant, spine-tingling sound. Not a beep so much as a screech.
"EENT! EENT! EENT! EENT! EENT!" it continued.
In a haste to silence the alarm, John scrambled out of bed, ceasing the noise. 6:30AM, Every damn day, John sulked. It wouldn't be so bad if he could only change the volume. The clock’s outer casing was completely devoid of buttons. And the only way to stop it from screeching was to get out of bed.
Pinching his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and clamping his eyes shut, John desperately tried to remember a fast fading dream. I was running from...something. And...and...there was a bright light...and everything was green...then black. He stood naked in the dim morning light trying to bring back the dream. But the more he tried to recall the imagery, the faster it faded. As his mind began to awaken, the dreamscape dissolved into mere tatters of color and flashes of images.
"Damn you,” he cursed the clock, "always tearing me away from some paradise."
The clock didn’t respond, but just sat there, waiting patiently for its next chance to yell. The dream was gone, and John’s dream world with it.
He shuffled over to the window and pulled the gray plastic shades apart in the middle. A pale light shone through. Clouds again... A thick blanket of light-gray clouds covered the entirety of the sky, no yellow sun or blue sky to be seen. John only knew the Sun as a faded circle of light in the sky, barely warming the ground on which it shone. It’s always clouds.
John slowly turned from his window's dismal view back towards the room. He leaned down and grabbed the gray comforter off the ground and tossed it in a heap on the bed. The light filled what parts of the room it could reach, and cast black shadows on the gray walls elsewhere. His bed stood against the left wall, jutting into the center of the room. To the right was a small alcove with 3 doors, his closet on the left, exit in the center, and bathroom on the right.
Automatically, John walked across the small room, entered the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. There was no lock. The sink and mirror were mounted to the gray tile wall immediately to the left of the entrance. The white porcelain toilet sat to the right of the entrance, across from the sink and mirror, and the shower occupied the length of the wall opposite the doorway.
For a few minutes, John squinted into the small mirror, studying his face. His short brown hair spiked in all directions from restless sleep. Being Monday, he hadn’t shaved for two mornings now. Ugh, why didn’t I just shave last night? he asked himself, inspecting the stubble. He opened the cabinet behind the mirror, and pulled out a gray-handled manual razor, and an unlabeled silver can of shaving cream. He dispensed a small amount of foam onto his hand and lathered his face with the cream. John took the razor and pulled it slowly down the side of his cheek. Without realizing it, he nicked himself with the edge and a thin bright red line of blood seeped from his cheek. Red. He thought, staring at the mark, eyes glazing over. Red... A small twinge of pain grasped at his chest. _Something in my dream was red…_The image of a woman in a white dress, lying lifelessly on a bed, covered in blood flashed through his mind. But the image was gone too fast for John to process, or even recognize it. The thin red line swelled into a droplet and began to make its way down his face. He sighed at the feeling of emptiness.
John stepped into the shower and pressed the single metal button embedded in the wall. The shower started. It sprayed lukewarm water at best. And just like the alarm clock, there were no adjustments to make to the water’s pressure or temperature, just on or off. After about 10 seconds, the water shut off and John pressed the metal button again to start it back up. John let the lukewarm water wash over his head as he meditatively ran his fingers through his hair, awakening him fully for the day. The water stopped again. And again he pressed the button again. He used what little bit of soap he had left to wash the essentials; armpits and crotch. Every 10 seconds, John had to restart the shower. This made the whole experience frustrating from the start, causing him to take quick showers and be done with it. But he always concocted ways of making the shower stay on longer. Being late and unconcerned with his appearance, John only wet his hair and forewent the washing. The water alone was enough to make it look presentable.
Exiting the shower, John removed the left of the two gray towels hanging on the rack next to the sink. John dried his hair first, then pressed the towel into his face with both hands. He held it there for a moment, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. He found a brief moment of peace, enjoying the warmth of his breath on his face and hands. The warm darkness reminded him of his bed. When he removed it, a small watery circle of blood had stained the towel. John placed the towel back in its place on the rack and left the bathroom.
Approaching his closet across the alcove, John opened the tall, thin double doors. Gray pants and gray button-down shirts populated the hangers. All were woven in the same rough cotton fabric, just enough to be bearable. He took one of each and slumped into them. From an amorphous gray pile on the floor of the closet, he pulled two identical socks and slipped them on. Finally, John pulled on his already-tied gray dress boots. He went back to the bathroom for a final inspection. He saw the line of red on his cheek had clotted, but not disappeared. He washed it again with water from the sink.
John left the bathroom once again, and turned right to face the exit of his apartment. The thick door was made of some heavy metal, iron, he figured. Its black coat of paint seemed to steal all the light from the room and gave off a cold aura. Taking a deep breath and letting out a long, quiet sigh, John grasped the cold metal knob, twisted, and exited into the damp morning air.
Stepping out into the street, John was welcomed by the familiar row of identical apartments across from his. The exterior of each was the same cold gray of concrete, aside from the night-black doors. There were no windows on the front, but John assumed each had windows in the back like his. The row of apartments stretched down the street a half mile in each direction. From behind, John heard the loud THUNK of his apartment door locking automatically. As the other people on his street began leaving for work, John could hear the faint thunking of their doors locking as well.
Looking over the single story apartments, John could see their work site in the distance, Building 44. From here it looked like a small gray pillar, holding up the entire sky. Near the top, on all four sides of the building, the big black numbers ‘44’ could be read even from this distance. Everyone worked there. Everyone has always worked there. John knew nothing else, and neither did his neighbors.
The pavement was left damp from the rain the night before. It's been cloudy and raining for at least a week now, or is it two? John almost couldn't remember the last time he saw a blue sky. It rained often as there was almost always complete cloud coverage. And without much sun, things were usually damp. Some days the sky was blue, but rarely. And on those days there were no clouds at all.
After taking a minute to acclimate to the brisk temperature, John turned right as he always did, to start his long walk to work. Just as he passed his neighbor’s door it opened quickly and a short, stout, balding man scurried out. Damn.
"Ah! Good morning John! Ready for the day?” he said cheerfully as the door thunked behind him.
"Morning Arthur. Of course. Always ready.” John replied in an uncaring monotone. John wondered how Arthur could be so happy. To John it felt like extra effort to be so animated.
"Oh John, really, you’ve cut yourself shaving again. When will you start taking more caution?” he scolded, as grandfather might.
"I forgot to shave last night,” he lied. "Shall we get walking then?” asked John, trying to shake Arthur off. “It’s a long way.”
"Walk?? Heavens no, boy. That's what the belt is for!”
John had never cared much for the automated path, or 'the belt’ as Arthur and many others referred to it. He preferred to feel the burn in his legs during the walks to and from work. It gave him time to think, and helped occupy his time. The alarms go off at 6:30am, but work didn't start until 8:00am. John could usually get ready in a half hour and would use his spare hour to walk to work. The belt was so slow and crowded that it took just as long.
"R-right,” he said awkwardly, almost forgetting to respond.
Down the length of the street sat a long chain of large metal cabs, lined by metal poles that seemed more aesthetic than functional. Maybe they were for “safety”. As Arthur approached, he leaned on one of them. It wobbled slightly under his weight and he struggled to keep his balance.
“Ah!”, he yelped. “Geez! They should really fix that!”
“They who?” John asked wryly.
“Well... ‘They’, the people who fix this sort of thing.”
“They'll get to it.”
The doors opened automatically with a TSSSS. Inside, cushioned seats lined the plain metal walls, leaving an open space in the middle of the cabin. Arthur and John entered and Arthur quickly seated himself comfortably in the corner seat.
“Best seat in the house!” He beamed, leaning comfortably against two walls of the cab.
John remained standing and held onto one of the overhead rails.
“You’re not going to sit??” asked Arthur incredulously.
“No.”
“It’s a long way.”
John looked at Arthur, “Yea well, I’ve been laying down all night.” He looked away coolly.
“Ha, you’ve got a point there. Just wait ‘til you’re older!”
I wanted to walk, he thought, staring sadly outside.
The cab filled until all the seats were taken. Despite the standing room left, no one else boarded. John’s neighbors were used to him standing by now and had stopped looking at him awkwardly long ago. The doors slid closed slowly and the next car began filling. The belt moved at a constant, excruciatingly slow pace. I can walk faster than this. What’s the point of taking this thing if it takes so long? Laziness, he answered himself.
"Now what’s so bad about this? The belt is always on time, more than I can say for you my boy, ha, ha. It takes a certain kind of man to be punctual, you know. They say a true gentleman is always prompt. When I was a boy...”
How long is he going to go on for this time? John wondered, having sat through one of Arthur’s lectures more than a few times before. John continued looking out the glass window. A thin fog held in the air, making the Sun fuzzy and dim.
"-and if we weren’t on time, boy we’d be punished, severely. You-" he cut off, "Are you even listening John?”
From behind, John heard someone cough.
"Yes, yes Arthur, punctuality or punishment. I get it.” John turned around to inspect the noise. Looking back at him was a shorter, younger woman. Her head was hidden by a shawl, but her blue eyes shone brightly in the barely shining sun. For fear of staring, John turned his head back towards the window immediately.
"Aha, clearly not my boy. You should not do something simply to avoid punishment. Next you'll be suggesting we take the stairs at work!”
John was already regretting his decision to ride the belt with Arthur. He’d done it out of obligation and expectation more than anything else. It's just one day. Just deal with him.
"Do you have a response?” Arthur questioned in slight annoyance.
"I just like walking. It feels good.”
"Aha! Well you're still young and spry. Give it time! Aha, ha,” Arthur joked.
John forced laughter, “Aha,” and said, “Yes that's true.” After so many pointless conversations, John had learned how to respond just enough to make the person feel heard, but not enough to provoke them to speak further.
By now the belt had reached the end of John and Arthur's street. Upon reaching the corner, each cab started turning left in an arc. They were now facing the main road to Building 44, called Main 4. John's apartment stood on a road named Side 7. Even from here, the magnitude of the black and white pillar that was Building 44 still couldn't be fully realized.
As the cab on Main 4 merged with those of the side streets, the pace slowed significantly. The chain of cabs automatically separated at every other to allow the cabs from opposing side streets to join together in one long chain down Main 4, heading towards 44.
John couldn't help analyzing the efficiency of the whole system. Why is it that the people closest to the destination are most likely to take the easiest means of transportation? If they walked, it would be faster for everyone. Hell, we could all just be walking instead. Oh no, an hour walk?! It's the end of the world! Ha, I wonder if they'd even run then.
After several minutes of stopping and starting, John’s cab resumed its regular speed. Building 44 had become twice as big, but still remained several miles in the distance. The pale gray of its concrete almost melded into the sky. But the black numbers ‘44’ loomed over him, as if two giant eyes were staring down right at him. A row of black windows wrapped around the top-most floor of the building. John often wondered who or what might be on that floor.
John's eyes rested lazily, unblinking on the encroaching Building 44. Another week of work. Another week of logging data and sorting files. Why can't this be done by Artificial Intelligence? I guess then I wouldn't have a job, ha. I wonder what all these people do. John’s focus scattered among the people sitting around him.
The people on the belt didn’t talk to each other. They didn’t even look at one another. He studied their faces. Everyone wore the same, emotionless expression. Many sat still, with headphones on, looking listlessly down into their phones. It was as if none of them wanted to be here. John felt the same. Maybe they have no choice. But then again...do I?
When John glanced over to the blue-eyed woman again, she was staring right back at him. He quickly looked away immediately in surprise. John went back to looking out the window, and rested his forehead against the glass and sighed deeply. Building 44 loomed taller now. Even at a mile away, it was massive.
Another half hour passed as John drifted in and out of conversations with Arthur. John was, again, attempting to recollect his dream from the night before when the belt slowed to a stop. The people at the front began to rise as their cabs stopped and opened.
The crowd shuffled towards the large glass double doors of Building 44. John lingered outside a moment to behold the massive structure. The crowd bumped by him left and right. The entrance was flanked by two massive white pillars reaching up to a metal overhang above the doors. Above the doors, shiny metal characters spelled out, "Building 44”. John had often wondered why this building was number 44 when there were no others like it nearby. Reluctantly, he entered.
Thanks for reading! More to come,
Tartheis
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