I'm so ready

I got the ticket to watch them. So this night there was no curfew for me and I walked late at night past the glowing buildings towards the park. Even though the whole street was lit up by the buildings, they radiated somewhat of an eerie atmosphere. The best view would be from the 3rd floor and that's where I went up to. A few people had already gathered in the apartment dressed up to look like giving us a vip-treatment. They got pretty close to really get it that way. The lights were dimmed and I got myself a spot at a window, from where I had (probably) one of the best views over most of the park. I saw already a few scavenging around the park, when the tone of the speaker's voice obviously indicated that the machines were on their way. I could feel the anxiety of the men around me. A decadent bunch of hypocrites I must say. Merely out of boredom than out of interest I observed the well-dressed party of about a dozen. They were all here for one obvious reason; to feel good about their position in society. The selfishness of the visitors caused for neither of them to show any interest in me. For the occasion I dressed up to match the circumstances; I'd fit in perfectly if it hadn't been for my deviating thoughts. No one even made a close attempt to talk to me; I guess they all assumed I was an outsider. And we all know how is thought about outsiders; it's great to take their money, but any further as that is of no interest to anyone anymore. Yesterday's survivors were looking awkwardly suspicious tonight. They were dressed in several layers of clothes. Most likely taken from those who didn't make it to today. The scarves, hats and gloves made them pretty hard to identify, even in this pretty clear evening. It was rather cloudy, but the moon still cast enough of a glare to distinguish almost every obstacle in the park. As I thought myself I would search for a hideout in the several heaps of fallen leaves and thrash, my eye got hold of a dark figure moving quite self-assured towards a bench with on it what I assumed to be leaves. The little blue led-lights started flickering as I saw a glistering object being cast at a high speed at the bench. All of a sudden I noticed the silence and looked at the men around me watching in awe. The indescribable sound made my head turn towards the spectacle once more. The moonlight made all the colours rather blurry, yet the reddish colour was rather hard to be mistaken for something else than blood.

are they metal

Was this what I wanted to see? Was this who I wanted to be? I longed for it so severely, that I could hardly indulge myself not to watch. It gave me such a thrill to finally feel this part of myself, these hidden feelings of something I mostly thought of as unwholesome. I wanted to be down there, I wanted to know how it'd feel. After this, nothing would hold me back, I thought. It unleashed an incredible sense of power in me. I was almost frightened by this newly found sensation. How I could utter my hatred? ...in such a way would be the answer, so it seemed. Suddenly I gained my realisation of being only upstairs in this room watching the spectacle in awe. I looked around me, but no one had noticed my severe staring and almost disappearance out of reality. Would I have to give in to some more of these heavenly delights, or would I have to try and hold back in this. I was holding back for way too long, yet I decided it would be better for me to leave. Before the last scavenger was found I had left the spectators'-room and was walking in a haze of what I've seen alongside the bright buildings. My head was filled with every thought I had oppressed for the past months. How could this have changed me within a few minutes, I thought. What is to this mere slaughter that draws me? I lay my head still on the black pillow and tried not to close my eyes. I kept staring at the whitened ceiling for at least half an hour before the sleep got to me and I closed my eyes rather unintentionally. The images of which I dreamed that night were turning me on more than any girl ever had. It all got into some weird perspective and turned its back towards me. I woke up feeling colder and lonelier than ever before. The big bed was stripped from all covers and seemed harsh in an unreality that I could not seem to get out of. My stomach turned, I closed my eyes and put my hands over my ears so I wouldn't hear this constant drone.

the next

I woke up alone, by the warmth of a sunbeam. The dense fog of the morning before was no more and I wondered why the light could radiate such a comforting heat in this time of the year. I thought all this just to focus my mind on anything else than the anguish to get rid of the morbid thoughts I had gained during the night. This forced me to get out of bed and find anything that would keep me occupied. Over the low, monotone, constant drone I heard that the streets were filled again with a lively chatter of ignorance, indicating it must have been around noon, or not much later. Everyone knew of the curfew, but would they have any idea what went on after that? Would they realise what the machines are capable of? Would they even have any interest in it? Perhaps they just want tow live their lives how it was given. Or have they already seen the suffering of the less fortunate and have been neglecting it since? My stomach wasn't up to anything yet, which made me get dressed. Even though I've lived in this apartment for a few years, only now the walls seem to frighten me somehow. They radiate a fake, plastic voidness. Before it all started, it looked so much different, so much more like me. Obviously the designs had changed, everything had changed; if you've managed to gather the best crowd around you, the cold still wouldn't leave you. All the promises, all the lies, they never lived up to stick to them. And instead I was given all this. Shouldn't I be grateful? Shouldn't I thank the great thinker on my bare knees every morning? Or should I just set fire to all the remaining memories, hope and eagerness? Of course I was too much of a coward to do so. The cold in my face felt good, almost hurt, but in the good sense of the word. The brown colours of the fallen leaves on the green grass indicated the season of the year. But I was suspicious enough to ask if it was all natural. I was trying to calculate some kind of roster or repeating grid in which they could have been placed after the thorough cleaning of the park. From the same level, the park looked very different. I forced myself to stop staring at the pattern in the leaves when I saw two kids rolling around in them. Maybe I'd get up early tomorrow to figure it out when the whole park would be untouched. I sat next to an older man reading whatever he would have found lying around. I even was of absolutely no interest to look over his shoulder. As if I was trying to find a comfortable position, my hands grabbed the outer rim of the bench. I froze; I felt a wet, thick substance underneath the rim. I was too frightened to have a look what was on my hands. I watched nervously if there was no one around noticing me, but of course everyone was too preoccupied with themselves to even care what anyone else was doing. I let go of the rim and turned around my hand in a fair distance of my head. My fingertips were darkish red.

confirmation

I sat at home and contemplated if I would be able to eat, eat while watch them at work, while actually we would be serving them. Or maybe we are serving them. I ate alone quite frequently lately, that would be the only time I could enjoy an outdoor meal without having to worry about my stomach. This would only be another test; I decided I would make reservations at Tom's.... for myself only. A light flashed by and merely as a habit I walked towards the window to let the light touch my eye. My eyes slightly watered as it took a few seconds for the light to find my right eye. The light bulb darkened and I blinked a few times to moisten my lenses again. ' walked over to my desk and picked up the ID-card and dialled Tom's number. After the first ringtone a noisy beep sounded and I entered my six-digit ID-number. A digitalised female voice replied my entry with repeating the number followed by a short pause and then by confirming my reservation, leaving me with the phone in my left hand listening to the sounding tone. Different face but the words never change. Every night again, you wouldn't even believe what they were doing. Until the sun comes up they are the main players on the board, if I could be so indecent to compare this spectacle to a simple black-versus-white board game. I only had been this lucky to be still alive. Merely because I radiate an attitude of adapting, rather than being a dissident, I'm being held for useful. I always tried to reject, but never really dared to oppose the powers that be. And now I even played along, and I kind of liked it.

a little while

I felt the cold steel as I stared at it and slowly turned it around in my hands. It would have been such an easy way out, but I could have bet a lot of credits on the fact that I would be able to give it to every person out there at night as an escape, but they wouldn?t use it; misplaced opportunities to die. I put the blade back into the drawer and walked over to my desk to check my schedule for the day. I needed to do only one pick-up today; a weekly planned one. So that would not be of any great trouble to my mind today. I have been to the company over a dozen times and knew the way over there by heart. I could drive it with my eyes closed. Sometimes I regained consciousness at their main entrance and realising it was a Thursday morning, with absolutely no recollection of how I possibly got there. I didn?t suffer from insomnia, sleepwalking or any hallucinogenic disease. It was all just a part of me distrusting myself with fixed schedules. You simply lose your touch with that. You lose your edge. And that?s just what you need to hold on to; your senses turned to maximum. You need every inch of your body capable of feeling anything crossing its path that might be of harm to it. Every sinew must be in touch with the brain. You must be able to react in such a way that it seems natural; boneless distraction, with the strongest possible attitude. You just know how cold they?re going to react. It requires some degree of practice, but once you?ve got the hang of it, you?re able to get you to the status you probably wouldn?t even want to have, since you bothered to lie in the first place. It all raises a general question of sincerity. But would you want to grand their wishes? Would you like to rest in their hands? You would serve your own uselessness by wasting what you were actually meant for. Maybe I?d get addicted someday and be able to say that it was myself by whom I?d been scarred for life. I straightened my black tie, put my ID-card into my breast pocket and gave myself one last look in the mirror. Again a desire found in glass, being merely a reflection of me. My keys were still in the jacket that I hung over the kitchen chair when I got home last night. The front door sounded with a silenced ?thud? as the locks shoved into their place. The sun shone heavily into the normally dim-lit corridor towards the small elevator. As I walked towards it I thought to myself I shouldn?t forget to write down tonight?s reservation at Tom?s. It would be a shame to let that go to waste. I had a craving for their Cesar salad, which proved that my stomach was fairly stable again. But it wouldn?t be until tonight before I?d taste the salad. With this in mind I walked over to my car and got in using my ID-card. The traffic wasn?t busy at this time of the day. Since I implied on the non-standard schedule I had to be at the pick-up late in the morning. I was early and my head a bit clouded still. Although I tried harshly to make myself think my head was pure with thoughts on today?s pick-up. I turned my head towards the silence and watched the highway underneath me. Yesterday's taste was slowly growing on me.

cardholders inc.

The vehicle came to a stop half an hour later and pulled up the driveway of a rustic villa. I waved to the receptionist with my ID-card and looked into the scanner. I wasn't really in the mood for some chitchat so I'd intended to get the package and head straight towards its destination. An image of my father flashed before me as I saw the young blonde girl sitting behind the wooden counter. The double glass doors slid aside, obviously bulletproof, like almost all the doors of big corporations nowadays. I didn't even pay attention anymore to the metallic bowl hanging from the ceiling. I knew everything I did would be monitored from some office elsewhere. He was always great at making girls blush by making one single comment, mostly on her make-up or hairdo. I grew up to be rather like him in that manner. But not today, I wasn't much of the flirty type today. My father knew exactly how to manipulate people he'd only need for just that instance. He wouldn't be able to recognise them when he say them again the very next day, or maybe the next hour, and the same would go for them. Yet, it was always fascinating to observe this socialising spectacle, this meaningless small talk. I looked at the bony structure of her face as she finished up the conversation with some customer on the phone. Her eyes sparkled from the minute I walked into the building and I saw her straighten her back into her chair, or maybe I imagined she was doing that just for me. I must have looked like a bum, since I couldn't get myself to have a shave this morning. My mood had changed throughout the morning, from bad to even worse and I couldn't really tell why exactly. The receptionist handed me a package, tightly taped together and sealed in some shiny blue (see-through) plastic. I pressed my thumb against the indicated square on the tablet, which lit after a few seconds. A soft beep sounded and I removed my hand, without taking my eyes off of the receptionist's questioning gaze. "Had rough morning?", she asked. I answered the question mumbling something about not being to catch my sleep, with what I avoided explaining why. Actually I had a fairly good night's rest, so I couldn't tell her why I radiated this dullness. I was loathing myself for being filled with clich?s. Was I really acting cranky because I had too little sleep? Or was I more repelled by the fact that I let her think I was acting this way because I had too little sleep?

inside out

How did we get this dependant on the technological gadgets, intended to make our everyday lives easier? With a ?healthy? dose of suspicion you could go on contemplating on if that would be the true intention of this prosperous state. Maybe it was all set up to gain control over its population, always under a cover of marketing benefits, consumers? satisfaction or to weave a we further into the established laziness of mankind. And another fifteen minutes had passed with asking myself these superfluous ?why are we?-questions. I picked up the package from the counter and made an effort to look like I thought it was a big deal. It always seemed like a big deal on paper, whenever I opened the A4-sized envelope at the beginning of the week. I received it always by mail on Saturday but I didn?t open it until the last minute, to postpone the feeling of being tied up to my rather luxurious lifestyle. ?I will see your pretty face next week, doll?, I said with a rather overdone English accent and headed for the glass exit. I really wasn?t up to a conversation with her today. Mostly I spent at least half an hour or sometimes even longer talking to her about this and that. I one of those hectic talks, since the corporate phone kept ringing, cruelly interrupting us, she explained her rather sad encounter with our healthcare system. Her leg had gotten badly mutilated when she walked down the streets after curfew. In a haze of alcohol and freshly won-over love time passed as she was having a bang. She found it worth the risk. This happened about ten years ago, when the whole state was collectively in favour of keeping to the curfew in a rather strict manner. The morning she told me this I tried to keep my face straight, but all I could think of was her naked body with her leg under a ten inches folded inside itself. I caressed the stump while I jerked off, seeing her tits wiggle to the movement of the bed. I suddenly had come to myself, realising I missed a small part of her story while fantasising. Her voice was warm and soft, I could imagine customers calling the corporation would be glad to hear a voice of a girl barely out of her teens. I?m no different to that; whenever a girl encounters me, I?m more willing to make an effort for whatever she?s asking of me. I got inside my car once again, placing the package in the holder next to my seat. Still I was fairly distracted in my thought and out of habit I set off to the place of delivery. In order to try and get to my senses I drove the vehicle manually, thus forcing myself to focus more on what I was doing.

and again

I threw my black jacket on the chair by the kitchen table, loosened my tie and turned on the television; merely as a moving wallpaper in my apartment. Whilst contemplating what to have for dinner, I gazed into my scarcely filled refrigerator. I took out what first hit my eye. The defrosting of the pre-cooked fish package took just under a minute and instantly started to smell like dinner. Not quite the smell of fresh ocean-fish, but I'd gotten used to it. The genuine smell was something we would only know from stories if it hadn't been for the precious black market. If only the cheap dinner would look like food, it might be more appealing to eat and I wouldn't have seen this as a necessity. When I took the first bite it struck me I had made dinner reservations at Tom's. I dropped my knife and put on my jacket. I had been alone for too long, I figured. Everything that I didn't write down, I was bound to forget. I threw my black jacket on the chair by the kitchen table, loosened my tie and turned on the television; merely as a moving wallpaper in my apartment. Whilst contemplating what to have for dinner, I gazed into my scarcely filled refrigerator. I took out what first hit my eye. The defrosting of the pre-cooked fish package took just under a minute and instantly started to smell like dinner. Not quite the smell of fresh ocean-fish, but I'd gotten used to it. The genuine smell was something we would only know from stories if it hadn't been for the precious black market. If only the cheap dinner would look like food, it might be more appealing to eat and I wouldn't have seen this as a necessity. When I took the first bite it struck me I had made dinner reservations at Tom's. I dropped my knife and put on my jacket. I had been alone for too long, I figured. Everything that I didn't write down, I was bound to forget. "Don't expect, just regret", read the cover of the menu in bright silver printing. In that minute, it seemed I saw myself. It's typical how you read everything that's printed, always when you're waiting. Every night you're reading the thoughts of the past day, waiting to wake up. Telling yourself it was a dream and wondering for the reason. Would it be an issue, when a dream lied to me? Moreover, would it still be a lie if we hadn't finished the story? Did the screaming voice matter when the sun had come up? I got so used to eating my dinner with a knife that it was awkward to eat my salad with a fork. Everyone tried so hard not to be alone all their lives, yet it made me feel quite at ease actually. "Good evening, sir", spoke a distinct male voice. "Your order, sir". The skinny man in his mid twenties walked rapidly away from my table, only leaving two silver plaques, the size of a wallet. "Sir, I haven't ordered...", I tried, raising my arm. But the obscure figure had vanished from my sight already. Flipping the aluminium card around in my hand, the reflection of the light hit the eyes of a girl sitting across the dim-lit restaurant. She looked up from the dinner she was eating and the glare from her large brown eyes hit mine. Instantly my stomach turned and I was twelve years old again. The frame'd got stuck except for the constant background noise. A middle-aged man turned his head to see what the girl was staring at. In a flash, I saw letters appearing on his forehead, a brightly glowing red as if they were carved into his skin. PERVERTED. "And branded for life", my mind added to that. A courteous nod made for him to turn his head back. "Everything's been paid for, sir", sounded the voice of a waiter, "choose anything you'd like, dinner is on the house". In that case, I decided, I'd stray from my usual dinner and go for a fancier choice.

the carrot and the pea

I couldn't quite put my finger on it why someone would give me two tickets. The design of the aluminium plaque highly fascinated me and I couldn't help staring at it for a while. I reckoned there must have been someone who desperately wanted me in the selection. And since last night had quite an effect on me, going a second time might be another elevating experience. I loosened the grip on the gun and I gazed at the lifeless creature on the floor. The tension of the muscles in my right arm increased and started shaking. It was the first time in my life I fired a gun. The backfiring of the heavy handgun was thus greatly that it numbed my right shoulder. My lip began to tremble and just as I was about to drop the weapon, a fierce arm grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back into the reality of a dark room filled with nothing but the constant drone of generators. I think everyone has experienced the feeling of a moist blanket wrapped around you and your mind keeps you too occupied to calm yourself down. Every little wrinkle is a burden and all you could do to force yourself to sleep is inflicting the idea upon yourself of the fact that you really needed the rest this time. The wet towel dries up and bothers you even more than it already had and once again you spend a nice twisting and turning around under the silvery sheets on your bed. I didn't want to rely on auto-pilot the whole day again. The first few weeks after they installed the generators I couldn't sleep. Gradually the noise grew on me and it started working rather soothing and why wouldn't it; I slept like a baby embrasing the sound of my childhood. The noise resembled a the sound of a badly grounded electrical piece of machinery, a 50 Hz-drone. In some parties it was even speculated that the whole town would be pestered by static electricity, yet the organisation's experts implied the generators would be of the most silent type and wouldn't suffer from any power-shortages at all anymore. The power used to fall out at least once every week, sometimes only for a few minutes, but occasionally we were left stumbling in the dark for the whole day. Only the large corporations who had their own power supply bathed in luxury.

tubes

I stood silently by this dim-lit metal frame, the only sounds in the room was his irregular breathing, followed by a muffled click some machine in the corner of the room made. I tried a number of times to tell him what really went on in my life, how I was actually doing and how I was trying to cope with the difficulties of certain changes. The comfort of the soft-seated chairs was too good now, so I kneeled next to the frame. The pain in my knees gave me some kind of weird comfort, in times like those it relaxes me. I fumbled with a curved tube that seemed to be leading to nowhere, while a dozen scenes flashed through my mind. Did he ever take the time to sit down and get to know me? Well, it didn't matter now, I was proud of him, and that was what counted. The simple stop of the flowing from whatever generated life into what was on the receiving end, would cause for the subject to silently slip away. Wouldn't that be the most perfect death you could possibly imagine? Especially in these times, where you could only hope for a painless end. Come to think of it, the machines at night would most possibly not cause any real pain. Their equipment was of the highest level of dynamical engineering. Occasionally the victim would bleed, depending on where exactly his or her body was struck. But mostly the shining blades would make a clean, deep, lethal cut into the weakend flesh of its target. There wasn't even enough time for the victims to change their expression from fear to pain, indicating the efficiency of our society. And then I didn't have to worry about pulling the plug on him anymore. My backbone was pulled out of me, painless yet discomforting.

2nd place driver

As curious as it seemed, I walked with her towards the exact same place I was staring out of the window over a week ago. Her left wrist leaned on my right arm, which I held closely in my pocket, with my hand clutching the tickets. I tried to keep up with her. I think this was something left from my youth, when I marched down the streets. It's weird to walk like this, and moreover, it must've looked silly; me taking small, fast steps. It was obvious she was eager to get there. Everytime I turned my head to the right to take a look at her outline against the luminescant buildings, her stare was straight down the street. Her eyes were filled with a disturbing anxiety and I could feel it in the way she slightly pulled my arm, that she thought I was stalling. As we slid the tickets into the aluminum acceptor on the wall, a black door opened, allowing us to enter a small corridor leading only to white marble stairs. Nothing had changed, not even the look on the undead bartender's face. "Who was the old fart you were having dinner with", I asked boldly. "A regular", she replied without looking me in the eyes. "...just some man with too much time and too much money. He can afford it." I couldn't care about that actually. I found her life rather fascinating, yet repulsive. But in a way I tried my best to impress her and I knew it was only because she acted so incredibly distant. That's the main difference between her and some of the women I've been with in the past; The blindfolded dedication makes me loose my interest. In this particular case I'm obliging myself to interact. I could see it in her eyes she was only distantly interested in keeping the conversation going with me, for her attention was greatly attracted towards the windows. If she only would have had pointy ears, that would have made the picture complete. Every movement, every little sound, every little indication of anything going on besides the two of us was attended carefully.

Every morning it was getting harder to motivate myself. Every drive it was getting harder to stay focussed. Every day I had to keep my mind on the money I owed. But even that didn't make the job worth while. I always thought I could wring myself through the tight corners of society in order to only keep doing the things I liked.

waking up

And all I could think of was how I would want to brush her hair away from her eyes. And I know she was just playing with my dreams. I've always been in favour of the most natural way of starting the day. And just as I was annoyed once again, I pressed out of sheer force of habit, the silver button on the left side of my bed. This made the condo look just a bit more cold and grey, eventhough the floor was already adapted to the warmth of my body before my feet touched it. In a haze I stumbled across the room, even more confused than usual. My head was filled with impressions and emotions. I've never been any good in giving feelings a place in my life. I would never describe myself as having been a troubled teenager. Those early years I told myself that nothing had really happened to me. How could I grow with nothing in my backpack. I wasn't aware of the carpet or cold tiles underneath me, as the images in my head alternated between her hair and my old electric razor.

How can I expect non-chaos from anyone else?

...to be continued