quick glance over at the couch. Empty.
I shower quickly, nervous excitement buzzing in my stomach. Towel-dried, I put on my outfit. Black leather boots, jeans, blouse, and my long wool trench coat. I grab my school backpack and quickly dump its contents onto the bed. I throw my mask into the bag then turn the lights off and exit the room. Maybe for the last time.
Standing in my usual spot at the window, I give the poster a final look. My fear manifests and my face flashes over the girl’s and I take her place in death. I look away and head to the kitchen, I can’t back out now. Nothing in the fridge looks good. Going to the pantry all I see are the dozen or so boxes of Mother’s smoothies on the go. Curious, I grab one then head to the door. One deep breath, then out the door.
I begin to drink the smoothie while I walk down the hall to the elevator. It tastes all right, I suppose, but I can’t imagine drinking it every day. Reaching the elevator I quickly tap the call button a few times. Leaning up against the wall, I finish the smoothie just as the bell dings and the elevator doors open. I look around quickly for a trash can. Finding none, I give up the search and slip through the doors as they began to close. I close my eyes and listen to the familiar whir of the gears and pulleys.
The elevator jolts to a stop and the doors open on the lobby. Slow, soft music plays from small speakers in the ceiling. I hear the musicians’ lack of enthusiasm in their sloppy playing and poor timing. The lobby is full with people rushing out of other elevators and down the stairs to make it off to work. I walk through the crowd toward the staging area. Waiting my turn, I pace forward step by step as people in front of me stop to put on their masks and then step into one of the many individual airlock doors leading outside. Unenthused to wear the mask, but not wanting to make my move in such a public place I bide my time. Step … step.
Now at the front, I unzip my pack and quickly place the well-fitted mask over my head. Giving the straps a few quick tugs, I step inside the doors of an open airlock. As the doors close behind me, the bustle of the lobby fades away and for a few moments while the door behind me seals, I am alone with the sound of the rhythmic rasps of my filtered breath.
Outside air hisses through the doors as they open. I walk out into the busy streets. I don’t care much for the view of the city from the street. Crowded, loud, and difficult to navigate, the city feels unnatural and foreign. The streets feel wider from the windows of the penthouse and the dense smog and falling soot seems less threatening. Visibility during the day is far worse than at night. The sun reflects off the smog creating a dim glow that washes out everything in the distance. From above I would know exactly where I was but down here on the street it takes me a few minutes to get my bearings. I’ve decide that I should test my hypothesis somewhere where no one can see me, I don’t want to be arrested, plus I don’t really wish to scare someone with the image of me convulsing on the ground if I’m wrong. Although, I would like my body to be found before I begin to swell up. I’ll have to find someplace that’s not too busy and just wait for a clearing. As I walk from street to street, it soon becomes clear that this will be harder than it seemed.
The streets are full of people. Everyone is wearing a trench coat to keep the soot from ruining their clothes, making the crowd seem like identical ants in their gas masks. If it weren’t for the vast variety of colors available for coats, except for Peace Officer brown, people would have no identity on the street.
Unable to see the position of the sun in the dim glow of sky between the cracks of skyscrapers, I have no ability to track the passing of time other than the growing pain in my feet, and judging by that, hours have passed since I began my search. Aching feet and a rumbling stomach
I shower quickly, nervous excitement buzzing in my stomach. Towel-dried, I put on my outfit. Black leather boots, jeans, blouse, and my long wool trench coat. I grab my school backpack and quickly dump its contents onto the bed. I throw my mask into the bag then turn the lights off and exit the room. Maybe for the last time.
Standing in my usual spot at the window, I give the poster a final look. My fear manifests and my face flashes over the girl’s and I take her place in death. I look away and head to the kitchen, I can’t back out now. Nothing in the fridge looks good. Going to the pantry all I see are the dozen or so boxes of Mother’s smoothies on the go. Curious, I grab one then head to the door. One deep breath, then out the door.
I begin to drink the smoothie while I walk down the hall to the elevator. It tastes all right, I suppose, but I can’t imagine drinking it every day. Reaching the elevator I quickly tap the call button a few times. Leaning up against the wall, I finish the smoothie just as the bell dings and the elevator doors open. I look around quickly for a trash can. Finding none, I give up the search and slip through the doors as they began to close. I close my eyes and listen to the familiar whir of the gears and pulleys.
The elevator jolts to a stop and the doors open on the lobby. Slow, soft music plays from small speakers in the ceiling. I hear the musicians’ lack of enthusiasm in their sloppy playing and poor timing. The lobby is full with people rushing out of other elevators and down the stairs to make it off to work. I walk through the crowd toward the staging area. Waiting my turn, I pace forward step by step as people in front of me stop to put on their masks and then step into one of the many individual airlock doors leading outside. Unenthused to wear the mask, but not wanting to make my move in such a public place I bide my time. Step … step.
Now at the front, I unzip my pack and quickly place the well-fitted mask over my head. Giving the straps a few quick tugs, I step inside the doors of an open airlock. As the doors close behind me, the bustle of the lobby fades away and for a few moments while the door behind me seals, I am alone with the sound of the rhythmic rasps of my filtered breath.
Outside air hisses through the doors as they open. I walk out into the busy streets. I don’t care much for the view of the city from the street. Crowded, loud, and difficult to navigate, the city feels unnatural and foreign. The streets feel wider from the windows of the penthouse and the dense smog and falling soot seems less threatening. Visibility during the day is far worse than at night. The sun reflects off the smog creating a dim glow that washes out everything in the distance. From above I would know exactly where I was but down here on the street it takes me a few minutes to get my bearings. I’ve decide that I should test my hypothesis somewhere where no one can see me, I don’t want to be arrested, plus I don’t really wish to scare someone with the image of me convulsing on the ground if I’m wrong. Although, I would like my body to be found before I begin to swell up. I’ll have to find someplace that’s not too busy and just wait for a clearing. As I walk from street to street, it soon becomes clear that this will be harder than it seemed.
The streets are full of people. Everyone is wearing a trench coat to keep the soot from ruining their clothes, making the crowd seem like identical ants in their gas masks. If it weren’t for the vast variety of colors available for coats, except for Peace Officer brown, people would have no identity on the street.
Unable to see the position of the sun in the dim glow of sky between the cracks of skyscrapers, I have no ability to track the passing of time other than the growing pain in my feet, and judging by that, hours have passed since I began my search. Aching feet and a rumbling stomach
Similar Books
