Obey

I put a hand on my face and rub hard against my eyes before rolling halfway over and slapping at the buzzing plastic box perched upon the cheap wooden nightstand beside me. It feels as if sleep took me only hours ago, plunging my mind into a hurricane of brightly colored dreams. The pile of dark blankets and sheets pull off hard as they catch on feet, producing a curse and a thrash followed by a loud grunt as muscles tense and I find myself upright looking out a single small window into the street outside.

It’s dark yet, but not night, the sun has begun casting its hot, bright rays over the land. It’s a small home, surrounded by a thousand other small homes, everyone with one or two cars parked out front or hidden away in garages that also contained bikes, kayaks, and tools and such. The same white siding and black roof, a small yard in front with a slightly larger one in back for mile upon mile.

Melanie would be up by now, she leaves half an hour before me, and I see her walk out to her red Toyota everyday as I pull my boots on and throw a heavy jacket over my thin shoulders. Eyes down, like we all do, no bounce to her fast pace or greetings to any of the others doing the same. I look out at my own vehicle, dark blue, a bed full of old steel and ash, sitting on the matte black wheels I painted many years ago.

The half an hour hast passed as I open the front door to a light breeze and chilly air the sun had yet to hold in its embrace. I keep my head down as I walk, my eyes hovering just high enough to see a few feet in front of me, never risking more than I must, just like everyone else. The truck rumbles to life before coughing and spitting a few times, it stays on as a large steering wheel is cranked to one side and the heavy vehicle pulls out onto the beat up pavement that leads out of this place.

I talked to Jerry for a moment after punching in, three more still haven’t shown up this week, and it’s Wednesday now. Sickness or vacation it could be, but we all know what happened, we all know what has become of them. There was a few months ago a girl, Ali I believe was her name, was missing for a few days. She had written a letter and everything, too much she said, over and over again. For some it has pulled the light out of their life, tortured them, you never really know how much you appreciate such a small thing until it is taken from you.

We were made to gaze up at the stars, to feel the hot sun on our faces, to climb to the tops of mountains and gaze out over the land we conquered. Not anymore, we can’t, I think as I nod to a few of my coworkers, most of them having nothing worth talking about going on, nobody wants to bear children and bring them into this, and fewer yet care to even go outside and meet a partner, it has crushed the will out of us.

As usual I wash my hands after eight hours, punch the clock again, and walk out to my vehicle, eyes down low with a thick black hood covering my head. When I’m home, I sit, I eat my dinner, I watch an episode of something filmed over a decade ago. Sometimes I think of knocking on my neighbor’s door and inviting her over to join in this ritual, but my head tells me to mind my own business. It tells me there is no point in such a thing, you must just keep your head down, you must stay alive, and you must never bother anyone.

Lately I have been thinking though, why keep doing this if there is no end, if this is to be my life I would rather not live it. I have not seen the stars or the sun in so many years; I never thought I would miss them this much. I think I will talk to Melanie, I think this life would be far more bearable with two, I think of this often. For now, I suppose I will click the red button on the long remote in my hand, pull myself off the worn-out sofa that sits against the wall, and rest once again.