Window

7.19.2022

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1.

He awoke.

The Sun had begun to creep slowly above the horizon, bathing the room in a warm, soft light. Rising begrudgingly from his bed, he turned and carefully tucked the sheets back in a neat arrangement, pressed a couple of buttons on the white panel at its headboard, and it slid silently into its compartment in the wall.

Stretching in his warm robe and scratching his now stubbled chin, he began to wash and dress for his day. An uneventful shave and a quick breakfast prepared at the tiny nook in the corner was all he had time for this morning. Work had been difficult lately, not because of the work but because of his separation. Missing one person is a lot, missing your family is next to impossible. Being on time despite nights spent wandering and drinking and smoking was beginning to wear on his health.

He gathered his things and got on his sleek, plastic-paneled motorcycle. It was a replica from an earlier time, but it was something that made him feel closer to reality. The engine made its familiar clanging roar as he turned the key, and he slowly pulled out onto his residential drive. Homes of all kinds, from the huge and fantastical to the tiny and mysterious, lined both sides of the meandering road. Soft curbs rolled into wide bike paths and sidewalks dotted with friendly faces, backed by wide lawns of exotic and spectacular foliage of every color. Few cars or trucks used these roads, hardly anyone needed to anymore.

As the pastoral village of his neighborhood grew and expanded into shining and magnificent edifices of businesses and blocks of homes, the streets became more and more choked with all of the wild and wonderful people of the city. Of course there were the noticable ones, nine foot tall anthropomorphic tigers and glowing entities of light and massive fighting mecha. But surprisingly few people chose to represent themselves that way. Far more interesting to him were the people choosing to live an anachronistic lifestyle, all business suits and crew cut brown hair and varying shades of beige or brown skin. It was so easy to make yourself into whoever you want that it became difficult to believe anyone would truly want to be themselves.

Here he was, some kind of great example of uniqueness. A simple part and sandy brown hair, green eyes, fully humanoid features. At least he was content having a lot of body art. Tattoos of all kinds littered his forearms and calves. Memes and cultural moments and cringey stick and pokes from decades of boredom with his friends. Some swirled and danced with colorful animations, others glowed neon pink and green.

Pulling into the garage at his office park, he passed by the plate scanner and presented his phone for digital identification. Working eleven years as a custodian might sound unrewarding, but no one really wanted for much anymore and he was engaged and comfortable in his role. School hadn’t really worked out, and having two kids and a wife at home made happy stability a dream for a while. Lately he had pondered working somewhere else, maybe a new city. Being so close to everything here made many days feel like walking an emotional minefield.

He turned the bike off and dismounted, making his way to the office he worked from. Cleaning the building didn’t really preclude him from being part of the community with the businesses there, but it gave him a great excuse to be at arm’s length from people he didn’t like. He said his hellos passing security and a handful of the people working on his floor, and quietly made his way to his desk, closing himself off from the other offices. He sat down and opened his laptop. The transparent top pane blinked to life and both sides of the display lit up with the brilliant blue logo of his employer, SafeScrub.

2.

An uneventful day without any security concerns went by slowly. He took out the garbage, cleaned the visual spaces of the building of clutter and artwork- carefully documenting each piece for curation- and repaired some damaged components here and there in the office. He chatted and texted his friends. Everything seemed very flat and laggy today. As the clock grew late, he nodded in his chair while staring at screens full of server data and version control information. His desktop was littered with open files and notes, a social media notification blinking silently next to the open window with a video of ducks falling into a creek playing on repeat.

He awoke sharply. What was that sound? It’s the same one he had heard before. He had to blink and take a deep breath. Nevermind that, what was he supposed to be working on? Staring at his screen, he could scarcely believe it was already five. He slowly rose and picked up his keys, wallet, and phone, pressing a white panel to return his laptop and desk to their place in the wall. He marched determinedly to his bike. A light mist began falling on the now bustling streets as he pulled away from the towering, glowing building.

The storefronts and office lobbies had transformed, their facades metamorphosing into street food vendors, bars, nightclubs, convenience stores. As he drove into the heart of the city, booming neon-glow displays reached out at him and the throngs of pedestrians turned slowly into a great murmuration, a huge ongoing rave taking place over blocks and blocks despite the misty rain. The faces changed again, now surreal and amorphous. Entities of pure light pulsed with the beat alongside eldritch creatures of every make and incomprehensible optical illusions. Superheroes and demons and gods intermingled.

He pulled the bike into a narrow alley and onto a large, square metal plate in the alley. Hopping off, he walked over to a seamless white panel of the otherwise rustic and dingy wall, pressed the surface a few times, and shoved his phone up against it. A loud sequence of beeps sounded, and slender rails emerged surrounding the bike. The square panel gave way silently, smoothly descending below the surface of the alley into a mechanical-looking shaft. It slid into an unseen compartment beneath the building, replaced by another metallic panel which gently rose into the alley.

He rounded the corner into the sea of people, sliding gingerly between partygoers in the general direction of the bar where he planned to meet B and T. Another night ordering rounds of shots and coke, smoking blunts laced with codeine, singing badly for a few hours, and diving face first into the nearest titty bar was forthcoming. There just wasn’t that much to do, despite there being so much to do.

He could fly to any destination in the world in an hour, go to space, be a superstar athlete or a world-changing philosopher. But really when push came to shove none of those things really satisfied a sort of deep alienation that pervaded the whole society. Everyone here, after all, was suffering the same separation anxiety that he had felt since forever. It was impossible to really meet someone here, but maybe you could touch someone for a night. Sometimes it felt like the only thing left to risk was your heart.

The drinks seemed weaker and he didn’t feel like doing coke, or really much of anything except nurse a beer for two hours and go home. He sang and laughed and had a great time with his friends, but abandoned the group after they emerged from the karaoke bar into the surging street. The cool night air under the streetlights was full of swirling vapor, and a sharp staccato of tiny droplets fell gently on his face. The press of bodies and the pounding of the music was enough for him, but as he said goodbye and turned to walk to his bike, he heard the sound again. It was wooden, hollow. Soft, like it was coming from another room. Definitely something for him to consult with someone about, maybe some other time.

He mounted the bike once the safety rails fell, and puttered off away from the crowds. Elsewhere in the city he could see the rain falling heavier, and he drove in that direction. Riding up onto the highway, finally other vehicles appeared. Passenger cars passed from time to time in the other direction, the occasional recreational vehicle or tricked out supercar joining them.

A couple of people drag racing in bizarre custom rigs roared past him at one point, smashing into each other and causing mayhem all along the roadway. Cars simply dodged debris and made their way along all the same in their wake. Eventually a custodian would make it out here and get the road back in order. As he dodged chunks of the two rivals strewn across the highway he, he heard a distintive ‘thunk thunk’ sound and felt the bike vibrate. He must’ve run over something. Odd, he thought. I didn’t know that was a feature.

3.

He snorted loudly, frightening himself and jolting suddenly awake. The noise again- or was it a dream? Was that just him snoring? The room spun. His knees ached. He was splayed dramatically across his bed, still wrapped in the pants and jacket he wore to work the day before. The sun was up over the horizon now, illuminating a wide valley of rolling hills displayed across his window panel.

Groaning loudly and rolling off the bed, he stripped and tossed his clothes into the laundry chute while ordering his outfit for the day. Hopefully they would continue their relatively recent trend of sending clothes that actually sort of fit. Somewhere far off in the wall a mechanical device whirred to life, off to fetch his clothing. He slid the shade down on the window, lowering the brightness of the room to levels tolerable to his pounding head.

“Thunk Thunk”

He jumped.

“What the fuck” he muttered, looking up at the ceiling.

“Hello? What the Fuck?” he asked aloud, to no one in particular. He scrambled to the bathroom bay, reaching blindly behind him for his robe.

ThunkThunk

The noise. There it was. He wasn’t losing it. But what on earth would be thunking around in his ceiling for the last three days? He wrapped the robe around his waist.

A sliding sound, followed by a softer thunk, moved slowly across his ceiling towards his bike. He crept along underneath it, silently muttering “what the fuck” over and over. Nothing about the smooth white paneling covering the inside of his 30 x 30 room seemed amiss, and he hadn’t heard any reports about pests getting inside the unit. There weren’t any maintenance requests and he hadn’t gotten any calls about workers being here today.

“DING”

He jumped off the floor with a yell and fell to the ground, shouting “Oh My Fucking God” at the top of his lungs at the stupid clothes delivery sitting in his intake bay.

“h—o”

A voice? What??? It was the muffled sound of a child speaking to him from inside the wall of his unit. What the fuck was happening??