Chapter 2: Meaningless

Thursday, wake up at six am and resist the desire to lay in bed; I have work to do. Brush my teeth to cleanse the bad breath; people get pissy about that. Hop in the shower to wash away the smell of sleep; people get pissy about that too. Eat a quick breakfast to sate my hunger; the start of another pointless day.

Finally, get dressed and head for the garage. Living alone lets me be lazy in the morning. Traveling by car to work takes an hour but living on the edge of the city is marginally better than renting a one-room box for most of my income. Some dick cut me off on the highway, but that’s just traffic for you. It didn’t bother me enough to warrant a horn in any case.

The urge to slam the wheel to the right about halfway to work crossed my mind. It would get me some time off as I recovered from the hospital, but on the flip side, there would be a lot of bills to pay. Best to not do it this time; the risk wasn’t worth it. As I got off the highway, there was a moment to check my phone. Like always, the boss wanted me to come in early.

I wish they would officially schedule me instead of texting every damn day…

Before the light changed, I fired off a response to let him know that was fine.

Tap-tap-tap, the texting choir.

This happened every day, so it was already worked into my routine, and I was on my way in. Work was as pointless as ever. Just make these numbers match these ones. Just transfer this file to that customer. Listen to how Jennifer from accounting had a new dog and pretend to care. Go to a meeting over the lunch break where people in suits talked about how doing X instead of Y would lead to a point five percent increase in revenue. Stay a bit late because Steven had to go early to get his kid from school.

Driving home was better than going to work; the anticipation of another shower made it seem faster. One benefit of my screwy schedule was that my commute occurred just before and after rush hour, so the traffic was only super bad for part of the way. However, the beer was depleted when I returned and checked the fridge.

Looks like it’s hard liquor tonight.

A shot glass and a bottle of whiskey; with these, my best of friends, it was time to relax for just a bit before bed. I sat in front of my computer and booted up a favorite game. Instead of my own life, I could be Winston Churchill and hold off the Germans long enough for Roosevelt to bring salvation.

Tap-tap-tap, the keyboard’s music.

Or I would choose to be the villain, to embody the Failed Austrian Artist. In this alternative history, my battle lines could avoid the mistakes of drab reality and unite Europe under my guidance. All I had to do was avoid antagonizing the northeastern bear and undermine the rising sun through non-support.

Tap-Tap-Tap, the internet song.

After a few hours, though, it was time to go to bed lest I fail to rise tomorrow. Tomorrow, when my life would repeat all over again.

Friday, wake up at six am and resist the desire to lay in bed; I have work to do. Brush my teeth to cleanse the bad breath; people get pissy about that. Hop in the shower to wash away the smell of sleep; people get pissy about that too. Eat a quick breakfast to sate my hunger; the start of another pointless day.

Finally, get dressed and head to the garage. Living alone was the best choice I had ever made; who needed people bothering them every waking moment? The commute sucked, sure, but it was preferable to having people living above, below, and to either side of me. Apartments were awful inventions.

The cars traveling in the opposite direction were a source of jealousy; their drivers were already returning home after working the night shift. I’d love to have a schedule like that, but such jobs wouldn’t pay enough. Even with my meager lifestyle, living alone took some doing.

There was a small amount of traffic today; someone had gotten in a wreck and closed the two right-handed lanes. It was bad as well, with ambulances and fire trucks all over the cordoned area. Most likely, one of the involved parties had died. For the briefest moment, I wondered what it would be like to join them. Perhaps in my next life, I’d be able to actually achieve something. Then the idea was put from my mind as I came up to my exit; there was no proof there would be a “next life.”

Is it really that hard to change my schedule?

As I exited the freeway, the expected text came from my boss, and I sent the usual response.

Tap-tap-tap, the texting choir.

The answer to that question was yes. Yes, changing my schedule would be that hard. But, as a salaried employee, the number of hours I was supposed to work was set in my contract. Even if the numbers there did not match the number specified in reality, some clauses allowed me to work until the work was done. Finish early? Here, have more work. Finish late? That sure sucks.

Today was just as bad as yesterday; make the numbers from here match the numbers from there. The customer thought they had received the wrong file; I just changed the filename to what they were expecting and sent the same contents. Jennifer’s new dog had wet the carpet, and she didn’t know what to do. Lunch saw yet another meeting about something equally as banal as the last. As the cherry on top, Steven left early again.

Can’t he discipline his child better? It feels like she gets sent to the office almost every day!

Finally, it was time to head home. There was a brief diversion to the liquor store, partly to break up the monotony and partly because I was out of beer. As always, the clerk tried to make some small talk. He was just being nice, but I was on a tight schedule. After all, Europe wouldn’t conquer itself. Once home, I wasted no time cracking open a can and hopping back into my game.

Tap-tap-tap, the keyboard’s music.

This game was going decently. Ultimately, I chose to play Bulgaria and attempt to conquer Europe. Playing as a major power was fun, but after a while, it got boring. Starting small was far more entertaining and took a lot more ingenuity when those same major powers started breathing down your neck.

Tap-tap-tap, the internet song.

Entirely too soon; it was time for bed, lest I fail to rise the following day.

Saturday, wake up at six am and resist the desire to lay in bed; I have work to do. Brush my teeth to cleanse the bad breath; people get pissy about that. Hop in the shower to wash away the smell of sleep; people get pissy about that too. Eat a quick breakfast to sate my hunger; the start of another pointless day.

Finally, get dressed and head for the garage. Maybe today would shake things up and be different in some way. Even though I knew it wouldn’t, it was an empty hope. Saturday meant that my start time was a bit later than usual. After all, they did not schedule me; there was just too much work in only five days. My weekend route to work followed the side streets instead of the freeway to shake things up. But, by now, even that had become a routine.

Just one excuse to not go to work would be nice. But that wouldn’t do; I'd be fired if I didn’t show up or finish my work. If they fired me, I wouldn’t be able to pay my bills. Without paying my bills, my property would be seized. Getting a new job would be much more challenging if my property was taken. A vicious cycle. My phone chimed; my boss asked me to come in.

At this point, my only escape would be the sweet release of death.

Since this was all routine, I merely sent the message already typed and waiting.

Tap-tap-tap, the texting choir.

The only perk to working on Saturday was how empty the office was. It looked like something out of a budget zombie flick; empty cubicles, dry coffee pots, and dark lights. It would be creepy if it wasn’t for how clean everything was. Then again, some people probably would find the absence of people despite the cleanliness unsettling in its own way. Not me.

Working on the weekend sucked, but not as much as hearing about Janet’s dog. Since there were no executives or managers, there were also no pointless meetings about stupid things. But there were still customers making ill-advised choices with their assets, and it was my job to fix it. A more positive individual might see things as lucky; without people, I wouldn’t have this job. I preferred the notion that without people, there would be no need for employment.

If I could do things over, I’d make sure not to end up a desk jockey counting peanuts.

You are reading story Demon Queen at novel35.com

Such ramblings were pointless, but they helped fill the void between mundanities. Saturdays also ended early without distractions since I could finish my work on time. So, with thoughts of a cold beer, grand warfare, and an early bed, I departed for home.

Tap-tap-tap, the keyboard’s music.

If my luck held out, I could pull off a miracle and integrate Germany before the start of the great war. Considering that my starting country had been a minor power, that was rather impressive. But, it was only possible in a game. There was no way that human minds would tolerate the series of events it had taken to get here occurring in reality. They were borderline exploits, after all, though I didn’t consider them cheats.

Tap-tap-tap, the internet song.

Just as I was getting to the good part, the start of the global war, it came time to go to bed. I dragged my feet in that direction with a sigh and a groan. Tomorrow was Sunday, so I would be off, but it wasn’t like my schedule was free even then. The social contract demanded that I interact with family and friends. If you did not take part, then people got pissy.

Sunday…?

It should be Sunday. My mind had just dragged itself up from the pits of sleep, but I was not in my room.

Some kind of prank? But I don’t know anybody who’d do something like this…

Rather than my familiar bedroom, I was in some kind of infinity space. Not a white void, but more like an infinite hallway of reflections. The bed beneath me was visible from a bird’s eye in the ceiling, and if I looked to the left or right, I could see it again repeated. This repetition continued, stretching out into the theoretical infinity limited only by the fact that each occurrence was a bit dimmer than before.

Like the same effect when you stand between mirrors, each repeated reflection loses some of the light… But what the hell is going on!?

The lingering haze of sleep had been doing wonders to keep me calm, but it was fading fast, and panic was setting in. I rocketed out of bed and stumbled. Then, catching myself with outstretched arms and tried to force my breathing to steady.

Thump-thump-thump, like a drumbeat. My heart was pounding, and the sound of blood rushing in my ears made me unsteady.

No, what’s going on!? This is wrong! This isn’t right!

Running as fast as my panic allowed, I scrambled, half fell, and half staggered to where my door was. Despite the room being endlessly repeated and reflected, the walls, floor, and ceiling were intact. I could still interact with them appropriately. The phenomena continued down the short hallway when I threw the door open. My home was sparse, but what little décor it had continued to repeat itself.

Then, like a ton of bricks, the source of my discontent hit me. While my furniture and such were repeating, I was not. The mirrors, if that’s what they were, did not show me.

This is just a bad dream, right? I’ll wake up in a moment now that I’ve figured it out…?

That did not happen. At a loss for what to do, my body fell into the routine it was most familiar with and began to carry me through my typical morning. After brushing my teeth, without being able to see myself in the bathroom mirror, I showered and had a quick breakfast. Then hopped in the car and began to drive to work.

That was incredibly freaky, watching the plate and food float around in the reflection… I’ll not think about the toothbrush.

Going through the routine I was so familiar with had let me calm down, which allowed me to think about the specifics of what was going on. Frankly, I had no idea. There was no traffic; even if it was Sunday, some people should still be around. Likewise, as I moved around, the reflections changed. It was like whatever was happening was centered on my own position, and the effect moved with me.

Even if it shouldn’t be possible, like the sky reflecting in the ground and vice versa, repeating infinitely. But that’s what I can see… It makes my head hurt, so I’d better avoid looking for too long and just get inside the office.

Clearly, I wasn’t dead. That had been my first thought, but I still had a heartbeat, so I ruled it out. If more evidence presented itself later on, I might change my mind, but I was alive for now. My next thought was that I had “fallen through” reality. There was a somewhat popular creepypasta about that floating around, but if memory served, I should have wound up in a maze or infinite ocean, not whatever this was.

Just as I was arriving at my desk, I felt a tug. As if something was pulling me, trying to force me to go somewhere. There was no logical point to resist, and even then, I didn’t know how to do it. I let the force take hold, and my vision contorted and twisted as space changed. Finally, I found myself standing in a place like some sort of room. A single chair sat in the middle but more importantly, I was standing behind the chair.

It was my reflection. But there was still something entirely wrong with it. It raised my hand and waved at me, ““Hello there.””

My hand jumped up to cover my mouth, surprised at the words I had not said. The reflection mirrored the movement perfectly.

““I’m sorry, Timothy, but you’re a lot higher than you really had any right to be.”” ‘my’ tone was apologetic but firm.

Higher? Like on drugs? That would make sense, given what I’ve just been going through, but I don’t take anything.

““No, not quite that, and I don’t really have time to explain… Yes, I can read your mind to an extent. No, my name is The Man in The Mirror… Interesting, that’s how you understood? That’s a pretty good impression; you have a knack for this after all…””

It was like I was having a monologue since my mouth moved to match the reflection's. Yet this monologue was a conversation since every time I had a question so far, it had been answered. Just that, my questions had been thought while the reflection spoke with our mouths. Or I was the reflection. As my body did seem to be mirroring its.

““No, this form is just your mind interpreting sensory information; You fundamentally cannot perceive me or your current surroundings properly. Not enough layers. Now, that’s enough of that. You are currently between mirrors, and you will be pulled into one of them in just a few moments, so listen very carefully.”

This sounds like one of those books my brother reads…

““It is similar to that. You are a singularity now, someone who only exists in one mirror. Normally, the process responsible for this would wipe your mind and leave you a blank slate for the people in charge. I’ve interfered, a favor for a favor; wipe them out if you please. The nature of the technology they’ve developed is a threat to all layers.””

It was surreal, but I had no reason to doubt what was being said. So, with mild trepidation, I decided to just see what had happened.

Even if it turns out this is all just a fever dream, at least it’s different. Besides, what if it is real…?

It would be lying if I said I was not excited and looking forward to what might be coming.

““Now, my interference can only go so far. Because of what a Singularity is, you will be changed by this. But whatever happens, … remember … all of you. It would … bad idea … fight and hold on. … will be …  easier … you … embrace.””

Even as we continued to talk, the reflection was fading. Then, with a jolt, I sat up. I was in a room surrounded by people wearing masks, and one young blonde man, the sight of which caused a burning hatred to bubble up from deep inside me.

Michael… I’m going to kill you.