Chapter 1: Prologue

Eventually I’ll be called over to give my speech. I’m sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair under the fluorescent lights of the properly climatized and sickly yellow auditorium. Finding myself sitting left to a lady mother of three and right to an old man having problems to breathe, I wait for my signal. Up on the stage there’s my faceless co-workers, talking about success and progress. All the good stuff just flows through the room: to my right the lady proudly and firmly claps while on my left the old man tears up at the collective success of our group and society as a whole. Everyone’s skin is imbued with the same sickly yellow of the cheap fluorescent lights while their faces express a happiness that blends to the background only accentuated by a slightly torn up curtain on stage, business suits, and chairs. 

And so, my time comes to step up and talk. “I’m gonna pass the mic now to our good ol’ pal Stuntface and give us the honours!”. There are always a couple people that laugh at the mere mention of my name; a bigger wave of laughter arises as I stumble up to the stage. My vision’s never been good, and I always have to clean my glasses from dubious organic materials piling up from nowhere. “Watch out, pal. We don’t want you dying now, do we?” A snicker from the audience erupts.

I assume these people used to have faces. There’s the girl I used to date back in probably high school: There’s the buddy I met at around the same time that became a lifelong loyal companion; my stern but fair boss; my hard-working secretary. They’ve all supposedly been a big part of my life, through dirt and mud as well as honey and cream. This is our big day. The deal is sealed, and we all get home to celebrate at big boss’ house for a night. None of them have faces. 

I vocalise the speech, giving a heartfelt performance. I showed that mass of yellow blobs on their seats, in just a two-minute monologue, the story of a shy and serious man warming up to friends and family to work for what’s important in life. A Stuntfaced fellow, though a bit strange, that is familiar to everyone, that succeeds. 

I even take into consideration the tiny details. They always talk in circles like these about how to spot a fake smile. It’s the eyes that speak to people. Your smile might be bright and warm, but if your eyes aren’t smiling, neither are you. And so, both my eyes and mouth smiled like never before. I gave them what they wanted. My face is sold. My neat blue and black suit and clean-cut short man hair speaks for my professionality and my warm and inviting smiling face speaks for my humanity. This is a great man. A man of principle and class. A successful man. A wealthy man. A man in love. A man of god. A man who is going blind.

I excuse myself after the celebration with the excuse of going to the bathroom. I pass through the auditorium, through the middle path, jumping off the stage instead of taking the stairs. I did this in a hurry; I wanted to get out of there. It looked like I really had to pee. Once again, laughter.

Can’t really say much honestly. The spirits are high; everyone is having a good time. Right after giving some other announcements, they’ll head to the boss’ big house to party. On the other hand, my body won’t be leaving the bathroom stall.

Out of the auditorium and into the rest of the building I find no one but me walking through the halls. Well, walking isn’t a good descriptor for my pace; stumbling is the word. Good thing that no one else stands where I stumble, for it would break the illusion I just gave them back on stage. I’m instead met with my best friend: loneliness. Far away I can hear more cheers muffled by the walls, and close to me I hear my own footsteps and breathing. Cubicles filled with nothing objects and a million places where I could spend a million hours. Little things distract me, and it’s never whatever high tech new stapler the company issues to the workers, but tiny cracks on the walls or tiny wall doodles done with a ball pen, or spilled coffee that wasn’t cleaned fast enough. I don’t bother to turn on any lights; it’s dusk and light struggles to come through, yet comes through anyways. Good to not be blinded by the fluorescent yellow for once. 

Sometimes it feels like the cubicles are infinite. I’ve never seen more than 20 to 25 people work here at once, but it seems like this place was built for ten times that or more. Naturally, we all gravitated to one of the corners of the oh so many cubicle farms that not only extended in our horizontal sight, but also multiplied vertically through more same looking floors. This cubicle corner was located on the top floor because that's where the CEO’s office is. Some other high ranks that aren’t the CEO were also located there in cubicles, despite having offices of their own on the lower floors. From what I’ve heard, after they had to lay off a lot of workers, the crippling loneliness was too much for some to handle; the floors were empty but in the distance you could still hear people working — few people, that is —, but in the sea of cubicles and the separation of work types by floor made it look and sound like a ghost office. People got tired of it eventually, some stating that they were going crazy, and so they gathered around right outside the CEOs office. They said they wanted to ALL move to the lowest floor, but the CEO didn’t budge. 

A big boss needs his big office after all.

Even after doing so, they couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable in the building. The fax machines and printers and everything else was far away from their little corner. Also there was surprisingly no bathroom on that floor, so if nature called, they had to walk downstairs to the floor below and use those bathrooms. 

I personally never cared. If it was up to me, I’d take the spot furthest away from everyone and feel the lonely building wrap around me as a warm blanket of comfort while I do whatever meaningless work I need to do. Thank god for the internet; I wouldn’t even have to talk to my coworkers face to face. Still, as I need to keep up the facade, therefore I need to keep an active social life. It’s not hard for me — I know the rules to this game —, but it’s still bothersome. Regardless, I get to breathe from time to time whenever I go to the bathroom. Sometimes I even stay down there after finishing my business and just take a breather. One time, though, someone catched me down there while I took my breather.

—Yo, [ ]!. What you doing down here? Too much work on your shoulders? You know, I could help you with your work if Big Boss has his head too high up your ass, y'know? Maybe you could take a vacation day. You deserve them, dude. Ight, I really gotta pee now. Take your time. 

Now I can finally take in the building. Slowly I feel myself being torn. I get lost in the feeling of the building. The crippling loneliness, the emptiness of rusting and ransacked cubicles, dirty windows that still let light through but don’t let much be seen, and that weird feeling. 

I can feel it surrounding me.

After more cubicles and storage rooms I arrive at the bathrooms. Left for men and right for women. I open the door to the men’s bathroom with stalls on the left facing a wall-wide mirror on the right. I barely make it to the first stall before collapsing on the lidless toilet.

Sitting on the uncomfortable ceramic surface I feel lost for a moment, my eyes failing to focus on anything. I forgot to close the door so I’m faced with my face. Of course, I can’t see my face. I’m unable to. It always feels like someone or something else is gazing down at me, and I feel myself spiriting off. Yet, my arms are too weak and my head locked in place. The toilet makes my rear cold, and yet it felt warm as my body froze. I’m not sure if it was me, the mirror, or something else, but I could feel it pull and float forwards. I used the little bit of energy I had to embrace myself to keep some temperature. I kept facing myself while there was still light coming from outside. The sun was giving up and the sight of the face I just sold and which haunted me with it’s both painful existence and feeble non-existence gave up too. I just wish, after this initial stage of death comes, that my second death comes swiftly and this face is left to rot and rest. 

Eventually, the sun gave up and I could see nothing. I heard the door of the bathroom stall close and I felt the void in my ears louder than I’ve ever heard.

You are reading story How to Disappear Halfway at novel35.com

You can find story with these keywords: How to Disappear Halfway, Read How to Disappear Halfway, How to Disappear Halfway novel, How to Disappear Halfway book, How to Disappear Halfway story, How to Disappear Halfway full, How to Disappear Halfway Latest Chapter