Mitch, in what he thought was his quaint-self, went through his inconsequential morning routine entailing the time-tested method of waking up, stirring in bed, and ultimately staying in bed; the outside was just too cold. The commonality of this routine went over his head entirely though not due to ignorance but a sort of antagonistic apathy towards the bondage of collectivism that was typically forced on individuals in their 20s. This aggressive indifference didn’t completely manifest itself through inertia and a general ineptitude in social interactions, but Mitch also decided on a lifestyle engrossed by politics, war, and the lavish lifestyles of mega-athletes. This captivation for kayfabe only helped further numb the feelings stemming from a painful adolescence. Little did he know that this elaborate coping mechanism, developed by depressed above-average IQ bachelors & bacherlorettes, resulted in the same mindless scrolling, done by everyone in his generation. His air of self-importance was only his downfall.
After metaphorical years in bed, he got up, but it was already too late to Uber to work. He thought about playing hooky, as the new Chinese owners of the steel-turned-glass factory didn’t particularly pay too much attention to him, though they paid him. Rushing to the nearest bus stop, frantically checking his phone and praying to a God he did not believe in, he made it twelve minutes early and considered the day conquered.
Mitch hadn’t won anything but instead a sense of faith jumpstarted in the deep annals of his mind that would transform his life or, at the very least, his 48 hours. Out of breath from rushing and multitasking, he leaned on the nearest streetlamp while trying to mask his heavy breaths. Too winded to question the apparent coded language from passersbys, Mitch blamed the odd vibrations in the air on the cold and the foul stench from the bus. It was 11:00 AM, and having just caught it, the nearby tension began to feel insurmountable as the scene displayed a variety of wide indiscernible smiles and grim-looking faces seemingly out of touch, and just going through the motions of this apparent new reality.
The cacophony of voices had already proven too much for Mitch. Especially considering the herd-like packed rolling metal-tube with people going to lunch, parents going home, and the elderly impacted with today’s events. Unable to decipher what those events were exactly, he pulled out his phone to check the news. Of course, his phone and more specifically the news apps had been his escape for more than a decade now further making him feel uneasy upon checking his favorite “non-biased” mix of political opinions, as he realized there was no news, not pertinent enough to his liking anyways. He asked and nearly begged those around him for answers, but no one would even utter a cough in his presence.
He had to get off.
Walking down a decrepit worn-out street, Mitch realized that he never actually noticed anything there. He must have taken that bus hundreds of thousands of times, yet his memory of the area was blank. At this point in the day, almost 14:00, he had no interest in the neurological processes that covered his mind with darkness, he just wanted to know why everyone was acting so weird. Extroversion was the sole solution, and he hated every minute of it. Going up to people was hard enough but when they looked the way that they did in this neighborhood and, specifically, on this day, gregariousness felt akin to committing a mass shooting. He thought he did well in the bus, where he had nonchalantly pulled out a pack of gum and asked if anybody wanted some, though that proved fruitless. Wrangling his way through actual dialogue, he managed to scrape a few answers from an older black woman; she at least pretended to listen but blew him off with a quick excuse about going to the bank.
From that, he decided that a force had landed, and no one knew what was happening, but everyone had an idea. As with most ideas, it was enough to spread panic throughout the planet yet Mitch only continued with a sense of intrigue. He was already out of a job, the city’s nervous excitement made him miss the laborious work day much to the bosses’ apparent chagrin. He was given a brief call, where the information of his firing induced a cringe initially only for his grimace to be transformed into a half-smile upon thinking that there would be no more Chinese chastising, awkward sexual tension (straight or otherwise) in the lunchroom, and precious “company time.” Indeed, a slight tinge of relief and joy flooded the back of his head yet the overwhelming thumping of his heart took over, as he began to understand that he would soon be out of cash. Still, the people near him didn’t give him a chance to dwell on his approaching monetary collapse as they were still hysterically rushing to their respective destinations. So, he decided to go downtown and dig deeper into the self-conceived alien invasion.
He went all in and decided to use a rideshare service, as the buses and other public transportation services were being shut down around town though this fact only excited Mitch. Finally, reality was matching his intuition, albeit, still no word from his treasured news apps. He was on the highway when something clicked, he was out of the frame of mind that his “shithole” neighborhood brought. This vulgar term was courtesy of his Fox News-watching father, although Mitch could only agree with the sentiment. The abandoned buildings coupled with the scowled faces was enough to drive any man into a state of helplessness as one contemplated the societal ramifications and the seemingly doomed generations plagued by perpetual collapsing infrastructure. It was really the noise that got to him; the apparent random and unnecessary bangs, shouts, and shrills brought by drug addicts, vagrants, and neighbors who had long given up on integrating and created a cabal exclusively to annoy him. That’s why, and especially today, Downtown had to be different. Sure, there were still drug addicts but at least they were jovial.
There were no addicts to be seen, only the picturesque magenta sunset of the -10 degree winter day. In fact, downtown was practically empty apart from a few couples walking, the usual bums hanging around the train station, and the trigger-happy cops (Mitch had read so many reports of police violence) that monitored the situation. Except it wasn’t the situation he cared about, rather it seemed like they were after him. His paranoia had increased since the morning and was transferred to the designated authority figures instead of the hood’s usual suspects.
With that creeping sense of dread and because the rideshare had played such good music, he decided to put in his earbuds and walk back home. Whilst listening to Jazz Cartier’s Hotel Paranoia, he assuredly sauntered with a feeling of absolute ecstasy, though he still had no idea what happened. One undeniable fact was that he had his first day off in what felt like 20 years. Although unglamorous, filled with delusions and tiring, it was his own thoughts that burnt the day away.
He got home around 22:00 as walking from downtown typically took five hours. With a warm glass of milk in his hand, he dug through his childhood bookbag and busted out an old copy of the Star Wars extended universe series that Disney, deemed cruelly by some fans, rebranded as “Legends.” As he read the adventurous tales of Han Solo’s son, a waterfall of past memories poured into his pre-frontal cortex. This was his past in full force and it was so overwhelming, Mitch ended up passing out.
He woke up late the next day and for the first time in his life didn’t feel the need to update his consciousness with today’s news or any other kind of lame stimuli he traditionally indulged in to drown out the noise. Instead, he got up, went outside and enjoyed the sunny, below freezing day.
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