Service With A Smile (Part 1)

Chapter One


Like every day around him, it was cold and weary. Even while driving in his car down the blistering hot pavement, the chill from within acted to cool his demeanor in ways that the elements could not hope to.
Miles clicked by as he stared absentmindedly at the road. Occasional cars would pass him as they weave amongst flickering white lines.
This is, as it were, the beginning and end of the atypical American's day.

Begin in car.
End in car.
Mindless automaton processes of data flowing via the clicks and clatters of fingers upon keyboards.
Of course, the lucky exception actually see the sunlight and do not have jobs which cause them to want to throw themselves in front of an oncoming train, those of us not adventures enough to dive in front of the train mindless sit at out desk praying for a derailment that will carry it the needed thirty miles to demolish our cubicle along with the rest of the damn building.
But, as with the rest of the zombies who inhabit the building, I can write this in the full assurance that nothing will be changing in any near distant future.

Endless miles of driving end with a brisk walk into a commercialized paradise where consumerism and capitalism run hand in hand, stark naked through the imaginations stretching from those in marketing to the consumers that keep their mindless middle management job afloat.
Go between and in between, existing as a sick necessity to inflate ego. Doing their job is in keeping the sacred priests of corporations separated from the unwashed masses that offer their tithes to help build the stretching high steel and glass structures that act as a testament to the ultimately futility of the failures of humanity.

There is an abomination deep down, in all of this. But most do not see beyond its picture perfect facade. I cannot help but see things as they truly are. A blessed curse that steal every waking hour ad prevents me from even attempting to flirt with the ideas of sleep.
There is a problem in the zombie consumers buying from zombie creators, none of which seem to be aware of the puppet strings pulling their limbs, in a twisted show. What none see is that even beyond the puppet masters are more strings, bigger masters and more sinister plans.
Behind the middle management and corporate jargon harked by mindless money men is a darker plan most could not see even if the very thought wouldn't petrify their souls.
This is what I have seen, beyond the veil and into the swarming darkness engrossing our very lives. Every moment is embraced by a darker moment that most wouldn't see if it was dancing in front of them.

The mindless streams of data pass by on monitors. The underlying code consisting of zeros and ones, but as the other streams of life they run by mindless.
Monitor flashing, irradiation to the soul, cancer to the being.
Nothing more.
Nothing.
Even in the midsts of all other mindless actions, the breaks flash by as the placebo they are.
Clitter and clatter.
Keys.
Pushing, placing.
Reality blurred.
Nothing more.

** ** **

The dark stillness is pierced by a large and unholy wail. A hand with a well timed gesture reaches over and turns off the device with a trained timing. Day in, day out the gesture is small but the tired sigh that followed it acted as proper reflection of the owners soul.

Flash.
Burning retinas
Six thirteen flashed in emotionless green numbers.

Rinse.
Repeat.
Endless cycle.
My every day is a repetition.
The beat sees no end, the cycle loops itself in ways that I cannot understand.
Pounding.
Throbbing.
The voices are all that can match the fevered tempo of the merciless cycle of the day.

Walking across the room he peers into the mirror, seeing a tired pair of eyes staring back, devoid of energy. He pushes back stray hairs while ignoring the fact his days old stubble begs to be shaved.
What little rebellion is his to keep.
Taking the few steps to his bathroom he quickly falls into a routine almost as old as himself.
Showers, waste removal, waste entry, clothes, music and the like, all in no particular order then that which takes itself.
All things were in place, especially those that the normal person would find out of place.
His walk from room to room was simply followed by shadows interweaving from light to light.
He paused while he was half dressed for work. The shirt buttoned but the tie laid around his neck.
He stood still, like an animal knowing that he is being stalked.
"I know you are there. Waiting. Watching."
Silence was the only reply.
"The air is crawling from the presence of you sick little bastards. Are you just going to stay there?" Coughing to hide his growing fear Nathan looked around him. He couldn't see them but he knew, knew without any doubt that he was surrounded.

The first day I saw them, it was like darkness moving. I cannot know for sure if they knew right then that I could see them...but still. I was a child but only in age. It's not like I was mature by choice, whose family isn't ripped apart now a days?
But, I remember the day I first saw the shadow move. It was on my wall. I thought it was bugs or a bad dream, that wall paper was falling or maybe even I was going crazy.
Then I heard its tongue speak.
Low, ugly things. Things no human should be forced to hear, to absorb to even be subjected to. I didn't know what was being said but I quivered under my blankets, saying the fevered prayers of a child that broke a vase with his ball and knew he was about to be beaten by a wasted piece of shit posing as a father. .
Quivering under the sheets, praying the bad man would go away, I knew he was there. God could have sent his armies of angels to form a circle around my shaking mass but even that young I knew something had just changed.
Silence.
Oppressive silence pressing down my chest not letting me breath let alone scream for help.
Quite ragged breaths lifting my bare chest as I lay curled in a ball under some stupid theme bed covers.
Eventually I fell asleep.
Eyes shut.
Silence pressed against my ear drums.
I awoke on my back, my eyes staring into endlessly deep yellow eyes.
I screamed.

There were no screams today. He swallowed hard and counted to ten. Slowly.
The lady in the white coat said the little pills would help. The burning little lies would help him see less, the lights would be more dull and the pain less sharp. The extra things in his mind would stop screaming and become a tiny whisper, so gentle that he could ignore.
People in white coats lie.
As he stood there, the sun light from outside passed him by. Minutes or days passed by, neither of which he was sure about.
He closed his eyes harder and counted out loud, refusing to let childish prayers pass his lips. Clenching his body tightly he embraced the numbers into his very being, relishing the cold hard logic as he defied reality with his breathing as if all it took to alter the world was gritting your teeth and having a look of constipation upon your face.
The days were like this, the nights could be worse.
Pills.
Pink and blue.
Yellow and orange.
Sometimes water, most of the time beer.
Chemicals, fear and self loathing oh my.
The eyes opened and things were the same.

Day was day, the night was night.
All in all, our tempo is the same.




Chapter Two

The only thing more dull then operating a motorized vehicle is in operating it on the same dreary course of exactly thirty-seven minutes and exactly no soul.
Then again what could be considered worse is subjective to the face of occupying a desk for about eight hours, which is equivalent to four hundred and eight minutes or equal to around twenty-eight thousand and eight hundred seconds. Mathematically and practicality speaking they are all the same but which one of them makes you be a good little sheep and which one makes you want to take a flare gun to your bosses waste basket?
He took a deep breath and coughed, shaking his head all in separately awkward motions. He fell asleep at his desk, for the third time.
Today.
This hour in fact.
"How are the phone calls coming?" Asked a nasally voice from behind.
"Perfect. I am running at fifty four per hour and right on the hour."
You stupid old prick
"Fifty four? That is just slightly above acceptable. Shape up because we have a quota to fill." The voice left with the body, the odor leaving with Nathan's boss.
Alone again he lowered his head onto the cold metal desk. Letting the coolness relieve his fevered brow he let out a deep breath. His boss checked on him every half hour because the sales up front were not going well. If the sales were going well Nathan could go an entire week without seeing the crabby old man.
"Yes, Mr. Snarky Old Fart, I am making my calls.
"Yes, Mr. Sardonically laced Sarcastic Old Prick, I am making sure to be polite, more polite then you could ever try to be.
"Yes, Mr. Old Smelling Prick Who Soon Will be Wearing Diapers and Unable to Control His Own Bodily Functions, I understand the seemingly importance of my job but deep down I know how nihilistically pointless this whole damn thing is and how you will never amount to being anything more then an old man wash out from Human Resources that feels the ever increasing need to harass everyone because you are to much of an incompetent fool to do something productive."
A small explosion near his ear caused Nathan to skyrocket out of his chair and turn around. His eyes locked upon the small stature of a co worker hands held in mid-clap as her face was full of surprise.
He smiled at her sheepishly.
"Maybe you should try a little less caffeine babe?" She said with a half smile.
"I could but the water downed stuff just doesn't do the trick."
"Maybe not but I can at least appreciate the nice words you had for Mr.Harre."
He shook his head with a small smile, trying to hide the fact his cheeks had a tinge of red to them, "It isn't like he heard any of that. I just can not stand his superior attitude and the need he has to treat us all like children with handicaps."
"He isn't the only one here lacking but sure does make sure everyone knows it." She smiles at him pushing a strand of her dark blonde hair out of her face. "Any more choice words you want to share before you get back to work?"
"Oh...er..." He looked slightly lost for a minute before turning around to his work. "I like what you did with your hair." He attempted to say over his shoulder as he leaned his face dangerously close to the screen, hoping the light bathing over his face would hide any signs of him blushing.
Only God could have invented something as so horrifyingly beautiful and terrifying as women.
Satan invented middle management.
It seems like everything is coming to a head here.


Chapter Three

If every day in the company is the same, what does it mean when there is something different? An anomaly? An error? A terror? Something to be welcomed? To be feared?
Perspective.
The only reason any of these matter is because of causality.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
I am here.
I am.
I am!
I EXSIST!
I AM!
This place is and will then neve be.
Forever and ever.
Nothing as it's own will.
But I am, I will and I shall persevere.

Chapter Four

The radio played a rock song by the metal band Nihilism R' Us as the back rooms bustled with activity. Dollies wheeled crates of paper as phones incessantly chirped. The madness created a backdrop befitting the madding atmosphere.
In the corner existed a small row of cubicles that housed the companies Telecommunication Customer liaison, a fancy way of saying they get paid to call people and harass them over buying more products.
It was a shitty job with absolute shit pay.
Truth is only as beautiful as the stark ugly naked form it takes.
Nathan was the only person at his desk.
There were a total of three people that were hired as liason specialists. One had ten years of experience and the other was hired at the same time as Nathan. Neither of them had touched their project books in the past month.
"You really should say something to Davis about them slacking off." The sweet voice said over his shoulder.
"It would fix nothing. Crying about problems to a man like that would just make him think I needed more work to shut me up."
"And that is somehow better then doing the work of your whole department?"
"At least I have some small amount of pride...still."
"Little boys and their pride."
"Just because you got about ten years on me doesn't mean I'm a kid."
"True, but you don't help your case sometimes."
"By doing the right thing?"
She placed her hands on his shoulder and gave a half smile he heard when she talked, "You are to cute for your own good. I hope we don't corrupt you."
Blushing he mumbled thanks as he dove back into the words of numbers.



** ** **

"Yes sir, I do understand sir. You do not wish to bothered. It is just th-" Nathan leaned his head away from the phone as a loud voice spouting obscenities about the annoyance of being awoken from a nap.
"Geez, some one is in a tiff today." Came a voice to the cubicle t the right of him.

Of course you would make such a brain numbing obvious statement, it is not as if my mind could hope to complete with your dizzyingly astute intellect that could only be revered and assure you of a steady future of making stupid statements about even stupider circumstances.

"Of course Gregory, who isn't taking a nap at two in the afternoon?"
"I would be if it wasn't for the racket coming from your side of the wall."
"Ah, yeah, doing you job tends to actually do that."
Silence from the other side.
Nathan placed the phone against his hear and was satisfied to hear a rapid beeping tone indicating that the customer had already hung up. Smiling he put his finger down on the receiver and readied himself to dial a new number when his chair was unexpectedly turned around and he was face to face with a rage contorted Gregory.
Take aback by hsi unexpected appearance Nathan tried d to back peddled the chair and ended up just hitting his desk. Before he could make any more moves Gregory spoke "Was that a shot at my work? Do you have a problem with how much I do? Is here some thing you want to get off your chest you little pissant?"
"I di-"
"Don't even try to say that isn't what you meant. I have heard you talking with that stupid 'friend' of yours here, that stupid red haired slut. Do you actually think she likes you beyond just pitying the fact you are some lost scrawny little ass kissing puppy?"
Nathan did not even know how he got into this mess but was scared that if he didn't so some thing quick then there wouldn't be a reason to worry about hating his job.
As if sensing he was going to make a break for it Gregory placed his arms on either side of Nathan's chair and lowered his face even closer as his voice dropped in tone but rose in venom. "Since you think you are the golden child of the company, I am going to do you a favor and let you have the rest of my work load today. Don't worry, it is a gift you won't need to return and there is plenty more of my gift giving to give."
Standing up straight and smiling he waved to a couple of startled looking workers. Giving a laugh he said "Still just breaking in the new guy. You think after a couple of months he could at least figure our what button to hit when. I'm off to lunch"
Giving a last cold smile to Nathan, he walked off towards the exit.
Nathan gave a sigh and turned around feeling shame and like a pile of refuse.

Ever since I first started working here Gregory has been mental. God alone knows how long he has been here but it sure would be nice if God could do something about this problem. If I make a wrong comment, a wrong move, a wrong breath an incorrectly placed comma in a sentence ... he feels the need to explode and pour out his wrath on me.
The only reason I can imagine that he hasn't been fired is because his father is high in upper management. Dear little Gregory may have visions of being just like daddy but no one in their right mind would promote this lunatic to a higher position. There have been better conscientious cannibals then him.
As much as I wish he would get bored and practice shoving screw drivers into an active light socket, he has his uses.
For example, he can actually do his job and aquire new clients. He is annoying enough to actually keep the assistant managers at bay. One time he managed to set the kitchen on fire and we got a whole afternoon off.
There could be other advantages to having him around but then again one could argue that keeping cockroaches around is a good idea. Cockroaches mind you! They can survive atomic blasts! What is up with that? They are diseases ridden vermin and nuclear explosions don't even faze them.
God has a sick sense of humor some days. Okay, most days.

I'm so tired and feeling so expired that I just don't know what to say.

I am so tired of adults acting like childrean.