There was a knock on the door. Surely, that'd be a fun way to start it. Him warning me of his existence before he entered the room.
Or maybe he didn't knock, maybe he just appeared and stood there, watching me perform my vivisection or whatever task i've convinced myself was important.
Or maybe he appeared in front of me, speaking immediately as he appeared. Making me miss the first few words of his sentence because I'm picking my dignity off of the floor by how scared I was.
Or maybe he wouldn't even bother. He'd somehow, someway, shapeshift me into nothingness through time and space, rearranging my atoms, my consciousness, my mind to the place he wants it.
No matter how he appears, I'm not alone. Usually, that'd be comforting to hear.
It's far from it when being alone is the one thing you're afraid of and yet wish for at the same time. I trap myself in my lab for hours on end for a reason, I want to get my job done.
But somehow, my colleague keeps weasling her way in whilst I'm working. My son keeps getting into trouble in all senses of the word, and my boss...
...I guess my boss has the right to interrupt me. He can't leave anyone alone if he tried, but I don't think he has. He sees everything, hears everything, knows everything. The only time where I'm safe from his gaze is when he chooses to leave me alone.
I was originally supposed to write on a workplace story, I guess I got out of hand. Writing my thoughts down usually ends with me writing some messed up cacophony of my life.
You could say my workplace is a source of inspiration, if not a free diagnosis of all my fears at once. But how else am I supposed to live? In a one story house with a white picket fence, two kids, a loving partner, and a dog?
I guess im living above that dream. Im in a 4 story mansion with a heavily secured metal gate, two colleagues that basically double as my kids, judging how much I look after them, a demonic boss, and multiple robotic servants.
My life couldn't be better, I love it here. I couldn't have it any other way. Because any other way? Im nothing.
Nothing without this job, nothing without him looking after me, nothing without being insulted every day, nothing without caring for my son.
There was a knock on the door, and my boss entered my office. He spoke to me about the new upcoming plans he has set up, and he needs me to order his calendar.
I do it. He's satisfied enough to spare another day off of my life. That's how we go.
A dance, a tango of life and death where I'm letting someone else I barely know lead. He took my hand, spun me into heaven, and dipped me into hell in the same minute.
And where I lie awake, writing this nonsense when I could have turned on my cryobed and slept, I have lied here millions of times before. Wishing for something more, maybe, maybe that's where my life could be better.
A single thank you from my boss, a genuine look from my coworker, a moment of peace with my son. That's all I ask for. Is that too much?
Is what I've gained so far a cancelation of my basic human needs? Is it a choice between practical immortality until told otherwise, and asking for a single time I could make my boss laugh genuinely?
Im alive. My mortality, a gift from a devine beast, could be stripped away from me in an instant.
There was a knock on the door, when I opened it there was nothing there. He appeared behind me and stabbed a knife through my back.
Not quite hitting where might kill me if left untreated, but slicing right where I'd feel it if I leaned over.
He hits me where it doesn't kill me, but I'd never forget. He doesn't want me dead, I can never understand why.
Why can't he do everything I do? What's stopping him? Boredom?
