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“What is this?” Martin asked looking at the rising buildings before them. “We can’t be this close to London already?”
“We’re not,” Jon said gravely.
“Should I ask where we are then?”
“You know how some of the realms have proven to be slightly more metaphorical than others,” Jon elaborated. “This one is almost pure metaphor.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m sure you’ll see” Jon replied gravely before walking forward.
Martin hurried to catch up and after taking in the grim set to Jon’s face asked. “I take it there’s no going around this one is there?”
“There is not.”
Martin took a deep breath and matched Jon step by step as they entered a space that looked like it should be a bustling metropolis but was quieter than a grave. The pair walked on with Jon keeping his eyes stubbornly ahead. Martin on the other hand was looking from side to side. The streets were completely empty but it seemed like each building was completely full of people. His brow furrowed and he walked over to one of the windows of the building staring in. Jon sighed and stepped next to him.
“What am I looking at?” Martin asked.
“This is a realm of the Buried and probably the Lonely.”
“We’re above ground and they are surrounded by people. It almost looks normal.”
“It's not, take a closer look at the people.” Jon corrected his voice monotone.
Martin took a closer look at the scene, it looked like a grocery shop, workers standing at their cash registers, shoppers standing in orderly lines, a few workers appeared to be stocking the shelves. At first glance, it was a completely ordinary scene. He frowned and almost turned to look at Jon in confusion before looking again. The lines never got shorter one shopper would leave the line and join the next one, bodies not human but near close similar to the children of the Stranger alive but not quite, human but not right. The lines of supplies being stocked by a worker never get any fuller. The workers themselves those must be the victims of the realm, human yes but they were wasting away, eyes and hair dull, clothes hanging from their near skeletal frames.
“What is happening to them?” Martin asked.
“Are you sure you want to know?” Jon asked.
“This one I think I do,” Martin replied.
“Well our patron is asking me to give witness, perhaps that will give some clarity.”
Alex Halladay stared at the never-ending line. It’s the same day in, day out. The same people, the same faces, the same everything. A never-ending purposeless drudgery. No purpose other than feeding stupid capitalistic gods; buried by debt and rising cost of living, unable to get your head above water enough to get out of the same suffocating spaces. Spaces in which you just exist, doing pointless meaningless menial tasks. Faces the blur into empty. They don’t see you as a person. Just a cog in the machine. As long as the task is done what do you matter. As long as you work, day in and day out.
Day in.
Day out.
Day in.
Day out. Nothing changes, Not today. Not tomorrow. That's of course if there is a tomorrow. I don't think I've left my cash register in hours. No days. How long have I been standing here? What is this place? Why can’t I leave?
Sam Booth works in the skyscraper behind us. They worked in an office, one with the same off-white walls and industrial carpets that you will find in countless others. Their experience is only slightly different.
I don't think I've left my desk in days. Or is it years? How long have I been sitting here? How long have I been here nothing has changed? It’s the same files the same wall of numbers. The same pointless meetings. I get up. I walk around. I come back the clock never seems to move. Lunch comes and goes, the tasteless food, I drink countless mugs of coffee, countless cups of water. How do we know it's lunch? The clock never changes?
My email never empties. The same pointless emails. It's someone’s birthday today. Whose I have no idea I’ve never met them and they’ve never met me.
Day in and day out. I work and work and work never leaving and yet my phone still chirps payment due. Payment due. The number in the bank account does not seem to change. It's never 0 but it's also never enough not enough. Not to get out. Not enough to leave this place. So I’m slowly and surely buried under the futility of it all.
I have my coworkers, the same people, same faces, same everything. I see them day in and day out. Same meaningless chat. Are we even people anymore or blank dolls replaying the same role over and over again? Does it matter? We all are stuck. We all commensurate but does it change? No, it's just the same.
I caught my face in the mirror yesterday. I've aged. I started this job when I was young but now I look…I look ancient. How is that possible? How is that possible? I can't possibly have been trapped for that long, can I? Can I? How do I get out? How am I still trapped? What is this place?
Sam and Alex are just two of the many trapped suffocating against the drudgery of a never-ending workday. Trapped to continue to play a role in a capitalistic world where all that matters is their work and yet their work means nothing. The reports filed by Sam are deleted within the hour and the work sent back for processing. The people in the grocery shop with Alex check out at one register before walking back to the back of the line and repeating the process over and over again creating a never-ending line of people. And they will continue to work and work and work until their forms waste away slowly but surely. Trapped in a never-ending Monday.
“Does it make sense now Martin? It's very metaphorical the same thing day in and day out. They're trapped by their situation, they're trapped by their loneliness. Its almost humane compared to some of its counterparts but that’s not accounting for the mental torment this has to be.” Jon blinked his now bright green eyes and looked at his partner.
Martin was staring at the window into the shop. “Can they see us?”
“No all they see when they look at the window is a normal London day, before all of this,” Jon replied. “Which is probably the Lonely’s doing. Being trapped inside working while the world continues around you outside. It is very isolating.”
“I don’t think this domain is humane at all.” Martin said grimly turning away from the building and looking down the street.
Jon tilted his head looking at his partner. “I don’t disagree.”
“Its not physical torture but at least with the physical there is the pain to ground you to keep you from torturing yourself with your mind as well. Here it's all mental there's nothing physical to ground you to reality. You're just torturing yourself while the domain is also torturing you. Feeding into the fear of being trapped in dead-end positions, in meaningless isolating lonely jobs.” Martin continues, “I am surprised there are so many here though.
Jon paused for a moment before replying “well most people want some sort of purpose in their lives and even if the fear of a lack of purpose of being trapped in a position is not their main one there are plenty who still just stumbled on this place instead of one of the other domains. For many, this could have been their experience… Before… and seeing as it was their dominant fear at the time, this is where they ended up.
“That is worse” Martin replied “they went from one torturous reality to one where they are literally being tortured. What's going to happen to them if we can fix this? Are they going to end up back to their same torture before?”
“You know it doesn’t work like that,” Jon replied. “I can’t see the future.”
“I know I know”
“I imagine if they remember any of this if things can be righted they most likely would be looking for a new position.”