I take a deep breath and press the button for the intercom speaker. “Who is it?” I ask in a huff. I view the tiny monitor before me, but then I remember it’s broken––ancient technology. There’s no way I’ll be able to see anything through this … Continue reading Galactic Log 1.7 – A Meaningless Existence (Rho Tiarmstrong)
I can hear my stomach grumbling; it feels as though my insides are cramping up and it becomes too painful to bear. I may have no choice in the matter, but to leave this mental prison of mine just to get a bite to eat. Rubbing my upset tummy, I decide it’s best I should at least find a snack around this trash heap.
I sigh to myself, but it’s more like a groan.
Why am I still alive? I should be dead by now, right?
I lift my head and glance around the dark room. Scratching the top of my wild, untamed hair, I wonder what might be in the fridge. As I place my right foot on the floor, I step on a sharp object and then I stumble forward.
I fall. My head hits the ground and I’m in a world of hurt and red. I scream out, staring at the cut on my big toe.
“Damn it,” I said, practically on the verve of tears.
I muster all my strength, lift myself upward, and hop on one foot. Hunger is far removed from my mind now. Hopping toward the bathroom, I rummage around for a towel or a bandaid––anything to stop the bleeding.
I give up trying and jump inside the tub. The shower turns on automatically. I’m soaked to the bone and shivering while the blood washes away. I see the river of red clearly as it goes down the drain.
Since I’m here, I might as well enjoy it. However, I can’t find a bar of soap. Isn’t this shower programmed to have everything?
I can’t remember exactly if I’m supposed to press a button or command the device by voice.
“Can I get a bar of soap?” I ask the shower.
It does nothing. Maybe it’s not that kind of machine. Or maybe I’m not speaking clear enough. So, I try again.
One of the tiles before me begins to move and a liquid squirts into my eyes, burning my vision altogether. Loud obscenities escape my lips and once again I’m feeling the burn, but this time it’s even worse than before.
I should seriously be more careful next time. After rinsing my eyes and face with cold water, I can barely see. The blood on my toe disappears and I’m back to searching for a piece of cloth to wrap it with. Holding onto the shower curtain, it takes me about fifteen minutes just to find a fucking rag. I tear it in half and gently bandage my toe.
Thinking to myself, I gawk at the slippery tiled floor. I should probably not be in a haste to leave this shower, for fear I’d slip and break my Goddamn neck.
“I need to get some help…” I finally admitted that I can’t take care of pathetic self.
I’m unable to focus on the simplest of tasks. Something is preventing me from living a normal life. What can it be? I don’t know why I do the things that I do.
Maybe I can hire someone to keep this place in order for me. But who can I afford? Housekeepers aren’t cheap and neither are the robotic maids. They’ve both so damn expensive. I don’t have much credits left on me and who’d want to work here, in this dump.
“This place will be the death of me if I don’t find someone soon,” I whisper, putting my hands on the wall.
I slowly step out of the shower, one foot at a time––just baby steps. For once, I see myself in the mirror. My reflection stares right back at me, and I can’t recognize my own face.
“What’s happening to me?” I think aloud. “Why can’t I think straight?”
A buzzing sound interrupts my thoughts. Buzz. Buzz. That noise sounds so familiar. Where have I heard it before? It was coming from the front entrance. Someone was at my apartment door, ringing the buzzer.
I’m not in the best condition to answer it, since I’m in my birthday suit. My bare ass is covered in scars and if I open that door in the buff, I’ll scare away whoever is at my door.
“Shit…now what?” I dig through my bathroom cabinet and grab the nearest towel.
I carefully walk to the door, which is behind a pile of trash, dirty laundry, and stuffed cardboard boxes.
“Comin’…” I said, hesitantly.
I don’t know who or what is on the other side of that door.
(To be continued…)
I place my hands behind my head and keep watching the ceiling, unable to focus on one particular light in front of me. I notice a few more specks, flickering about. What exactly are these dots?
It reminds me of a solar system. Are these glowing insects perhaps? Maybe some kind of solar flare.
Nah, that can’t be right.
They gleam and seem to pulsate before my very eyes; they’re not too bright, and yet they remain absolutely motionless. None of the glimmering spots move from my sight. These must be inanimate, not even remotely alive.
But the way they form, making strange patterns above me, I begin to wonder what the hell I’m doing with my life. What the fuck is my purpose? I begin to have second thoughts about why I’m here.
A cluster of them together reminds me of something. I suddenly feel homesick. There’s a sense of longing––to see the stars. There’s a galaxy that I can’t reach; outer space is where I truly belong.
The room is dark and I can’t seem to recall my past. It’s been like this for so long I can’t remember what I did to get in this dilemma. I’m trapped. There’s no glimmer of hope in this place, this protective sphere of mine is suffocating me.
I sigh and pretend to be content for now. Deep down, I know something’s wrong. All the curtains drape over the large windows. They shield me from the incessant noise and lights coming from outside. I’m not sadden by the appearance of my messy room.
Is this really my apartment?
I still don’t feel like getting out of bed.
(To be continued…)
In a blink of an eye, everyone I know is suddenly dead. These are my options. One way or another, regardless of the outcome, it never has a happy ending. This is my curse, my reason for living in solitude. This never-ending burden is my doing. … Continue reading Galactic Log 1.4 – Rho Tiarmstrong
This is neither my home nor the Earth I was born on. I doubt that I’m on a planet at all. Knowing this is millions of years into the future, I wasn’t supposed to be alive in such an era. It doesn’t actually bother me––I don’t hate it here. … Continue reading Galactic Log 1.3 – Rho Tiarmstrong
But once again, I’m stuck within the shadows of a meager existence. No job. No money. No way of making a living for myself. Luckily, I found out I have a savings account listed under my real name. Then, I bought myself a cheap place … Continue reading Galactic Log 1.2 – Rho Tiarmstrong
Hello, darkness. We meet again. My eyes are wide open as I gaze at nothingness. I’m looking through the wall and into the oblivion. Staring at the ceiling, it’s completely pitch-black and yet I don’t seem to mind. There’s a slight feeling of peace. A calm, … Continue reading Galactic Log 1.1 – Rho Tiarmstrong