Monday 4 November 2013

Life on the moon



You'd expect an alarm clock to help people keep time. Not in my world. The piercing ring yanks me from slumber, but only because I've heard it for the seventh time, thanks to the snooze button. I swear that button was invented by Satan himself.

I wake up to a colourless day. Everything seems grey, not because it's threatening to pour, but because things feel out of place. Something's probably going to go wrong today.

Yes, sometimes the days seem monochrome. Sometimes they lack smell, sound, sharpness. I'm not weird, I just can't help noticing these things. Things like how a woman's lower lips sag on a bitchy resting face, or how a self conscious guy buries his face in his armpits to check for body odour, but acts as though he's wiping his chin on his sleeve.

By the time I leave my house, I'm already fifteen minutes late. I message a colleague for alibi inception.

ME: OMG so jam. Jam for you too?
GREG: Weird. Roads were clear for me. Try to reach before 10.

I do reach before 10:00. In fact, I'm there at 9:57. Thing is, work starts at 9:30. I tiptoe my way to my desk, avoiding eye contact, because God forbid someone announces my arrival with a good morning.

I reach my desk unnoticed, or at least I think not. Good. Now time for Facebook.

Three messages. Before I begin procrastinating, the browser blinks. A message in Google Talk.

EDITOR: Engineering story finished?
ME: First drafts, yeah. Will mail you once they're polished.
EDITOR: Ok. By the way, why so late?
ME: Because I WAS traffic.
EDITOR: Lame. Finish the story. By today.
ME: Ok.

Minutes pass, and as I mould paragraphs of junk into better sounding junk, my browser blinks again.

ANDREW: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s9d52h5gXl0 Let's try to jam this song for our next office jam session.
ME: Ok will check it out.

I check it out not because I'm in the mood for music, but because I love procrastinating. I put my headphones on and drown out the outside world with music.

Here in this crowd, I'm feeling all alone,
Turn me around, and point me back to home.

I like listening to music while editing. It helps me stay focused.

Life on the moon couldn't be any stranger,
Life on the moon wouldn't feel this far away.

An e-mail comes in:
Hi Stuart,
The website is up. Would now be a good time to port all the data to the new site?

I'm all alone in this crowded room,
It's like life on the moon.

As I'm replying the e-mail, another beep.

BOSS: Did you receive Ad's e-mail? Make sure you have all data ready and ask him to proceed.
ME: Okay.

Did I mention that my boss sits twelve feet away from me? This is how communication takes place in the office. Not that I mind, I'm not much of a talker anyway.

A couple hours pass and the lunch messages come in:

ANU: What's for lunch?
ME: I packed.
GREG: Are you going for lunch?
ME: Nope.
ANU: You suck.

A montage of me writing and making coffee ensues. Many hours later, it's time to go home, but by the time I leave, everyone's already gone. I look out the window and traffic looks bad. Might as well drop by the gym and do some yoga.

I reach the gym hoping to see someone I know. Something seems off today but I can't quite put a finger on it. None of the regulars show up, and I'm stuck to ruminate on my own in my puddle of sweat.

After class in the locker room, I check my phone and there's two messages. One is about Maxis' latest caller ringtone, and the other's from Jane.

JANE: Dinner? Message received 19:04

I check my watch. 20:30. Agh.

ME: Sorry was in yoga. Dinner?
JANE: Ah, thought you were busy, I bought dinner already.
ME: Np.

It's probably better this way. Exercise always makes me want to eat healthier anyway. I still can't shake the weird feeling of gloom that's been following me like the scent of perfume that follows a woman seconds after she walks past.

I get ready for bed and pull out my book. I leaf through but I can't seem to concentrate. A song keeps playing in my head. The Germans have a specific phrase for this. Then again, the Germans have a specific phrase for everything.

"It's pronounced our vorm," a German friend once told me.

"Our vorm," I said.

"Yeah! Just like that! You're good with accents!" he laughed.

Now this ear worm is threatening to eat me inside out. I try thinking of another song. Doesn't work. Damn you Andrew. The song's so catchy I can't help but to sing it aloud.

"Life on the moon couldn't be any stranger, life on the moon wouldn't feel this far away."

Then I stop.

I make a mental jog of the day's events and realise I've just uttered my first words of the day.

Well fuck me.

The thought of calling someone for a chat crosses my mind, but it's past people's bedtime, so I decide to sleep it off. I toss and turn as I flirt between the borders of dreams and reality.

I dream that I'm locked in a cell with corners draped in darkness. It's damp in this brick cell, much like a brick walkway after a drizzle. There's nothing in here except a certain coldness. A voice that sounds like a blend between a rusty hinge and a whisper calls out: "Alone."

Outside, festivities are taking place. People are having fun. People getting drunk. People kissing and hugging and laughing and singing. I walk towards the metal bars and there's the smell of happiness. The scent of alcohol mingles with cigars. Outside, there is joy. I stand there for a moment, gripping the bars, looking with longing.

"Alone," the voice calls out again.

"Hello? Guys! I'm over here. Hello? Help! Guys?"

None of them pay any attention to me.

"Guys? Hello?"

I hear something drag itself out of the corners of my cell. I stumble back and fall on the stone floor, my hands splashing in the murk caught in the cracks between the bricks. That... thing shambles towards me. It doesn't have a head—no God no—it does have a head. I think it's snapped back, because I see wisps of hair swinging from the creature's back.

I back up to the cell wall, watching in horror as that thing drags itself closer. Its hands stretch outwards, and I try to scream for the last time but nothing comes out. Its hands wrap around my neck as its head slowly erects from behind. By the time we come face-to-face, I already have my eyes shut tight.

The sound of happiness mere metres away from me drowns out as its hands slowly tighten around my neck. The darkness starts taking me, but all I remember is its voice. The same voice that sounds like something between nails on a blackboard and the biting frost of winter.

I'm alone in this crowded room,
It's like life on the moon.