A Business of Misery

Tip #2 | Never Let a Human Get Too Close

This story is part of a new compilation I like to call 'Stories that go well with lofi hip-hop,' so if you're interested, here is the stream I listened to while writing this.

Another dreary night, I thought to myself as I watched from the edge of a very high roof. The building was easily seven stories tall and provided an excellent view of the dampened streets below. The rain had only just stopped and the fresh scent of ozone still lingered.

Rain often symbolizes sadness, particularly with death, in human cultures, except the rain was already over. It came just a bit too early this time. The clouds had already moved on and the gray sky was nothing more than a filter then. I descended upon the streets and made myself known to the human world. Nobody seemed to notice the sudden appearance of a person who wasn't on the sidewalk just moments before. Nobody ever did.

I knew where I needed to be. I could feel the beat of music that was too loud for any person to enjoy. The awning above the entrance dripped water rapidly into the gutters on the street. I stood in front of a set of large double door, the handles made of corroding metal which painted your hands a deep orange when touched. I didn't bother; I walked through the heavy doors and into the darkness of the club.

The music was deafening, made worse by the large open space that served as the club—one of those large warehouse-type places. The room was filled to the brim with bodies. Everywhere I looked, feet shuffled, hands reached for the ceiling, and half-naked torsos rubbed against each other like worms in a can of bait. Disgusting.

None of them even attempted conversation; it was far too noisy. Some communicated through their bodies: rubbing, touching, kissing, sex—right there in the open, standing up. Nobody around seemed to mind. Truly a despicable place for only the filthiest of this species to "have fun." I couldn't imagine a grim reaper ever even wanting to participate in such vile behavior.

I breathed a breath of the wretched air and made my way to one wall so I could be away from those creatures. The only lights in the building were multicolored lasers beaming all around.

All part of the job, I thought. At least one of these poor souls will have the chance to get away from this terrible place. Probably more.

Along the way, I passed a man and a woman sprawled out in a kiddy pool. They were both naked and the pool was empty. They were both still. Both starry-eyed. I made my way toward the bathroom, but a dense crowd blocked the way. I didn't care. I passed through the wall instead. Nobody seemed to notice. They never do.

The bathroom was dimly lit by a single fluorescent bulb that flickered inconsistently. Most of the stalls were occupied, probably by puking patrons or by couples—or more—indulging their bestial appetites. At the far end of the bathroom was an open stall. The sound of crying was faintly emanating from within.

I thought about what would be most comforting to the individual responsible. Someone dressed in casually fancy clothes. Yes, nothing too standout-ish, but noticeably nicer than most others around. Something slim. Dark. A warmer complexion in the face. Neat hair. I approached the stall and leaned against the open door. A woman sat on the floor, resting her head in her arms and using the open toilet bowl for support.

Her glowing makeup streamed down her cheeks and neck, staining the collar of her shirt. The toilet water was dyed dark by some sort of fluid, but I couldn't tell what in the dark corner. A pair of short heels were tossed in the corner of the stall which I assumed were the woman's since her own feet were bare against the grimy bathroom floor.