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Chapter 8

The word responsibility hung over my head for days. It kept ringing over and over again and soon I found myself drifting more away from reality and into my head. I had a resolve to pull myself together. Over the next few days, I became buddy-buddy with the telegram. At first, it startled me when it would noisily print messages but soon I was comfortable enough to work with alternating silence and the sound of beeping and printing. My training in terms of administrative work with Blue Bird Delivery was complete though that didn't stop Yeosang from trying to train me with his innovation projects. 

The system of the business side was more accurate but not necessarily efficient. It required step-by-step protocols that even the clients were annoyed at once hearing the new implemented system. A request was to be sent, then it is checked through standardised criteria of whether or not it was appropriate, then entered into the database to wait for approval from the captain before it was processed again into a schedule for the crew to attend to. Even afterwards there is paperwork to do such as recalculations of inventory and settlement if the service wasn't satisfactory.

Customer service was now linked to the telegram, no longer needing to reach the captain via phone call. I've had a fair share of shock with some requests being quite outlandish. One instance, building a nuclear generator. (clean energy source but it do be expensive) Some were quite illegal, such as selling their children for labour or assassinations on other groups. What a time to be alive in this regressed society if society is still a concept in the case of anarchy. Of course those requests were rejected right away. 

Blue Bird Delivery had expanded its influence through a supplier incentive which discounted bulk deliveries. I fell into a rhythm with the job and continued to improve my efficiency in handling work. It wasn't that I had voluntarily taken on more work, but I had been buried with work that the sessions with Seonghwa were shortened, too awkward and showed no signs of improvement. My hand healed and all that was left was a faint pink scab.

Fatigue often took hold of my mind and I found myself nodding off to sleep even during meals. But whenever I find myself under the covers, fatigue vanishes and my mind goes down rabbit holes and doesn't return. I find myself drifting on the job.

* * *

The white fog that descended on the silent expanse of barren land painted the beauty and horrors of isolation. I stretched out a hand to watch the wisps of mist past between the gaps of my fingers. Metallic jingling sounded out each time I shifted my arms. I glanced down to find my arms wrapped with thick chains. The wide space imprisoned me within the walls of the ever changing mass of opacity that mirrored the confusion of the simplistic human mentality that cannot cover the complexity of existence.

The mist seemingly thinned around my figure. Similar chains snaked around my waist where the ends dragged behind me. Each step forth felt lighter despite the weight. A wall of yellow gas approached me, hitting me where each breath in drew out a small chuckle, vision blurring and sharpening. I stumbled through, giggling a little. 

"How plentiful yet empty. Oh the irony, the tragedy!"

I staggered forward, heaving to laugh. I caught sight of debris of metal scraps. Amidst the useless pile, a lighter caught my attention and I snatched it off the ground. The metallic cap flicked open with a click. My finger pushed down on the ignitor, sparking a small but bright flame. I tilted my head to watch the lonesome flame. This sparked a small thought, a small flame of determination that would only be snuffed out when I lay dead. I closed the cap onto the flame, snuffing out the flame contrary to my thoughts. The fuel was burning. I tossed the lighter up and down leisurely, whistling and swaying from side to side in an intoxicated haze.