The Death-Watch

3

I woke up that day as if it were any other day.

I opened the curtains, gazed upon the world and completed the daily routine that left me refreshed and ready for another day of slavery.

I set out, with a spring in my step, towards the lifeless building that now enclosed the object of my infatuation, the gem amongst the coal of society that I so desperately craved to be around.

I floated through my journey to work as if I were on a euphoric cloud, heedless to the vast cacophony of noise around me.

I found myself almost jogging towards the soot stained, red bricked prison that I called my workplace. I was even smiling as I went in and for once it wasn’t a masquerade.

“De’lante, floor six. You should know what to do now, don’t make me have to remind you.” My superior said as I entered the building. I felt myself sadden a little as I heard him say this as floor 6 was just a little further away from the archives and the nest of the swan amongst us.

“You seem awful chipper today, what floor you heading to?” asked Jameson in his usual dull manner and with his usual self aggrandising grin.

“Floor six, you?”

He didn’t reply but I almost laughed as I watched the colour drain out of his face as he pressed the button for floor seven. It was all so important to him; status, piety, dedication and meticulousness but on that day I would have denounced god to a priest, or worse still, Jameson, if I thought it would let me see the angel again.

As the elevator descended I began to think about what I should do when I next saw the girl. Should I remain as we were, casual acquaintances with no significant future, or should I take a leap of faith and ask her out? Should I risk the loss and depression that I would feel should the day ever come that some faceless demigod decided to terminate her fleeting existence?

Indecision gripped me so much that I almost failed to notice the elevator arrive at my floor and the glares Jameson was giving me as I failed to leave. I was shocked that he could hate me so for simply being on a floor higher than him. Hierarchically speaking he was still superior to me as he worked closer to the priesthood, whilst I performed simple but necessary paperwork.

Upon leaving the elevator I found a hall packed with drones from all around the company filing, stamping and listing at bare grey metal desks. It was the first time I had been so high in the company and to me this space was like a utopia of perfection. Despite my secret loathing of our faceless oppressors I couldn’t help but admire and desire the uniformity and order that arose from their regime.

The idyllic surroundings in which I found myself only added to the elation of the day and as I slaved away in this heavenly prison I found that the storm of emotions in my mind was soon calmed enough for me to decide that I would ask her out. I would ask the saint, the angel, the goddess of my dreams to accompany me to a small establishment somewhere in the city in the hopes that she would fall for me as I had her.

Despite the heaven I was in I still found myself counting down the seconds to the daily sermon. It would be the only chance I got to see her unless I again waited diligently after work for her to leave, but as I didn’t want to run the risk of crossing the line into stalking I decided that sermon was the best time to do the deed.

I jumped from my seat as if the walls had burst into flames of hellfire. Instead of waiting for the mind crushing herd I sprinted to the elevator and stole ahead, trying to reach the hall before anyone so that I could take a sea near to where she had sat yesterday. I was so early to the sermon that I had beaten both the preacher and, more to my surprise, Jameson.