A Man Lives... Beep! Beep! Beep! The alarm blared suddenly, interrupting the otherwise tranquil morning. It had been this way for the past several years. Every morning at six, the alarm would go off. It made little difference to Robert though, he was already awake, had been for about ten minutes. He calmly reached over and pressed his hand on the button to silence the annoyance. Over the years, Robert had gotten into the habit of opening his eyes ten minutes before the alarm informed him that it was time to do so. He found it was easier to get up that way. � Again, as had been routine for several years now, Robert got up, and went about his morning rituals. He brushed his teeth, and then showered. When he stepped out of the shower, he prepared to shave, spreading the foam about his face. He stopped for a second, to ponder why he was shaving - it was not as if he was averse to facial hair, in fact, he loved the furry beard he sported all through college � but it was only for a second and he proceeded to remove the barely noticeable stubble that had developed since yesterday�s shave. His morning proceeded and he sat to enjoy the scrambled eggs he had just made. He thought, �Maybe I should do the dishes now, I�ve got a few minutes�, but ultimately he resolved he would do them after he got home, as he did every day. Next, he slipped on his freshly pressed trousers, followed by his shirt and then his tie. A quick glance at his watch let him know he was running two minutes late. He picked up his keys, grabbed his briefcase, and headed for the door. Before exiting his, �small but cozy� (as he liked to refer to it) apartment, Robert put on his shoes that awaited him patiently by the door. He left, locked the door, and was on the elevator going down, all in a matter of minutes. Only once had he taken the stairs, thinking it would be the healthy thing to do; it proved a fiasco, as it delayed him to where he was almost late. Robert exited his building and walked over to the newsstand, as was his custom, and purchased the Daily Newspaper and a pack of gum. Every morning he purchased that newspaper. He proceeded down the street and took a left at the light, leading him straight to the stairs that descend into darkness, or rather, the subway. He paid his fare and boarded the train. As he entered the oversized tin can, his eyes quickly scanned for an open seat. Only one was available. As Robert moved toward it, he immediately regretted his decision. It was a perfectly fine seat, with relatively no graffiti on it, and better still the padding was still intact. However, the reason why it remained available made Robert recoil in disgust. Next to that perfectly fine seat, was another, and resting comfortably on it, was a man perfectly content in his own existence; so much so, that his personal hygiene was noticeably neglected. Instead of proceeding towards the seat, Robert reached for the overhead bar that traversed the train car. �I think I�ll stand,� he thought. He would read his newspaper, which he had planned on reading on his ride to work, later. The train reached his stop, and Robert made a move for the door. The crowd that had gathered in the train car did not make his exit easy, but he managed. Up the steps to the street, down the street to the left, through the door, and to the elevator he went. He glanced at his watch. �Fifteen minutes to nine�, it told him. He didn�t need to look; he knew very well what time it would be when he got to the elevator, the same time as yesterday, and the day before. �Ding�, cried the elevator when it reached to 17th floor, Robert�s floor. For the last several years, Robert had been coming to this office day in and day out. It had become something of a home away from home. He knew the names of some other employees, the ones that kept their jobs long enough, anyway. As he walked toward the break-room to get his morning caffeine fix, he smiled and nodded as he passed people at their desks. They did the same. The occasional �Good morning�, was thrown into the mix. He poured his coffee and receded to his desk. For the rest of the workday, he would remain unknown. That didn�t bother him though; he was getting his job done and being paid too, quite handsomely actually. So he was content to sit and type on his keyboard and take his break and type some more and have his reports filed away all on time and leave everyday at 5:15. He was well aware that the extra fifteen minutes would warrant him no extra pay, but he thought, maybe the additional time might warrant him some praise. No matter, it was now 5:13, and Robert was preparing to make his way home. The trek home was surprisingly similar to the one to work. There was certainly no deviation from his daily routine. Robert arrived at his apartment at exactly five minutes to six, just in time to catch the six o�clock news. He didn�t really pay attention to the news, maybe to the sports, but really the only purpose watching the news served to Robert, was providing some white noise to help wind down from a fantastically average day. Promptly at 7:30, Robert rose from his chair and prepared himself a nice steak dinner. It was definitely a five-star gourmet meal � at least, that�s what it read on the box. Following his dinner, Robert decided to do the dishes. It took him no more than five minutes. His lunch for the following day was prepared in an equally efficient manner; nothing more than a simple ham sandwich, an apple, and bottled water. �Maybe I can get some reading done�, thought Robert. And so he sat in his tan reclining chair, book in hand, and commenced reading the words written on the page. He found little meaning in these words, however, and soon relinquished his efforts. He caught the second half of the football match as he lay on his bed and drifted off to sleep. It was only ten o�clock. Beep! Beep! Beep! The alarm blared suddenly, interrupting the otherwise tranquil morning. Robert, who was already awake and had been for the past ten minutes, got up and proceeded with his morning routine. After purchasing the morning paper Robert headed for the subway. Today Robert was lucky; he found an open seat, with an empty seat next to it. �No homeless scent to contend with today� he thought and sat down. However just as Robert began to stretch his legs to enjoy the morning paper on his morning ride to work, he felt a presence next to him; someone had taken the open seat next to him. He turned his head expecting only to give a momentary glance as brief acknowledgement of the person�s presence, but instead found himself shocked at what he saw. Sitting next to him was the same man he saw yesterday, the man with the smell, and he was smiling at Robert. Robert couldn�t help but notice the man�s gray beard desperately clinging to his face, or the man�s yellowed teeth smiling at him, or the man�s red scarf the wrapped around his neck, creating a seamless transition from the beard to the chest hair sprouting from the top of the man�s shirt, which remained unbuttoned to the third button. The man continued smiling at Robert. Robert quickly tried to return his attention to his paper, but the man�s smile had now become a hysterical, irritating laugh. The laugh seared the inside of Robert�s ears and he cringed in disgust. He turned to the man and began to ask him to �keep it down�, but the many only laughed louder and more hysterically. Oddly enough, however, no one else seemed to notice. Robert just stared at the man, whose hysterical laughter was now producing a torrent of spit flying in Robert�s direction. Pushed to the point of irritation, Robert seemingly yelled at the top of his lungs, �WHAT DO YOU WANT?!� which was more a plea for silence than an inquiry, and in reality was not much louder than an exaggerated whisper, in an attempt not to rouse attention. �It�s all so � fucking hysterical! Isn�t it?� said the man. �What is? What are you talking about?� replied Robert. �Look around� what isn�t?� said the man. �Look, I don�t have any mo�� Robert began to say when the man stood up and looked down at Robert� �I don�t want your fucking money! It�s useless. Like you.� stated the man. �I don�t want any trouble, I-I-I�m just trying to get to work� replied Robert in a nervous, uncertain, tone. �That�s the problem. You don�t see, do you? No, you CAN�T see!� said the man as he erupted in another barrage of laughter. �L-L-Look, this is my sto�� began Robert as again he was interrupted. �Look around. What do you see?� asked the man. His gaze never left Robert�s face, waiting to read a reaction as Robert examined his surroundings. It was at this moment that Robert noticed that no one else on the train had reacted, in any way, to what he perceived to be a very strange encounter; they hadn�t even noticed. �People. I see people trying to go to wo�� Robert�s answer was cut-off by yet another interruption from the man. �You still don�t get it, do ya? You mean nothing! You ARE nothing! What is your name?!� asked the man. �Robert Jones� was the only response Robert could muster to the verbal assault the man had unleashed on him. �Well, Robert, take a look around. Don�t you find it kinda strange that no one is even remotely interested in our little � tango? It doesn�t seem strange that not one pair of eyes has shifted from a morning newspaper to examine what surely appears to be an � attack? You see, Robert, you and I are not very different. We both don�t exist to them. To them we are nothing more than a speck of dust. Not to be bothered with! You see Robert, WE are nothing � at least, to them.� the man said as he again smiled at Robert. �I don�t know what you are talking about �� again Robert was cut short as the man began another rant. �I�ll prove it. You see that guy to your left. Hit him. As hard as you can, just cock your fist back and sock him one. Just do it, trust me.� proposed the man. �I can�t just attack someone out of the blue, that�s assault. It�s wrong. Besides how would he feel if I just hit him� replied Robert, while wondering what it would be like to punch someone; he�d always wanted to try it, but had always been afraid of getting hurt in a fight. �Just do it! What are ya�, a pussy? Just fuckin� punch him! He won�t give a shit, trust me.� the man said with a sinister grin on his face. �No!� Robert replied angrily. �Do it, or I�ll shoot him.� said the man as he pulled a .38 caliber snub-nosed revolver from his pocket, the kind Robert had seen in many gangster movies. �Whoa! Just take it easy! Calm down � you don�t wanna do that. You don�t want to kill him. C�mon just put the gun down� please.� pleaded Robert. �Punch him � or I shoot him. It�s very simple. You can stop his death, Robert. You want to save his life, don�t you?� the man said. Robert nodded. He looked over at the man with the gun pointed at his face; his expression hadn�t changed, as if it were any other regular day. �Really sock him one, hard, or � you know the rest. C�mon, he�ll thank you for it. Loose a few teeth or loose a few � well, brain cells, I guess,� said the man as he clicked the hammer back releasing the safety. The man began to count, �One ��, Robert twitched nervously, �Two �� �WAIT! I�ll do it! Okay, I�ll do it!� shouted Robert as he jumped from his seat. The man calmly pulled the hammer back, re-setting the safety, slowly pulled the gun away from the other man�s temple, and smiling, said, �Well, what are you waiting for?� �Okay, just one punch and � y-y-you leave him alone and you don�t hurt anyone? Okay?� asked Robert. The man nodded holding the gun in his left hand with his hands crossed at his waist. Robert turned to face the other man, looked at him for a moment and said, �Forgive me. I-I-I don�t want to hurt you but there�s no other option. I�m sorry.� Robert cocked his right fist back and waited to get some sort of reaction from the man about to get his face crunched in; the man did not flinch, did not pay Robert one bit of attention. Robert followed through with his promise and punched the man square in the face, as hard as he could, and though he would never admit it, Robert thought it felt good. The man standing next to Robert, the man with the gun, laughed even louder than before. Robert looked at him then back at the man he just punched. �Are you alright?� Robert asked but got no reaction. The man just sat and stared, just as he had been before the punch. In fact, he looked as if he had not been punched at all. The man with the gun continued to laugh. Robert looked at him and yelled, �What the fuck are you laughing at?!� and then turned back to the other man and asked, �Sir, are you alright?� Again, no reaction. Robert asked a third and a fourth time and still no answer. The maniacal laughter from the gun-wielding maniac began to irritate Robert and he turned his attention to the laughing man. �Stop laughing!� demanded Robert. The man did not stop. Robert was infuriated by his laughter, by his presence. Robert punched the man as hard as he could. The man stumbled and fell against the door of the train, where he remained to compose himself. Robert, believing that the laughing man had been dealt with, turned his attention back to the other man. �Are you okay, sir?� asked Robert. The man did not even acknowledge Robert. Robert winced in frustration as again he heard the maniacal laughter that the man with the gun had established as his trademark. Robert walked up to him, with sweat dripping from his brow, grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him into the side of the train. �I told you stop laughing!� �Wait� wait� before you pummel me� let me just tell you,� Robert anticipated some sort of apology, �I told you so!� concluded the man. �We are nothing to them!� the man said as he brushed off Robert�s hands and stood to meet his gaze. �We ain�t shit to them! And now � you know.� The train began to slow as it reached the next stop. Robert�s eyes remained on the laughing man. The train stopped. �ha ha ha� the man began to laugh as the doors opened. And then, he took a step backwards off the train, all the while never loosing sight of Robert�s eyes, and as the recorded announcement was made about the doors closing, the laughing man raised his hands as if conducting an orchestra only he could hear, and with an ominous smile on his face said, �It�s all so � fucking hysterical!� and the doors slammed shut separating the two men. Robert said nothing; he thought nothing. The train proceeded and Robert exited at the next stop. As he walked up the stairs to street level, Robert�s mind had not yet processed the man�s message; he could not, or rather would not, accept that he was nothing to the world, was he? Robert emerged at street level and walked down the street. As he got to the light and began to cross the street, his mind was still deeply immersed in the events that occurred only moments ago on the subway. It wasn�t until he heard the horn of the oncoming bus that he realized what he was doing, but by then, it was too late. Robert Jones died instantly as the bus pinned him to the pavement. Of course, a report was filed with the police, but no investigation followed, after all, how often do the police investigate the accidental deaths of unidentified men. The body was taken to the city morgue for cremation identified only as John Doe. Somewhere deep in the maintenance access tunnels that traverse the city�s subway system, the man continues laughing as he stares at the fire he started to keep himself warm. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out what he �found� earlier. He opens it. A smile creeps across his face as he looks at the contents of the wallet. �Robert Jones� reads the name at the top of the driver�s license. The man laughs hysterically as he tosses the wallet and its contents into the fire. The next week, Robert�s former position at his office is filled and his former apartment has a new tenant. No one notices.
Copyright © 2008 Hector Vaca |