Writing

Chass is nothing. His life's value is so much less than insignificant, being just a janitor on deck five of the fourth district. He is so easily replaceable that any threat of violence toward or around him doesn't even make his head turn on his two-hour commute to work aboard the janitor shuttle. The shuttle was an early model HoverMule before the company folded after numerous lawsuits involving something to do with improperly implemented engines that had a not-so-insignificant tendency to explode. Chass had the same, mind-numbing, twenty-kilometer commute down the "main hall", named as it is the central business district of the north side of the ship. The Ship contains all that is left of the species that inhabited earth, before the climactic end of our once beautiful planet. The Ship is a feat of intergalactic scale, made of every single resource that could be scrapped from the burning planet. Hence, The Ship is around the size of the Asian continent. It has been flying through space for close to a decade now, and the interior has been built up to have lush forests, dense cities, small rural towns, and all things that the other species of alien that were trapped on earth during the end need. The mix of an earthling and extraterrestrial species has always been a source of contention, but that was mostly saved for the narrow-minded. Chass's mind was so narrow in fact that he didn't even understand what such racism even meant. 

The Ship was divided into four districts, each encompassing five "decks" or floors, and each deck is generally designed for something useful to the rest of the ship. Chass was lucky enough to work for the bottom deck as at least in many of the higher-end businesses and homes he cleaned had glass floors to let in some light that was not artificial. As Chass boarded the HoverMule he had grown so used to over the years, he slapped his hand on the "all clear" button to get it moving again. A couple of narrow-jawed aliens bickered in their language next to him, their small tendrils that hung from their chin flapping in the obnoxiously loud gabbing. Chass's duties today entailed mopping and polishing the floor of a body enhancement center located downtown in the big city of District 4. As the craft whirred along at a pace almost as slow as walking, more and more bustle of the city drew closer. Soon they were getting hung up at red lights that seemed to go on for hours, abruptly stopping for aliens that never seemed to understand the consequences of jaywalking, and getting cursed at by every language within the stars. The massive flashing billboards began to show everywhere, and they were one of the few things Chass took joy in viewing. The colors and lights were the only vibrant part of his life, so he always forgave the snail pace of the craft he rode because he got to spend longer absorbing the advertisements. "GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS!!!" one pink-lighted sign flashed, with a stiletto and fishnet stocking kicking the air. "CHURCH CHURCH CHURCH!!!" the sign straight after displayed. 

Eventually, the craft purred to a halt at Chass' stop, and he was off. Chass had been given this detail before, as these types of establishments tend to be on the messier side. He ducked into an ally and stepped over some human children playing eat the brick for sustenance. At the end of the alley hung a small neon sign that read "Big Mike's Big Body Shop" and Chass ducked inside. Big Mike had known Chass for years and his favorite joke for Chass was to tell him how Chass should just sweep himself up into the bin as he is about as useful as the appendages Big Mike cuts off. Of course, these were the first words to exit Big Mike's mouth upon seeing Chass, accompanied by a hearty back pat that almost knocked Chass off his feet. Chass showed no emotion as he whipped out his trusty Super-Sucker vacuum and got to work. 

The bridge of The Ship held The Admiral, a tall, thin fungoid looking man, his head the shape of a Calla Lily. He ruled The Ship with an iron fist, any sense of unrest was quashed swiftly and indiscriminately. He lived in a lavish quarters on the bridge, and the 100 man piloting crew that worked directly in front of him was made up of the world’s best astronauts and pilots. Every morning a shoe-shiner from one of the lower decks came to polish The Admiral for his morning announcements. 

“Sir, your polisher is here” stated a deck swab. The Admiral turned his attention to the small freckled child that stood holding his polishing kit. 

“Very well, get on with it kid!” He commanded, and the kid went to work. Soon afterward the deck swab returned holding the camera to broadcast the morning announcements. He flipped it on and The Admiral’s face was soon seen on every screen across The Ship. “Citizens of The Ship! Your morning announcements!” He began. 

Chass watched the announcements on one of the screens in Big Mike’s shop as he sucked up a pile of muscle tissue from a now robotically armed woman. As The Admiral barked on and on about the current situation, Chass began to get the familiar feeling of his bowels beckoning. He excused himself to the restroom to find that all stalls except the handicapped one were taken, and without hesitating, he plopped himself on the throne of the biggest stall in the house. As soon as Chass began his business there, he could see a wheelchair roll up outside the stall. Chass cares for other’s lives as much as he does his own, but he also hates being the reason someone is angry. He decided to bide his time and just wait out the cripple to avoid any sort of confrontation.

For the others not in the bathroom, they began to notice some panic happening behind The Admiral. Crew members were scurrying around in all directions, but at the same time trying desperately not to disturb The Admiral. About halfway through the announcements, a crowd had formed around two scrawny crew members, who played rock-paper-scissors. The loser then slowly slinked his way up to The Admiral and whispered. The Admiral froze, then slowly turned his head to where the crewmate was pointing. The camera zoomed in to find a tiny, shade-donned creature with a black beanie and a rather fly looking leather jacket and pants. It was stuck near the top of the rounded glass windows that made up the bridge, with its tiny appendages spread out. Silence filled The Ship as nobody knew what to do. After a tense few seconds, the loser of rock-paper-scissors couldn’t handle it anymore and screamed at the top of his lungs:

“There’s a BUNG on the wall!”

Now, a Bung is the rarest and most dangerous species of all. These little dudes can cause apocalyptic amounts of chaos, being able to summon anything they desire. They love cold, clean surfaces, and to watch over other creatures as a way to bolster their godlike egos. Long story short, the top of the window that overlooked the bridge was the perfect place for a Bung. The only problem is, a Bung does not like it when they are noticed and does not like it when someone or something screams at it. Long story short, the top of the window overlooking the bridge was the perfect nesting spot for a Bung, and that scrawny little crewmate just ruined its day.

Immediately the Bung began to scream. It started at a low, fog horn-Esque pitch that rattled bones even on the far side of The Ship. The scream then shifted to higher and higher pitches that began to shatter all glass. A massive hole broke loose around The Bung, sucking it and dozens of crew into the vacuum of space. The Ship’s emergency repairs immediately began, rebuilding the glass to prevent more crew from being yanked away. That didn’t help the next phase, however as everyone within the ship began turning on one another. Soon, half of the beings on the ship had an appetite for blood as they ripped apart anyone and anything that lay in their path. The catastrophe climaxed when a massive beam ripped through the ship, almost tearing it in half. Chass could only see the bright light from under his stall, going straight through whoever was in the wheelchair waiting for him. Still seeing the same pair of legs sat there, he decided to wait a couple more minutes before exiting. At this point, Chass had been sitting on that toilet for nearly thirty minutes, and finally, the commotion seemed to come to a halt. He hopped off and opened the door to take in how much he was going to have to clean up. The cripple was reduced to just the pair of legs Chass could see, the top half missing along with the top half of the chair. Corpses lay strewn about, filling almost every inch of space. Limbs hung from ceiling fans, organs stuck to walls. 

Chass slowly waded through the sea of bodies as he began his journey back home to clock out for his shift. The HoverMule was of course out of order, having gotten stuck on the limbs of the alley children that Chass passed by. He was three kilometers into his journey home when a robotic voice hailed him.

“Living one. Please make your way to the bridge for immediate reassignment.” It ordered. Chass stood there for a moment, expressionless, before turning down the hall to the elevator that would bring him to the top deck. He had never been up there, as when everyone first boarded The Ship they came in from the bottom. In fact, Chass had never been to any deck and took the opportunity to stop on every floor. Somehow the elevator powered up and after he stepped over the pile of heads that sat in the doorway it transported Chass to the next deck. Chass got off and had a look around, only to find more of the same. Bodies on bodies, blood-covered everything, and another massive hallway that was lined with destroyed storefronts. This was the case with every floor, as the way The Ship was designed was to have a massive city in the center of each floor so that everyone surrounding it could have an equal distance to downtown. Disappointed, Chass eventually made it to the bridge, where he stepped off and found he was the only living thing there. 

The only sound that could be heard was the scraping of the glass being repaired. Chass took the opportunity to do some looting, as these crew members almost certainly had some rare valuables on them. Upon rooting through what was left of The Admiral and trying on his fancy overcoat, the voice came back. 

“I see you are making yourself comfortable. That is good because this is your new home. Chass, you are the most intelligent life-form left on The Ship. You are the new Admiral.” Chass froze. He was The Admiral. Chass was. He could do anything he wanted, get anything he wanted, anytime he wanted. For the first time in Chass’s life since boarding The Ship, he felt excitement. Immediately he barked an order for some chicken tenders. Nothing happened. It was great. He could say anything. He barked another order for fish sticks. Again nothing. This was going to be an amazing time.

He closed his eyes to begin the rather difficult process to sleep. Countless methods of sleeping and relaxation have been brought to him but he still found it to be one of the hardest things to do in the day. The navy taught him a process that involves focusing all your energy on completely relaxing a small part of your body before moving onto the next. For some reason having only one part of his body completely relaxed felt like that part was tied down and it would snap him out of the process. One thing that did work for him however was focusing on his heartbeat. He felt as if he could raise or lower the pace through his concentration. The heart is what pumps life into the mind, your mind crafts your soul, and your soul defines you. That he could sleep on.

He reached into a pocket and pulled out his tiny can of oil and began the process of rubbing it in his armpits, groin, and neck. As he lay there in the dark his lack of sight raised his other senses. He could feel his ears perk up as small creaks and moans from the ship echoed throughout. The only sense he needed however was his smell. A small drip started across the room. Usually, a drip meant the other was above him. He was safe.

He never slept in the same spot, for the other would easily trap him. Tonight’s spot was on the floor under a desk of some former officer of the ship. The typewriter was on the floor opposite him, dented and almost certainly no longer functional. The sheer amount of paper strewn about the room mixed with the damp floor made a soft sort of cushioning made this a better sleeping spot than most. Finally, he began to doze off. The other was certainly doing the same, and today was far too exhausting to try and make any moves on them tonight. Making it to the next morning would mark his second anniversary on the ship.

The slight aroma of a body jolted him awake. He began to sniff to make sure he was smelling correct. Once suspicions were confirmed he slowly began to get up. Silence was key over speed at this point, because the other had no way of sniffing him out, thanks to the oil he applied earlier. The other thing he had was his eyes already being adjusted to the near-constant total darkness he had been in for the last few weeks. The lower levels of the ship were certainly more treacherous but all the useful supplies from the upper decks had been used months or even years ago. As the months go on they’ve both been forced to hunt for supplies on lower and lower decks, the number seemingly endless. 

He began making his way to the door opposite of the one the smell was coming from. The last encounter he had with the other was almost disastrous as the other had somehow found an undamaged ax, completely taking him off guard and easily outclassing the wrench he carried for protection. He needed to get to the right spot to ambush the other, and he knew a small boiler room three doors down that was perfect.

His feet had gone numb a couple of days after entering the lower levels, as they always do, so he could no longer feel the cold of the steel floors he walked upon.  That lack of feeling also made it quite difficult to walk properly, let alone run. The other had wrapped their feet with a bedsheet they somehow found months ago and now it also had the upper hand in a chase.

 He always left doors barely open when entering a room so he wouldn’t have to crank the large iron wheel which easily gave away his position. The other did the same, however, so trying to track each other based on doors left open eventually became futile as every door of the ship had been opened at some point by now. He made his way into the room before the office, a small reception type room. More papers littered the floor. The room after the office was just a hallway made thin by the massive pipe extending from the boiler room, the only other thing of note was the wire floor gave some feeling back into his feet. Unfortunately any heat the boiler room may have produced was nonexistent, having been shut off exactly two years ago today. 

He made his way down the hallway and pressed the door to open it. However this time it did not open. He pressed harder, and still no budge. Running his fingers to the edge of the door his suspicions were confirmed. The door had been fully closed. 

The smell came back. Again faint, but there nonetheless. He placed his ear up against the door to check if there were any hints of the other. Silence. The only path for him now was back, of which was not ideal but he knew this level better than the other so if in a pinch he could reliably evade them. After walking back down the hall he re-entered the office and then the reception room before a wave of smell rushed over him. Immediately crouching he shuffled his way to the tiny desk that sat crooked next to him. The leather chair had been toppled ages ago and a healthy patch of mold sealed it to the ground. The oil he applied a few hours ago would still be enough to cover his scent so as long as he lay low and waited for the other to pass he still had the upper hand. He kept his hands on the side of the desk to stay balanced as the smell got more pungent by the second. 

As he waited he could feel his heart begin to pump harder. He closed his eyes and began to take some slow, deep breaths. The beat began to slow and he reopened his eyes. There was nothing to be worried about, it’s been two years and they’re both still standing. The other could be heard a couple of doors down, making his way towards him. These types of encounters were more frequent than one may think, usually the other would just pass by as he lay in the shadows. 

The other was very close. The smell was enough to get his nose to start running. The faint creak of the door opposite him could be heard as the other stepped into the room. The darkness made everything fuzzy so he couldn’t quite make the other out, not that he needed to but seeing exactly where the other was is a serious advantage. The other made their way to the door at the end of the room, pushed it open, and left. The small patters of the sheets on their feet could be heard in the hallway leading to the boiler room. He peeked out into the hallway, nose in the doorway. The other was standing at the closed door, seemingly as confused as he was at it being closed. They turned their head around as if to check if he was behind them, before pulling on the wheel of the door. A mighty groan let out as the wheel gave way and the door began to move, and the other stepped inside as soon as they had the room to. At this point, it was too hard to see where the other was, but he kept his position. For some reason, the other seemed to get more and more reckless the longer they spent inside the boiler room. Twangs of parts being knocked off of counters and shelves could be heard, and more and more steam began to fill the hall. 

It started to get very hot very quickly. The thought of the other having had turned the ship back on crossed his mind but was quickly crossed out by the sheer lunacy of it. However, more and more sounds of pistons and steam began to fill the halls, and that idea became less and less fantastical by the minute. He slowly got up and started to shuffle his way toward the boiler room. The door was left wide open, and as long as he stayed under the steam he could still retain his vision. His foot stepped onto the solid floor of the boiler room and he was immediately met with a searing heat. The faint sizzle of his foot immediately being cooked on the ground was overthrown by the now shockingly loud sounds of a ship coming to life. A massive engine was in between him and the other, of which still had no idea of his presence. As he maneuvered his way around the engine, he could feel the skin of his feet begin to stretch and stick to the floor below him. Peering around the engine the other was nowhere to be seen, and he turned to check the other side of the engine. As he turned he was met with the butt end of the other’s ax.

Now that we had to share our space with all the others the world has become a colossal urban hell. Before the World Leap Forward I would look at pictures of dense, tangled Asian cities like Wuhan and tell myself to never live in a spot like that. The human congestion made it seem hard to find your own air that hasn’t already been in the lungs of someone else. Unfortunately now that was the reality almost regardless of where you lived, all because of this stupid “vaccine”. 

I stepped out of my shower, my two minutes of water running out took me out of my thoughts. Those two minutes seem to be the only time I get to think yet I spend every waking moment thinking.

I’ve spent my whole life in the suburbs of Chicago so it’s not like I wasn’t used to seeing people or traffic or the general commotion of a major city, but the new world was not at all like how it was before. The level of urban expansion far outpaced the infrastructure that meant to keep it together. I’ve stayed in this same suburb for 32 years, though now it is not so much a suburb and more so part of the central downtown area. The only reason I can afford to live in my tiny one room apartment is because I owned the property that the building owner constructed on. He gave me an offer much too good to waste as the area I lived in was at least rich enough to not have the police department constantly deployed in force within. I lived on the top floor, floor 56, my view was of the building next door, and every floor below me was filled with thousands of similar people to me.

 I started my day with my morning commute, a 12 block, 40 minute walk to the subway, then a fifteen minute ride until I have another 12 block 40 minute walk to my factory.

I have two advantages in a city like this. One is that I live on my own, meaning I have more space and more peace than 99% of everyone else in this city. The other is that since I’m on the top floor, the noise from the street is essentially non-existent. This all only works though when there isn’t a police presence, the loudspeakers that announce the curfew when things get hot in our section are right outside my window, and those are so loud my floor shakes and my window rattles. Police aren’t welcome here. If it were up to me everyone should keep their heads down and not start trouble, but I understand why the situation we are in politically and economically causes such unrest. Between the wealth gap this severe and the vaccine built to make people hyper-fertile to fill their factories in order to “close the manpower advantage the East has on us”, people are certainly right to try and fight back.

The first 12 blocks are so mundane that they actually go by fast. I zone out and all of a sudden I’m in the subway. The ride is usually fine, every once in a while an actually good street performer does something that I can use to strike a conversation with a coworker about, though not today.

The richest man in the midwest resides about four miles from my apartment, in a mansion built on top of Chicago’s grand St. Jane Hotel, the most expensive in the city. It basically serves as the city's government building since the actual government just follows what the rich say. Martin Bortecelli, the man of the city, the owner of that palace, got his wealth and power in ways more sleazy than the Mafia’s did back in the 1920’s here.

Something on the final stretch of my commute caught my attention. Throughout the hectic crowds and horns of morning rush hour, I could see a kid, a boy no more than around 14, running on top of the traffic towards me. Each leap would put him on the roof of another car, each thud would grab another person’s attention. He landed on a cab and the driver started to get out to tell him off, but before they could get fully out of the door he was jumping on top of the movers van behind it. As he jumped and skipped his way along down the road, I started to hear the all too familiar sound of helicopters behind me.