The alarm went off. That stupid alarm. That stupid alarm that brought him back, every day, from the blissful nothingness. Why was it going off? What did it want? Why. Wouldn’t. It.Shut. Up? He looked at his wrist, at the medical attachment, the watch, the fitness band that told him his life.

5:30 AM. Fuck. Time to wake up. Time to go to work. What day was it? Tuesday? It definitely felt like a Tuesday to him. He tapped his wrist and checked again to see which day it was. Wrong again asshole, it was Thursday. Thursdays he had class. Class far away.

Which class was it though? He couldn’t remember which of the seven classes that he had that it was, but he had a vague feeling that it was probably class two… or maybe class one… or maybe class three... but definitely not class five. He pulled his phone from the corner of his bed, brought up his daily notebook alarm, and typed slowly and carefully in “check which class I have on Thursdays “ as his feet searched for his shoes.

His wrist started vibrating, and he looked at his watch. “6 AM brush teeth” was sprawled across the display.

“6:10 AM, tea and toast” came across the screen of his phone as he was sitting at his table. He reflected for a moment on how perfectly timed his mornings were as he walked out of the door with his undrunk tea and uneaten toast cooling on his kitchen countertop.

“7:10 AM arrive at school” flashed on both his phone and his watch as he stepped through the gate to the school and he checked his daily activities list.

“Check which classes, check which classes, check, which classes” he muttered to himself as he searched through the documents on his phone for his current schedule. Bringing it up, he was relieved to realize that it was in fact class five. He had told himself that it was class five, he was certain of it, and also knew exactly what room it was in. Clark building, room B243. He grinned and looked down to check his memory. Thompsonbuilding, room A104. Not quite what he was remembering, but with seven classes, how could he be expected to remember when and where every one of his classes was?

7:50 AM: class prep. He stood outside of his classroom, smoking a cigarette, watching the students walk by and the occasional student waving hello and stepping into his classroom.

8 AM: class begins. He stood in front of his class, counting the students. 30 familiarly unfamiliar faces stared at him as he plugged the class thumb drive containing all of the course materials needed into the classroom computer. What were they doing today? What did they do last time? What were they going to do the following time? These questions ran through his brain as he waited for the class document to open.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Good morning everyone, how are you all today?”

There was a hand raised. Girl-student-row-4-column-3raised her hand.

“Mr. G, when are we going to know our midterm scores?”

Oh fuck. Had he calculated them? Is that what he was doing last night? Is that why he was so tired and why his wrists were sore? Is that why his computer was open and on when he woke up this morning? Fuck. His memory was empty. He knew that they had taken the exam and that he had graded the exams, but couldn’t remember if he had put those in with the students’scores. Can’t say “I don’t know to a student” though.

“I have them at home, come see me in my office hours tomorrow if you want to know.”

“Where is your office and what are your office hours”

He quickly glanced at his syllabus sitting on the lectern.International building, room 604. Noon through 2 PM Monday through Friday

“We discuss this on the first day of class, but it’s in the international building, room 604, noon through 2 PM.”

11:15 AM: eat lunch and head to office. Did he bring his lunch? Was that why his bag had some weight in it this morning? Had he taken his bag with him after he left the classroom? Frantically he touched around his body, searching for the familiar feel of the strap. An eternity of 30 seconds later, he grasped the material, relieved.

He stood in front of his office door and reached into his pocket for his keys. They weren’t there so he checked his jacket pocket. They weren’t there either. Fuck. Had he grabbed them when he left that morning? He set his bag down and started opening the pockets, searching to see if he had put them in any of the side pockets of the bag. The keys were not in his bag.Dammit! What was he going to do?!

He brought his left hand up to his face to adjust his glasses, and that was when he heard the jingling. He looked; they were grasped firmly in his left hand the entire time.

Noon: start office hours. He sat at his desk, staring at the turned off computer monitor. He had purchased a computer thesemester before so that he would have something that he could do official work on in his office, but now the computer was useless. Not useless, just useless to him because he could not get it to work; what was the password? How many times had he reset it? At this point it was nothing more than a collection of metal, glass, plastic, and wire that stared at him every day mocking him.

2 PM: end of office hours. Did he have other classes in the afternoon? Sometimes, but not every day. Unsure of himself, he looked around to find his phone so that he could check his schedule. After a brief moment of panic, he remembered the lanyard that his phone was attached to and checked. No afternoon classes on Thursdays, thank God.