Why is it that the last 32 minutes of every workday feel like they stretch on forever? Time seems to slow down, whether it's during classes, family gatherings, or any other mind-numbing activity life throws at us. And to add insult to injury, clocks are everywhere, constantly reminding us of how slowly the minutes tick by. I glanced at the clock in the corner of my blank spreadsheet, 5:28 PM. It had been stuck there for what felt like an eternity, mocking my struggle to stay awake amidst the boredom.
There’s a cough behind me. My heavy eyelids are barely open before another cough. I blink my eyes a few times to shake out the cobwebs before looking at my spreadsheet clock again, 5:39 PM. I shook my head before remembering the cough and sat up in my seat before looking over to the owner of those coughs. My cubicle mate, Michael, sat there with an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed watching me. His two beefy forearms flex as he doesn’t say a word just staring over at me. Before he can piece together whatever snide comment he was loading up, I turn fully to face him.
“Hey, Mike. I’ve been thinking about getting my own potted cactus,” I said pointing over at Michael’s plant. “Like the one you have.” Michael squints at me while turning his head to the plant with his arms still crossed like an angry hall monitor. Before he lets his inner Karen out, I continue, “There’s this bodega slash garden store on my way home that I’m positive will have a great plant to choose from.”
I immediately regret saying that as Michael’s eyes are quickly drawn back to me with his arms uncrossed and his hand begins waving enthusiastically as he speaks. “First, Senior Punto is far too guapo to be lumped into any raggedy succulent you’d find on some dollar store shelf.” I knew my eye-resting episode was already forgotten as Michael got up and walked over to his bulbous yellow-hued spikey plant.
He continues, “Second, do you like this hat I got him? He’s so precioso, ay dios.” a tiny green hat was somehow in Michael’s hand and being gingerly placed on one of the smaller offshoots of the main cactus body or whatever it's called. “Ay, my little bey-bey es mi vida!” Michael’s Spanglish only seemed to get thicker as he fawned over his desert-loving friend. Living in New York definitely teaches you a choice few Spanish words but not how to translate the multilingual shower of compliments Michael was watering his plant with. “I really think this pulls his whole ensemble together, right?”
“Yea it, I mean he looks great, maybe get him some guns and boots,” I said and immediately regretted it as Michael looked over with a pout that I have learned only came out when Michael was about to tell me off for something.
“What? He’s no cowboy! He’s true mariachi, para amor not a fighter” Michael pointed over at the cactus before pulling it back and sucking at his fingertip. “Don’t be pointy with me mi corazon.”
“Hey, Mike I was only trying to complete his costume. You know I dig that little guy” I tried to quickly get him back on my side.
Michael crosses his beefy arms and gives a big sigh before finally saying, “Yes you right, I will admit that the boots might not be a bad idea.” The smile that crossed Michael’s lips was almost creepy as he turned from me to his overly-accessorized friend, “Also, don’t call me Mike. You know that’s my government name. Say it right please.”
Michael was in his 40s with a thick frame that was barely contained by his salmon-colored turtleneck. As Michael put his hands on his amble hips the pineapple printed vest he was wearing spread wide as his belly was pushed out in an impressive stance that was only heightened by the tight forest green pants gripping onto Michael’s legs for all their life.
I should know better than to call him Mike, why’d I effin’ do it.
“I’m sorry Michel, I get tongue-tied sometimes. You know how it is.” I hope the laugh and grin I give him is enough.
“Ay Devvey, it’s ok mijo. I know it can be hard when faced with a name and person as fabulous as me.” Michael gives me a smile before sitting back onto the chair over on his side of the cubicle. “But don’t forget, I’m married so don’t be getting fresh!” Michael points at the ornate wedding ring on his finger before shaking the same finger at me.
I look over at the several 8x10 framed pictures of Michael and his husband Teddy before looking up at Michael, “What, no. I wasn’t. See, I’m going to get back to work. I was just trying to be friendly.”
“Ay, you’re such a party pooper. I was just messing with you. Besides what work are you doing? Pretty sure those same blank columns have been on your screen for a half hour.” Michael gestures at my screen with an almost dismissive motion before rolling his eyes and sitting back down at his desk.
“What? I was planning a meeting with Emma next week.” I tried to protest.
“Sure you were papi. I will leave you to finish your ‘work’, sorry to have disturbed you while you were so busy.” I could just feel the implied quotations around work and let loose a low growl to myself.
“Says the dude giving a cactus fashion show on company time.” I shot back, getting defensive about the well-drafted email that was forming in my head.
Michael stood straight, a smile breaking his face. “First off, this was not on company time, for me at least. I more than makeup for any quality time I spend with my baby.” He gestures over to Senor Punto before lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I’m glad you like it though. I was thinking of getting him a guitar too. I was hoping if a flower grew on one of his limbs, I could make Punto a little more pretty with a sun dress maybe. I have so many ideas.”
Accidentally finding a way to pass the last few minutes of the day without working, I let Michael’s contemplations of fun photoshoots with his flaccid prickle take my full attention. “Do you think red would go with it?”
“Please don’t call him an ‘it’ but yes red would look great with his complexion,”
Somehow Michael’s thick Latin accent and general demeanor made complexion sound like it had 4 more syllables than it should. “I’m sure he could pull off anything he put his little succulent mind to,” I said trying not to pour it on too thick.
“Ay, I can just see how fancy the ensemble will be. I have this bit of sheer red fabric I can make into a scarf.” Michael turned to grab a pad by his keyboard, starting to doodle his ideas while continuing to talk out loud. “Last week I tried to pierce him but I don’t know if my fingers can handle another session of that craziness.”
Michael turned to me and I had no idea what to answer and I said the only thing that came to mind, “What exactly did you pierce on that poor cactus? Actually, I don’t want to know.”
“That’s good because I wasn’t going to tell you anyway. Anyways, what exciting activities do you have in mind for tonight anyway?” He asks, gently adjusting the cactus’ random clothing.
“Same ole, same ole, make dinner and a few hours of Doctor Who episodes or maybe a couple of the Harry Potter movies.” I silently thank the small talk gods for him giving me a couple more minutes of dead air. Sure, I hated the inane conversations that came up, but if it whittled away against the pool of leftover minutes in my work day I was not going to complain.
“Aye dios mio, be still my heart. The excitement is palatable!” Michael said with a mock shock and a hand held to his chest.
“First off, it’s palpable and I’m a simple man with simple needs. I might even make a sandwich I’ve been craving.” I look off daydreaming about the creamy goodness that I may be fitting my luscious lips around in a couple of hours.
“I will leave you with your cold cut shenanigans. Me, I will be going to that new Salsa bar on the upper east side. La Casita has the best music and margaritas to die for.” He claps his hands together for emphasis.
My phone begins to vibrate as my alarm goes off finally announcing the time hitting 5pm. “Awe, it was so great catching up with you Michael but I have to take this call!” I quickly grab my bag and put my phone to my ear as I begin to walk out the door. “Good night to you, love birds, have a great weekend.”
I give a smirk as Michael reflexively looks over to Senor Punto and almost blushes. I try not to let that image burn into my head as I quickly force my too-fat water jug into my backpack’s side pocket. In a smooth motion, I have it on my back and move out of the cubicle in a long quick stride. I barely hear Michael’s reply, “You too Devvie.” I also definitely don’t hear his follow-up, “Aye, Punto, is it love we have?” that is whispered in an almost Latin novella accent.
Ok, maybe my days weren’t all terrible. As long as I made my own entertainment and didn’t let the random meetings, emails, and “new initiatives” weigh me down, it was fantastic. There was a specific kind of satisfaction that could be had when updating a spreadsheet’s name from last month’s to this one that was truly sublime.
Oh hot damn, who was I kidding?
I know fully well these walls were eating at my soul. I think part of me yearned to like the work I was doing rather than just being paid to do it. I feel that tightness only true anxiety can bring as I stare out at the sea of cubicles just like my own. It almost looked like a vast room full of individual chicken cages filled with dozens of accountants and administrators clucking away at their work. With that wonderful thought in my head, I make my way down the center of the throng, trying not to let the depressing thoughts color my walk too much. I urgently begin to press the button down for the elevator as I reach the end of the walk.
While my prayers were answered regarding any joiners from my own floor I unfortunately didn’t wish for an empty elevator within my muttered mantras. With a fake smile I inch myself onto the elevator buttside first in hopes of not meeting anyone eye to eye as I press my cheeks against their respective bodies and office luggage. I gave defeated looks to the 3 other floors we hit with hopeful office folks quickly giving up any attempt to enter once they saw my belly barely seeming to stay within the elevator’s closing doors. Thankfully we hit the lobby and the leftover debris from the workday poured out of the elevator like a broken dam, filling the first floor with a dozen voices immediately pulling out their phones summoning their rides or ubers.
Thankfully, that convenience isn’t in store for me. No, I travel by the noble metal serpents of New York City’s subway system. Yes, it is far pissier than a taxi ride, but far kinder to my pockets. I adjusted my heavy bookbag and began to make my way over to the subway station that was a few blocks from my office’s building.
The absolute stress of even walking down a New York City street cannot be described without sounding like you’re embellishing its effects. Ever see a river full of piranha or a known area full of sharks get some blood or meat tossed in with them? How about a group of teens as their favorite pop singer finally comes out of the hotel? That single-minded throng of bodies and movement is the only way I can explain it. Thousands of people all around you with their own bits of motivation having them swim straight or yell at you for getting in their way of that motivation. While it is just part of being in a big city, I do not love the rat race that I’m forced to endure on a daily basis.
Deftly dodging random street merchants, street meat vendors, and people asking for change, I finally arrive at the subway. I take a deep breath of the somewhat fresh air before making my way down into the moist, dank nethers of NYC. I brace for a long ride in a very tight subway cart. I have a long ride ahead of me, but at least it’s a straight trip that won't have me switching to any other subway lines.
As I make my way into the station I lean against the wall flicking through my personal emails and messages from the day. Seeing an email from my brother Ish, I clicked on it hoping to see a link or attachment of one of the new gaming titles he was working on. Unfortunately, no luck and the message is cryptic at best:
Hey Dev,
You’ll be getting a package from me tonight. I need you to read EVERYTHING in the box before doing anything with its contents. I’m going to write that again, READ EVERYTHING, DEV. I need your help with something that just might just put my name on the map.
Please don’t tell ANYONE about this, seriously.
Ish
Why send an email containing absolutely no useful information? I unconsciously rub my head as I make my way onto the Queens-bound train. While there were no seats open, the train car was at least not too packed. I roll my shoulders relishing the much-appreciated space before grabbing my favorite spot located on the opposite side from the doors that open most at each stop. I’m sorry but having that solid back to lean on as the train moves makes the ride all the easier to deal with. You try staying upright as you ride something going highway speed limits with frequent short stops unexpectedly. No, I keep myself out of the center bit of the train as a public service to feet and unbumped commuters alike.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
I begin to daydream as the rhythm of the wheels on the track are shut out once my earbuds are put into my ears. My ‘Groove’ playlist begins to stream from my phone as I let my eyes roam around the cart. Light R&B fills my ears as I see someone either arguing with themselves or possibly some bluetooth headset I didn’t see. I almost feel sorry for the curly-haired college student sitting beside the arguing man.
Thankfully my pity was unneeded as Miss Curls raised her hand to an inch of his face and seemed to start going off on it. Wishing I had some popcorn I watched as he silently took the berating Curls was giving him. After a few seconds she stopped her yelling and drastically pulled her large headphones on. The eye-roll she gave him was absolutely Olympic level. He sat there for another stop before silently getting up and leaving the train. That was New York though, there was always someone wilder out there. Just had to mess around and find out.
With a smile, I pulled up my GPS catcher game to steal a few critters as my train moved along its route. This was a great way to cheat the system and catch some of the more out-of-the-way finds around the city. I am not ashamed to say that I’ve used this technique to absolutely cheese some of the more difficult Academies in the game. As I digitally ogle my current lineup before the next Academy battle I begin to wonder about the package that I hopefully had waiting on my apartment's doorstep. Slow deliveries and porch pirates were the norm in NYC, so I braced myself for a possible package less evening.
I rushed to finalize my team as the fight for the Academy located at MoMa’s location had seconds before it began. Bracing myself for the train’s braking at this stop I grin at my almost game-breaking teamup of an under-leveled mental type monster with a specifically leveled and armored stone type meant to play clean up after the mental’s semi-bugged “Stun”. Thanks to my choice to never level up this little guy, their stun normally would turn into “Paralyze” with stun never meant to be used on these more advanced Academy enemies. The timer counts down as I give a sadistic grin.
Do I feel bad about exploiting such an obvious mistake on the developers' behalf? Nope. Not one bit. I’m sorry but there are QA testers for a reason and it is not my fault if companies don’t take the time to properly kick the tires on what they decide to release to the world. Hell, with the ability to do regular updates to specific game builds, there’s no excuse for shoddy programming work. Plus, it can be absolutely invigorating to demolish a random uppity AI trying to piss on your gaming parade.
The battle begins and my small onion-shaped level one Slumbersprout immediately casts its broken move and I grin as MoMa’s Academy head, Sketchwing, fully succumbs to my little shallot buddy. My next move is to switch in Terra Knight and get to stoning Sketch’s postmodern ass. As multiple Crag Stikes begin raining on poor Sketchy’s form, the fight is over before it gets started and I slump back slightly against the door I was leaning on. What a bummer. After seeing the crap loot from the fight I flick the game closed in frustration.
Looking around the train I try to scope out a seat and don’t see a single one. I grumble to myself and pull back out my phone and wonder how many times I do that throughout my day. As I stare down at my black unlock screen it doesn’t recognize my face and ends up no doubt looking like a weirdo as I go through a few random faces before my home screen finally opens up. As I scroll my socials I see that my brother is online and drop him a message on Messenger. I wait for some bubbles but don’t see anything after a few minutes.
I give another frustrated swipe to close the App as I wonder what the hell he sent over to me, also why couldn't he just explain in the first message? Seeing a seat open across the car I nearly trip over my bag trying to make my way over to the seat. Someone coming into the car from this new stop scoots into the seat before me. I barely made eye contact with her or her dumb teacup dog that was sticking out the neck of her hoodie.
I instead pretend like I meant to move from my comfy door lean and head a little down the cart only to pull up to another door to lean against. I deploy some strategic tunnel vision and pretend that this thread I’m reading is super engrossing right now.
This is the part of the ride that has me just accepting the lack of comfort and settling in for the long run. I stretch my back with my glutes joining in on the party as I do so. I relish just flexing my glutes a few times before realizing I was clenching like that in the middle of a ton of people. I try not to imagine how many people are exercising their kegels right now and just close my eyes and lean my head back trying to daydream the rest of the trip away.
A loud buzzer goes off and I open my eyes to see the doors opening to my stop and feel a dry spot on the corner of my lip from the dribble threatening to leave my mouth. I let out a slight sleepy moan as I gathered myself enough to run out the door. I curse myself as I hear people laughing just before the door closes and the train takes off again.
Dude, my ability to fall asleep is absolutely legendary and has more than once had me waking up at the end of the train’s run or even staying on the train as it continues to circle back the opposite way on the track. I bless my undiagnosed narcolepsy for not making me miss my stop this time.
The few blocks to the stop before my apartment were quiet for once. Sure there was still plenty of music blasted out of windows, but that’s far better than the random groups of people yelling crap at you. Just another one of those New York things that you are almost forced to get used to if you’re to enjoy the city at all. None of that though this time, just the random sounds of a normal NYC night.
My stop at Chen’s Bodega goes pretty smoothly as well. I was able to pick up some gorgeous-looking capicola and a mixture of nice stinky cheeses. I grab an energy drink and some chocolate to round things out before heading to my place.
Stepping into my apartment building I feel myself slightly freak out inside. The younger security gal was working tonight and holy shit did she set off my sweat glands immediately. I don’t mean in a horny creep way either. I just got tongue-tied whenever we spoke.
I try not to think of the montage of failed conversations over the months or the whole pizza I dropped on her sneakers as I tried to shake her hand for some reason. My legs seem to be stepping through thick stew as time slows down for me with the walk through the large lobby. What should I say? Start a convo? Small talk? I finally came up with, “Sup.”
Rather than wait for a reply I’m walking by her in a smooth motion. Not consciously, no. It’s like the whole slowmo stew thing goes in fast forward and I’m by her before I know it. I sort of hear some sound from behind me as I begin pressing the button for the elevator up.
I finally realize she’s speaking to me and I turn around “Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you, were you asking about a package for me?”
“Oh, no, just saying hi back to you. Waiting on anything cool?” She smiles over in an almost too-eager way that makes me nervous.
“I have no idea, please give me a ring if you do see anything. Thanks.” I turn before she replies.
“Oh, I will keep an eye out for sure. It was nice talking to…” The doors to the elevator are closed before she finishes the sentence.
I’m not an asshole. I swear.
It’s easier to just avoid than engage. It’s like I have a mouth full of marbles at one moment or my mind goes completely blank the next. I’d rather skip my embarrassment and her forced sympathy. I hold my finger on the button to my floor as if that will speed up the ride.
It doesn’t, in fact there were two separate groups of people that had to get in and back out of his elevator before it finally hit the 11th floor and my exit. The long cement gray walls of my narrow hallway left barely enough space for me to walk without turning slightly sideways to compensate for the narrowness. God forbid someone was coming the opposite way, it was like a reverse game of chicken where we tried to get to our destinations with the least interference to our neighbor’s path. It was even worse when I was carrying a week’s worth of groceries in my arms. Thankfully my plastic bodega bags tonight weren’t too much of a struggle to get through.
Finally getting to my door, I smiled up at it and was thankful for my geeky sanctuary. At the doorway stood a lovingly replicated version of the Doctor Who phone booth design. It was touches like that made me getting home all the sweeter. I only wish that this door would lead to something that was larger on the inside to match the Tardis.
If you’ve never been in a New York studio apartment, let me paint the glorious picture of my humble abode. Start with picturing walking into a small living room with walls covered in a mixture of gaming and comic posters, now halve the space you were picturing and you’ve got my full place. I still think there’s far too many that would picture some livable space. No, I'm talking about a hamster cage for a human width. I can almost touch both of my walls if I stretch.
To make this space my own I was forced to absolutely maximize it to the best of my current pay grade. This meant a lot of multifunctional furniture, including my bed that doubled as my sofa, office chair and rarely served the purpose it was made for, sleep. My gaming setup was right next to the bed with blackout shades on the window to avoid the glare on my screen. Even now when things were just starting to get dark outside, I could see the blaring neon lights of random signs near my apartment mirrored on the monitor. I flick on my system before shutting the heavy dark curtains that hung on the window behind my bed.
Getting into my house shorts and t-shirt, I make my way to the two feet of counter space I called my kitchen. I pull out my hotplate and place my heavy small skillet onto its service to warm up. I pulled out a 6-inch cutting board from one of the 3 cabinets around my kitchen and set about cutting a garlic white cheddar and my favorite sharp cheddar into thin slices using my paring knife. Making an almost checked pattern out of the slices I built a square roughly the size of the thick multigrain bread I was planning to use. I place a couple of slices of my spicy capicola on top of the square before setting to create a second checkered square of cheese on top of the sliced meat.
I place my hand over the pan checking the heat and quickly grab the butter and slather each slice of the bread on one side. It’s hard not to daydream of the gooey goodness about to hit my tongue as I hear the sizzle of one of the bread slices hitting the pan. I quickly grab a spatula and scoop the cheese and meat pile onto the bread that is grilling. Fixing a few of the cheese slices that got out of place I put the second slice of bread down.
Now this is the hard part of cooking a good grilled cheese. I wait. I’m sorry but pulling that trigger too early just leaves you with some soggy toast. No, giving it that extra time to carmelize, now that’s the secret to getting a crispy and effin’ delicious grilled cheese. I resist the urges just a few seconds more before I slowly lift the bread to peak. Absolutely perfectly golden brown crust. I flip the sandwich with glee as the sizzle once again fills the air.
Letting it do its thing, I pull out my phone hoping to see a reply from Ish. My wishes are granted as I see his name highlighted with a glowing new message indicator beside it. I tap only to see a short message from him, “It’s in your apartment, check where you keep the manga at. Also, clean your damn place.”
I look around my apartment before giving an audible, “Hrmf, asshole.” I head over to the small cabinet by my bed and grab the black box from within. Feeling the heft, it was definitely a couple of pounds. Must be something good. I begin to open the lid.
Now, many people forget the second hardest part of making grilled cheese. That’s remembering to not forget about it when something catches your eye. The smell is what has me tossing the box onto my bed and brings me back to the pan. I give a few curses under my breath as I look down at the charred mess I had made. After a few seconds of mourning, I do the scrape of shame and try to get some of the rougher bits off of my sad sammy.
Not going to lie though, I kinda like the bitter taste of the semi-burnt bits. I think that part of it is taste and the other part is the taboo of eating burnt stuff.
I sit down in my office slash living room and look down at the box next to me and flip the lid back open. My eyes are met with a sleek white halo of plastic that pretty much looked like some kind of headband or maybe a visor. Knowing that Ish was part of Impulse, I was immediately wary of getting my hopes too high up on this. While they were known for solid games that sold decently, they definitely couldn’t pull off something like this.
Taking another extremely crunchy bite of my sandwich, I lift up the headset to get a better look at the thing. It looks to be a fairly solid piece of tech with a good amount of weight in its body for being so thin. From what I could see, where the normal VR helmet glasses were, there weren't any screens. Wondering if this was maybe augmented reality tech I shrug it off and take another bite. I smile slightly as I can almost taste the tang of the two cheeses that I had chosen but quickly hit another burnt bit with my tastebuds getting blown out again. With a sigh, put down the plate and instead focus on the helmet and move over to the area of my bed closest to the stack of boxes I used as my desk.
Looking down at the package, I see a note that’s in my brother’s handwriting that says, “Just a little something I’ve been working on.” I lift the message to see an instruction booklet under the headset with “READ ME” scrawled across its cover. Almost to appease my brother’s admonishing me from wherever he was, I open the cover and scan the first couple of obvious setup information bits and decide that I have better things to do.
Like a greedy kid on their birthday, I begin to take off the protective plastic surrounding the headset. I relish the feel of the materials that were used as some parts were textured where others were smooth with no visible seams or screw-type housing. I finally locate a power button and the full halo glows with a few greenish-white pulses before turning blue and dimming until it is barely visible. I marvel at the tech as I turn it in my hands looking at all of its sides.
A few seconds go by and I hear what I think is an initialization sound and immediately a voice begins to slowly repeat. “Once the manual has been read, place the helmet on your head.” I grind with delight and I struggle to keep myself from slapping my hands together gleefully.
Ish had hooked me up and my body was ready to receive whatever that team cooked up. Sure it might be janky, but it’s free and All Mine! I quickly press the button again to power down.
I treat this like setting off on a hike and head into my kitchen to look for some supplies. I fill up my arms with a protein drink, energy drink, chips, and the last couple cookies from a package I bought last week. This ain't my first gaming rodeo and I wasn’t about to cut short my sesh for a resupply. After not really seeing anything else, I grab my Krillin blanket and head back to my bed office. Laying the blanket on my legs to get comfy, yes this is a ritual for me, I take a few big gulps out of my protein drink before grabbing the headset and placing it on my head.
I press the button again and after the initialization, that same voice comes on. “Hello. Have you read the manual?”
I almost jump back as the voice seems to be almost reverberating from my head. I blink my eyes expecting to see some kind of HUD or UI pop up before me. Was this thing voice activated? “Hello, start the game. Play game. Whatever your startup command is.”
“Yes, we will begin shortly. Please confirm. Have you read the manual?” The voice from within me says again.
I didn’t know Ish was working on voice-activated play like this. How was it replying? I finally just replied to get things going, “Yes, start, proceed. Whatever, let’s get going already.”
“Thank you, as you wish.” The voice answered in a way that put my hair on end.
Before I can answer I feel a sharp pain on the back of my neck. I try to yell but nothing comes out of my mouth. The pain was beyond anything I had ever felt in my life and it seemed to be a searing fire that was somehow also cold simultaneously. The world was color pulsating and flowing to the rhythm set by the pain emanating from my neck. Bright burning asteroids crossed the universe that was my field of vision only to splash into digital explosions of even more colors as they hit the limits of this universe. The whole scene pulsed a few more times to match the throbbing pain jolts.
Then there was nothing.