Ah, Mondays – universally accepted as the most disliked day of the week. It’s a sentiment shared by people worldwide who begrudgingly awaken to the start of yet another week. The now-familiar cycle begins: wake up, eat, shower, work, eat, and sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat. Eventually, the weekend arrives, providing a much-needed respite from the accumulated stress. But just like clockwork, Monday rolls around again, rudely slapping us in the face and marking the beginning of another long week spent toiling away. For Richter, this monotonous routine has been his cut-and-paste routine for the past three years.
The shrill sound of the alarm clock invaded Richter’s peaceful slumber, earning a groan from him. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, shooting daggers at the annoying device as if willing it to stop. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t cease its piercing tune, forcing Richter to drag himself out of bed and switch it off manually. With a yawn and stretch, he began his familiar morning routine: sliding bread into the toaster and smearing it generously with butter.
“At least I always have you to brighten the Monday mornings, Mr. Toast.” He said, smiling slightly. After chowing down the toast, he hopped into the shower, shuddering as the icy water made contact with his skin. Even though it was always cold in the mornings, Richter didn’t mind - the temperature served as an extra wake-up call before facing another day at work.
Stepping out if the shower, he caught sight of his watch and cursed under his breath. Late again! Quickly tossing on his clothes and shoes, Richter snatched his keys off the counter and raced down the stairway two steps at a time. He managed a hasty greeting to his neighbor as he dashed to his car - his trusty old shitbox that had seen better days.
His eyes traced the rusted doors and chipped windshield as he cringed. By now, the NHTSA would probably call this a collector’s item - Ol’ Gertrude was one step away from the junkyard. Even though it was clear Gert teetered on the edge of becoming scrap metal, Richter couldn’t bring himself to part with her. She held sentimental value for him, as she had been passed down from his late father, and he wasn’t ready to let go of that connection just yet.
As Richter jumped into the car and tossed his belongings onto the passenger seat, he turned the ignition... only to be met with deafening silence. There's no fucking way.
“C’mon Gert, not today!” Richter pleaded while patting the dashboard, “Just this once, baby - do it for the old man.” Gathering all his hope, he turned the key again… nothing.
“Piece of shit junk metal! Fuck! Rodgers going to kill me. Why today of all days?” Frustrated, Richter slammed his fist against the dashboard before hastily gathering his things. “Don’t be gone, don’t be gone...” Richter repeated like a mantra, sprinting towards the closest bus stop. Living in the bustling city had its perks, and at least he wouldn’t have to run too far to catch a bus.
Rounding the corner, Richter spotted the bus about to pull away in the distance. He broke into a desperate sprint, shouting and waving like a madman. Miraculously, the driver caught his eye and slammed the brakes.
“Whew!” Richter gasped as he hopped on the bus. “You’re my savior, Bob.” He said in labored breaths to the driver, tossing his fare in the box.
“Cutting it close today, aren't we Richter?” The driver said as Richter flopped into a seat with a sweaty sigh.
“Unfortunately.” Richter sighed, tugging at his now sticky long-sleeved shirt. The summer humidity in Boston was no joke; he was definitely starting to regret wearing the long sleeve today. So much for trying to make a good impression on the higher ups; unless they adored sweaty, late employees.
Richter glanced at his watch, groaning at the time. “Ugh, the guys at the office are gonna have a field day with this one. I can already hear it now…” he moaned, lamenting the terrible timing.
“Monday’s…” Richter muttered, casting his eyes outside the window, only for his face to drop even further. And to top it all off, as the bus’s air brakes squealed to a rolling stop, he had the pleasure of being stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the next half-hour.
*_________________________________________*
“Are you serious, Richter? This is the third day you’ve been late for work this week!” Richter’s hard-ass boss, Rodger, said.
Richter scratched the back of his head, eyes darting to the side. “Well, you know what they say, 'Time flies when you’re... um, stuck in traffic'?”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what ridiculous excuse you concocted on your way in here. God himself could have come down from the heavens and requested you to go save 60 orphans and old ladies from a burning building, and I still wouldn’t give a shit. Nothing you could say would be sufficient for me to pat you on the back and tell you it’s okay that you are late again.” He spat, shoving his finger into Richter’s chest.
“Three days. Three days in one week, Richter! How can I run a business if my employees can’t arrive on time? I’m seriously asking, how is it even possible someone could be that unprofessional?” Rodger berated him, his neck vein pulsating with his anger.
“Well, they say practice makes per-” Richter stopped, snapping his mouth shut. Jeez, what the hell is wrong with me today? Can’t believe that slipped. “I apologize, sir.” Richter quickly said, trying to salvage any part of this conversation.
Rodger stared at him, a look of incredulity plastered on his face. “Excuse me? That was a rhetorical question, smartass. Out of all days, you decide to be late on the day the entire board of trustees is here, for God’s sake!” Richter opened his mouth to say something, but he knew he had messed up big time. So he snapped it shut, chewing his lip to keep the words from escaping. He could only take the reprimand and hope for the best.
Rodger glared at Richter, waiting for him to say something else. Richter held back, though; he knew he’d pushed his luck far enough, and anything else he’d say would only land him in more trouble. Instead, Richter looked at Rodger and only offered a muted but charming smile.
Rodger looked at him for a long time, and eventually, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. “I’ve been exceptionally lenient with you, Richter,” he said, finally averting his gaze.
“You know, corporate has been breathing down my neck the past two months, which isn’t helping your situation. Believe it or not, you’re a valuable member of this company, Richter. You’re among our best and play a pivotal role in our work here.” He paused, taking a long look at Richter.
“Listen, I don’t know what has been happening with you, but I recommend you figure it out soon because this cannot happen again. Never let it happen again,” Rodger warned in a threatening tone, wagging a finger in Richter’s direction before panning out across the room as a warning to everyone listening.
Richter nodded, “Thank you, Rodger. This won’t happen again.” Richter sighed as Rodger turned on his heels and headed back to his office, and he could feel the heavy tension slowly lift off his shoulders. Richter shook his head, making his way to his cubicle. He exhaled heavily as he placed his belongings down and waited for what he knew was coming.
“Damn, bro! He totally chewed you out. Seems like it’s become your daily mission to piss someone off.” Someone snickered from behind. Richter rolled his eyes as he turned to take his second heaping helping of harassment for the entire office to enjoy and snicker about around the water cooler later.
“Funny, Joseph. I’m actually thinking about starting a late club. You in?” Richter smirked. “Meetings are whenever we feel like it.”
Joseph leaned against the divider, his grin as wide as a canyon. “No thanks, I’m more into today's tech. You know, dude, there’s this thing called a clock. Ever heard of it? You plug it in, and play with these buttons, and wallah! You magically wake up and get your ass to work on time. It’s such a novel idea, I know, but this magic box really does exist, I assure you.” Joseph chastised, shaking his head. “You’re lucky he’s got a soft spot for you.” Joseph added, folding his arms across his broad chest with a half-sided grin as he waited for Ritcher’s response.
“Well, at least when he grills you, he doesn’t fire up the barbecue like he would with the rest of us. If that happened to me, bro? I’d be holding a pink slip and wearing a ‘kick me’ sign on my way out the door.” Joseph flicked his fingers dismissively, “But hey, good for you that Rodgers coddles you like his favorite lap dog. And good for me too, obviously, since I won’t have to do this demonstration solo now. Now you can do all the work, and I’ll just take all the credit. Sound good?” He added with a wink.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Bowing down to your every whim as always, Your Highness.” Richter deadpanned as he sarcastically bowed.
“A toast to King Joseph!” A bubbly laugh chimed in the conversation before a familiar, friendly face popped over Ritcher’s left cubicle wall. A small smile instinctively rose on Richters’s face as he heard the melodic voice, but he tried to tuck it away just as quickly when Joseph lifted an all-knowing brow at him and smiled.
Mindy, Richter’s coworker, beamed a beautiful, pearly white smile with a tilt of her head, letting Richter know it was her turn to join in the fun as she disappeared back down over the divide. He heard the familiar squeak and rumbled roll of her wheels as she approached the duo, shuffling her chair into the aisle and squaring up with Joseph.
“So...” She began, feigning curiosity, “What did you do? Whisper sweet nothings into your car’s engine? How’d you get here on time?”
“I didn’t make it on time,” Richter corrected her dryly. “Just wanted to be fashionably late as always.”
Mindy giggled, brushing some strands of hair out of her face. “You know, you could always try being fashionably early for once and send Rodger over the edge. He’d probably think the world was ending and send us all home early for once.”
Richter couldn’t help but smirk at his friends. The three of them were inseparable, the only real friends he could recall becoming this close to. They were his solace in and out of the workplace, making the daily grind more bearable. The trio played the simplest of cliches that an office environment could provide.
Joseph was the office comedian (a role he appointed himself), and he always had a knack for cracking the worst jokes at exactly the right time. But despite Richter and Mindy barely appreciating his humor, Richter considered Joseph one of his closest confidants, both in and outside of work. He was one of the only people he hung out with outside of work, and since his parent’s recent passing, Richter had begun to rely on him more to get through the heaviest of days. They would often go out bar hopping or, in more recent expenditures, they took up hiking. It was a fun addition to their daily grind, and it helped get both of them out of the house and away from the city for some exercise.
And then there was Mindy. She had been someone Richter had liked since Rodger hired her three years ago. She fell into an easy friendship with Joseph and Richter, like the missing corner piece to an otherwise completed puzzle. She meshed with their two personalities well, becoming the much-needed voice of reason between the two of them on many occasions, having saved both their asses more than once.
She was also gorgeous, with long brown hair and a short, petite build. Her captivating smile always lit up the room, making everyone feel at ease and genuinely welcomed. Not to mention, her laughter was just infectious… the kind that would compel even the most serious person to join in a conversation wholeheartedly. Sometimes, when she would look at Richter, he couldn’t help but smile at her. Those big, golden brown eyes would send any man’s heart into a flitter of misbeats.
Richter could never tell if she was flirting with him or if she naturally came off that way. He’s always been interested in her, even though they’ve never talked that way. In his defense, though, she’s a pretty hard person to read, and it was hard for him ever to know what she was thinking. On the other hand, she would always go out of her way to talk to him and sit next to him during breaks and company meetings. She would laugh at all his stupid jokes, even when they weren’t funny, while always partnering up with him to chastise Joseph for being dry with his terrible one-liners. Of course, Joseph caught this interest early between them, much to his despair, and he always egged at him to make a move on her. Richter had yet to ever ask her out to do something outside of work, which he planned on doing. Eventually. Right now, he valued their friendship more than having just a passing fling with her. If he made the move to venture outside of the friend zone with her, he wanted to be sure they were both ready for that.
“One crucial question,” Joseph declared, pausing for emphasis, “Because we all know you are a rocket scientist, did you attempt the classic ‘turn it off and on again’ method? I know quantum physics of such a concept is lost on mere mortals like Mindy and myself, but surely Rodger’s number one pick of the draft–” Richter stared blankly at Joseph, who was unable to suppress a snicker in response and finish his roast.
“Oh, that’s a good point!” Mindy chimed in, prompting a genuine laugh from Joseph. “Or he could try putting it in rice–” she added. Rolling his eyes, Richter turned on his heels and shuffled to his seat, directing his attention to the computer screen, and clicked the power button.
“I appreciate the wisdom, guys.” Richter drawled. “Next time my car acts up, I’ll just have a heart-to-heart and ask it to be a team player. I could never afford that much rice, so hopefully, Ol’ Gert decides to listen.” He added, his tone oozing sarcasm.
“Just remember to ask nicely, alright? Don’t underestimate the power of charm – everyone prefers polite requests to barked orders,” Joseph teased with a sly grin. Richter turned quickly, deciding to hold up two middle fingers to end the banter and get to work. He didn’t need Rodger hearing them laughing like a bunch of middle schoolers and popping that pulsing vein in his neck. Quickly turning his back to both of them again so they couldn’t see his smile, he rolled his seat back under his desk, kicking the monitor wire out of the way with his boot.
To soften his vulgar gesture and lighten his own mood, he added, “Of course, and I’ll make sure I romance it next time and treat it to some fine dining before expecting my car to do its one job, like starting up and getting me to work on time so I don’t-”
*DING*
Richter’s words were stifled as an unsettling noise tore through the fabric of his thoughts. As the noise abated, it was replaced with an ethereal orange text box that materialized before his eyes. His eyes fixated on the message as a bone-chilling, inhuman voice reverberated throughout his mind, void of warmth and emotion.
[Scanning of Planet Earth initiated. Analyzing...]
Richter’s heart skipped a beat as a loud crash suddenly echoed out from beyond the wall of his assigned space. His body tensed, instincts driving him to his feet while his trembling fingers tugged at the headset he had barely secured upon his head. Cautiously, he peered over the edge of the cubicle, his eyes widening at the sight before him. One of the large filing cabinets had been knocked over onto the floor, spilling ancient files that no one alive in this firm had actually ever seen.
The lifeless, monotone voice lingered in his ears, and he pushed back his seat with the back of his legs, looking around wildly. Mindy followed suit as Joseph stepped up behind him, entering his office space. “What the fuck... Are you guys seeing this?!” Richter exclaimed, looking back and forth between them and the strange text box.
Before anyone could utter a single word, a chilling darkness swallowed the room with an eerie silence. Richter’s heart hammered relentlessly against his ribs, his senses heightened in the suffocating void. The only sound he could hear were the strained gasps of the pair beside him. Then suddenly, a blinding flash ruptured the silence as the world became visible once more. An orange, transparent bubble surrounded the three of them, filling up the space around them in a fraction of a second and disintegrating pieces of the gray tiles covering the floor. The fractured remnants surrounding them splintered and shattered under the unholy heat, leaving an intricate pattern of fiery rings on the floor. Smoke and ash billowed above the smoldering circles as they gradually cooled from the bubble’s completion. In those final moments, every worker in the office found themselves trapped—within their own spherical prison.
An ominous rumble emanated from deep below the tiled floors, rattling the room to its very foundation. The walls quaked with unimaginable force, unleashing a catastrophic vibration that toppled the seemingly infinite row of decrepit file cabinets once anchored to the crumbling drywall across from their half-partitioned spaces.
A tense silence settled over the room as the vibration slowly dissipated, punctuated only by labored breaths from those entrapped within the glowing spheres. They found themselves prisoners in a cubicle-laden room on the south side of Bread and Barlow’s financial building—the 47th floor, to be exact.
Abruptly, an unusual, high-pitched whirring sound pierced the air. A moment later, a pulsating vibration jostled their energy prisons, causing Richter to nearly stumble over. Mindy lost her balance and crumpled to her knees, her hands instinctively reaching out to brace against the bubble’s menacing wall. “Mindy! Don’t touch-” But before Richter could finish his warning, all the windows in the room exploded – glass shards hurtling deadly projectiles in every direction.
Terror gripped him, and Richter threw up his arms to shield his face from the inescapable carnage. He braced himself for the searing pain of shattered glass slicing through his flesh but was met only by muffled thuds pinging inches in front of him. Trembling and wide-eyed, Richter peeked through his arms to discover a scattering of shattered glass on the floor. Not even a knick or crack was visible anywhere on the smooth, orange light that kept him inside his prison - and apparently kept all things out as well.
The ceiling and floor splintered as loud firecracker pops echoed through the room, sending spiderweb cracks in all directions. The fractures raced across the walls as they sped off downward, reaching the very foundational supports. A moment later, a resounding boom shook the entire building. The floor gave way, taking all the office belongings with it as they plummeted into the abyss below. In a domino-like effect, the floors above crumbled in succession. Richter’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes squeezed shut as he braced for the fatal plunge.
However, after a few heart-pounding moments, he hesitantly opened them again. For a second time, Richter’s mouth dropped agape in disbelief as he discovered himself, along with everyone else in the building, suspended in mid-air, no closer to the ground than they were a moment ago. Instead of the one-way ticket to heaven he was expecting, he found himself still within the bubble, the translucent material acting as solid ground.
Richter looked in horror as he peered nervously down at the 46 floors below him. Despite the chaotic scene, Richter noticed rubble and shattered glass that continued its descent around them, skimming off their bubbles like shaved styrofoam pieces. Never, in a million years, could he have pictured something so destructive happening and not have a scratch on him. Scanning the skies above and below, he noticed countless orange orbs like his own whizzing past, each containing a person inside them. Flanked by a sea of orange bubbles on every side and on every level beneath him, Richter couldn’t help but think one thing:
Monday’s suck.