Here I go

The man sighed. He was really heavyset, overweight, because he was not only surrounded by fast-food restaurants, comfort food and snacks at home, but he never stopped to eat. Except at these places. Morning breakfast consisted of five slices of bacon, ten cinnamon rolls topped with icing and two bowls of Reese Pieces cereal.

He slouched into his spot on the train station bench under the black metal shelter. It was beyond ugly, but it still shielded him from the sky-high glass ceiling of this train station. He felt so claustrophobic. He was in a train station. He looked over. The train hadn’t come.

He waited still a few minutes later. It still wasn’t coming.

He looked over. His face grew worried, frustrated, scared. It was supposed to be here! Finally, a little ball of energy—a ball of fire—burned his right thigh underneath. He shot up, yelling, but no one seemed to notice. He blinked, shocked no one would notice someone yelling. No one noticing a ball of fire right beside him. He looked left. He looked right.

No one cared.

The man’s face twisted into annoyance. “Someone’s got to care.” He pulled himself off the bench, and hobbled to a guy in a tuxedo and holding a corsage in his hand. “Hey.” The man tapped him on the shoulder. He didn’t look over. He jabbed him. The rude man jerked away, giving him a stern look. Then he walked closer to the train tracks. And stopped, looking away.

The man narrowed his eyes, and took a long walk. I got to lose weight.

Suddenly, the train came! He whizzed around, relieved. He boarded it, ignoring the looks. But they went away quickly. When he sat down, the man sighed. I need to lose weight. Pictures plastered against the ugly walls of this metal contraption tempted him, made him even salivate. No one noticed. The man felt strange, shivered. Why is no one caring about me? He wondered. He didn’t understand—

“Ow!”

The ball spit out a thousand apologies. The man said that it was okay. The ball hoped it was okay. The man invited it up to float next to him.

“You’re my only friend.”

The ball nodded, and the man smiled gratefully. He was glad he wasn’t alone. Then a woman spoke onto the intercom: We’re heading towards the mountains and mountains of trash. Throw your stuff away. All your trash can go right in the Trash World.

The man’s neck jerked around. Huh? Trash World? Soon, the man had arrived at Trash World, according to the intercom which said that they had arrived at Trash World. The man got up, struggled, but with the encouragement of his lifelong friend, headed out of the train. He walked and walked, soon sweating, but glad of it. He walked and walked, miles around the place. “I guess this is dystopia world. It’s dystopian. Nothing is here. There are drones flying around. The government building’s over there, with flags flying high with the government’s symbol on it. Even robots are probing the area for disobedience.”

The man kept walking and walking, never seeing anything but broken-down apartments, burnt-down homes, collapsed garages and restaurants and, worst of all, abandoned schools with windows shot through and school buses with flat tires. No one was here. The man hugged himself, blinking. He closed his eyes.

“I don’t want to be here, no! Too sad.” He didn’t want to cry, but the reddish-gray haze with the black clouds made him shiver in the cold wind. It was like hell on earth. Some starving cats fought over an empty tin of cat food. Some dogs’ mouths frothed when a robot tossed a piece of rotten steak towards a stream of debris.

The man walked some more, hoping to find something less depressing. He walked and walked, but found nothing but highways, four-way intersections and bridges burnt, earthquake-ruined or just littered with trash. Some people with holed shirts and baggy pants shoveled rubble into piles. The man stared at these people in disbelief. “What in the world are they doing? Don’t they know everything’s just trash?”

The man looked up. “I’m trash. I got to get out of here before I completely forget myself!”

He ran and ran, back to a train station, a bus station, anything to get him out of here. He ran, splashing through streams, hurrying through roads and dashing under streetlights. He thought he saw a place where a station bench and shelter were, but when he got there, the people all hung their heads, tear-stained faces smiling hopelessly.

“Where…where could I find the closest place to get out of here?” He breathed, wheezing.

One shrugged, another chewed a piece of bacon and another turned slowly away.

“Forget it!”

Hurrying through this world, he strained to see a tunnel—no, it was a train station! Shaking his head with joy, he blinked back tears of relief. “Yes!” A bench and a shelter waited for him, too! “Hey, hey, when does the train come?”

Some people who heard him looked up. “Depends on whether you want to go.”

“I do, I do!” He cried, bobbing his head.

“Then wait here.”

He did, plopping right down. He didn’t even look to see if he had his little fire ball. He didn’t need it. he was so thrilled to take himself away from here. “Hey, do you know which train station takes me to another place?”

“Tell it to the train conductor.”

“Okay!”

The man blinked and blinked again. He was in reality again, back at the train station.

This time I’m going to a special place. Where I cannot forget myself.

He left for Fantasy World, and raced with the superheroes and swam with the talking dolphins and sharks. He couldn’t believe he wasn’t with his little ball of fire. When he was done, he sat on a bench, drying himself with a towel.

He thought. Where is it?

Then he shrugged. It’s a thing. I talk to people.

He kept at it, returning home only when he was super skinny. When he did go home, he encountered a horrific sight.

“My house!”

Burned to the ground, the man’s house lay just like in Dystopian World. Balling his fists, he marched right over to where a little flickering flame lay. “Go to Dystopian World! You’d fit right in.”

He walked away, heading to a new house.

Stupid! I should’ve started making friends back then, when I had only it as a friend.

He hadn’t left his house in decades.

Soon, the worlds were his worlds, too.

He celebrated his new house with a party.

But no one decided to show up. His new coworkers ignored him, his neighbors quickly shut their doors upon seeing him and his boss fired him. Unemployed, the man shook his head, moving somewhere else in a couple of decades. Feasting on a chili pepper, he quickly grabbed a glass of water. He didn’t care that he had left the glass partially coated with Clorox bleach.

He let his new friend kill him.

He’d be happy. They’d all be happy.

One less nosy neighbor. One less cranky coworker. One less useless employee. One less tired tennis player.

One less homeowner.

He smiled. Looking across at the mountains of trash heaped almost to the reddish-gray sky above, the man smiled. Maybe the sky will let its anger melt before us at the amount of smelliness rising. He shook his head. Why’d I even try? Pointless. He leaned back on the bench and rested, crossing his outstretched legs.

Wow, he thought happily. Who knew a world all my own could be so…? He searched for a word. “The same.”

A person turned to him, seeming to want to talk.

“This isn’t—”

“Reality? I know. It’s where I am after I died, right?”

“Uh…” The person nodded. “You go back to that place.”

“Yeah—good!”

“Uh…forever. You don’t leave.”

“Yeah—because no one wanted me. I’m happy here, right?”

“Uh…if you choose to be. Nothing matters. It never ends.”

“Yeah—always the same. Just like on earth.”

As the man and woman chatted, they found that they had a lot in common. Other people came to the place, and they all had something in common with the man. The man smiled gratefully, knowing he’d be here forever. Forever with friends.

One person said, “If you choose to live like this, you will. It won’t get better.”

The man thought of this.

He opened his eyes.

He got out of bed.

“Here we go!”

He looked out his apartment. “Got to help others.”

Others cared about him, and he made all kinds of friends. He forgot about that little ball of fire. He was always grateful, caring, cared about when others listened to him. Listened because they needed his help.

“Others need me. I don’t need me anymore.”