32 comments

Mystery Science Fiction Drama

Sleep.


Alarm.


The man switches it off.


Eat.


Work.


Eat.


Sleep.


Alarm.


The man switches it off.


Eat.


Work.


Eat.


Sleep.


Alarm. The man sighs as he switches it off.


Eat. A bowl of soggy flakes. Milk that’s almost expired.


Work. A programmer. The job designed to “keep humanity running,” as the city deems it. He calls it the job designed to “keep humanity on loop.”


Eat. This time, rice. Vegetables. Slightly wilted. Packaged chicken. Bland.


Sleep. Eight hours exactly. He sleeps in bed number 472 on floor 7 in building 11.


Alarm. The man switches it off. As does every individual in the building for their respective alarms. As does every individual in all the buildings.


Eat. Soggy flakes again. The man stares dejectedly at the bowl, the milk almost gray in the dim light. The man looks up and tries to make eye contact with a coworker. Anyone. But they shuffle past with their own flakes and milk with the same dejected expression plastered on their faces.


Work. They all walk to the room, where they sit in front of devices and spend the next nine hours running the program, helping others in the world find routine, find survival. The man stares at the screen, his hands moving automatically, instinctually. His mind wanders.


Eat. He looks down at the rice. There are carrots this time. And corn with shredded beef. It is bland again, with not even an ounce of flavoring. He slows as he takes a bite, trying to find a different spice, something that entices him. There is nothing. He tries to talk to the coworker next to him but receives only a blank stare. The man turns back to his food and tries it again, but this time, he imagines a hotness, a flavor that can’t be described. He can taste it on his tongue. He savors it, lingering just a minute longer than he’s used to.


Sleep. He crawls into his blanket on his hard bed. Beneath him, above him, and to either side are more beds. They line the walls like shelving units. Each bed is deadly silent; he cannot even hear another soul breathe. He lies there, awake, looking into the darkness. And then, without even thinking about it, he hums. He does not know the tune. But he hums the notes all the same, rising in pitch and then lowering and then growing louder and quieter. He hums for several minutes. There is not another movement, not another sound. Eventually, his humming fades to silence, and he falls asleep.


Dream. This is new. He is flying. There are valleys and valleys of green hills spread before him as far as the eye can see. He spreads his arms, welcoming the cool air high in altitude, feeling the sun warm his body, the aroma of fresh pine needles wafting from the forest below. The sky is a striking blue, so blue that it looks fake, a paint splattered across a page. He flies and dreams up and away, far away…


Alarm. It rings. And rings. And rings. Eventually, another being comes to stand beside him. A woman. She turns off the alarm, her eyes and face blank. The man thinks she is pretty, with long auburn hair and high cheekbones. She looks at the man with dead eyes before turning away to her position. The man sighs. He had wanted to ask her for her name. But then he remembered they no longer use that system anymore. He would not see her again.


Eat. The man imagines again. This time, the bowl is full to the brim of fresh sliced fruit––bananas and strawberries and blueberries and raspberries. There are even strange fruits, like dragon fruit and jack fruit and mangosteens. The bowl bursts with wild colors across the entire spectrum. When he lifts the spoon to his mouth, he can taste the sweetness of the fruits, the tang. He closes his eyes, smiling as he chews, envisioning a meal unlike any other that he has experienced.


Work. He stares at the computer. His hands are still at his sides. The screen is black. Blank. He does not move. Slowly, he looks to his left. A man typing fast, his face glued to the screen. The man looks to his right. A woman, also typing quickly, staring straight at the screen. He watches her for a moment, focusing on her face. Ah, yes. He knew it. She does not blink. She has not blinked for many minutes. “Hello?” He says. His voice is raspy from disuse. But the woman types on. So does the man. Neither look at him. Neither acknowledge his greeting.


Eat. Dinner. Alone, again. The man is tired from being alone. He looks for her, the woman with the auburn hair. There. Cautiously, he takes his food and sits beside her. She says nothing. She doesn’t notice him. Slowly, he eats his rice and fish, giving her space, wondering if he should say a word or two. But when he opens his mouth, no words come out. The woman continues to stare down at her food, moving her spoon from her bowl to her mouth robotically. The man walks sadly away, realizing that their silence is one that will never be broken.


Sleep. More humming. Longer this time. A familiar tune... he cannot place it. But it is soft and quiet and beautiful. It reminds him of someone. A face. A young boy's face, from long, long ago... staring into a mirror... a smile...


Dream. Again. This time, soaring over the ocean. The waves lull beneath him. He can see a world of life beneath the rolling waters. Dolphins break the surface. Schools of fish swirl below. Turtles stroll leisurely through the water. There are so many colors, again; blues and greens and purples and yellows and oranges and reds. A whole world of color.


Alarm. The man switches it off immediately. He rolls out of bed. He looks down at his uniform, the constant attire that all programmers must adorn. It is gray. His shirt is gray; his pants are gray; his shoes are gray.


He walks to the eating area. There. The refrigerators. He opens them. There are shelves of identical ingredients. Milk for the cereal. Bland vegetables. He searches, staring for something, anything… There is nothing. He walks to the eating area. He sits down in front of his bowl. He sees the utensils in the middle of the table. An idea begins to sprout. He takes the knife from the utensil pile. He glances around. Everybody stares at their food silently.


Quickly, he draws the knife across the back of his hand, biting down on his lip to hide any cry of pain.


There. Red.


He drags his hand across his shirt, until a red streak appears across the gray material.


He looks down at the color. It is bright. Vivid. A red streak against the gray. The only color in this entire room.


He stands up, and goes to work.

September 19, 2020 03:39

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32 comments

Noor Ahmed
01:10 Sep 21, 2020

I love this story! Sadly, it's true. We're stuck in a cycle. But I loved your words and descriptions. Good job.

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Lina Oz
02:56 Sep 21, 2020

Thank you so much for your comment. That's definitely what I tried to convey; we live in a reality where freedom may be difficult to find for some, and it's something that I've personally experienced. I really appreciate your feedback!

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Noor Ahmed
12:33 Sep 21, 2020

I really love your style as well. Keep writing, Liza!

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Lina Oz
16:12 Sep 21, 2020

Thank you! I'll definitely check out your work as well :)

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Noor Ahmed
02:28 Sep 23, 2020

Aww, that's so sweet. Thank you :))

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Corey Melin
23:33 Sep 20, 2020

I enjoyed this story for I can relate to it in many ways. Living that robotic life day after day. If you have experienced such a life this story can be understood. Even the drastic steps to get out of the ritual. Well done!

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Lina Oz
02:57 Sep 21, 2020

Thank you for reading my story! That's exactly what I tried to convey, and I'm so glad it came across. It's something I've struggled with in my reality, but I try to find something every day that grants me freedom––like writing. Thanks for the comment :)

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P. Jean
22:29 Sep 20, 2020

Your description of this utopia would lead one to believe no one. No one will break the mold or routine. And yet a few do. Is this your hope? Is cutting oneself just for color a way out? Shouldn’t the color have stirred some emotion from at least one other? Or else, what is the point? I will read more of your writing. Sometimes the prompts are traps!

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Lina Oz
22:34 Sep 20, 2020

Those are really thought-provoking and excellent questions, and ones I'll definitely consider adding or addressing in another story. My purpose with this prompt was to, yes, demonstrate one who breaks from the mold... but I wanted to also show that, in the end, there is no point to his "escape". He still has to wake up, sleep, eat, work, and continue with the life that has been prescribed for him. There's a bit of hope in the way he can deviate from the norm, sometimes painfully, but in the end, he's just one in a sea of many with a life tha...

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P. Jean
22:46 Sep 20, 2020

We have word constraints to consider. I guess I was greedy for hope but it is not my story. I’ll be reading more of your words. Good job!

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Lina Oz
22:49 Sep 20, 2020

Thank you! I'll definitely check out your work as well!

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B. W.
22:27 Sep 20, 2020

Hey i really enjoyed this story and ya did a great job with it ^^ so you know what? i'm giving this story a 10/10 :)

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Lina Oz
22:29 Sep 20, 2020

Wow, thank you so much for the lovely comment and for giving my story a read! I'll definitely check out your work :)

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B. W.
22:35 Sep 20, 2020

no problem and thanks ^^ i was actually wondering if ya could maybe help with something? i'm trying to work on a novel

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Lina Oz
22:36 Sep 20, 2020

Sure, that's wonderful! Let me know if you'd like me to read over your work or provide feedback; happy to help.

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B. W.
22:38 Sep 20, 2020

Well i do have a thing i made on here a bit ago called "Universe" which is actually chapter 1 and 2 of the thing, could ya maybe check that out and leave some feedback? that's one of the main stories i want ya to check out

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Lina Oz
22:38 Sep 20, 2020

Sure, will do!

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Lani Lane
04:31 Sep 19, 2020

This is sadly relatable, lol. My favorite story of yours so far!

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Lina Oz
20:55 Sep 20, 2020

Thank you! :)

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Keerththan 😀
06:21 Sep 25, 2020

Oh!!! How sad!! This man is the loneliest man in the world. Wonderfully written, Lina. The heightening of paragraphs from one word to a whole paragraph is amazing. I love your style. Keep writing. Would you mind reading my new story? Thanks.

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Rayhan Hidayat
06:06 Sep 21, 2020

Brilliant! Definitely keeping track of you from now on. The structure of this is magnificent, with the “eat, sleep, work,” cycle being repeated and gradually being elaborated (with “dream” being added later on) as he slowly gains a desire for autonomy. Which of course is fruitless because his routine doesn’t change in the end. 😭 You could not have conveyed the message better.

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Lina Oz
16:16 Sep 21, 2020

Wow, thank you so much for this lovely comment! That's exactly what I tried to portray and I'm thrilled it came across. I'll definitely look into your work as well (I just took a glimpse at your bio––gave me a laugh. Love it). Thanks again!

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Charles Stucker
23:09 Sep 20, 2020

instinctually. - and I learn something every day. This is it today. I thought, this is wrong, but checked, just to be sure. Yes, this does capture the nuance of the subtle difference between the words. Now I can use it. Mwa ha ha. End evil villain laughter. "welcoming the cool air high in altitude."- I might have gone with "cool, high-altitude air." As a tale of dystopia, it certainly lives up to your namesake...everything grey until you hit the land over the rainbow. You definitely nailed both packed city and alone. But, is it a ci...

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Lina Oz
23:25 Sep 20, 2020

Thank you for your comment! And I actually had to reread the word multiple times to make sure I nailed it; I also wasn't sure if it was correct. Yes, good catch on the "altitude" sentence. I sometimes struggle with conciseness. Something I'll definitely work on! You ask a good question, and one I don't think I actually have an answer to because in all honesty I never considered it! I supposed that this is a homogenous place in which everything is linked together, without separation of work or home (the characters eat where they sleep w...

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Unknown User
21:50 Sep 20, 2020

<removed by user>

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Lina Oz
22:07 Sep 20, 2020

Thank you so much for giving it a read!

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Miles Gatling
07:21 Sep 21, 2020

Very nice, loved the use of repetition. Gets the message across

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Lina Oz
16:15 Sep 21, 2020

Thanks for giving it a read; I appreciate it!

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D. Shikha
02:48 Sep 21, 2020

Aww..I loved how you structured this story. Very nice!! Good job!!

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Lina Oz
02:54 Sep 21, 2020

Thank you so much for giving it a read and for the lovely comment! :)

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D. Shikha
02:55 Sep 21, 2020

You're welcome!!!😊

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