To Kill Humanely

Trigger warning: depictions of suicide

It feels as though an elephant stepped on my eyes and welded them shut. They become heavier and heavier day after the other, but the persistent flux of sunlight scouring through the tiniest crack between my eyelids is forcing me up.

I gather up all of my hibernation energy to flip and face the sun-less walls, my face brushing against the fluffy pillow to remind me why I love this bed so much.

A minuscule tinge of curiosity blossomed some wires in my brain, and I find myself squinting at the reflection of the clock hands on my window. I still have an hour before work. The promise of a relaxed morning unravels before my eyes, and suddenly I’m wide awake.

Whatever happened to eating leftover lunches in the morning; I’m definitely throwing myself a gourmet breakfast. I, then, draw a bath and throw in my favorite glittery bath bomb that smells of luscious berries.

When I moisturize and my body feels like a baby’s bottom, I know it’s time to go to my coffee corner, mechanically press automated buttons to have my daily, foamy cappuccino.

As I slowly sip on that coffee, I pick up “The maze runner” that’s been sat on my nightstand for far too long. I clean the dust off the book and decide to re-give it the read it deserves.

 All chapters end with a plot-twist, I sometimes wonder what life would look like had it been this mysterious, action genre. Poor Tom, he’d been undergoing a lie all along in the maze, believing that was his true life.

Ugh gosh…Who’s calling now!? Who dares to interrupt my tail of thoughts that was gone missing since last week? Don’t I deserve a little me time!

-“Hello? Alana here.” I dare say without hiding the annoyance in my tone.

-“I have a couple of papers I need you to sign. Are you by your desk?”

-“What do you mean Tony, it is still pretty early. Can’t anyone at the company do that for me?”

“No. It is important the CEO approves and signs those in person. FYI it is 7:30 and you have a meeting with our biggest client yet at 8:00. Should I worry?”

Omg…omg... IT IS 7:30? How did that happen, I don’t understand! I made sure I had a lot of time on my hands and…Ohhh. Damn it, Lana, 7:00 is reflected as 5:00 on that stupid window. I.Am.So.Dumb.

I throw the phone and non-majestically run to the dressing room and put on the first blazer and formal pants I laid my eyes on. I love my rarely tranquil mornings but I love my job more.

I’ve sacrificed my soul to move here and spent years climbing that social ladder to get to where I am. Ok, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, I didn’t actually sacrifice my soul, but it was a really long time ago. I believe I’ve earned the oldies right to throw every now and then the ‘Back in my days, we used to dig tunnels and fight pirates off to go to school bla bla bla’.

Gloss on the lips. Heels up my feet. Coffee packed in my environment-friendly cup. I think I’m ready to go, I only need to run one block, in heels. No pressure.

You know the cliché movies where the girl runs and steps clumsily into the elevator spilling the coffee all over the cute guy who appears out of nowhere? It happens in real-life people. I’m in utter disbelief at the amount of rudeness I ejected onto that man.

I didn’t even apologize.

I left that elevator shaft so abruptly not looking back once and ran with an eerie skip in my steps. I was a mess.

Running in those heels felt like being pecked to death by a chicken. I needed a distraction and my brain did not disappoint.

 A faint figure flashes into my imagination and I recognize the cute guy’s silhouette. Oh wow! He is gorgeous…at least in my made-up version - as I hadn’t even bothered to look him in the eyes.

I glimpse the huge “Lana & Co” grey sign and my mind shifts to my presentation slides for the meeting that awaited me. I’m not even sure how I managed to remember those on the way. Praise the adrenaline rush, I guess.

I landed the client, aced that exposé, made my corporate law company $3000k in one sitting, and a 10 years contract. I was practically the CEO of the year. To be fair, there was no competition but I nailed the title for good reason.

My employees are basically my best friends. Tony, for instance, had wiped runny mascara off my cried out eyes, filmed me when I was drugged on wisdom teeth anesthesia, and stargazed with me the nights I felt unfit for this world. 5 years of nothing but sheer support. It was as though I made these amazing friends, had this marvelous career all at a whim.

Nevertheless, this definitely qualifies as a solo celebration. I’ve had enough ‘Wohoos’ and ‘you rock’ in the hallways of the company I started from scratch. I needed a bucket of red wine with a side of ‘You’re worth more than a successful business’, soon.

I shamelessly excuse myself out and pay a visit to the bar opposite my flat complex.

“Zulie. Get me the usual. FIRST ROUNDS ON ME LADS” – I hear ‘Wohoos’ again but I’m unbothered this time. It must be the pre-wonders of alcohol.

It’s dangerous when I’m left alone. My random thoughts become so vivid, it becomes harder to set them apart from reality.

When I vigorously go hard on booze, who’s in control of me? I distinctly sense my hastiness but I, somehow, still manage to wake up on my fluffy pillow, on my bed. Hold that thought, Lana.

Is today ‘interrupt-my-daydreaming’ international day? What are the chances the guy from this morning would be sitting exactly across from me at the same bar? Pretty big, in fact. We live in the same building.

A spark of courage lights my stool up and forces me to get on my feet, finally fix that wedgie and make my way to the incognito yummy man-model.

He seems to recall who I am from the distance. A good sign, I think?

-“Hey…I’m really sorry about this morning. I am normally not that rude. Umm…I’m actually very nice. There, ask Zulie haha” Awkwaaaaard.

-“No worries. Apology accepted!”

That was too easy. Is it genuine though?

-“Well, at least let me pay for your drink. I kind of feel bad for staining your shirt. It looked so good on yo…looked like good quality!”

-“How about I pick you up tomorrow and pay for your dinner? I’m Alanson btw.”

That was really smooth and shook the initial indifference vibe I got from him.

-“I think I’m free. Is 7:00 pm cool with you? You can just buzz me at the intercom. I am Alana on the 5^th, but please call me Lana”

-“It’s a date then, Lana” – He proceeds to give me the most subtle wink.

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I don’t think I’ve gone on a date in the last 5 years of my existence. I’m usually wrecked after all the drinking but I couldn’t sleep. I am more nervous about tomorrow than I was for my presentation.

I eventually gave in and joined my favorite life companion, my bed. It felt like a blink, and here I am getting dolled up for the cutest man walking this earth.

I hear a buzz. I smell perfume gone overboard with a splash of fear. I see the reflection of a pretty woman with shaky legs and butterflies finding their way up her stomach.

Leaving the flat in a hurry gave me hardcore déja-vu but I had no coffee this time. I get off the lift and exchange an innocent kiss with…no one. Where is Alanson? Should I be looking for a fancy limousine or a cute tandem bicycle? The former it is. Classic man.

I scour towards the limo only to be grabbed so hard by my arms and pushed like a pregnant woman would squeeze her baby out. My strapless dress made it so much worse; hands monstrously feeling my skin. I couldn’t make out who those men are but they sure are buff.

-“Come with us”, they say with their manly, testosterone-charged voices.

I’m forced into handcuffs and before my eyes are truly welded for real, I slightly peek and behold two gray suits. A shade paler than my “Lana & Co” sign but just as eye-catching. These men look loaded. What do I have to do with them?

-“May I ask why and where you guys are taking me?” I sound so polite and mortified.

-“You know what you did.”

Have I pissed a big head with my outstanding performance yesterday? Did I sign illegal contracts? Am I going to have to hire a lawyer from my own company?

What could have possibly gone wrong!

I feel the black band sliding off my face for my eyeballs to finally scream at the sun flare. After what felt like two eternities, the limo stops, the two men get off and leave the door ajar.

I still can’t make out their faces when all I’m seeing are black and red pixelated spots. I was no longer tied and felt ushered outside of the car into a place I’ve never seen before.

In the distance, three masculine figures are approaching and I recognize two very similar gray-suited beefy gals and a third person. He looks fairly toned with a well-defined figure and… I know who he is. Is this his idea of romantic dates or have I missed on things these last 5 years?

We’re joined by the threesome who honestly looked like straight-up out of a slow Mo commercial. No words are being said and it just keeps getting weirder. Good thing is Alanson looks just as confused – at least that’s not the date, bad thing…we’re stepping inside an intimidating high-tech building.  

-“You have both failed and overlooked our number one rule. No relationships. We are very disappointed in you, Alan-6 and Alan-13.”

I don’t think I know any words. I seem to have forgotten everything but this guy is plain rude and overstepping his boundaries. I am speechless, literally.

-“You both can’t talk right now and that is because we have control over your brains. Alan-13, a lot of areas in your frontal lobe are lighting up and we can tell you have something to say. However, I’ll save you the pain and further explain.

Seven and five years ago, you were both sick of your uneventful days, you both had survived multiple failed relationships and were both desperate enough to take your lives away.

We’re a society that raises awareness against suicidal thoughts, wanted to restore purpose back into your lives and you have accepted to have your memories wiped to start over somewhere else…in our one of a kind simulation arena.

The only rule breach possible was falling back into the same pit that got you miserable in the first place. RELATIONSHIPS. Alanson, we had big hopes for you…7 years without commitment and you were healthy, happy, and successful. And Alana, subject 13, why give away your immense growth and prosperous business?

All in all, we have done everything possible from our part, gave you multiple tools, friends like Tony and Zulie and your conscious choices are once again disappointing…”

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Speechless still. I would have remained silent had I been given the option or not. I pinch my cheeks and wish it’s all a big nightmare. It is not.

Alanson is not taking this well and I don’t know how to feel about this. My brain is apparently not mine anymore and it hadn’t been for 5 years. Are these even my thoughts? When I was drunk and wasted, was my brain actually numb?

Maybe I should stop thinking altogether, use my other senses. My eyes are searching around. What am I looking for? Answers. But I already got ones.

I find a door labeled ‘TTT’. What does that even mean?! When I get closer, the door automatically slides open and this time, I clearly read ‘The Turing Test’ and see an immense lab filled with people, each attached to a computer. Still oblivious they’re all Toms in the ‘maze runner’.

I suddenly feel a rush of memories overwhelming me and I’m taken back to my 10th-grade class about Alan Turing, the genius mathematician who created a test to see how much computers can act like humans. That guy! Alan…Alana…Alanson.

I am shaken to my very core and immediately decide to get out of that maniac place. Right when I’m about to run away, I take one last look behind me and see a small polished stone placed in front of the building with scribbled, engraved words.

“Alan Turing was found dead at the age of 41 after committing suicide.

This establishment proffers young people an alternate, simulated world in which they lead a happy, purposeful life.”

                                   All I got from this is a way to kill us humanely.