Leaving through a pair of glass doors emblazoned with "P&H Publishing," Mike started walking the seven blocks to the nearest bus station.
Ordinarily, this would have been the best part of his day. Mike hated his job at the small publishing firm. As an assistant to the editorial department, he spent most of his day dealing with menial tasks that numbed the mind and soul. The only benefit of his position was access to the firm's database of rejected submissions, so, Mike spent most of his free time combing through old, forgotten stories.
However, today the department manager had let everyone go early with the news that the firm was being sold to a large media conglomeration, and that the editorial department was up for review.
[Guess I'll have to find another job,] he thought to himself while running a hand through his hair. He was already convinced that his position would be deemed unnecessary, since he often did not have enough work to keep him occupied. While he would not miss the job itself, he regretted losing access to the rejected submission database.
Ever since he was a child, Mike had an inexplicable apathy towards his day-to-day life. It wasn't that he lacked emotions or anything like that, but for whatever reason he had trouble building an interest in anything in particular.
The only things that were able to elicit a strong response from the otherwise apathetic child, were stories. For some reason, hearing about the lives of others allowed him to vicariously experience depths of emotion otherwise denied to him. He could feel intense joy and sadness by imagining the triumphs and tribulations of fictional characters.
In order to continue these feelings, he lost himself in the world of fiction, spending all of his available time reading, watching, and interacting with stories. This caused him to largely isolate himself from everyone else. He was not a complete social outcast, but never made any real friends. He actually developed a reputation as a good listener, since listening to other people talk about themselves proved close enough to a story for Mike to derive some enjoyment from the process. Unfortunately, he never real developed any close relationships, including with his family.
Despite a general ennui towards his studies, he proved an adequate student, eventually graduating from college with a degree in English Literature. Since his diploma didn't really contribute to his potential employment prospects, he was largely unable to find work until an acquaintance referred him to P&H Publishing, where he had worked ever since.
As he continued to walk down the street, pondering his now uncertain financial situation, Mike's attention was drawn to something unusual in the corner of his vision. He glanced across the street and noticed a small, black cat sitting on the curb, staring at him. On the cat's chest was a patch of white fur that looked vaguely like a triangle. Mike found himself returning the cat's gaze, before a passing car momentarily obscured his vision. By the time the obstruction had cleared, the cat was gone, and Mike couldn't see any sign of it. For some reason the event left him with a deep unease.
[Great. Just what I need, a ghost cat haunting me], he thought as he resumed walking before stopping at a traffic light.
[Here I am, a sad, hopeless, and soon to be unemployed loner stalked by what I can only assume is death omen. I am one runaway truck from being a novel protagonist.]
Suddenly the screech of tires and blaring of horns sounded behind him. Mike turned just in time to see a semi-truck barrelling towards him. He froze, his mind shutting down. As the front bumper inched closer, he had time to see the face of the panicked driver frantically turning the truck's wheel. Mike shut his eyes, waiting for the collision. He felt a rush of air pass dangerously close and was nearly deafened by the sound of crunching metal from the intersection behind him.
Not daring to breathe, Mike turned to track the course of the truck, a fuel tanker now that he could see it. The truck had seemingly jumped the side walk before smashing itself into the traffic waiting at the intersection.
As he observed the pile of twisted metal, he knew that he should go and see if any of the people involved needed his help, but his legs felt weak. It was all he could do to just keep from collapsing now that his life no longer appeared to be in danger. At the same time he felt the pressing urge to move. Trying to understand this feeling, Mike found himself examining the now leaking fuel tanker. Wait...leaking?
In a sudden surge of panic, Mike tried to force his leaden legs to move, but was interrupted by a sudden wave of heat and wind accompanied by a bright flash of light.
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Mike opened his eyes and found himself in a dark, seemingly vast space. He looked down at himself, checking to make sure he was still in one piece. After determining that his body was still intact, he took stock of his surroundings, which didn't take much time.
He was standing on a perfectly flat, black floor which appeared to stretch on infinitely in all directions. While the sky was also a featureless black, it seemingly provided some sort of illumination which allowed Mike to see himself. After compiling the evidence, he could only come to one conclusion.
"Well, this is what I get for raising a flag, I suppose. It seems I've fallen into ones of those transmigration or reincarnation stories that's popular nowadays." Mike said to himself while slowly shaking his head. "Now I guess I need to wait for some god or goddess to send me to a new world or something."
After looking around and seeing nothing, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Hello? Is there anyone here? I'd like to get this process started!"
[Really. They are going to play it this way? This better not be one of plot lines where they leave the MC alone in the void for thousands of years in order to 'season' him somehow. Those kinds of stories never made any sense.], Mike thought to himself. He felt daunted at the prospect of facing a possible eternity in this void.
After considering the issue for a time, he figured that it ultimately didn't matter. With no better ideas, he sat down and waited for something to happen.
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An inestimable time later
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"They are really taking their time getting here. I'm sure they haven't forgotten about me. Maybe this is some kind of test of patience?"
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An inestimable time later
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"F***, whoever is in charge of this place is failing miserably." Mike stood while gritting his teeth in frustration. "I guess, I'll just start f****** walking and hope to find something."
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An inestimable time later
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Mike was lying face down on the ground where he had fallen after finally giving up on walking. A small puddle of tears was starting to form around his face.
"Why is there nothing here? Is this hell?" He said between sobs. "I'm not a bad guy, I don't deserve this."
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An inestimable time later
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"God, I know I haven't prayed much over the years, or really done much in the way of good works, but if you could see fit to fix this, I promise I'll be a better person. If you send me home, I'll give away all my possessions, build a church, and dedicate my life to taking care of orphans or stray animals or something."
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An inestimable time later
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"So this is it. Trapped in an endless void for all eternity. Nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. The constant pressure of unremitting solitude my only companion. It will be a challenge to stay sane in this environment, but I can only believe in myself."
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An inestimable time later
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"And that's when I said, this isn't a basketball!"
(In falsetto) "Ooh Mike, you're SOOO funny! Tell us another one!"
"Gladly left hand, maybe right knee will finally join us in the conversation this time."
(In a forcibly gruff voice) "Not until nose says he's sorry."
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An inestimable time later
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"Star date 2059, the crew is growing restless. There is no means of tracking the passage of time here, as our bodies seem to be in some sort of stasis. We have no need to eat, drink, sleep, or even relieve ourselves. Our communication devices are down and have not functioned since our arrival in this accursed place. Morale is low. My only hope is that some kind and merciful deity will rescue us from this nightmare, as not even the sweet release of death is allowed to us."
"On a side note, the belt noose turned out to be a terrible idea. Not only did it fail to achieve anything, but I have somehow lost my pants in the process. More to follow."
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An inestimable time later
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Mike stared off into the distance while slowly breathing in and out. After a great deal of time and a phenomenal amount of effort he had reached inner peace.
"It was a long road, but I've managed to climb my way back to sanity."
Mike sighed to no one in particular. "But seriously, how broken is this system? I've been here for years!"
A sharp, feminine voice broke in, "Actually, you've only been here for about two and a half days."