It instigated the sprouting of all mortal advancement. The large cog behind the concept that Humans must thrive and attain satisfaction from self-actualization. Repudiating the views of the plague-stricken province where he is currently, Miku Perez thinks that this said cog is how an individual manages its time to heighten his versatility and turn hurdles into favorable circumstances, consequently.
But even so, life expectancy is not going to get itself any higher just so it could adapt and match a petty human's pace like him, even if it miraculously increased by a small percentage from last year.
There's still an hour, thirty-five minutes, and roughly twenty-seven seconds left according to his 5-year-old Rolex, before the opening man-hours of Sophie Paris—a renowned direct selling fashion company where he is transitorily working—to start. It seems to appear like a sumptuous workplace that is in par with Balenciaga. But his workplace is not a 599-meter, 105-story supertall skyscraper. Puerto Princesa cannot handle such edifice with its unstable economy, to begin with. Conversely, he is only working at the sole branch in Palawan, which is occupying a leased space in a commercial complex in front of an unfinished McDonald's. A business in decline, probably surviving alone on the fact that he, an astigmatic 5'8 ft Chinese mestizo, is the one behind the counter.
And speaking about the couturier of conventional fashion, Ma'am Melody left him the other day with a cleaning task, provided that it is finished by sundown.
The thought of the Bodega he'll soon be meeting compelled him to make haste. He laid down his pen, closed his daily planner, and went on to eat the final helpings of Dried Fish he prepared for breakfast. He then picked up the tabloid on his left and began skimming on the latest news as well. All seems to be about the city's issues with the honorable mayor, along with the unmoving economic growth that might affect his minimum wage-like job.
The heated Rizal Avenue greeted him as soon as he stepped outside the comfort of his apartment. Miku has left his apartment ten minutes ahead than he anticipated, with twenty-eight minutes left on the clock. Time appears to synchronize well with the schedule he wrote beforehand. Apart from the scorching weather, that is.
Still grateful for the time allowance he made for himself, he plugged in his earphones to pull off another multi-tasking, even though it might get snagged in the herd of people rustling in an unfortunate way. Nevertheless, he knows that with the remaining distance to work, he can finish the short audiobook they were required for scholarly activity. If only his timing of commute is adjusted. A peculiar and organized means. There is not a millisecond wasted nor any chances unused. That is the kind of a meticulous person Miku Perez is. He straightened the small crease on his navy blue polo, fixed his collar, and started trudging the steep pavement once more.
Up ahead, he saw a large crowd gathering. Realizing what they're all up to, he crossed the busy Rizal Avenue and paid them no mind any longer.
"Hey, Miku! Early as usual, huh." He turned to Mrs. Carlos, leaning in the jamb of their salon's glass door right next to his workplace. "I could say the same to you. And it's Miko, Ma'am." Mrs. Carlos folds her arms across her front as she giggled at the sight of her fellow worker. "Whatever you say, son."
Mrs. Carlos is a gullible-looking woman despite being in the mid-40s. Her protruding eyes were half-closed, and her posture slouched far more than before. Apart from that, she is sometimes a mother-like figure to every wager in the commercial complex, particularly to the young ones like Miku. So it profoundly concerned him her unkempt appearance.
"You look tired and deprived of sleep, Ma'am. Is Jessica throwing tantrums last night again?" The lady only laughed and bickered. "You got me there, son. And stop with all that. Your politeness is creeping the hell out of me. Call this poor old lady your mother-in-law instead."
Feeling that their conversation is not going to come to an end soon enough, Miku reached for the store keys from his purse and began fumbling with the rolling door's padlock. "I would be relieved if my eldest is under your care. A fine son-in-law that is worth bragging."
"I told you already," he rolled up the coiling door, and unlock the single glass doorway. "I'm not interested in committing myself to relationships." He then flipped the store's signage hanging from 'closed' to 'open.'
"More importantly, you should take care of yourself. Now that there's nothing left to say, I need to go now to start cleaning and prepare everything before Ma'am Melody comes."
And as if intended, a loud, harsh sound of an engine pulled up in front of Sophie Paris. Emitting a sound like squeaking.
"Ha! Speak of the devil." Mrs. Carlos, whose lamps look gleaming unlike earlier, that she looks like on the verge of apoplexy, went to the direction of the car and greeted the pregnant Ma'am Melody, who just stepped out of the pink Celerio automobile. They barely conceal how irritated they are with each other. Kissing each other's cheek in the name of enduring propriety.
Mrs. Carlos then bid her farewell and withdrew back inside the salon. Miku reopened the door for Mrs. Melody and trailed after her to the back counter.
"Didn't I told you to refrain from speaking with Sheryl?" She began as she perched upon her swivel chair, Miku then stretched out for the duster at the built-in cabinet beside the furious woman. "As your employer, you need to heed my words." She hissed, running her hands through her brown-dyed hair. Her gaze darting from one thing to another.
"My Blood boils by just how that woman talks."
Earnestly speaking, he really can never comprehend women, women from riches to rags, to be precise. Then again, anyone would feel intimidated by someone lower than them. Most of all, when they're about to join them. And might be even more under.
Miku didn't want to aggravate her off even more. It would be dangerous for her maternal health and him. So he kept to himself just so he wouldn't become involved with the ladies' cold war. And perhaps prevent her from endangering her unborn child. He started dusting off the first stall near him.
"Anyway, can't dwell on that, but...I wonder what is happening over there." Mrs. Melody rose, holding to her belly as she pointed with her snout at the place beyond the street. "Fewer people came, I suppose McDonald's is not that affordable. Though I thought that the grand opening was tomorrow because that's what they've announced on the radio."
"I've seen it up close." Miku abruptly blurted out, moving on to the next cabinet as he adjust his glasses over the bridge of his nose. "Most of the people look conspicuous there."
Miku inched himself further to reach the uppermost part of the shelf with the duster. "Anyway, it's Possibly a pre-opening exclusive for those very influential guests."
"I didn't know pre-openings are a thing for them. They don't have to prove themselves to the customers. McDonald's is a large fast-food chain." Mrs. Melody's bitterly remarked.
She may not have noticed it, but Miku can somewhat see that his employer was visibly affected, For the youngster, it may not look like it's such a big deal, but for the exhausted lady, it's entirely different. How ironic it is for it to be built before her shambling commercial enterprise. It may not be deliberate, but it was raised solely to ridicule the low of their non-communicable ailment. At least, that is what he thinks she believes.
"By the way, can you prepare the folding bed upstairs? My daughters are coming."
"It's Monday. Don't they have school?"
"Well, apparently there is an urgent meeting for the teachers."
"I guess It can't be helped. Now that I've thought about it, the District Athletic meet is already around the corner."
"How about you, Miko?"
"I still have my afternoon classes."
He gazed out of the store's window, out of his developing habit of looking for a coming potential customer, but rather, there he saw, a sight of pure grandeur. A flock of purple burning lights rising to the azure sky. If not only for those electric pole cables ruining the pleasant spectacle.
It was rather strange, an unusual sensation is tugging in the pit of his gut. As if the sky lanterns are trying to tell him of something. He remembered reading about its particular symbolism. How it was used to silently invoke desires to deities above for a certain future and blessings.
What kind of atrocity was that? He thought to himself, blaming the dried fish he ate for his delusional somber.
"Aren't they silly? They are going to get charged for lighting those illegal lanterns." And true enough, a group of police enforcers went to the establishment on that same afternoon, just as Mrs. Melody had foretold.
The next morning arrived, and for some various unfortunate happenings, he is ten minutes delayed for work.
He's been up all night doing sales reports and a reaction paper that is due for tomorrow, all together at once. He was at fault, but time is oddly working against him ever since his alarm clock didn't apprise him with even a whiff of vibration earlier. He is never late when it comes to such meetings. And with the sudden situation at hand, his long streak of punctuality has been dirtied.
He considered taking a ride instead. But who is he fooling? He knows that the grand opening was that very date, so of course, the heavy traffic is the outcome. Life gave him no choice. He'll need to walk the left distance, to fight his way through the hordes of commuter, to be specific. Rush hour at its finest, ladies and gentlemen. The daintiest quality Puerto Princesa city can ever have with its two hundred fifty-five thousand inhabitants at most.
With his white long sleeves polo wet in the sweltering heat, he plunged deeper, praying that he won't accidentally trip himself and stumble over.
Two men in front of him made a great time up the paved path. They sure are walking like predators in all fours, stalking in on their prey as they relinquish the view of their soon-to-be-feast.
Seeing that they don't seem to really care if they're slowing Miku down, or perhaps they just can't really see him, He sped up his pace and walked pass their sluggish stride.
And after a short, but a long period of doing a series of walks and runs, he eventually reached McDonald's. People are gradually piling up in front of the fast-food restaurant.
It was the number of people that he expected to come. Excessively numerous that they are even occupying half the avenue's space. It was no surprise. Everyone must be looking forward to the free McNuggets and other freebies for the first one hundred customers.
He took a glance at his watch. He's fifteen minutes and forty-three seconds late. The same with the upcoming event. It appears McDonald's hasn't started their program yet.
The grand opening is obviously not a matter of his business. And there is a final decisive move waiting for him so he can join his undoubtedly furious boss at her garment store.
But Fate seems to have another plan in mind.
A young woman, dressed in an unnatural trend drew him from the crowd. He heard her let out a blatant profanity that is loud enough to be perceived from all the ruckuses and clamor around. "Wait! Where are you taking me?" Miku demanded over all the commotion, struggling to pull his arm from her tight grip.
'For someone who has a small frame, she was unusually strong! Even for a woman.'
"You are already late, goddamnit! You need to stop resisting you son of a..." She faltered when both their eyes belatedly met.
And now that Miku can make out the entirety of her attire, he realized that what she is actually wearing is a yellow costume. She is wrapped with the lower part of the mascot, 'Birdie the Early Bird.'
"Bea!" A call overheard squealed. "Paulo is caught up in a crash on the highway!" Another set of profane words came out from her thin chapped lips. "I guess we don't have a choice."
"You must have mistaken me from that Paulo guy. Well, pardon me, but I need to go now." Miku was about to make his exit but was seized by the arm again.
"Miss, you've already violated my rights twice by invading my personal space." Miku sounded in gritted teeth as he tries to suppress his indignant irritation.
"Kuya, I am willing to share with you half of my share, together with the supposed to be a commission for that asshole, Paulo, which of course, you don't know who. We just need someone to replace him for the time being. Our pay will get deducted if one of us didn't show up."
"I can not do that. I'm already late for work—"
"Ditch it, then."
It felt like some extraterrestrial force is working behind this unforeseen meeting. He can feel his insides stir as an enormous cog is being forcibly placed in his perfect functioning system. She is disrupting and regressing Miku with those pair of orbs. The Fates do have an overwhelming resentment toward Miku to install such malware on the young one. An anti-magic she is.