The sound of his alarm clock filled his thoughts, his dream of a world that had a blue sky, and healthy forests of green that stretch out far and wide were interrupted by an annoying sound. He groaned with dissatisfaction at how gloomy his reality is.
With the alarm still screaming at him to wake up and start yet another mind-numbingly ordinary day, he slapped the stop button that would end its vocal terror. He sighed with a depressed face, he said to himself "where did your life go Carter? You're already 40 with no significant other, no home to call my own, and feed off of take-out every Friday night." he chuckles at the thought of being happy, or comfortable at that.
He pushes off the edge of his bed to get started with his morning ritual that would begin his 15th year working at Jester inc. a company that sells multiple items across multiple nations. No one exactly knows where it originated from, or when the company began.
Most of the rumors that were spread in the workplace identify the company as an old evil that wishes to bring the earth into sickness. It's crooked ways back these rumors, but they are exactly that. With himself being prepared for the day he exited his room and approached the elevator that leads to the main floor, his neighbors were working at Jester inc. alongside him. "Hey, Carter, you look like shit this morning" exclaims Dominic. They both chuckled, Carter responded with an arrogant tone "and you, however, look as charming as ever, you piece of meat." They have been friends since Harold had been in office, he was the first president to introduce multi-layered companies that spanned across the globe, such as Jester inc.
they both reach the lobby, they split ways as they usually do. Only to meet up again in the early morning at around two, busy days led them to wander home at four. The bright gray sky was normal, people have gotten used to the smog or as some locals say: "it's the mistakes that our ancestors, and mistakes that we are making that clouds our days" though Carter knows it's total bullshit. The mass crowd would be disorientating to tourists and immigrants.
Unless you have years of experience of ignoring everyone and everything around you. He passes multiple multi-billion dollar companies that are paired with sketchy alleyways where god knows what's happening. It's a 10-minute commute to Jester inc. He looks down at his alleged "real Rolex". It reads 7:30 A.M "shit, I'm going to be late!" he remarks with fear.
The gray buildings that surrounded him never affected him, but today it was overwhelming. He stood still on the walkway, he was a boulder in a river of people. He stood there in awe at how big the city was, and how he was so insignificant compared to all of the large and overpowering structures that indefinitely held hundreds of people just like him. He was shaken to attention "hey! I need your help, someone is hurt!" a woman said with worry in her voice. "Yeah sure, direct me to them" he agreed to follow but in the back of his mind, he was reluctant to follow as he did not want to be late for his 15th anniversary of work at Jester inc.
They were strict on time management and organization. If you were just one minute late that could mean termination from your contract, and to top it off it was not uncommon to hear that after your termination you would die within the next 24 hours. Many people questioned it, but they all chose to stay silent as it could mean termination for them as well. The business was an entire legal system in itself, and a broken one at that.
The lady had a tight grip on his wrist, it was tight to the point where he could feel his skin bruising from the pressure on his arm. "Hey, lady, how far is this person? How bad is the wound?" he asked with a slight hint of terror, she never answered him. He was not good around blood or any kind of gash or open wound that presented the insides of a person.
She leads him on, weaving past men just like him with their headsets connected to their business allowing them to work outside of their cubicles that even further plunged them into a vast network of names, numbers, identification, and past experiences. All of them were numb to the real world. She dashed past a tall building and entered one of the sketchy alleyways where numerous drug trades ended in bullets being fired, and blood being spilled.
It was an entire society dedicated to the shadows of others. Leaping in and out of the loopholes that plagued the broken legal system that was once known for its freedom and liberty among the masses, now it only benefited those who were rich. "Ma'am, where is this person?" he asked for the last time. "Oh, there is nobody, Carter," she said with arrogance. The last thing he saw was a blurry sight of a blunt weapon hurtling towards his face.