Tak Tak Tak
Within a dark room, a figure could be seen running his rough hands deftly across a keyboard whilst unblinkingly staring at a bright screen. It had numerous sets of data most people would not be able to make sense of as the figure's fingers rapidly and unrhythmically pressed the keys, changing or adding onto the data within the screen and drowning the room with the clicks of an inexpensive keyboard.
The room was an exact replica of an average office, with the addition of numerous piles of papers strewn about in a disorganized manner. It had an uncomfortable office chair, a stained-wooden desk, a clock that ticked annoyingly, a small window with its blinds closed and a mahogany door. On the desk by the figure's screen, rows of coffee cups, plates with unfinished food and even more piles of paper sat in disorganized rows, taking the space of what's already left.
Without breaking eye contact with the screen, the figure quickly picked up a coffee cup that was near him and tried to take a sip; only to find, to his dismay, that there was nothing left. Finally taking his gaze off the screen, the figure clicked his tongue and threw the cup towards the bin that was filled to the brim, only to fail spectacularly as the cup hit a wall and fell onto the gray carpet.
Sigh.
The figure let out a sigh in annoyance as he put his weight onto the creaking office char, staring at the patterned ceiling above him.
"I need more coffee…" A deep, rich voice with hints of melancholy reverberated around the dark and silent room. He had worked for many hours non-stop and was mentally and physically exhausted, only barely functioning with the focus and energy that coffee critically provided. However, now that he had ran out, he saw no use to continue and figured he could probably clock out right now.
After all, he had fulfilled his quota a long time ago.
After acknowledging his thoughts, he stood up and stretched his stiff muscles whilst staring at the room around him. Seeing the utter mess, the figure, who stood at a height of 6'4, chuckled as he figured that a person with a severe case of OCD would have definitely fainted on the spot if he or she had so much as stepped a foot inside.
'It certainly would have been a sight…' He dejectedly smiled as he stared at the door, silently waiting for someone or something to appear. However, after a while, he glanced away from the door with an expression of disappointment. As expected, they never came, for it was impossible for them to do so.
At his age, he knew better to hope.
For dreams reopen the wounds of a broken man whilst hope merely pours salt.
He once again sighed despondently as he snapped his fingers, lighting up the room. Not entirely prepared for the sudden change in brightness, the figure shielded his face as he allowed his eyes to slowly adjust itself before quickly removing his hands and finally shining light onto his features.
He had a deeply attractive chiselled face and a charming, sharp nose that highlighted subtle vestiges of age, maturity, and experience. His straight raven hair with hints of white was tied into a stylish man bun, curiously held together by an old, delipidated jade hairpin, whilst a lock of hair hung from his untouched hairline. He gave off an air of regal maturity accentuated by his stubble beard.
His most defining feature, however, is his sharp yet alluring purple eyes that could seemingly through everything, highlighted by his thin yet kept eyebrows whose ends pointed to the sky.
He was an individual who men and women alike would stop to admire.
He was the very symbol of an endearing man of class and charm.
Lighting up the room allowed the old man to assess the extent of the mess he made, relishing in the nostalgic memories of his past. He was never one to really stay organized, constantly making a mess of things that someone else would have to clean up. A bad habit that he used to have, for a time he used to feel alive.
Now, he figured everything is meaningless. The work, the coffee…
… Himself.
Perhaps there was a time he had dreams, to provide, to aid, to live and abide with.
Now? He was old, having recently turned 50 he realized that much of his life was just a blur of mindless and grey days.
Work, eat, sleep, and repeat.
Ever since that day, colour, dreams, and hope had long left him.
He lightly slapped his face, quickly snapping himself from his depression. He could not afford to think like this, he had to live his life with his head held high, for he knew they would be sad to see him in his disheartened state.
He buttoned up his elegant, black suit that gave him a high-class aura and walked towards the door before reaching the intricate handle.
Click.
Adding strength into his arm, he opened the door into a blaring cacophony of noises that consisted of the chattering and shuffling of men and woman that quicky walked to destination only they would know.
"Where are those papers?!"
"I need somebody to shave off those damn documents! QUOTAS PEOPLE, QUTOAS!"
"GODDAMMIT, somebody go help Mark on desk 1115! And Martha, I SWEAR TO GOD if you DO NOT get MY COFFEE!"
Above, a booming voice that sounded from the intercom on the extremely high ceiling constantly screamed orders to various individual's unknown to the man. He could detect hints of growing impatience and fury within the voice and inwardly felt relieved that the voice was not targeted towards him. Ignoring the sounds of the drones whizzing by and the screaming above him, he turned his gaze towards the room where he had come out of, peering through the opened door held by the walls of an unfamiliar white box.
Curiously, the inside of the structure retained the interior exactly where he had left it, the clock, desk, coffee, window and more. However, outside of the office looked completely different. The white box-like structure was significantly smaller than the interior of the office, which should've been impossible. However, the man was unphased as he routinely closed the door and swiped his hand across a pad beside the door.
In an instant, the door disappeared, and presumably everything inside it. The papers, the computer and even the cup he had thrown onto the wall. Like waking up from a dream.
Unoccupied.
Above the pad where he had swiped his hand, a word in suddenly appeared. Floating and pulsating in green light as if to attract attention. The moment the word appeared, a fat and unkept man in his 30's with tired eyes and a balding head approached the man and grinned, "Worgen! Are you done with your work or are you after for some coffee?"
Worgen, hearing a familiar voice, turned his gaze onto the balding man and smiled, "Both. I still must go somewhere after this so I can't really go back home and fall asleep just yet. What about you, Charlie?"
"I was just about done, too." Charlie replied, courteously returning a smile. "Let's both go together, I got some juicy… information… you may be interested about, hehehe."
A devious grin blossomed onto Charlie's face, suppressing his tired visage beneath. Worgen shook his head as he perked up his ears to what his good friend had to say as they walked by numerous office workers who shuffled by them or stopped to specifically look at the charming and elegant Worgen. Around them, a plethora of white structures, much like the one he had left from, were positioned in endless rows. Some having doors of different origins and others with the 'Unoccupied' tag on top of the pad.
As overworked and sleep-deprived individuals, entertainment rarely knocked on their doors as the orders and quotas usually filled their entire timetable.
So, as an alternative, these worn and torn individuals turned towards the only fun they had in the office, a fun which seemingly occurs on a daily basis.
Drama.
And like the rest of his colleagues, Worgen too enjoyed the stories that happened around as he listened to the gossip that his bestfriend and recurring busybody, Charlie, always seemed to have.
Having caught Worgen's attention, Charlie exclaimed, "Did y'know that Megan, the new and beautiful recruit that every dude in the office had the hots for, was caught sleeping with one of the bosses in the HR department?! How shocking was that?"
Worgen reclined slightly in shock, he knew the woman. A cheery young woman in her mid-twenties with heavy makeup that covered her face like a veil and curly brown hair. She was a reliable woman that often got the work done and upped the spirits of friends and colleagues alike. His only dissatisfaction with her, however, is that she flirted with him frequently, which he found mildly annoying.
Satisfied with the shock on his friend, Charlie continued, "I reacted the exact same way! And here I thought she was after you! But I guess the money-bags of those tyrants seemed a lot more attractive than a pleasant face."
Having said this piece, contempt filled Charlie's chubby face. It was clear to Worgen that this good friend of his despised they're so called 'tyrants' - and rightfully so. They overwork everybody under them whilst filling their pockets without so much as a lifting a finger. Though he knew that not every single one of them are like this, he still found that most of them do exactly that. Delegating tasks to their subordinates as they drink and entertain themselves atop a throne of corruption.
Worgen scoffed in disgust and said, "It was only a matter of time in my opinion, under the guise of money and promotion, they tempt those that need it the most. Ms. Cait needed money for her younger brother's intuition, so I'm not surprised that they managed to get a hold of her." Charlie stared at Worgen in shock and replied, "How did you know that?"
"She tried to get me drunk so we could sleep together. Turns out, she was not very good at holding her liquor."
They continued to stroll with an even pace towards a very tall structure that connected from the ground to the ceiling in a grandiose fashion. It was a similar structure to that of the white box's that they had passed but in a much larger scale and more intricate designs that would put the usually plain white walls of the small structures to shame. At the foundation of the structure, a large arc doorway gave way to an uncountable number of people in office wear leaving and entering whilst honey-combed holes dotted the entirety of its majestic base.
Leaving these honey-combed holes, flying trollies which Worgen assumed it to be filled to the brim with officer workers flew rapidly into the seemingly endless office floor, towards a location unknown to him.
The sight had always reminded Worgen of a beehive as he watched various of individuals of all shapes and sizes move in and out in groups of mindlessness, their eyes lacking any spark of life, like drones dead set to provide for their queen. It was an endless pour of inconsequential lives and shattered dreams. A sight which seemed impressive, but wholly grim.
'Much like myself, an old bee on his last wings.' Worgen inwardly sighed.
"Yikes. A depressing sight, like always." Charlie stated, his previous good mood wiped away by the aura giving off from the structure. "I always feel incredibly unimportant watching all those people go in and out of the Nexus. It always made me feel… replaceable."
Worgen inwardly agreed with Charlie. At their age, they realized their overall importance and impact they made towards society.
Which was none.
Even if they quit their job, even if they work to until their fingers bleed, it made no difference.
They are as easily replaceable, as simple as that.
"No need to bring yourself down Charlie, in my eyes, you're not replaceable. You've been my best mate for years, and you better know that I'll never give you up for merely money or fame." Worgen said whilst patting Charlie's back, trying to uplift his mood. "Now come on, lets go get our coffee. Time waits for no one."
As Worgen walked ahead, Charlie gazed at his broad yet lonely back with a mix of appreciation and dejection.
'You're not replaceable either, my friend, I just wish one day someone can pull you out of your world of misery and fill you with life once again. Since I couldn't do so...' Charlie inwardly sighed and quickly followed suit, making their way towards grand structure whilst ignoring their inner turmoil.