You woke up late, just like any other day, your phone buzzing that awful melody you’d grown to hate so much. But you’d already snoozed your alarm twice, and you’d rather get up than hear that screeching cry again. Carefully, you rolled to face the edge of your bed, unconsciously looking to the floor as you seek unblemished space to plant your feet. You really should clean up. How long had it been? Weeks? Months? Did it matter?

A lazy rolling motion brought you to your feet, weakly moving yourself into an upright position. Why did it always feel like no matter how much sleep you got, it was never enough. You always woke up wishing that you could just sleep a little longer, a lot longer, forever? No, not that. You weren’t going to think like that. You just wish you had a reason to wake up. Something to wake up to, someone to wake up to. But no matter how hard you tried, you always managed to fuck that shit up before you even got started. Maybe you just needed to learn how to be okay with waking up alone. Yeah, that’s probably the most sane answer, probably the only answer.

Well, you were up either way. Nothing to do but go on with your daily routine. You shuffled over to your closet, looking through the crumpled shirts on the floor and picking out another of your shitty graphic tees. You don’t know why you even bothered. The words were different, but they were all the same, no one ever thought they were funny anyway. You rummaged around grabbing the rest of the complements of your outfit. Pants, underwear, socks. Fuck, you hated this pair of pants. Whatever, they did their job.

A few more steps brought you to the bathroom, instinct driving you to flip on the lights and cringe as your sleep-filled eyes resisted the change in brightness. With your eyes closed, in a ritual you were intimately familiar with, you turned on the faucet just so, letting the warm water play over your outstretched hand. Satisfied with the temperature, you pulled the knob on the faucet, listening as the pipes groaned their dissatisfaction. The showerhead burst forth with life, raining down upon the now-slick tub. Once more you checked the temperature, letting the watter coat your entire arm. You knew it would be the same, but you had to test it nonetheless. It was a compulsion you couldn’t escape.

Not the only thing you couldn’t escape, you thought, stepping into the forming steam of your shower. You felt the heat of the shower, that sharp pain of too-hot water that you needed to wake up. The dancing sting of it as you stood there, allowing the water to just abuse you, maybe bring just a little warmth to your cold, dead heart. No, that would never happen.

The rest of it was a blur, shampoo, soap, lather, rinse, towel, dry. Done. Put on clothes, brush teeth, slip into a deep existential dread, just all part of the morning routine. You grabbed your keys and left, just like you did every morning.

Your drive to work was just as bad as it was every morning. You’d call it a commute, but you were still a literal child in an adult’s body. Somehow that word seemed to carry a commitment you weren’t willing to consider. So it was just an hour long drive that you happened to make each day. You weren’t a commuter, you were barely even a functioning member of society.

You didn’t hate your job, of course not. That would be way too simplistic of a view. You liked a lot about your job, the paycheck, the fact that you weren’t sleeping on the street, some of your coworkers were even mostly okay. But overwhelmingly there were so many things you hated about your job. Your boss was a prick, and worst of all he was almost always right. Your customers were… customers; no matter how far you distanced yourself from front-line, entry-level work, you always had a customer and they were always wrong. But probably worst of all, this work was below you. You could have done so much better with your life, but you didn’t care. Maybe it was a lack of ambition, maybe it was a deep seated fear that you wouldn’t make it if you tried. Whatever it was, you knew that you shouldn’t be wasting your time doing this. But here you were.

By the time lunch came around you needed three things: food, more caffeine, and something to keep you from wanting to jump out a window. You took a casual stroll to the nearby deli and ordered the same sandwich you ordered every day. You grabbed an energy drink, knowing full well each sip would push you closer to an early grave. You even grabbed some fancy looking chips you hadn’t seen before in the hope that you could fill that deep, unsustainable hole inside of you with the brief fascination of something new. You chatted with the cashier in the same way you always did, your sardonic wit somehow eliciting laughter that wasn’t a dagger to your chest. Maybe you should try your luck sometime, maybe you’d rather not fuck something else up.

The minutes of your lunch couldn’t have ticked by faster if you wanted them to. Before you knew it, it was back to the grind. Maybe you’d take a little more pride in what you did if it weren’t so god damn autonomous. Maybe one day they’d replace you with a robot, maybe in one last moment of mercy they’d even let the robot kill you. No, you really needed to stop thinking like that. You knew you didn’t want to die, but you really weren’t excited about living either. Whatever, as much as it all felt like a hopeless waste, there was always that little voice in your head telling you that it’d eventually get better. You were still waiting.

“I need you to stay late today” - how many times had you heard those words.

Well fuck it, you at least got an hour for dinner. So back to that deli, back to that same sandwich, actually fuck it! It was time to try something new, even if you hated it. So instead of the sandwich, you grabbed a box and started filling it up from the hot food bar. Mashed potatoes, something that was once chicken, maybe some of that mac n’ cheese, whatever else looked at least bearable, and one token vegetable, Mom would be proud. More energy drink though. Actually, on second thought you might as well get one for later too. Different cashier, he did not think you were funny.

Eight hours became ten, ten became twelve, and by the time you left it might as well have been a year. You were always so tired, so done by the time you got to leave. Mental exhaustion gave way quickly to physical exhaustion, and you felt yourself dragging by the end of the day, cursing yourself for putting up with this. The energy drinks helped, but through all of this there was only so much you could deal with before you just stopped.

Finally, you were done. Fucking finally. Car, music, stick of gum, gearshift, accelerator, shit you were low on gas.

You pulled into the well lit gas station just a few blocks down the road, cursing the fact that it had definitely jumped since you drove this morning. Whatever, it was all wasted anyway, a product fully consumed in the furtherance of your empty life, and just like everything else it left a stain of toxicity on the environment around you. Just like everything it was there one moment then gone the next; nothing ever lasted. Fuck did your car eat gas, turning the irreplaceable fruit of the earth into temporary power, propelling you forward into the mundane unknown, launching you at whatever challenge or hardship waited around the next corner.

Turning out of the gas station you finally realized how dead it was. The last drips of traffic had long since unclogged from the arteries of the city, leaving perfectly empty road in front of you, a brief game of two-ton metal PacMan prefacing your long road ahead as you weaved your way out of downtown. You merged onto the highway with practiced ease, your efforts hastened by the lack of cars to squeeze between. If there was any solace in heading home so late, it’s that there was seldom a car to get in your way. There was no traffic, there was no waiting. There was only you, your giant metal cocoon, and the wide, open road.

Driving was always your favorite way to relieve stress. No matter how you drove, it put you at ease. You could go fast, you could go slow. You could weave between traffic, or just go with the flow. You could take the scenic route, or squeeze through that ill-advised shortcut to save a minute or two. But tonight, tonight you were content just to drive. The interspersed streetlights cast their warm, amber glow, lighting the way forward unlike everything else in your life. The road told you where to go, but it didn’t demand it of you. It gave you choices, provided you options, let you choose the speed, the direction. It was a framework that guided you to your destination, something your life had always lacked.

You were so damn tired, you could fall asleep right here. But you couldn’t fall asleep yet, you still had more to go. You definitely couldn’t fall asleep in your comfortable seat, in your warm car, cruising down the highway as the soft bumps blended together in a calm, soothing rhythm. You surely couldn’t afford to close your eyes for a bit. No, you’d just pop in another stick of gum, letting the sharp cut of peppermint keep you alert for a bit longer. Maybe a second stick just to keep the flavor there for a bit longer, to give you something more to concentrate on, to take your mind off of just how relentlessly sleepy you had become. It was just a couple more miles after all, just a little bit longer and then you’d be home.

It was just a couple more miles after all…

There wasn’t anyone in front of you for a while, it would be okay. You let your eyes close for the briefest of moments. You reveled in the serene calmness of your sleep-adjacent state. You opened your eyes back up, feeling briefly better about your current state, still chugging down the road at speed, still going to get home and immediately climb into your warm, soft, comforting bed. You closed your eyes once again.

Just a little bit longer…

Shit. How long had you nodded off. Was it a minute, was it five? You scrambled briefly in your temporary alertness to find some indicator of how far you’d gone. You looked at the clock, except you couldn’t remember what time it had been when you closed your eyes. You looked for a mile marker, but you can’t remember how many miles back it was. It wasn’t too far though, your exit was still ahead. You’d be fine. You can relax, just chill out and let your eyes shut for just a second longer.

And then you’d be…

Fuck, that’s your exit. Good thing nobody’s there to see you launch across three lanes of traffic and immediately slam on the brakes. Whatever, you made it. Just a little bit longer down this sleepy suburban road and you’d be there. Just a little bit longer to wait. Just a little bit longer to relax. Just a little bit longer to let sleep take over. Just a little bit longer to let go of the wheel. Just a little bit longer and then you’d be…

Home

Author's Note

No hunting for the secret this time. Everything you need is right here:

HYPERTEXT PROTOCOL PONE DOT ZONE SLASH | APPEND CHAPTER DOWNLOAD > TEXTFILE > SHA1 HEXDIGEST > DECIMAL > STRING > SPLIT MIDDLE > INSERT POINT AFTER TWO > MAP > CITY > FETCH OBLAST > LOWERCASE | APPEND DOT HTML ENTER

You'll know you're there when it feels like a dream. Wait till the end and message me the ECC code that appears. Check out Wake Up - Bug Bounty if you're interested in the solution to last week's chapter or to see current winners.

Yes, I do own the domain pone.zone. No I don't have a good reason for owning it. Shut up.

I'm going to clarify this here, because this chapter likely seems insanely personal. I am incredibly happy with my life, with my job, and I don't even own a car (perks of living downtown in a large city). You're reading about Anon, who, like always, is a caricature of the worst in all of us. Except this time instead of dick jokes we get that deep unquenchable void of darkness. We all have it, we've all seen it. Anon lives it.

12/1/18 - This chapter no longer qualifies for the Extra Chapter Challenge, and the Challenge has ended altogether. Thanks for playing!