(Short Story) The Collector

    Glory to the state! I could not emphasize more how thankful I am for this opportunity to contribute to such a great cause to help our state succeed and help our fellow comrades. Oh how lucky I am! It is another beautiful day to work and things could not be more perfect: A gentle breeze drying off sweats on my forehead, comforting warmth from the sunshine, and friendly neighbors greeting me with affectionate smiles as I run down the hallway to get to the next room.

    I gently pressed my finger against the golden doorbell, excited to see Mr. Bradley again. Mr. Bradley has always been punctual, and as I expected, almost within a second, he greeted me with a big smile with the blue container I needed to collect. 

    “Glory to the state, James!” Mr. Bradley saluted me with his usual youthful energy. Despite Mr. Bradley’s old age, he was always very animated and full of life as if he was born just yesterday.

    “Glory to the state, Mr. Bradley! I hope you have a nice day.” I replied politely. I wanted to stick around but I needed to collect around hundred more boxes before the curfew and there was no time to be wasted.

    As soon as Mr. Bradley made his way back to his room, I quickly put the blue box Mr. Bradley gave me on top of the pile of other blue boxes stacked on the new wagon I brought out today. Yesterday, the state awarded me a newer wagon designed by our talented engineers to maximize the box collections and make it much easier for me to do my job. It came along with a certificate embellished with little golden triangles on the edges of the paper, stating that I have done well for the state, and the state expects me to continue to do my best to keep up my great work. It was another reminder of how the state appreciates our effort and every one of us was a significant part of bringing the state forward into the future. With that in mind, I wrapped my hands around the wooden handles of the wagon and marched forward. Running door to door, I diligently collected the blue boxes the state needed me to deliver. The growing height of the box stack on my wagon was a reminder of how many people lived in this particular hallway. Sometimes, I’d see some kids playing in the middle of the hallway and I’d have to yell at them playfully to get out of the way to pull my wagon through because the hallway was just wide enough to fit myself and the wagon itself. Then the kids would scuttle their ways to the side of the hallway and stick to the wall and giggle at me as I passed through the hallway. 

    As the sky turned redder, I realized that the sun was about to set and the curfew was just around the corner. Being already done with today’s quota, I was relieved and content that I was able to end the day on such a good note. The only thing that was left for me to do was to deliver all these boxes to the office of distribution, which was on the way back to my room. I strolled through the hallway, feeling the fresh green grass on my feet that reminded me how alive I was and how lucky I am to be alive doing the job for the state and my people. Everything could not be more real than ever. The fresh smell of the afternoon air, the touch of wet grass on the floor, the sight of the beautiful twilight and the sound of the grass brushing against my feet were all real and were proof that I was alive if not more alive than anyone.

    As real all of these sensations were, my rumbling stomach was also very real to me, as it was telling me that I need to eat. Since I started working today, I haven’t eaten all day besides a few pieces of toasts my wife prepared for me in the morning. She would always nag me in the morning for many things I would do wrong, like not eating enough before heading out to work, not spending enough time with her, or something even small like putting the salt at the “place it did not belong”. I could never avoid these petty naggings because I was not a perfect man. Infact, I am probably very far from perfect. But I did not have to be a perfect man because even those naggings I loved every bit of. These were the small details of my life that made up who I am, made up who my wife is, and this was the world that I was living in, that proved to me that I am not just a character living in a virtual reality, but an actual person living in this real world. In a way, because life wasn’t so perfect, I could find the true meaning of life, and strive to live longer. This world seemed to be perfectly designed for me to live, and I never once doubted the integrity of my life or the state. I never even opened the boxes I pick up and deliver everyday nor why I was chosen to do this job for what purpose. However, this did not matter to me. There was nothing I could possibly want more; it was true happiness. This was all thanks to the state and my fellow comrades for making this possible. I was truly blessed and I always wanted to give back more to the state and the people all my life.

    After a short but nice walk across the hallway, I have finally arrived at the office of distribution where I leave the stack of blue boxes I collect from my neighbors everyday. Everyday, I empty my wagon to the electronic box sorter that is placed right next to the office of distribution. The box sorter had this yellow metallic hopper on the top, where it had a hole just big enough to fit the cubical blue box I bring here. The sorter itself wasn’t too big, and the top of the hopper came right up to my belly, making it really easy for me to dump the boxes into the sorter from my wagon, as if the whole machine was designed just for me. When I finish dumping all the boxes into the hopper, I press the appropriately sized red button conveniently placed right next to the hopper, to start the sorting process. Because I need to make sure all the boxes go into the sorting machine without any problem, I need to stay around for a bit until the sorting process finishes. I usually take this time to relax and think about all the things that went well that day and the things I am going to talk about with my wife when I get back home.

    Waiting for the sorting process to finish, I gently closed my eyes and relieved the moments I experienced today in my head. The void in my mind started to fill up with many different images from this morning. I started to draw the tender face of my wife, along with other furniture and objects I could remember having in my room. These images faded away as I started drawing the freshly watered green grass on the hallway floor in my mind that I saw this morning when I stepped outside of my room to start working. I could feel the morning breeze gently stroking my hair and the warmth of the sun that hasn’t reached its peak yet. I could see the smiles and greetings of my neighbors and hear the laughters of the little boys scuttling away to make way for me to pass. All of these memories could be remembered in such details because I was alive and therefore my experience was as authentic as it could be. If someone was to come up and ask me, how exactly do I know that I am a real entity rather than some program simulated by a computer, I would present my thoughts and memories which would surely convince anyone who questioned the integrity of my existence.
    My short moment of reminiscence came to an abrupt stop as the sorting machine started to make a silent yet ominous beeping noise. I was baffled by the noise that I have never heard in my life before. This beeping was never part of my daily routine, and it shouldn’t be in my life. I started to feel paranoid that my rigid routine that kept my life so beautiful and happy would suddenly break apart because of the introduction of this new element in my life. 

    “What could I have possibly done differently than usual? What’s causing this beeping? What’s going to happen to me now?” I thought to myself, fearing the uncertainty that lies ahead.

    Whatever this noise was, I wanted to get away from it as fast as I could, and go back home to my wife. Maybe I was just tired and by the next day, I would forget all about the noise and go back to my normal life as if nothing abnormal happened. Perhaps I am just dreaming and this was a part of some elaborate nightmare.

    I abruptly picked up my wagon and started to make my way back to my room. Part of me wanted to drop the wagon and run back, but I feared that doing so would break my routine even further, maybe to the point where I can no longer fix or forget. This paranoia held me back and I could feel my legs and shoulder becoming heavier as if I was shackled. I slowly made my way back to my room, and at that point, I wasn’t even sure what time it was, and didn’t care to check if the time had already passed the curfew. After all, no one actually knew what would happen if someone walked outside past the curfew. No one really needed to know what happened, because we were all content with our lives, and whatever the state put in place for us, we were certain that it was for the good of all of us, and no one had to or bothered to break any rules. The rules were part of our life, and we considered them not rules or laws, but rather something that is part of our daily routine.

    By the time I got near the door of my room, the hallway was almost pitch black. Every door in the hallway had a little blue lightbulb attached on the top corner, which helped me navigate despite the lack of natural light, but they were only bright enough for me to see the doors in close proximity. Luckily, I was able to make my way back to my room with my wagon without tripping or injuring myself. Even until that moment, I could not see what was below my feet, and I could have tripped at any moment, if there was something like a ditch or a stone on the ground. Thankfully, I never had to deal with that problem, because the field was inspected everyday by my comrades and they kept the ground safe for even toddlers to crawl around.

    I was relieved that I was finally home, without having any more problems, and I could finally kiss my wife and goto sleep as if nothing strange happened. I grabbed the handle of my room’s door and pulled it gently, to make sure I didn't make any sound to wake up my neighbors. I slowly opened the door, and slid myself through the little space I created just enough for me to get through to my room. As soon as I got my whole body into the room, again I gently pulled the door back to close it without any noise. When the door clicked, there was no light coming through anymore and I could truly not see anything besides the infinite void in front of me. I touched the wall with my two hands and slowly navigated my way to the light switch, using my memories and my touches. I didn’t want to wake up my wife, because then she would nag me again in the morning about how I came back late and woke her up. It was better for me to keep this to myself, and go to bed as if nothing happened. Within a few minutes I could feel a plastic bulge poking out of the flat concrete wall of my room. Ensured that it is indeed my light switch, I put my finger under the bulge and flicked it up. The bright light suddenly saturated my eyes, and I cringed to protect my eyes and give them a little time to adjust. As I started gaining my vision again, I could see blurry figures of all the objects in my room: The sofas, the flower pot I had brought in a few weeks ago, and of course my bed. But as my visions got clearer, these figures started to look like something else. It wasn’t long until I realized that this wasn’t my room; In the center of my room, where my sofa should be was a large red wooden chair that seemed old and rudimentary. Instead of the big comfy bed I remembered having in my room, there was a small bed with a rugged mattress just big enough to fit myself  and no one else. The room seemed like it was built to lock someone away from society, and I was certain that no individual would live in a room like this. 

    “But why are these furnitures in this room, and how did I end up in this room?” I thought to myself, puzzled, and certain that I went through the door that belonged to me. I even made sure that the name on the door was mine, “James Boudain Resident”. I must have been really tired, and confused from all these madness that happened today. Or perhaps this was still part of my ongoing nightmare. My head started aching and I realized that all these questions were making me sick, and want to vomit. There were suddenly too many thoughts popping up in my head and I simply couldn’t take this load of thoughts at once. I stumbled my way back to the door I came in through, in a desperate attempt to escape this situation. As soon as I got near enough to reach the door handle, I lunged myself to the door and kicked open the door. I ran outside back into the dark hallway I walked from. I could feel the fresh grass on my feet, that was now very cold. I started running forward in distress, desperately looking for my room. As I ran faster and faster, under the blue light of the small light bulbs, the doors looked like they were running away from me into a different dimension.

    As I ran deeper into the hallway, I could hear a squelching sound behind me echoing through the hallway, as if I wasn’t the only one running away into this abyss. I didn’t have time to check whether I was alone or not in this darkness nor had the time to think about that anymore. It wasn’t long until I realized that things are getting stranger. I could hear the ominous beeping sound of the sorting machine again, and the more I ran, louder the sound got. Eventually, I realized that I wasn’t hallucinating, when I saw the edge of the gaping mouth of the hopper of the sorting machine in the distance. Since when were there two sorting machines in this hallway? The more I ran through the hallway, the beeping would fade out, but come back later on loudly, with the same old hopper sitting at the side of the hallway. I was running in a loop, I reluctantly realized.

    My aimless run came to a stop when I realized that there was no point of running anymore. This was all a dream, a terrible dream, and by desperately running away, I was letting some evil force that was making all these happen win. I briefly caught my breath, and stood still, knowing that I will eventually wake up from this dream if I didn’t give in. I stared at the red light in front of me that was approaching me very slowly. As the light got closer to me, I took a deep breath and acknowledged that my reaction to this bizarre situation was no longer meaningful. I closed my eyes and repeated to myself this is just a dream.
    “Subject one, five, three, zero, four, James Boudain: Failed retrieval of percels. Retrial required” said the mysterious robotic voice ahead of me.

    Suddenly, I felt something sharp piercing through my forehead, and I quickly lost consciousness as I realized I am finally waking up from this terrible nightmare, and I will finally return back to the reality where I can continue my happy life. I collapsed to the ground to the puddle of blood that had gushed out of my body. I was finally going home.




    Glory to the state! I could not emphasize more how thankful I am for this opportunity to contribute to such a great cause to help our state succeed and help our fellow comrades. Oh how lucky I am! It is another beautiful day to work and things could not be more perfect: A gentle breeze drying off sweats on my forehead, comforting warmth from the sunshine, and friendly neighbors greeting me with affectionate smiles as I run down the hallway to get to the next room.