Sleep is the sought after escape from the troubles of the day by so many people. The few moments of bliss were your mind hangs in the endless void, before waking up to start your day’s cycle over again. Throwing your legs over the side of your bed before walking into your bathroom to be greeted by your own sleep filled eyes. Eating a nice bowl of your favorite cereal, before slipping on your shoes and work-coat of course. Moving to your front door you unlock the seven locks, three deadbolts and the final padlock from the inside before stepping out into the world and locking them back as you begin your daily walk to work, passing by the line of the unemployed, the starving, and the occasional carcass on the side walk. The streets are filled with the unmoving traffic of long dead cars, the smog is thick and the smell of rot and decay are unavoidable. The echo of the engines still rings in your ears as you move down the street.
“Someone should really get around to painting this.” you think to yourself.
The sound of gunshots are ever-present as you make your way to the looming tower at the center of the city scape that surrounds you. ‘The Citadel’ as it were. Men and women cry out from some far off region of the city. But no matter, it does not concern you. It is merely another noise for your ears to tune into on the boring dreary walk to work. Once you reach the front doors of the citadel, you pass through a small black box, you are patted down by unseen hands before a cheerful ding accompanied by a smiley face appears. The other side of the box opens granting you access to the building, you wave at Charlotte behind the counter, she smiles at you before returning to reading her ‘Atomic Styles’ magazine. You take the elevator to the top floor were you sit down at your desk facing out the window to the cityscape beyond.
Fires and other unpleasant sites frequent the skyline, the air is clean with hints of lavender.
“Such a shame, I remember when this was a respectable neighborhood.” You say to yourself as you turn around to your desk and sharpen your pencil and testing your pen before getting to work on filing more papers, and monitoring the company’s financial prospects. Forms upon forms, all neat and stacked. Simply moving from the “In” tray to your desk then to the “Out” tray.  Life isn’t so different, you and the paper are very similar. The same forms move in a circular pattern day in and day out. Just like you, moving from your “In” tray to your “Out” tray.
And just like any other after an eight hour shift the day comes to a close, you rise from your desk polishing it with your sleeve and straightening up the papers before leaving, pushing your chair in, locking your office door, taking the elevator down to the lobby, wave goodbye to Charlotte and exit the building. Passing through the black box, walk home, unlock your door, lock your door, go upstairs, undress, eat a bowl of cereal, lie down, then enjoy the few moments of bliss before returning to your “In” tray in the morning.