It goes off at 7am every day, a terrible klaxon that shatters the stillness of dawn. Instantly the shrieking tones pull me from the warm encircling arms of sleep, eyes not used to light try to find the button to shut the thing off before I awaken the entire dorm...done.
Sweeping the strands of hair from my face, I lie on my back staring at the ceiling. It is lit with a uniformly gray light that makes it through the off-white curtains. Do I get up? Do I stay in bed? I know I should get up, but it's so hard to do sometimes.
I don't spend my waking hours thinking about the pleasant dreams I had the night before. They make life seem bare and desperate. I wonder how the hell I'm going to make it through another day, usually. Logistics fill my mind in the early morning.
I throw the comfortable blankets back and cold air eagerly rushes in to nestle against my flesh. I shiver a bit, roll over onto my side, and reflect on the fact that I had gone to bed a mere five hours before. I sit up then, careful not to hit my head on the adjacent shelf. Arms are stretched first, horizontally because of the ceiling, then onto my back again as I stretch my legs. All sorts of joints pop as if protesting the birth of yet another long day. Let me sleep, they all seem to say. If only I could!
Sitting again at the edge of the bed, I look over the gray expanse of the enclosure I lived in. My eyes rest briefly on a photograph sitting on the shelf. Well. I get onto the floor with a sort of controlled crash. Back hurts. Looking around in the half-darkened room, I see my two roomies sleeping peacefully. They sleep much like rocks do, whereas I awaken if a fly coughs in Detroit -- doesn't seem fair if you ask me. The hum of the window fan seems to invite me to crawl back into bed and to let it lull me back to sleep...but I can't do that.
Books lie strewn across the floor and my desk from the work that was done into the night yesterday. No, this morning. I stopped in the early morning. My eyes cast a baneful stare at my bookbag, a yellow smiley face grins back mockingly.
"Screw you," I mutter to myself, giving the thing a little kick just for good measure. I flip the bag over: "F". That's better.
As quietly as I can I collect all of the books and papers and stack them all on the shelf above the bed. Pull out the lab manual and read over the day's lab work. Check my watch: 8:03. Where does the time go?
I use the computer to check the weather: highs don't go above 30. It'll be cold all day. While I'm at it, I check the e-mail and receive a couple of ads for pornographic internet sites and an offer for debt consolidation. Delete. Shut the monitor off again. I pull on some three day old blue jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt with holes in it and the "R" missing. I reach for my leather work boots, obtained working a dismal job during the previous summer, but think better of it and grab a pair of Converse instead. The boots may give me blisters. I find my glasses, the frame is bent a bit because I accidentally stacked a physics text on them in the rush to fall asleep. I fix them so they don't sit lopsided on my face. I grab my army jacket off the back of the chair, put the lab materials in my bag, grab my hat, and leave. I lock the door behind me, the sound of the deadbolt echoes in the empty hallway. Down the steps, four flights. Down on the first floor, walk to the door, press the green button and leave.
Outside the wind gusts fiercely, nearly blowing my hat off. Ominous gray clouds move slowly across the sky. Someone took away all the leaves in the courtyard the other afternoon, leaving an unnaturally bare surface. Peering around, my environment is void of life except for a young couple walking close together towards the bus stop. Somehow I feel old looking at them. But I'm not even twenty.
Blink.
In an instant a flashback. Yesterday, just the same as today. The day before, just the same. The day before that, the same. I live in a time loop. I trudge in my own footsteps. The sky is the same, the air smells the same, the classes are the same. At least it seems that way this early in the morning.
Blink.
I stand for nearly a minute, until a sudden gust of wind makes my muscles tense up. I feel my hair blowing around eratically, it occasionally crosses my eyes. Millions of thoughts flow through my mind in a fraction of a second. I make a choice. The corners of my mouth turn up in a smile and I begin to walk towards the quad.
Today I am still numbered among the living.
Peace.
Andrew W. 11/99
E-mail me at: astrogeek@dork.com
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