Chicago in the mid 22nd century has itself become a caricature of civilized living. Staring out the window of the 156 Bus towards the Inner Loop everything is in watercolor- shapes blend and colors run together. Even if I had been able to sleep within the last week I'm convinced I'd see it the same. I've always seen it like this. The city has grown much in the last millennium. Engulfing suburbs and erasing state lines. It more resembles swelling than growth. The government is spread thin and the city department has all but given up on any semblance of respectable sanitation. If Tokyo and Gotham city were lovers, our Chicago would be the dark eyed prostitute they would call to join them in orgy when their sex life waned. Overpopulation doesn't begin to describe it.
Why don't people move away? Why don't I move away? The thought never crosses my mind. I'm a lifer. I don't think I could leave if I wanted to. I get the shakes just going on vacation, jonesing for the city. Returning I can feel the city envelope me...the cold metallic hum starts my mouth watering. I'm Pavlov’s dog and the City is my bell.
Once the city's population reached 50 million souls, the flood began. People made exodus to the city like hungry insects to glowing blue electricity. The population of Chicago went supernova...no one really knows how many people crowded the filthy alleyways, cramped neighborhoods, and towers of Babel that compose Chicago. I believe the census was retired at 137 million. It was as if something amazing was going to happen and everyone somehow knew it was coming...and they wanted to be there for it.
But nothing happened. So I guess we're all still waiting...always have we been...and devotedly we continue.
My bus stops outside of my office. I exit the bus and enter the building. I work.
At a desk.
I stare a computer.
I spend most of the day wandering The Net, over-indulging on information that I will not retain and trying to look busy in case either Jesus or Santa pass through. There's nothing else to say about it.
After work I go directly to band practice. We practice. Temporarily I am granted reprieve from my apathy/exhaustion cocktail. It's something of a phenomenon. After practice I try to tell my confederates that I am struggling with insomnia.
"…and I think I'm hallucinating."
I announce this as we enter the car and the doors in a percussive triplet dissect the statement. Nobody says anything. It’s one of those moments when a statement made without much confidence sort of dissolves before it's even spoken. And although it is received by its intended audience, no follow up is required as it is quite easily forgotten. My fear of betraying personal weakness coupled with the fact that my companions don’t really have the ability to assist in any way with my dilemma is all the burial the moment requires.
The following night, the cycle repeats. But tonight I stay late after practice. I'm not going to sleep when I get home, I might as well attempt to be constructive. I dick around with a few chord changes and leave shortly after 10pm…
It's dark as I walk to the train station. I feel as though I could succumb to narcolepsy at any moment. I'm laughing out loud, not maniacally, just...well it doesn't really matter; people must think I'm insane anyway. Lately I'm beginning to wonder myself. I continue to laugh, I picture myself falling asleep, mid step, and knocking my teeth out on the concrete platform. I wonder if I would wake up or just lay there toothless and bleeding from the mouth as people step over me and deny their samaritanical opportunity. I'm still laughing...I'm having trouble stopping. I'm not really amused, it's almost a reflex like a wet dream of laughter. It just feels good. But I'm not laughing...I'm just…laughing.
"What the fuck are you laughing about?"
Almost immediately I assume I'm hallucinating. A middle aged man is standing in front of me. He’s slightly overweight and balding. A woman is sitting on a bench behind him watching us…a peroxide blonde with a trendy white scarf guarding her cleavage and hipster clothes indicating she's yet to realize her middle aged status...similar to the man in front of me who is reiterating his question.
"What the fuck are you laughing about?"
I replay the last 10 minutes in my head and hypothesize that I must have been unintentionally staring at the couple. As I stepped onto the platform, laughing like an idiot I must have stood in front of them unaware, staring. I don't have an explanation for this man. But he seems to believe I owe him one.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing." I offer.
"The hell you weren't, shit, you're still laughing faggot."
The man steps closer to me and I finally smell the alcohol on his breath. Cheap tequila...if I had to guess. I muster enough focus to see this guy is hammered...and he's not too steady on his feet.
"Dude...you're fucked up." I'm still laughing I notice after I make this statement. I realize too late that my laughter mixed with that statement seem pretty condescending. Not good...I'm making this whole thing worse.
"Fuck you asshole."
"Tim! That's enough buddy! Simmer down and leave that kid alone." the woman behind him calls out to this man, Tim, apparently, realizing that this is going nowhere good fast.
Kid? I’m 28 and shocked that in the midst of this confrontation my ego has found the time to be wounded. I decide to explain my situation to this dude so he’ll relax and maybe buy me a shot...
"Look I'm really tired right now. I haven't slept in a few days and I..."
Lights explode from my left temple. The dude, Tim, just slugged me. I don't fall but I stagger back a few steps and sit down clumsily.
Fine. Knock me out. Maybe then I'll be able to sleep.
I raise my head to see my attacker and how much more attack I should be expecting. I notice suddenly I'm surprisingly calm about this whole thing. I congratulate myself. Something is in my eye. I reach up to inspect and my hand comes away bloody. Jesus, the guy split me open above the eye. I look at the guy. His hand is loaded with gaudy rings. Fucker hit me with his rings. Fucker!
I can feel anger rising within me. How did this happen?!? Why is this stranger on a train platform beating me up? What the fuck is wrong with laughing!? What the fuck is wrong with the people in this city?
"Stay down you fuck!" The man is now looming over me...for some reason the middle aged Barbie doll behind him is screaming. This concerns me...I hope it doesn't have something to do with damage to my face of which I'm yet unaware. There are other people on the platform. Watching. Confused as shit. Can't blame them, I'm a primary character in this little reality show and I don't get it either.
I lean back and look up at the man. Now I'm sure I'm hallucinating. My antagonist is no longer human...a dark shape fills the space that his voice emanates from, as if a cloak of black thundercloud had coiled itself tightly around the mans body. The cloud moves like fire around him. His head is illuminated through the skin in his face I can see a white orb, shaded by his skin shining brightly through his eyes and his mouth, as he speaks and blinks.
The terror on my face must be easy to interpret because the shape with the orb in its head stops for a moment. Hesitating, I can tell it is unsure as to just what it plans to do next.
My terror, and instinct for self-preservation takes control. This is some science fiction shit and I'm scared. I noticed my guitar laying on the concrete next to me. When this...thing...hit me I must have dropped my case. Apparently it had come open when it hit the concrete and spilled my guitar in the process. Without thought, I wrap my hands around the neck of the instrument and stand, wielding it as an axe. The orb-head is looking back at Barbie trying to calm her...she's still screaming. Can she see it too?
The orb is looking at me again. The bright spots where the orb shines through its eyes again lock upon me. My skin goes cold as we look at each other. I swing the guitar.
My movements must have been amplified by adrenaline because the figure in front of me made no attempt to move or to protect itself. I hit it square in the orb. And it was as though I had detonated a light grenade. Blinded I lose my equilibrium. Again, I fall and meet the concrete.
Am I finally sleeping?
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