"Time flies. And what are you going to do about it?!?"
Tristan froze looking at the first words he had penned into his brand new journal. That was his inner voice talking to him. He honestly wanted to slap himself, to get his sorry self out of it. After all, his inner voice never betrayed him and always made him face the truths he didn't want to see.
That is why he had stopped writing it years ago, and he found himself in that seemingly ordered life that deep down was messy and made him unhappy.
It had already been six years since he had graduated from university and started working at a company that had promised him stability, to take care of his every need as employee. Of course, those were promises to lure him in to work for them. He wasn't fooled, he knew what he was putting himself into. But the stability had been real until his initial quick progression came suddenly to a halt.
****
At home, he leaned back on his chair, his hands interlocked behind his head to hold it, while he gazed out of the window. Red leaves fell off the trees gently shaken by the autumn wind.
Boredom. That was his curse. 'I am bored...of my job, of my life. The boredom that leaves you drained of energy,' Tristan sighed exhaling all the air in his lungs, scooting lower into the chair, depleted of will.
One day turned into the next, one task leaked into the following one. It had become an endless indistinguishable mumble-jumble. He could no longer grasp what was the point in doing work.
Insomnia followed. A haze glazed his sense of reality. He had to remember what touch felt like. It wasn't physical numbness, it was mental.
His co-workers began to notice. Tristan felt embarrassed.
"Tristan, I brought you broth, it will help you get through the day." That was Julie. "Think of that, someone actually cares for me," he thought secretly pleased. His coworkers were kind, but at some point he wasn't able to appreciate their kindness as he should have, even for his own sake.
At the thought of his life slipping off his hands, his throat tightened.
Initially, the routine the company set for his work was comforting with its same repetitive weekly-based assessing projects and delivering reports. The same pattern of turning in homework and taking exams he used to have in university. He appreciated the assurance of routine-based learning progress--every Tuesday homework delivered to his mailbox, to turn in on Fridays first thing in class. Week after week. He was good at it.
He trained his body to automatically follow a pattern of instructions he carefully laid out at the beginning of each term. Sounds boring? It came to him so naturally, he didn't even had to think! He was proud of his system. It hit a sweet spot.
The first year at the company, Tristan had been entertained by the constant planning to hack the compulsory company training. But once settled into a working routine, he hadn't made the cut to the fast track and, as a consequence, his chances at advancement were substantially curbed. For those like him the only possibility was bribing. An unspoken rule, it wasn't exactly bribing. Employees were expected to grant a chunk of their points earned along their salary in support of the company with various perks in return. It was to build community participation, he was told.
It hit him that that was what the rest of his life was going to look like. No more, no less. He felt stuck. He rubbed the side of his head with fury. "Stop!" He suddenly screamed. Got up from his chair to shake his arms. He took his windbreaker and went for a run, "no more thinking until tomorrow!" He ordered himself.
He counted every time he passed a bus stop with a hunter agency ad on it--the sensorial overload form their bright colors temporarily distracted him from himself. Thirty-eight. That was an insane number even for such a long run.
****
Tristan arrived at work exhausted. He hadn't been able to sleep as usual. He sat down at his desk and began working into a well-rehearsed routine that got him through the day, before something in him questioned what he was doing, causing disruption.
The morning passed, unnoticed. Tristan got up for lunch and decided to join his coworkers to avoid overthinking. When he thought too much on something personal, his head hurt. Besides, it was time for him to make a change, and socializing was the first obstacle to overcome.
On the way back to his desk while grabbing coffee, the TV screen in the lounge was tuned to a news channel.
He glanced at the screen. The stylish black and cream color of a mysterious website caught his eye. Suddenly one of his co-workers appeared by his side sipping a tea, his hand in his pocket. Tristan almost smiled--he liked how nothing seemed to faze Samgyio.
"These days hunter job ads seem to be everywhere, even in the news," Tristan commented in a low voice, trying to make an effort at socializing like he had promised himself to do.
"Yes, new funding coming through means new greedy bounty hunters wanting to get a piece of that." Responded with vigor, jokingly.
That wasn't the point of the ad, nor its theme, and that what Tristan wanted to talk about, although Tristan knew what he meant. He found his comment irritating all the same, for no reason.
"Although generally are more colorful to attract attention." Added Julie while joining them in looking at the screen. Julie smiled at Tristan with sweetness.
"Well, in a world of color, the lack of color is what stands out." Tristan said dryly without turning to talk to her.
"True." Said Julie with a slight laugh showing embarrassment.
Tristan felt the tension in the room. "Hunters want something else, you know."
"What do you mean?" asked Julie.
"From life, I guess...." as soon as he said those words, Tristan regretted them. They might ask him for more explanation, and he didn't want to explain about his thoughts.
Samgyio looked at the clock. Time to go back to work!" he declared and quickly left, unwittingly saving Tristan.
Tristan sat at his desk. Julie passed by and dropped a chocolate chip cookie for him with an apologetic look. As expected his focus onto something outside the group was interpreted as problematic. That's how Tristan felt. He smiled to make her feel better and quickly lowered his head to work before she thought that was an opportunity to bond. She was a sweet generous person, but also in constant need of reassurance. Tristan had already too much on his plate to worry about other's needs. At the same time he was jealous of people like Julie who could so effortlessly engage with people.
He looked back at his screen and his mind went blank, instantly erasing his conversation with Julie, and the complexities of social interactions. His mind was still hooked on the ad. He wondered what about the black and cream ad made such an impact on him. Without thinking he found himself searching for it online.
"What was the name of the agency again...maybe was there no name?" He veered toward the governmental portal that listed all officially authorized entities for expeditions to the Castle. His eyes caught the ad with no effort, right in the middle of a long list, buried. Perhaps if it were at the bottom of the list it would have been more worthy of note. He appreciated that lack of effort in making themselves noted, paying their way into a higher position. Unlike his current company, they knew their worth.
He sealed his lips in deep thought, and then smiled. "Entrepreneur" he whispered to himself. He felt incredibly comfortable, to the point he could have fallen asleep in his seat right that moment. It had been quite some time since he had smiled straight from his heart. It was such a relief for Tristan to know he could still smile like that.
Excited, he propped himself up and clicked on the link.
Now there was a problem. He had none of those fancy magical powers to embark on an expedition to the Castle where he could encounter, well...monsters that could easily kill him. And without powers he couldn't possibly apply to any of the jobs. "So there you go, I was thinking about applying for a job somewhere else, without making a plan first...of course it wasn't going to work." he gripped his knee with his fingers until it hurt. He closed the window on the screen and opened a report he needed to finish. If he worked he wouldn't have to feel the disappointment.
****
He went home confused. Looking for a job with Entrepreneur felt good. In fact, he hadn't felt that free in a long time.
At home, he cooked a frozen lasagna in the microwave, took a bottle of fizzy water out of the fridge, and slouched on the couch to watch TV. Laying like that he felt defeated.
The clean and crisp image from the ad popped into his mind seemingly out of nowhere. He couldn't do anything about getting a job there, and he felt unhappy.
He went to bed and dreamed the ad again. Thought about it again in the morning while in the shower. It wouldn't leave him alone. At work, Carl spotted Tristan with the page open on his computer.
"what are you doing?" Carl leaned on the divider right next to the monitor on the desk. His soft flash pouring over the partition had a warmth to it. He said it with a relaxed voice, sincerely curious. But Tristan found him irritating, especially for someone like him who was disconnected from the world at work.
"Hmmm" Tristan responded hoping Carl would go away.
"I see." And sucked some of his milkshake gently from a straw.
Tristan turned to look at him straight into his eyes. "'I see'...what?" Tristan sounded more defiant than he cared to be. Carl raised from the partition and took a sip. He replied politely "I see you are grumpy" smiled and left to let him be. For a brief moment Tristan wanted to reach out, not to apologize but to clear out the air. He soon let go of the idea. The ad had popped into him mind again, and that made him lighthearted, so why risk that feeling of wellness to care for misunderstandings?
He grabbed the mouse tightly and began exploring the internet determined to dig information that could help him. A few minutes later, Carl passed again by Tristan's desk, turned around behind his chair and leaned over to take the keyboard away from him to type something into the search. "This is what you are looking for," he said now free of his milkshake, and left. Tristan was baffled, holding his gaze on Carl as he left. Fortunately, there was nothing to clear, Carl hadn't been bothered by the earlier exchange, which was a relief. Then he looked back at the screen.
It was a sort of forum, hidden, anonymous people exchanging illegal stuff. A number of people selling their blood, infected blood. "Want to become the next hero?" one of the posts read. Tristan chuckled...it was true, the hunters were the next heroes. "Am I desperate enough to do that? To infect myself?" He had already heard of people getting paralyzed, falling into a coma, even dying. Stories of gaining powers were not really spoken openly about, but he had heard many, or read occasionally in forums. He looked into the corridor, where Carl had turned after leaving his desk, wondering what would Carl be buying on that site for himself.... Overwhelmed, he decided to read more what was available, how it worked, and what to expect from the infection, and all the rest and, above all, how much it would cost him.
He made a list. He needed a solid plan.
Back home, he sat on the rug with a geometric pattern in front of the sofa, by the coffee table staring at the blank wall. The deep forest green of a poster he had hanged sucked him into clarity. It was a spectacular sensation to have his mind cleared out so quickly after months--no, years--of struggle he purposefully ignored. The faze from the insomnia evaporated. Now he knew how things had been. The urge to do something started bubbling inside me, with a burning sensation that made his cheeks red. It suddenly gorged out of him. He jumped up bouncing straight into a fighting position. Yes. "That's it. That is how I want to feel. This is how hunters must feel!" He felt invigorated and determined to change his life.
That evening he set the mechanism to change his life into motion. He made contact with a broker, who ironically had good reviews splashed all over the forum. It was expensive to pay the seller and broker, it would take all the money he had saved up until then, with no guarantees of success. The infected blood might not work after all. Did he have any other option? Not really. He erratically planned to get the money out in cash the following day. He unzipped an old gym bag he stored in the closet. so hard the zip got stuck. He eventually managed to get it unstuck hurting his thumb. He didn't care, he didn't feel any pain. He was on a roll.
Instead, he should have asked Carl for explanation of how he got to this forum in the first place. It didn't matter, that kind of places you have to try them for yourself, the rest you hear is just gossip, either because it is or because people don't want to explain how they know it.
****
With a bag full of cash in his hand, Tristan went to the appointment cheerfully. He arrived to the location--an amusement park closed for the season, all its rides covered with plastic tarp to preserve them. The place was deserted. It wasn't scary so empty, rather, it was sad.
He didn't meet with the man. There was a stuffed animal in his place sitting up on a chair in the building where broken parts of the carousels awaited repair. It talked to him, with a pre-recorded message and a piece of paper with a map drawn on it in its paw. Tristan left the bag by the stuffed animal. Then looked at it.
This close, the stuffed animal looked alive, not stiff at all. He set his hand out to touch it, but it slapped his hand! "As I had already told you...don't touch me!". It's head turned to look at him straight in the eye.
It was uncanny, but Tristan wasn't there for that. He looked at the piece of paper. On it a number series Tristan recognized as he worked at a themed park in the summer before college. The number series individuated a UFO catcher. He followed the map and found the machine. He inserted a coin and pressed a pink-colored button. It automatically grabbed one toy on top of a pile, then dropped into the basket.
Tristan lifted up the door and retrieved the toy. He didn't wait like the stuffed animal had told him to do, he immediately opened the toy. Hidden inside the toy, there was a red vial inside it. He grabbed it in his hand tightly and sighed. Finally!
He heard a loud noise in the distance. Instinctively stuffed the vial in the chest pocket of his jacket and zipped it safe. Turned around and left in the opposite direction where the noise came from.
He entered his apartment and locked the door with both locks. He never did that, but his inner voice told him to just do so. He obeyed. The acquisition went surprisingly smooth. "Could really be that easy? Well, people need to make money to live...."
He went to the bathroom and laid the vial on a towel. His heart wouldn't calm down, but he didn't want to wait and waste any more of his life. He took the syringe he had bought earlier from a drawer and filled it with the blood. He stabbed his arm with the syringe, hoping its content at least wouldn't kill him. It hurt. "I haven't thought this through, have I?" And then he passed out on the floor of his bathroom.