Old Mans Shadow
Chapter 2
Thoughts Running Wild
Jim was walking through the streets of Ascension, smoking a cigarette, keeping his head down as he passed strangers. A few would spit at his direction. Some would even attempt to have a go at him. He just ignored it. He would often contemplate how rotten this citizenry is and how it could possibly get this bad. How, and why. There was rubbish scattered through every turn of the streets, trash, piled on top of each other. And I am not joking here. But you were not able to see the pavement of roads, or footpaths. It was plastic bags, bottles, paper, cigarettes, syringes, you name it - inundated the streets. On top of this. It was always gloomy and miserably dark, as the gigantic skyscrapers towered over, shadowing the bottom.
There were five levels of the city. Each level of the city depicts the level of “class” of the people that dwell there. You have hobos, the extremely impoverished at the bottom level, then above that, it’s the poor, the scrapers. There are no middle-class or rich people that live in Ascension. Whatever level you are living on. It’s a miserable, fucked city - metropolis of junk. Every corner you would see scum jabbing themselves with some sort of addictive drug. Usually an opioid. Then you have the disease carriers. Usually the prostitutes - or the sick. They carried no protection, no masks to keep the sicknesses from spreading. They couldn’t give a flying fuck for all they care. It’s merciless here. In Ascension. Huh . . . funny name for such junk.
Huge behemoth garbage trucks flew over Jims head. Orange flashing lights lit up the surroundings as they kept on driving. Self-automated. No drivers were present. And what’s worse. These goliaths stop for nobody.
As the months passed and years swept over, the city became more and more depressing. Jim was growing old, gray hair started to grow from his scalp. His beard thickened. He was standing there in the shower, just letting the water rush over him. Mindlessly, standing there.
His apartment was always dark. Lights off. Only thing that had a light was the TV.
The building was as quiet as it could possibly be. Occasionally you would hear yelling and screaming, babies crying, coughing as well. But not much. It was stale and without any soul. It had character. But not the good sort.
Jim and Jason had stopped talking to each other, after Jason suggested to Jim that he should sell the rock to the Officials. The Officials that run this city. But Jim doesn’t mind selling the rock. He couldn’t give a damn about that. What he has a problem with though. Are the people that run this place. He fucking hates them. He wishes he could rip each and every one of those scummy cunts hearts out. He wouldn’t mind going to jail. If it meant those fuck-tards weren’t alive any longer. He couldn’t stand the greed. The greed of them and the greed of everyone around him.
Out of curiosity Jim did have a walk down to a Goods & Trades complex where it was run by government entities. Jim was just curious on how much it would sell for. This rock was important for a piece of the new heart for the city. They offered over a million.
A million was a lot. No matter where you are from. Whether it’s from another planet or not. It’s a lot. You wouldn’t be rich. But you would be set for life. He wouldn’t have to live in this building any longer. That’s how much it is. But he didn’t and still doesn’t trust them. He feels as though it’s worth more. Way more than what they are asking for. Jim isn’t any conspiracy theorist. But he has had his slice of life. His fair share of life experience. To see how most of this world operates. It literally makes him sick - a sickening rage over him when he starts to have thoughts about how much greed is run through this city. Not just this city though. But the majority of this world is run like that and through that. It’s how everything operates. And it’s not like people hide this. Or lie to themselves about being greedy. When you are young and going through school. You embedded into your heads that we are greedy. That it is primal, and natural to be greedy. That we should embrace it and utilize this. We are greedy. It’s not a bad thing at all as well. People don’t look at it like that. It’s essential to survival. Call it extreme capitalistic ideology or whatever other fancy words you might have for it. At the end of the day. It’s a fucked way of living. You fuck over others to get a peace of mind for minute or two. Yeah. A minute or two. That’s another thing about this place. There are no goals people have. We veg out. Slumber, eat, repeat. Robots do everything. We don’t have to. We get paid a healthcare benefit through a “Human Rights” program. And that’s that.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
A few more attacks happened as the weeks went by. No casualties though. But the market was dipping. People were depressed. More depressed than what they usually are in this city. They had low spirits for anything positive. There was gossip that this city will become a ghost town and that the rich are abandoning their shares of the market in Ascension and letting it truly rot once and for all. Jim didn’t care. He cared, but had an apathy towards everything. Though what spiked his interest a little. Were the attacks themselves. Why Ascension? Why this city? What could they possibly gain from dismantling this city and/or disrupting it. But Jim didn’t give too much thought into it.
Jim was at the usual pub. Doing his job, playing the guitar and singing for a small audience - if an audience at all. Usually they were occupied with drinking and enjoying the night with their mates. Talking to one another rather than listening to Jim sing. He didn’t care though - it is what it is, he thought to himself usually. For a bit of a laugh, he let feedback of the amp takeover for a bit, to see heads turn from the sheer loudness and ear-aching noise it creates. Then he apologized - although there was no meaning behind those words. He pulled a few hairs away from his face, behind his ear and jumped down from off the stage. Walking once again over to the bar to get his usual drink. The bartender said some few words to Jim. Something about the attacks. But Jim wasn’t really listening. Once Jim drinks, he focuses purely on that and that alone. He’s not an alcoholic though. He just enjoys drinking a lot - it’s a big difference.
Days went by, and the city stood the same. No incidents, no newsworthy news, nothing. Static. A dimly lit apartment in a dimly lit city. Fitting. Especially with the hope of nothingness. Jim would continue playing gigs at a few local pubs as he routinely has done for the last 20 or so years. He enjoys the art of it, whether people listen or not. He enjoyed it.
Some strange looking men, who weren’t from the building Jim lives in had told everybody that there’s going to be some construction work going on in the building. A letter came short after they told everyone about that. The letter read that the residents of 660-A Joyrun building must leave within the following 12 weeks. In short. It was a short notice on how people must evacuate their homes. Jim packed a few things and purchased a 4 week stay at a motel. Nothing special about it. Pretty run down as well. The toilet would clog up occasionally. The ceiling was rotting, in the kitchen and a spare room. Beige coloring to the walls, whether it be stains or not. Jim couldn’t tell. He sighed as he got inside and lit up a cigarette. Sitting on the bedside. It was a busier part of town, being next to a gas station. But nothing too busy happens here. Just more, bustling than where Jim usually resides.
Jim sat there for a good few hours, noodling on his guitar. Not plugged into the amp though. He just laid down and played chords, notes, up and down the neck. He was bored. More bored than usual. There was no TV, no books, no furniture, nothing. The other residents of the motel were usually pissed at something, screaming, and yelling. Then it would get quiet and you would begin to hear loud moans and banging against the wall. Then it would start to pick up again. The shouting. And that would repeat every day. On the other side of him, was some weird old guy. Kept to himself. Wore strange glasses. Too big for his face. But Jim didn’t really pay any more notice than that.
As the days went by, from boredom, Jim started to explore the town a little more. See what happens around these parts of the city. There were a lot of fast food joints, mechanics for vehicles, etc. And the occasional foreign little food shop. Then there was the supermarket complex. It was big, bright, and white. Most kids, and young adults would loiter around there. Acting shady, stealing usually was in clear sight. Poor people that worked at the complex. The security guards did nothing, and it would scare and occasionally rile up the people that worked there that were vulnerable. They had no fighting training. No security training. That was the securities job. But they just stood there, like a big dumb lump of meat. Unaware of their surroundings - dazing off. Once every few months, there would be a stabbing. Hospitals would run to the scene, which would always be at the shopping complex. Because some dickhead thought it’d be cool, or got riled up themselves for no fucking reason other than their immaturity and emotional stunt of growth would kick in and they’d be angered from this. A rage would come over them. And the people that work there have to take the hit . . . that’s just how it was around here, Jim noticed.
The construction was done, and people moved back in. Jim actually stayed at the motel a bit longer, as it was different. And Jim liked something different.
1 week later.
Jim was back at home, arriving shortly in the morning. Looking around, smelling the scent of his usual smells. Typically a warm, heater smell - of gas, smoke, and booze. Though he noticed a jar was on the ground. Not where it usually was. Closed, but odd. It was the one that contained that rock Jason would always go on about. Jim then got pissed. He guessed someone was in here and had a little look around and helped themselves. Probably knew that rock was valuable and took it. Jim wasn’t going to have any of that. He was fucking mad now. And that madness can drive Jim to a whole new level of pure hatred and spite for whomever stole that rock. What’s worse, was that it was some council worker that works for the stupid fucking people that run this city. So Jim. Was going to have a little talk with them.