HOME | DD

Description
In A Crowd Alone

By M.R.Maloney

Everyday James Cooper walked from his small, or in his words 'lilliputian-sized' apartment on 31st Ave to his workplace, Yonjigen Labs, on the corner of 23rd Ave and 7th Street. He sat at his ordinary desk in his ordinary cubicle in his ordinary floor in the rather nondescript ordinary drab gray office building, every weekday, seven to four, receiving notices and redirecting them where needed on a case by case basis. Some came from the business's corporate office and went on to management of the other floors: research and development, testing, marketing, legal and personnel, power and maintenance, and of course his own, technical and call center support. Now, James was a man who liked routine, who hated interruptions and obstacles, with an equal measure of courage to that of a dust bunny, to wit, he hated crowds immensely. When he walked to work the sidewalks were usually fairly empty as most people drove to work, needed to travel too far to be on the sidewalk when he was passing by, or lived close enough for it to not matter. However, going out for lunch—on the rare occasions he was invited by a coworker—almost always made him late for returning to his desk. Being as his doctor had to prescribe medication for high blood pressure, and his straining veins were visible to his fellow mice in the cubicle mazes, others often joked that he thought the universe might implode if he was away from his desk for too long when he was supposed to be there. He hated crowd on the walk home especially. No, hate was too soft a word; he loathed them. When leaving Yonjigen Labs, James was faced with everyone else who was hurrying off to their vehicles to return home, to those walking home as well, or taking the bus, or otherwise on their lunch period and clogging up the sidewalks like the sinks in a hair-loss treatment convention. One night James Cooper went to bed wishing that his coworkers would understand how he felt, and leave him to his rigid lifestyle without mocking it. Even if just for his birthday tomorrow it would be a miracle.

When he awoke the next day, it was bright and sunny, and the stroll to work seemed to be full of promise. It was the fourth of April, on his fortieth birthday, and it marked the fourth year of his employment at Yonjigen Labs, the longest he had ever held in employment before. He had barely walked two blocks before rounding a corner and finding himself facing a steady flow of foot traffic, jumbled and entangled, the members of its chaotic body fighting with one another and struggling to get past, like some frail bird finding out its fellow hatchling was in fact a Cookoo, moments before being shoved out of the nest. He gaped and shut his mouth after the shock had settled in, glancing at his watch and realizing he was already going to be late, worse-so if he did not hurry immediately.

Steeling himself for a tragic altercation that would delay him even further, James still pressed into the crowd, swimming through the mass of flesh and fiber, narrowly squeezing his way to work. He tried desperately to ignore those around him, as he usually did on his return from work, but after incessant prodding and raised voices he finally turned, ready to finally snap at the person bothering him. Rather, he wished he could, but feebly rotated, intending to apologize and hope to placate the stranger so as to continue on more easily. The face he gazed upon, however, mirrored his own shock. In fact, it mirrored everything, right down to the mole on the left side of his neck, and the awful boxer's ear he had on one side from the rough neighborhood he lived in as a child. The attire was different, but as the stranger spoke, now that he listened to them, he and the stranger had an identical cadence, tone and verbose vocabulary. The stranger was him, and he the stranger. Startled by this revelation, each James Cooper backed up until they ran into someone, quickly turning around and helping the third and fourth stranger respectively up, the two saw another reflection of themselves. For what seemed like an hour, the four all stared, and finally looked around. Like a kaleidoscope filled with glued-down pieces of white paper, the streets were filled with a crowd, certainly. However, the face of every single stranger whom he usually passed was that of his own. Here there was a James Cooper waiting in like to see a movie, another getting their hair cut by a third James Cooper. The modest support staff member of Yonjigen Labs ran through the streets, eager for refuge from whatever hallucinations he was suffering from.

After trudging through the crowd, James got to his office and sat down at his desk, apologizing for his tardy arrival. However, as he heard footsteps heading toward his cubicle he took a call in, listening for ten seconds before slamming the phone down and running back out of his office building. He darted out through the crowd into traffic, hoping to get across and to his psychologist for help when suddenly a loud honk drew his attention to the oncoming grating approaching, mounted to the front of heavy pickup truck. He was thrown back with a sharp crack, crying out in agony as he awaited any kind of assistance. Several strangers looked at him, hurrying even faster to their destinations, some calling emergency services, but even the driver of the truck backed up and turned, avoiding running him over but not staying to see if he was alright. As blood ran down his face he started laughing uncontrollably, muttering to himself. He had always wanted people to understand. He had always wanted for people to leave him alone. Now he had both: A crowd of like-minded individuals and the freedom to be in a crowd alone.

Description
In A Crowd Alone

By M.R.Maloney

Everyday James Cooper walked from his small, or in his words 'lilliputian-sized' apartment on 31st Ave to his workplace, Yonjigen Labs, on the corner of 23rd Ave and 7th Street. He sat at his ordinary desk in his ordinary cubicle in his ordinary floor in the rather nondescript ordinary drab gray office building, every weekday, seven to four, receiving notices and redirecting them where needed on a case by case basis. Some came from the business's corporate office and went on to management of the other floors: research and development, testing, marketing, legal and personnel, power and maintenance, and of course his own, technical and call center support. Now, James was a man who liked routine, who hated interruptions and obstacles, with an equal measure of courage to that of a dust bunny, to wit, he hated crowds immensely. When he walked to work the sidewalks were usually fairly empty as most people drove to work, needed to travel too far to be on the sidewalk when he was passing by, or lived close enough for it to not matter. However, going out for lunch—on the rare occasions he was invited by a coworker—almost always made him late for returning to his desk. Being as his doctor had to prescribe medication for high blood pressure, and his straining veins were visible to his fellow mice in the cubicle mazes, others often joked that he thought the universe might implode if he was away from his desk for too long when he was supposed to be there. He hated crowd on the walk home especially. No, hate was too soft a word; he loathed them. When leaving Yonjigen Labs, James was faced with everyone else who was hurrying off to their vehicles to return home, to those walking home as well, or taking the bus, or otherwise on their lunch period and clogging up the sidewalks like the sinks in a hair-loss treatment convention. One night James Cooper went to bed wishing that his coworkers would understand how he felt, and leave him to his rigid lifestyle without mocking it. Even if just for his birthday tomorrow it would be a miracle.

When he awoke the next day, it was bright and sunny, and the stroll to work seemed to be full of promise. It was the fourth of April, on his fortieth birthday, and it marked the fourth year of his employment at Yonjigen Labs, the longest he had ever held in employment before. He had barely walked two blocks before rounding a corner and finding himself facing a steady flow of foot traffic, jumbled and entangled, the members of its chaotic body fighting with one another and struggling to get past, like some frail bird finding out its fellow hatchling was in fact a Cookoo, moments before being shoved out of the nest. He gaped and shut his mouth after the shock had settled in, glancing at his watch and realizing he was already going to be late, worse-so if he did not hurry immediately.

Steeling himself for a tragic altercation that would delay him even further, James still pressed into the crowd, swimming through the mass of flesh and fiber, narrowly squeezing his way to work. He tried desperately to ignore those around him, as he usually did on his return from work, but after incessant prodding and raised voices he finally turned, ready to finally snap at the person bothering him. Rather, he wished he could, but feebly rotated, intending to apologize and hope to placate the stranger so as to continue on more easily. The face he gazed upon, however, mirrored his own shock. In fact, it mirrored everything, right down to the mole on the left side of his neck, and the awful boxer's ear he had on one side from the rough neighborhood he lived in as a child. The attire was different, but as the stranger spoke, now that he listened to them, he and the stranger had an identical cadence, tone and verbose vocabulary. The stranger was him, and he the stranger. Startled by this revelation, each James Cooper backed up until they ran into someone, quickly turning around and helping the third and fourth stranger respectively up, the two saw another reflection of themselves. For what seemed like an hour, the four all stared, and finally looked around. Like a kaleidoscope filled with glued-down pieces of white paper, the streets were filled with a crowd, certainly. However, the face of every single stranger whom he usually passed was that of his own. Here there was a James Cooper waiting in like to see a movie, another getting their hair cut by a third James Cooper. The modest support staff member of Yonjigen Labs ran through the streets, eager for refuge from whatever hallucinations he was suffering from.

After trudging through the crowd, James got to his office and sat down at his desk, apologizing for his tardy arrival. However, as he heard footsteps heading toward his cubicle he took a call in, listening for ten seconds before slamming the phone down and running back out of his office building. He darted out through the crowd into traffic, hoping to get across and to his psychologist for help when suddenly a loud honk drew his attention to the oncoming grating approaching, mounted to the front of heavy pickup truck. He was thrown back with a sharp crack, crying out in agony as he awaited any kind of assistance. Several strangers looked at him, hurrying even faster to their destinations, some calling emergency services, but even the driver of the truck backed up and turned, avoiding running him over but not staying to see if he was alright. As blood ran down his face he started laughing uncontrollably, muttering to himself. He had always wanted people to understand. He had always wanted for people to leave him alone. Now he had both: A crowd of like-minded individuals and the freedom to be in a crowd alone.