The Button: conclusion

He awoke the next morning with the previous night’s events still fresh in his head. He did not sleep much at all, but the moments he did sleep allowed him to reconstruct the evening and the events leading him to this place. His dream state even filled in some of the gaps his memory seemed to have forgotten. It was a night of waking, thinking, reconstructing, sleeping, and repeating. It was safe to say it was the longest night of his life.

The finer details were still lost to him, but he remembered a window and a rapid decent very clearly. The cymbal crash of a shattered pane rang in his ears and he remembered the tunnel vision of the fall perfectly. He felt as if he were riding an invisible corkscrew down to the floor below. The fall was actually rather fun as he recalled, it was the landing that sucked, but why did he fall?

On the floor by the bed laid the remains of the mysterious button box the “doctor” left. He was pretty sure he did not mean to break it, but he was never quite sure what he intended to do. The button stood out from the broken box. It clung to the end of an uncoiled spring that danced gently in the air conditioner’s false breeze. It looked as if it was reeling in laughter at him, but he could not make out any sounds.

His bed was against one of the two yellow walls of the room. Directly in front of his bed was the gigantic floor to ceiling glass wall overlooking the fountain seven stories below. To his immediate left sat a fresh bouquet of flowers on the night stand. This means his wife came to visit again and he slept through it again. To his right was the other glass wall that separated his room from the darkened room. He never heard any sounds coming from the darkened room.

The flowers from his wife were not the same since the bees were no longer part of his daily reality. He enjoyed dodging them and pretending they were sent by someone for some sinister purpose. He often pretended he was some hero in a movie. It was not that he believed any of it, he just enjoyed the “mental masturbation” as he called it.

He missed the bricks as well. There were four hundred thirty five bricks outside his old window. Now he had one fountain. He did have one hundred and twenty ceiling tiles in his new room, but they were all the same. There were also two fire sprinklers; one in each corner of the room. He was not going to look up anymore in this room. It was rather boring.

He got up and decided the best course of action was to shower. He loved to shower. It was the best moment of his day and now that the bandages were off he could really get into one. Before he had to wrap parts of his body in plastic before entering and the sound of the water sprinkling on the plastic felt like nails on a chalkboard to him. Now he could steam up the room to the point of needing a lighthouse to find the toilet and just sit and rest.

While he bathed the nurse entered the room with his breakfast and a brand new button. She placed the new button on his pillow after she made the bed. The breakfast was left on the nightstand next to the flowers. She was tempted to peak in the shower, but her professionalism kept her honest.

The button was the first thing he noticed when he exited the bathroom. It was almost glowing on his pillow. It was a beacon in the fog. Like a zombie he walked mindlessly towards the new remote control. He did not even notice the breakfast. His stomach grumbled and roared trying to get him to, but he was fixated on the button. His ritual could continue.

This time he would not make the same mistake he decided. He would just push the damn thing and get it over with. He once again closed his eyes tightly and once again extended his middle finger as it soared down to meet its target. As the button depressed he felt an orgasm build inside before he even saw what it did. It was just the release that made him feel so satisfied.

As he opened his eyes, he felt an even more intense rush. The darkened room was no longer dark. He could see into it perfectly and he could not believe what he was seeing. It was his wife, his friends, his co-workers, his family all there cheering him. He saw a huge table covered in food and drink. He saw a humongous banner hanging behind them with the words “Welcome Back Harry!” He saw everyone he loved there to welcome him back.

He was moved to the new room on his wife’s request. This being his last day in the hospital after nine months she wanted to throw him a party. She had spent so long in fear of her never getting him back after his fall. The only real problem was she did not expect him to take so long in pressing the damn button. They almost charged into his room five times last night before he went to sleep. They decided to come back today and give him ten minutes before they just surprised him on their own.

Harry quit his job as a window washer after he was released from the hospital. A settlement with the company that made the platform guaranteed he would never have to work again.

The Button

“What is this?”

“A distraction.”

“From what?”

“Indeed.”

He no longer enjoyed the view. He had wanted a change and requested a change, but did not expect them to answer it so quickly. This was wrong. This was not what he expected at all. There was no going back now, but he only wanted a small change, not this.

He had grown accustomed to the old view, but it was just so damn boring. A brick wall is a brick all is a brick wall. There were four hundred thirty five bricks visible from his window. Two hundred bright red bricks, one hundred twenty brown bricks, and one hundred fifteen burgundy bricks; he thought about naming them, but that would be insane.

There was a small beehive embedded in column sixteen of the great brick wall. The bees would fly in and out of his window when it was open and hover over the flowers his wife would bring him. He was allergic to bees, but had no fear of them here. There was no better place to be stung than in a hospital.

He had no idea how long he had been in the hospital, but it was certainly a long time. The brick wall room was not even his first room there so it had to be at least six months. He could check a calendar and find out, but it would probably just upset him. He was just happy to have the bandages off his face. They were really starting to itch.

Now he was no longer in his brick wall room with the bees. He was in the yellow room of glass. It had an eerie sanitized lack of feeling. It was just a room with two yellow walls and two glass walls. It had a bed and toilet and a shower, but lacked any personality. One glass wall overlooked an epic fountain seven stories below. The other glass wall looked into a room where the lights were always off. He could not see anything in that room.

The “doctor” had given him a new toy to play with. A distraction it was called. He had no idea if the man really was a doctor or not, but he had the snotty superior air of a surgeon. The toy looked like a remote control with only one button. It resembled a garage door opener.

He tried as hard as he could to not push the button. He lasted four hours before he pressed it. He did not trust this “doctor” and had no real idea where he was so he was not likely to push a strange and anonymous button. The problem was that he was a born button presser.

He closed his eyes tightly squeezing his eyeballs deep into their sockets as he slowly raised his middle finger to push the button. He chose that finger as a final message to the doctor just incase the button mashing went poorly.

His finger slowly moved down towards the button. Pressing it was no longer an option, it was a compulsion. He wanted to see just how long he could milk the anticipation of the moment. He moved the finger so slowly it appeared to not be moving at all. He had no idea what the button was going to do and that was all the fun of this entire thing.

“Hurry the hell up” the remote control beckoned him. The pressure of the moment was starting to overtake the entire room. Even the bed was sweating from the stress. “I don’t have all day ya know.”

His finger finally found the button, but no pressure was applied for release just yet. He danced his finger around the edges of the square button enjoying the suspense. Once the slightest amount of pressure is used the anticipation ends and that saddened him. It was a war within his being between his need to know what the button did and his fear of this moment ending.

He really missed the bees. Why did he never name those bricks? Do they know what this button does? Four hundred thirty five bricks and a beehive were boring, but it was better than two walls and two windows. Even if the view was amazing he could not enjoy it. The damn button was teasing him.

“Fuck it” he said has he pressed the mysterious button with all his might. Tragically all of his might was a touch too much and he broke the remote before he could find out what it did. He should have just pressed it and not messed around so long.

It was going to be one of those days. He went back to bed and decided to start again in the morning.

Long Awaited Babble

Previously Charlie fell to the floor. He was with Adam up to that point. The memories were vague and short, but he thinks he has memories of the crime. He has spent the entire night tormented over the crime. He finally had accepted he had killed Michelle just in time to learn he didn’t. Charlie now hoped he was insane.

Continued

As Charlie stared at the oil stain he noticed he was standing in he had an onslaught of thoughts race through his mind. He found it impossible to focus on a single question as he only got glimpses here and there. He knew he needed to know if Michelle was dead or not. He knew he needed to know if he killed her if she is dead. He knew he needed to know what Adam was exactly. He knew what he needed to know.

Charlie looked up after settling on the perfect words for his question to Adam only to find himself alone in the alley. Adam was gone. There was no sign of him every being there in fact. “Did any of that happen” he asked himself remembering the lighter trick his mind played on him earlier.

His night was bizarre and it was looking like the day will surpass the night on the weird scale. He really missed sanity. He wondered if anyone else was having this type of day or if he was cursed alone. He noticed the other month that bad days were universal so it could be true of bizarre days as well.

Charlie really needed a cigarette more than he never needed one in his life. The feeling was creeping up his fingers, through his arms and then skipping down to his knees. It was a feeling of a thousand needles pricking lightly in rapid succession from under the skin. It was moving up and down his limbs in circular motions almost massaging him. It was telling him that it would leave unless he lit a cigarette. What choice did he really have?

He reached into his left breast pocket to heed his addiction’s call, but he found a pack of his wife’s cigarettes. They never smoked the same brand although each tried the others once. It did not work. She was a menthol person and he was a full strength filter less man. The menthols were mocking his jones.

He put the pack back in his left pocket and removed the pack he had in his right breast pocket only to be faced with the same dilemma. While holding it he checked his left pocket to make sure it was actually two packs of the same brand and not more of his mind’s cruel games. It was two packs.

Charlie stood in the alley with the worst problem he had faced yet. He had to have a cigarette. He had no choice in the matter and he had in his possession 40 cigarettes. The jones should be resolved, but the 40 were menthol and he felt menthols tasted like drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth. And why did he have 40 menthols anyway?

Charlie’s addiction took over his body for just long enough to rip open the pack of menthols and light one. The taste was worse than O.J. and toothpaste. He almost threw it on the ground until those tiny needles began their magic once again. Amazing the power addiction has sometimes.

“Please tell me Adam has not got you smoking menthols.”

The voice again was not in his head. He really missed when they were. He could write off everything as insanity as long as it was all mental, but now they are out and that was not making him happy. Ironically the menthol was.