Monotony and Mondays: Chapter 2 – Starting a New Life

Chapter 2 – Starting a New Life

With a USB in my pocket that I got from my home, I go to my family’s underground server without trouble. I’ve also taken my family’s sword since I feel that I won’t have an opportunity to get it again and I may need it for later. The guards don’t even bother asking why I’m down in the most secure of areas and only say hello and smile at me as I pass by with some commenting on how long it’s been since I was last there. One of the higher-ranking guards stops me for a particularly long conversation as he goes on and on about the revolution, modern politics, and how his job secures his safety from it all.

“Think about giving us a raise during one of your next meetings to keep my boys and girls busy. Perhaps you can have those strippers from those parties you go to come here. Everyone down here is bored out of their minds,” the guard suggests.

“I’ll keep it in mind. Is there anything else? I have to get going,” I say.

The guard puts his hand to his earpiece to listen in to something and then says, “No, sir. Sorry to bother you for so long.”

Is there something going on? I hope nothing stops me from doing what I have to. Once I get to the door where the servers are, I ask to go through and the guards armed with shotguns and heavy body armor look at one another and nod.

“What’s the occasion? Going to use what’s in there for one of your parties?” one of the guards asks.

“You could say that,” I say.

“You’re going to need a better reason than that.”

“A better reason? Like what? My family has done the same for lesser events as if the information in there is like a family photo album to them.”

“It’s more than that. You know that the Weaver family’s most hidden secrets are on those servers besides mere records of your family’s history. I could have you shot with no question or consequence if you don’t give me a better reason right now.”

“I am the head of the Weaver company-”

The guards draw their shotguns on me.

“You are a playboy who spends his time larping as a leader while partying every day and frequenting old women. If the next words out of your mouth aren’t a legitimate reason for accessing the servers, then we will kill you.”

A few seconds pass before I open my mouth and am immediately shocked when the guards start laughing.

“I’m sorry, sir. We were just kidding! We had that routine in mind if you came here since we were bored.”

“It’s…fine. Will you let me through now?”

“Go ahead, sir.”

That was weird. Thankfully, no one bothers me while I get the information I need from the servers. Another problem suddenly arises when the power goes out.

A guard opens the door and says, “Stay here, sir. We’ll investigate what’s going on.”

I do as they say and stay put. I’ve never heard of a place like this losing power. Maybe it’s a result of one of the workers being bored and accidentally causing this or perhaps it’s another one of their bad jokes. The sound of what seems to be gunshots makes me curious as to what is happening. I take out my pistol and hold it up as I exit the room and am met by a hooded black masked woman in a black shirt, pants, and shoes. Unsure of who she is, I point my pistol at her and she does the same to me.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Nobody you should be concerned about. Step aside and I won’t have to shoot you,” she answers.

“You want what’s in the server room, don’t you? Well, I already have it on this USB I have and I’m going to expose my family for its crimes. Can I trust you with it?”

“What? I’m sorry I thought you were the new head of the Weaver family company. Why would you want to expose your family and cripple your company through it?”

“I’m tired of my family’s manipulative ways and I wanted to do something right with my life. I’ll explain myself more when we’re out of here. We can leave in my flying car.”

The masked woman doesn’t say anything for a few seconds until she nods and agrees as she lowers her weapon. She helps me effectively sneak through the shadows and an alternate exit that she used as her entrance. When we get outside, she takes off her black mask and hood revealing her creamy white skin, gorgeous dark brown hair, striking green eyes, and youthful face that suggests that she’s about my age. My breath is taken away by her appearance to the point where she has to snap me out of it before we continue to my flying car and get far away from the facility.

“Where am I taking you?” I ask.

“You don’t have to take me anywhere. Give me the USB. I have an extension for my phone that will let me plug the USB in so I can download it and send it to my contact,” she says.

I do as she says. After a couple of seconds, she hits the side of her phone with the palm of her hand.

She then says, “Dang it! The file size is too large to send all at once. It’ll be a while before it’s done.”

“I can take you to my uncle Arthur’s. He’s not too far from here and has a computer there that you can use. Will that make the download go by faster?”

“Yes, assuming he has a good internet connection. Can you trust your uncle? Does he know what you did?”

“I can trust him, but he doesn’t know what I did yet. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind too much about what I did since he’s hated our family’s corrupt ways for a while. They only keep him around because he’s a gunsmith and can work on cybernetics like my left arm and eye.”

“Your left eye has cybernetics in it? Looks normal to me.”

“If I blink twice, it activates. See?” I demonstrate what I’m talking about by blinking twice activating my left eye’s cybernetics that reveals the four black lines around my eye and its yellow and black color. “It’s a simple cybernetic addon to my eye that helps me aim my pistol while my left arm is augmented to help me deal with the kickback of my pistol, which is essentially a handcannon.”

“Interesting.”

I was actually hoping she’d be impressed more so we could talk more along the way to my uncle's shop, but she doesn’t say anything else. When we get there, my uncle asks what was going on and who the woman is. After explaining myself, my uncle looks at me in disbelief and seems to be mentally praying before he says anything else.

“Well, if this is what God wants, then so be it,” my uncle says.

“Thank you, uncle,” I say.

The woman does her thing uploading the data I got as I anxiously wait for the results and look out the windows every few minutes as if someone is coming after us.

“My contact will get this information circulating in no time. It’ll surely take an hour or so for the reveal to take effect because of how big the information is,” the woman says.

“Why don’t you stay until then? I’ll make us dinner in my house that’s connected to the shop,” my uncle offers.

“Um. Okay, I guess. Thanks.”

My uncle makes us steak and fries for dinner, a specialty of his. We have two news sites streaming on two TVs as we eat. One news station is independent while the other is biased and controlled by my family. The minutes pass like hours as I both eagerly wait to hear them talk about what we exposed about my family and dread it. After about an hour, the news starts bringing up my family’s crimes as breaking news. They talk about murders, the perverting of the truth, buying out politicians, working with foreign countries, covering up sexual abuse and perverted behavior, and so on.

The unbiased news network talks about the information as it is and that my family should answer for its crimes while the biased one tries to excuse most of my family’s actions and leaves out the worst crimes that they can’t excuse. They say things such as the age of consent being risen, how America is better without certain people my family murdered, and that we’ve kept our relations with foreign countries better through our behind the scenes deals. In addition, they bring up the facility I was at and I’m blamed as the primary source of this information since I was there and suspiciously disappeared when the power temporarily went out. Because of this, I’m labeled as a traitor to my family and Weaver company as a whole, and a warrant is put out for my arrest for disclosing private information.

“I guess I should’ve expected this,” I say aloud.

“At least the country knows the truth about your family. I’m sure there are some who you were brave for being a whistleblower,” the woman says.

“What do you think?”

“I think you were brave.”

“I think that too, Alabaster,” my uncle interjects, “But you’ll need to find a new place to live since you’re a wanted man. I’ll need to find a new one as well.”

“They’re not going to be after you, uncle.”

“They’ll come after me for questions and you’ll need someone to help you with your cybernetics. Besides, I need to atone for being on the sidelines for so long while my brother, your father, continued in our father’s footsteps and took part in an uncountable number of crimes. Even now, I blame myself for not taking a more active role in your life so that you’d come to your senses and leave that life of sin sooner rather than later.”

“Don’t blame yourself for anything. It was all my decision.” Turning to the woman, I say, “Would you know of any place we can hide? I’d also like to help more, if I can to atone for my family’s deeds.”

“You’re in luck. I’m part of an underground resistance movement we like to call the mantises. You can stay with us.”

“Thank you. Since we’ll be working together, can I finally know your name?”

“It’s Calabretta.”

“That’s a wonderful name.”

“Yeah, yeah. We should get going since you’re a wanted man now.”

“Right. Should we take my flying car to your place or would that make us stand out too much?”

“It would make us stand out, especially if you park it close to my hideout. We’ll have to walk there.”

“Okay. Let me take out something from my car first before we go.”

“What can be so important that you can’t leave it behind?”

“You’ll see.”

Going to my car, I take out my family’s sword.

“Really? A sword?” Calabretta says.

“Yeah, I thought it may be useful,” I say.

“I’m happy you got our family’s sword, but I’m sure how useful it’ll be other than a last resort,” my uncle says.

Taking the sword with me, my uncle and I follow Calabretta to her hideout while wearing a hoodie that my uncle had to hide my face. To be honest, I look pretty shady in a hoodie, however, the part of town that Calabretta takes us to is shady as well and the cops hardly go down there even under Silas’ command since they’re helping him take care of bigger criminals. Calabretta leads us to an apartment complex and into its basement where a group of twenty people comprised of people who look to be around my age and slightly higher are cleaning up after what seems to be a celebration and getting back to work on computers and fixing and creating makeshift armor and guns. Seeing them make guns out of the pieces of broken guns reminds me of how lucky I am to be carrying around a gun while most Americans can’t due to the restrictions on the second amendment that allows the general public to have small pistols with pathetically small magazines while government and corporate personnel of importance are allowed to carry handcannons like the one I do.

When everyone in the room notices that I’m here, I’m congratulated by them with Calabretta receiving some of the credit, which peeves her judging by her face. After which, my uncle goes to help the people making armor and guns, Calabretta plans their next move with the others, and I practice shooting with one of the pistols they made and swinging my family’s sword. It’s been a while since I’ve shot a gun and swung a sword so my skills are a bit sloppier than I’d like to admit. Some time passes until my uncle helps me practice.

“Are you expecting to shoot someone?” he asks.

“Yes, you told me to practice self-defense if there’s a possibility that my life is in danger,” I say.

“That’s right. You’re training like it’s going to happen soon.”

“It probably is. I feel like I have a responsibility to protect these people and that I’m finally living my purpose. Don’t forget that we got here because you told me to pray.”

“You got here because of what?” Calabretta interrupts.

“It’s unbelievable I know.”

“It’s unbelievable to me because the Weaver family is a secular organization that promotes abortion, the disrespect of religion, and gay and child marriages.”

“Well, my uncle here is proof that not all the family is like that. I guess you can include me in that now too. Anyways, want to see how my sword can cut through metal? I can also show off my custom pistol’s power if you have spare rounds. I’d rather not waste the ammo that I have for training.”

Calabretta checks for the right type of ammo for my pistol and we manage to find some. I then show off my pistol by setting up three armored targets.

“Watch this. I’ll shoot through all three of these, through the wall, and maybe hit something in someone’s basement,” I say before shooting.

The people in the basement doubt this except for my uncle. When I shoot my pistol, my cybernetic arm barely fidgets in reaction to the massive recoil. It sounds like the firing of a mini canon and is enough to scare and make some of the people in here cover their ears and I’m almost certain someone above us heard it. Its shot does go through all three targets and leaves a hole in the wall that the bullet itself is stuck in.

“What did I tell you? This is the result of my uncle’s fine craftsmanship,” I say.

Next up, I show how sharp my sword is by cutting all the practice targets around me as if they were nothing. Again, I credit my uncle for this since he’s been sharping and taking care of the sword. People then start asking him to help them with their weapons while I continue practicing with my sword and go back to using their pistols for practice to not drown out their talking with my shooting. A few hours pass and people start leaving and going to their beds. Since I’ve had a big day, I do the same along with my uncle to sleep in a bed in this basement that was prepared for us by Calabretta. It’s not the most comfortable bed I’ve been in, but it is at this moment given how tired I am from everything.

It feels like seconds have passed after I fell asleep before Calabretta wakes me up. Seeing her almost makes me think I’m dreaming because of her unbelievable beauty. My tiredness and how close she is to me almost make me want to grab her and fall asleep with her next to me, but I stop myself before I do since there must be something important going on for her to wake me up.

“What’s going on?” I ask while stretching and yawning.

“The national guard is being called on a protest happening against your family,” Calabretta says.

“And? SWAT squads have been called to control or rather shoot at protesters to get them to stop. What’s the difference now that it’s the national guard?”

“We have enough guns to arm the masses and the revolution is starting now. We have to help them fight back. Do you want to come with us?”

“Well, I’ve destroyed my family’s reputation and put myself on the wanted list, so why not fight against the army? I’m up for it.”

“Thank you, Alabaster.”

“Anything for you.”

While preparing to go out, my uncle comes up to me and says, “I heard what’s going on. Are you honestly going out there? You’re not a soldier or revolutionary.”

“I wasn’t until yesterday. Yesterday I said that I felt like I had the responsibility to protect these people and I meant it.”

My uncle looks at me before taking my head and butting it with his.

“You’re not the same nephew I knew at the beginning of yesterday and I’m not sure if I should be more afraid or proud of you. Just be careful out there.”

“I will, uncle. I’ll make you proud.”

Half of the group stays while Calabretta, I, and the other half of the group go. We get on motorbikes with each bike having two people on it. While heading to where there’s the most chaos, we hear yelling, gunfire, and the sounds of fighting. Because of the density of the crowds and the number of people going in and out of where the protest is happening, we park our motorbikes in a safe place where no one should find them and walk the rest of the way. Some of the people that we pass by recognize me. They try to get my attention with some of them turning around to join us. We arm these people with the guns we’ve made while rallying the surrounding people to join us.

By the time we reach the place where the most chaos is, there are more people behind us than in the protest ahead of us. Walking ahead of these people makes me feel important as if I’m the figurehead of the movement. The national guard’s group formation slowly begins to deteriorate as they see how many armed civilians they’re up against. Many of them flee and ask their commanders for advice. Now at the front of the protest, we all draw our guns and point them at the national guard ready for a fight, however, they give up and throw their guns down allowing the protesters to move past them and to city hall. There are even some that join the protesters as if they were on our side this entire time or maybe they’re just doing it to save their life.

“That was anticlimactic,” I say aloud.

Following the protesters, they make it to the towering building that was one my family owned and assault it by throwing molotovs and shooting even though its bulletproof steel barriers are up that are unaffected by the protesters’ weapons. I’m about to try my hand at breaking open the doors until a second group of national guard soldiers drives up in military vehicles and starts shooting into the air and telling people through their microphones to leave or else. When the crowd doesn’t listen, they start selectively shooting people, which really starts to get people to leave.

“Protect the civilians and get them to safety!” Calabretta says.

While the fighting is happening, I shift between staying at the front and unintentionally going into the crowd as if using them as cover. I can’t be a coward at this point after wanting to put my life on the line for others, especially when people are dying. Eventually, we get most people out of the city center and then leave on our motorbikes to go back to the hideout. During the ride, I hang my head and think about what I should’ve done and what I can do better next time, and I don’t stop thinking even when I sit down at the hideout and run out of ideas. Even though people died during the protest, the others seem to think we’d done well despite it since many more people survived, one line of national guard soldiers fell before us, and another one lost a good number of theirs to push us back.

Seeing me in distress, my uncle sits next to me and says, “I saw what you did on the news. You did what you could. Don’t worry about what happened today because we’ll get them back some other day.”

“Thank you. I’m also disappointed because I thought at the moment we were so close to making a difference.”

“What difference would it have made if you went into one of our family’s owned buildings and made a wreck of the place or got its leaders inside to listen to you? The country would still view you and me as criminals and wouldn’t change a bit.”

Calabretta approaches us and says to me, “Your uncle is right. We’ll have many more opportunities to make a real change like we did yesterday. They don’t come often, but when it happens, it makes everything that happened till that point seem like it was worth going through.”

“Thank you, both of you.”

She smiles at me and I smile at her back as I feel a real connection that I haven’t felt with anyone else form between us. My uncle and Calabretta are right. I can’t expect big changes with each passing day and will have to take it one step at a time. A thought then comes to me about my parents and what they would think when they hear what happened. Even though they constantly lied to the public and encouraged me to live my life of drinks and women, I still love them because they gave me everything I had and cared for me. I manage to find some time alone, give them a call, and tell them everything.

To my surprise, my mom cuts me off early and says, “You don’t need to explain everything. We’ve seen it on TV and heard it through our friends.”

“…and? What do you think? What’s your opinion?” I say not knowing what else to really say.

“We’re in retirement. It doesn’t concern us at all since we’re far removed from having any impact on the situation.”

“Do what you want. We don’t care,” my dad adds, “And if you’re going to be busting in some heads, you know to go after Kim and Yang since they always gave me trouble and were so full of themselves despite making so many mistakes that cost us money, influence, and going against my advice.”

“Thanks, mom and dad.”

“Regardless, we appreciate you calling. Keep us in the loop if you have time. We’d like to hear your side of the story. It brightened up our boring day,” my mom says.

“I will. Love you, guys.”

My parents say they love me too and dad says not to forget about Kim and Yang before they hang up. Okay, now I’m ready to keep going. Here’s hoping the coming days will bring some new and good changes to the country and my life.

Monotony and Mondays: Chapter 1 – Sobering Up

Chapter 1 – Sobering Up

My life is simple, boring, and one that people would die to have. Since my family is rich and the marketing company that we run doesn’t need my input, I don’t need to work and can just sit back and enjoy its profits despite being the head of the company ever since my parents entered retirement. Despite that, I still do as much work as possible. From eight to four or nine to five, I get involved with the employees and leaders of the company, see what they need, and help where I can through emails and meetings. Sure, talking to people all day may not seem like work, but it’s really all I can do because of all the other managers and leaders doing most of the work. My family, the Weaver family, is one of the most influential marketing companies not just in America but the world. On the outside, we are a simple marketing company that helps corporations sell their products and keep an appealing public image, however, we also help political parties as well.

Behind closed doors, we instruct both major corporations and political parties how to act, when to fight, and when to come together so that the American public will follow the story we are telling and act accordingly in the country’s best interest. Our history goes all the way back to Great Britain as we were once a royal family that moved to America during its founding and have been influential in its shaping ever since. I have to do something since I’m in charge of a company this important. Every now and then I look at my family’s sword that’s been ours for untold generations to remind myself of my family’s long important legacy. It’s kept in a glass case alongside its scabbard. My uncle Arthur who is also a cybernetic mechanic and gunsmith checks on it every now and then and has shown me that the sword is sharp enough to cut through metal, which is amazingly cool, to say the least.

Even so, I indulge in the pleasures and perks of my wealth. Around eight every day I go out drinking and partying with Janis, a forty-five-year-old who is a friend of the family that acts more like a woman in her twenties who is trying to enjoy her life to the fullest. After the party, we…enjoy each other’s company to say the least before I head off to see Lorraine, a fifty-year-old woman who is another friend of the family, to do the same things with until three in the morning though this woman is different because she focuses on her business more than the previous woman who hardly works. This cycle of working and pleasures has been my life ever since I was sixteen with little variation in it. As a man at twenty-four years of age, it’s grown incredibly dull to me.

I’ve been told to travel more, indulge in more extravagant pleasures, and see more women or try being with men, however, I don’t think this would help. Besides, I’m not into children or men like the other influencers and rich men. No, I need something more. As I look out at the city with flying cars flying by here and there, I think of what I should do. The first thing that comes to my mind is marrying a woman. My parents have been wanting me to. Who should I pick? There are only two options in my mind, which are the women that I frequently see.

After thinking it over and picking out a ring from my drawers full of expensive jewelry, I pick Lorraine since she is unmarried. Janis is married and cheats on her husband with many men and women. Maybe I guess I should say that she’s in an open relationship like the many other rich men and women I know, but that doesn’t matter right now. I go through the motions of my normal day with marriage on my mind and the hopes of my life-changing and starting to have real meaning to it. During the party at Janis’ place, I hardly drink and talk to her. With Lorraine on my mind, I can’t cheat on her before entering a relationship, which is what I’m supposed to do I think despite already seeing Janis on an almost daily basis. Nevertheless, I exit the party without spending any extended time with Janis who notices this and stops me before leaving.

“Alabaster, you’re not going to stay for our usual after-party pleasantries?” Janis says while running her hand down my chest.

“No, not today,” I say before taking her hand off my chest and walking past her.

To my surprise, Janis doesn’t come after me probably because she has other people who can satisfy her when I can’t. When I go to Lorraine’s, I wait until we’re alone and away from the party to propose to her.

Getting on one knee, I say, “Lorraine, will you marry me?”

She’s awestruck and puts her hands on her mouth.

“I, uh, I…” she fumbles over her words, “Where did this come from? Why do you want me to marry you?”

“I want a major change in my life to give it meaning and I thought this would be the best choice. So, will you?”

“I, uh…You’re sweet for proposing to me and I appreciate the offer, but no, I can’t marry you.”

“Oh,” I say as I pick myself up and put the ring away.

“We can still-”

“No, not today.”

I quickly leave the party, go back home, and crash on my bed. When I wake up the next day, it feels as if yesterday was a bad dream that was a result of all the drinking and partying I did until I notice something in my pocket and pull out the ring. Now I wish I had never reached into my pocket and stayed ignorant about last night. Going back to my view of the city, I try to think about what to do next. Seeing the flying cars go by every now and then reminds me of the inequality in America and the widening gap between the rich and poor and how those who want to be prosperous in life have to believe in the values and beliefs of the current time or risk falling into obscurity, not being taken seriously, or facing discrimination. I’ve been told that certain beliefs are not accepted and shunned because they would hurt the country and people’s freedoms, but given how the accepted beliefs do the same, I’m beginning to think that what I believe and have been doing my entire life is fundamentally wrong.

Who are we to decide what is right and wrong to believe? Why did we give ourselves that authority?  What if what we’re suppressing is the truth? Sometimes what’s opposed and considered true in one decade is accepted in the following decade after it. It can’t be right that what’s fundamentally right and wrong changes with the times. How can it be when the dogma of subjectivity is unchanging? How can America be a country tolerant of many beliefs when only those who benefit or are not threatening us are accepted while others are shunned?

There is currently a sort of revolution going on in America because of a group of people fighting for their beliefs and against what they consider to be evil in this country. It was started by a police officer named Silas, his fellow officers, and the friends they made all of which came from this city. How long has it been since it started again? A couple of months? I haven’t been following it that much, but I do every now and then because of how it fascinates me. I’ve never seen so many people devoted to what they believe to the point where they’d risk their lives, jobs, and loved ones so that the country can be fixed. The partners of my family’s company have tried to get rid of them and have been slandering them daily calling them terrorists and extremists. Some of my partners have been exposed for their crimes or killed by this group, which adds to my curiosity about them because of how a group of no-named civilians was able to come together to break down companies and wealthy and influential families that have the backing of the country.

I’ve been told to keep my head down and the Weaver family’s message in line with the rest of everyone else’s. In addition, I was also told that if this group should seize power, then I should either pretend to join them to destroy them from the inside or continue to use my family’s resources for the original plan. I don’t like either of these ideas. In fact, I don’t want any part of this civil war or this life that I’m living. That brings up the question that keeps coming up in my mind that I’m always afraid to answer. What should I do next? Am I really going to give this life away to live as a rebel with no place to go and no one to rely on?

With no good answer in my mind, I decide to drive to my uncle’s shop to ask him in person what I should do. Even though my family isn’t religious in the slightest, he is and he talks about his faith and what’s right and wrong. When I arrive at his shop, I see him thumbing through his bracelet with beads and a cross on it. What did he call it again? A rosary? Entering his shop, he puts the bracelet back on his wrist, crosses himself, and comes to greet me with a smile and one of his spine-breaking hugs.

“It’s so good to see you again, Alabaster,” he says while crushing my spine. “How are you doing, my boy?”

“I’m doing fine, uncle. Can you please let me breathe now?” I ask.

“Sure, sure. What can I do for you?”

“I’m…I don’t know how to say this and you’re the only person that I thought I could turn to. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life.”

“Alabaster! You’re not going to kill yourself, are you?! Listen, you know that I love you and-”

“No, I’m not going to kill myself.”

My uncle sighs and then says, “I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions there. I’ve just been hearing about the rise in suicides in young men your age and thought the worst. Well, I thought the same once and God brought me to faith through it. That’s why I’m a crazy religious man like your parents say. Maybe you should try asking God what you should be doing in quiet prayer?”

“Okay. I don’t have any better options in mind.”

“Hold my hand and the blessed rosary in it and ask through the intercession of the Blessed Mother for God wants you to do.”

I do this silly thing as seriously as I can with my eyes closed and the thought of America’s corruption comes back to me and my family’s part in it. We manipulate the truth so that the public does what we want and silence those who speak the whole truth. Our underground servers in this city contain records of our deeds and crimes that we keep for our pride to show to our most trusted members. My status would allow me to walk in unquestioned, secretly copy a good portion of it on a USB, and give it to someone to expose my family’s history of crime to the public. What kind of plan and course of action is this?

Is this the result of my silent prayer? This must be some crazy plan put in my head because of how absurd it is. It makes sense given how crazily devoted my uncle is to his faith. Still, it seems like the right thing to do. With no better idea in my mind, I resolve to do it.

“Thank you, uncle. I know now what I must do,” I say before hugging him again and leaving my uncle’s shop, and heading to my family’s underground servers.

Finally, I’m going to do something useful and right in my life.

My latest book is out for free!

Download for free on Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1396286

America is a miserable country in the near future. Natasha is a back alley doctor since she refuses to perform abortions and wants to help those who can't afford the price of normal medical attention. Even though she struggles to get by, she still tries to help the helpless however she can and resist the temptation to lash out at a country that doesn't care for its citizens.

Selfishness, Selflessness, and Sundays: Chapter 3 – A Usual Sunday

Chapter 3 – A Usual Sunday

Today is Sunday, which is perfect because I have to take it easy. At first, I think the events of yesterday were a dream until I see the gifts on the table. The temptation to think of myself as a murderer and not worthy of being a doctor anymore, but I remind myself that I was justified and ask for God’s help in staying strong against these temptations. I do my best to ignore them as I make my way to church, through mass, and after leaving it. Mass was good and I liked the priest who sounded caring, understanding, and optimistic during his preaching. He welcomed the new parishioners and talked about how we shouldn’t let these faithless times bring us down. Previous times of low church attendance and godlessness were brought up and we’re reminded that the church has risen up after every time. After mass, the church offered everyone coffee, donuts, and bagels downstairs as a way to get all of the new and old parishioners to meet and get to know one another, which was nice.

Everything from the mass to the breakfast has reinvigorated me. Even the temptations are gone. This day seems to be a relaxing one until a flying car crashes near my house. A rich young man with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a cybernetic left arm. He must be extremely rich and important not only evident because of the aforementioned cybernetic arm, but there’s not a scratch on his tuxedo, dress pants, and shoes, which means he either has a really good tailor or the clothes were made with intention of being a form of light armor against possible assassins. I’m probably overthinking it a bit too much though it isn’t uncommon for the rich to wear some kind of protective armor under their clothes because of how hated by the poor they are and the possible enemies they have in their business.

Going up to the young man, I say, “Come with me. I can take care of your wounds. I’m a doctor.”

“Thank you. I’ll call someone to take care of my car. Sorry for troubling you,” the young man says as he struggles to get up.

I help him up and walk and then say, “Don’t worry about it. Helping people is what I do.”

Getting the young man inside and downstairs, I check his wounds, clean them, and bandage him up while talking to him about his clothes. He confirms that his clothes were made by a tailor hired by his parents to protect him just in case he was attacked, but doesn’t elaborate any further on why, which I can understand why.

“Sorry I can’t do anything for your cybernetics,” I say.

“That’s fine. I have an uncle who helps me with that,” he says. Reaching into his pockets, he pulls out six hundred dollars in cash. “Here. For your help.”

“That’s too much for me just bandaging you up.”

“It’s the least I can do to thank you. This is just pocket change for me. Besides, what person helps another without expecting something in return?”

“I do. I didn’t help you because I wanted to get paid. I did it because I’m a doctor and it was the right thing to do.”

“Hmm. Then how about you take this from me for the help and for advice in addition to it.”

“I-”

“I insist.”

The young man seems honest and doesn’t seem like he’ll take no for an answer no matter how much I insist. He's as stubborn as Silas.

“Okay, fine.”

“Tell me why you became a doctor and what it means to do the right thing. I find it hard to find what I want to do despite my riches and hardly any of it feels like I’m doing the right thing.”

That’s a loaded topic to give advice about. It takes me a second to think about how to respond.

“Well, I prayed to God for what role He had for me in life, and after watching so many people sick and suffering, my heart was set on being a doctor.”

“Okay…but what does it mean to do the right thing?”

“It means to serve God in everything you do, say, and think.”

“Hmm. I’m not religious or even the least bit spiritual so I don’t know what you mean at all.”

“I’m sorry for such bad, confusing advice. I am a doctor and not a career consultant after all.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you for your help again and here’s your payment.”

After he hands me my payment, the young man heads outside where a truck has loaded the remains of his car and another flying car is waiting for him. He waves and smiles at me as he takes off and is flown back to the city. I never expected a rich boy to seem so nice and honest from what I know and have heard from him. For some reason, I feel assured that he’ll find his God-given place in life. As for me, I go back inside and make myself lunch. For the next few hours, I relax by having the TV play in the background while I paint figures for the orphaned and poor children I help. One of the people at the charity I work at says that it’s a relaxing activity and it is for the most part.

My relaxing day is again interrupted by the sound of a car parking outside of my house and someone banging at the door. I go to answer it and am surprised to see that it’s the chief of the police who is injured.

He points his pistol at my face and says, “I know what kind of doctor you are. Don’t ask how I know or what I’ve been doing. Just put me back together and we both forget that we saw each other. Understood?”

“I understand,” I say before taking the chief downstairs and tending to his injuries.

The chief has bullet and burn wounds on him. He’s pretty beat up and passes out soon after laying down on my operating table. From what Josh told me, this man is one of the reasons why the city is so corrupt. He’s why so many crimes go unpunished or rewarded in some cases. This infamous man has been put in my hands by God. I can kill him now and make a major change in the city by doing so. My hand stops and I have to stop it from shaking as it nears his skin with a scalpel in it. His evil deeds could finally be justly rewarded and so many innocent people can be saved if I only slit his throat and have the people at the charity center dispose of his body.

No. I won’t do it. I’m a doctor and this man came to me looking for help, and, as a doctor, I am obligated to save his life no matter how stained with sin his soul may be. After taking care of his wounds and waking him up, he jolts up and immediately begins to feel the pain of his injuries.

“You should take it easy,” I say.

“I need to get out of here. Like I said before, forget that you saw me,” he says while making his way up the stairs.

As he leaves my house, he looks both ways. While he does, a revolver is put into his face and the shooter pulls the trigger killing him in an instant. I run over to see who did it and I’m surprised and not surprised at the same time to see Silas is the shooter.

“Are you okay, Natasha? Did he force you to do anything?” Silas asks.

“He got me to take care of his wounds that I’m assuming you gave him. That’s it,” I say.

“That’s good. I still have to do something to pay you back for helping me. How does dinner sound?”

“Pfft. You just shot the chief of police in front of me and you’re asking me out to dinner? Sure, why not?”

We both notice the sound of police sirens that seem to be growing louder with each passing second.

“Hold that thought. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Silas runs off presumably because of the cops that are chasing after him. Later in the night, I’m surprised to see him alive and well on TV where he is declared sheriff of the city and promises to get rid of the rest of the corruption from the city. He doesn’t come back to me until ten, which is when we go out to a fancy restaurant in one of the fancier places in the city. This place is one of those places that are mainly open during the night and into the early hours of the morning for the rich, and since Silas is the new sheriff, we have access to it with a deep discount on our bill. During our dinner, Silas talks to me about how he going to change the city and America through his actions and how he’s confident that God will make this country better than ever was before. I’m honestly confident now of what Silas says and trust that some big change is going to happen. This may just be the beginning of it, but it’s a promising one filled with the hopes of a better tomorrow that can be achieved one day at a time.

 

The End

Selfishness, Selflessness, and Sundays: Chapter 2 – Daily Temptations

Chapter 2 – Daily Temptations

An intruder breaks into my house. I grab the gun that Josh gave me and shoot him twice. After which, I heal him and strap his arms and legs down while I wait for him to wake up.

Once he does, I point my gun to his head and say, “You’re blessed that God made me a doctor and not a killer. You have two options. Leave and never try to steal again or stay here strapped to this table until you feel like trying option one.”

The man picks option one and promises never to leave again. I force him out of the house with my gun to his back and push him out the door when he gets to it. Now that he’s out of the door, I lock all my locks and keep my gun in my hands for the rest of the day just in case he comes back or if another robber comes in. Thieves, rapists, and murderers are common in this city and a handful of them have entered my house, which is why Josh gave me a handgun and trained me how to use it. Thankfully, I’ve been able to survive every attempt and after I defend myself, I always heal the intruder for some dumb reason according to me and my friends. Every time, I feel that I should kill the intruder almost wishing every time that my hands would slip and accidentally kill them. It’s never happened and I’ve let go of every intruder with only a couple of them coming back for revenge that were arrested by Josh afterward.

As I said to the last intruder, I’m a doctor and not a killer. Even though the temptation to kill always whispers to me when I’ve been wronged by criminals and the scum of the city, I’ve never done it, but it never stops bothering me. God, please help me never to kill and only to heal as you have made me a doctor and not an executioner, soldier, or officer. Looking up at the bloodied white snake coiled around a piece of wood that I have above my door, I remind myself of Jesus’ sacrifice and the various ways this represents His sacrifice. How He was perceived to be evil though He is sinless, how He willingly accepted our punishment for our sins, His immense suffering, and how He still hangs there ready to forgive even the worst of sinners. Offering up my suffering to Him has been another one of my ways of coping with my worries and misery.

Alright, now, I’m focused on my life’s purpose. Tomorrow comes and the rest of the week passes as if it were all contained in a single day because of all the patients I see and help. I also collaborate with other doctors on surgeries that require more than one doctor and ones that are easier with doctors around to keep the patient stable. After which, we congratulate and reward ourselves by splitting the pay and using the rest to go out to dinner in a better part of the city. It’s almost like we’re in a different city here with flying cars here and there, relatively clean streets, and a police presence every few blocks or so.

While eating at the restaurant we chose, we talk about how our lives have been going, notable events such as the intruder entering my house, and the struggles of being a doctor and being to make sure that we make it obvious that we don’t admit that we’re back alley doctors in public. Being a back alley doctor is illegal and we could be put in prison if anyone who wanted us in prison such as other doctors or people in the medical business who are losing business because of us find out and report us. This is why the only people who know of us are those we can trust or know someone we trust. Our close connections and underground network are also how we get the medical tech we need for surgeries and more particular procedures. In terms of medicine, we usually recommend natural solutions such as herbs and healthy living rather than giving them pills or injections. I’d say that our natural solutions are better than those in the medical industry since what they give out makes people sicker than healed. Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I think they do it so that people keep coming back for checkups more often than they would.

“You should stop picking people from the streets to help them,” one of my fellow doctors says.

What she says almost makes me choke on my food.

“What? Why?” I ask.

“Don’t act stupid. You already know why. Your life and work are at risk when you do it and don’t even get me started on healing the intruders.”

“Those people I find need help. Who’s going to help them if I don’t?”

“We can’t afford to take care of people who don’t pay and who may endanger our lives. They’d be better off dead.”

I get up, slap her, and say, “I’m a doctor! We’re doctors! We save lives, not abandon them!”

“Natasha, we know. It’s just that we have to be careful about who we care for. We can’t save everyone,” another doctor says.

For the rest of the dinner, the other doctors try bringing the good mood back to mixed results. When I get home, I immediately take a shower and hit the bed, especially since I have to help out at a homeless shelter tomorrow for extra pay. While I’m working and serving meals, I can’t help but think about what was said yesterday, especially when the poor and needy are picky with the food and supplies they receive. I’m tempted to tell them to leave if they don’t like it most days, but today I’m even more tempted to do so. The temptations bother me so much, in fact, that I don’t hear the sounds of fighting happening further in the building until everyone takes note of it and is moving to see what’s going on.

When I check out what’s happening with the others, I see a masked kidnapper trying to steal one of the women. Two other people are injured on the ground because of stab wounds presumably from the kidnapper’s knife that they still have in their hands that they point at everyone before bringing it to their hostage’s neck.

“Come any closer and she gets it next!” the kidnapper says.

No one moves. The kidnapper then takes away the woman out the door and into the alleyway. Even with them gone, no one does anything and just stands around and watches the door while we hear the woman’s muffled screams for help. This has happened before. People have been kidnapped in the morning, during the night, and sometimes during the midday like now. Every time it happens, the kidnapped person is never found. Occasionally, my imagination makes me hear the screams of the people who were kidnapped or at least that’s what I’d like to think. I can’t bear to think that I’m ignoring the screams of people who need help because I can’t do anything to help them and I can’t bear what’s happening now, so I run after this latest victim into the alley.

In the alley, I see the woman, her kidnapper, and two other people ready to put the woman into their car that’s parked on the sidewalk. For scenarios when I need to defend myself, I carry a small knife in my pockets, which I take out ready to use. It’s times like these that I wish concealed handguns were still legal in America. The kidnapper stops and threatens to cut the woman’s neck again, but I throw my knife at the kidnapper’s arm before they can say anything else. To my and the kidnapper’s surprise, the knife instead lands in the kidnapper’s neck making them let go of the woman who quickly runs behind me. I’ve taken throwing knife training for this exact scenario and I’ve somehow messed it up. Before I can even think of helping the kidnapper who is now clutching their bleeding throat, their two friends exit their car and run at me with their knives.

I pick up a nearby brick and throw it at one of the kidnappers who is knocked out once it hits their face. Quickly, I pick up the knife from the kidnapper I killed and dodge the attacks of the last kidnapper who swings their knife frantically and sloppily at me. They tire themselves out instantly because of the way they’re attacking allowing me to stab my knife into them, but I miss their gut because of the heat of the moment and end up stabbing the kidnapper in the chest, instantly killing them. People come out from behind me congratulating me for rescuing the woman, however, I’m in a panic because of what I’ve done.

“Get these people inside, especially the one with the head injury!” I say to them.

“Why should we help-”

“Because I’m a doctor, damn it!”

“Screw that!” one person says before taking the brick and caving in the kidnapper’s head in with it.

Livid, I start punching and screaming at the person. People have to pull me away from them and to be honest, I’m thankful they did because I would’ve done something I’d regret as if I don’t have enough to regret already. Sure, I’m glad I rescued the woman, but I killed two people. It’s a good thing that I’m working at a Catholic charity because I immediately go to a priest to confess what I did.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You defended an innocent life by putting your life on the line. What you did was justified even though you killed those two kidnappers because you did it in self-defense,” the priest says.

Even though I trust the priest and know that I’m justified, I don’t feel that way. I’m a doctor and I killed two people. That fact will bother me for the rest of my life. The once tempting feelings I had to kill are bitterly satisfied and have left me feeling empty. After washing up and sitting down for a bit, I’m told by the other workers that the bodies of the kidnappers will be taken care of and buried somewhere no one will find them. I’m congratulated by most of the people in the building and given a golden cross, a bottle of wine, a basket of food, and a bonus in my pay as a reward. Torn by my feelings, I thank them, leave the building since my work today is done, go home, put my gifts on the table, and crash on the couch. I’ve somehow gotten more than I wanted and still feel horrible. That’s life in this country for you.

Selfishness, Selflessness, and Sundays: Chapter 1 – Just Another Day

Chapter 1 – Just Another Day

An emergency patient enters my home. His friend called me earlier and gave me a heads up to prepare for him. After I remove the bullets, patch him up, and the patient wakes up, I pull up a chair next to him.

“Where am I?” he says.

“The basement of my house. Your friend took you here after you got shot. He’s upstairs waiting for you,” I say.

“Oh, that’s right. I guess that’s what I get for trying to get rid of corruption from the city.”

“That’s right. It’s why you should stop, keep your head down, and mouth shut about what you’ve been doing for a while if you want to stay alive.”

“I can’t because I can’t stand how corrupt this country has become.”

“Welcome to the club. Dozens of people have died and been put in prison for doing the same things you’re doing.”

“So? I’m going to make a difference and I don’t care if I have to die to do it.”

The man gets up, puts on his black jacket, brown shirt, and black cowboy hat, and puts his revolver in its holster.

“Suit yourself then. Take these pain pills with you before you go.”

“Thank you. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. It’s a favor for a friend. I’m friends with Josh’s wife.”

“What’s your name?”

“Natasha.”

“I’m Silas. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Natasha. I’ll find a way to pay you back one day.”

I nod in response knowing that mentioning that he won’t live to pay him back won’t make a difference. He’s just like the other people uselessly risking their lives to change the country. Once Josh and Silas leave and I clean up the operating room in my basement, I put on the TV and then look outside and can’t help but reflect on what America has become. I would’ve been a normal doctor if the medical colleges didn’t require doctors and nurses to be able to perform abortions. The culture of the medical field with its perverted and toxic practitioners and ridiculous costs of college also pushed me away from becoming an actual doctor so I learned what I could on my own and became a back alley doctor.

Working like this allows me to be the doctor I know God wants me to be without compromising my beliefs and helping people who can’t pay the expensive medical bills. Nowadays, jobs pay less than they usually did and medical insurance is still required, but the insurance can cut deeply into a person’s pay if they want the insurance to cover procedures and checkups without having to pay the rest out of pocket. Because of this, people get the lowest insurance and come to back alley doctors like me who won’t charge them an arm and leg. In fact, I may ask for some food and drinks in addition to my payment since the money I get sometimes isn’t enough to help me with the bills and upkeep of my medical tools, and tech. It's a struggle to buy groceries since they're so expensive as well. Sometimes, I’ll have to work part-time as a community service worker by cleaning houses, taking care of the elderly and injured, and doing other work like it at a homeless shelter. Other doctors may lower themselves to sinful kinds of work, but I refuse to do that no matter how desperate I may be.

Another depressing matter I have to keep in mind is the closing of the local church that I go to. Since the number of religious people going to church is on the decline, the diocese has been closing churches so that the ones that have more attendance can receive more funding to stay open. Because of that, I’ll have to take about a ten-minute walk there every Sunday, which doesn’t sound too bad but these streets aren’t exactly the safest. I want to believe that Silas and Josh will rid the country of corruption, but that’s just a fantasy since so many have failed. They’ve been making progress by getting rid of criminals in the usual underworld criminal sphere and corporate world, however, people are replaceable in today’s world and it doesn’t matter how many you arrest or kill. You’ll hardly make a difference.

Okay, I better stop thinking about depressing things. It’s bad for my health. While thinking, I’ve been rubbing my miraculous medal necklace without noticing as if I’m trying to squeeze out whatever blessings and miracles the Blessed Mother can give me. It’s a habit of mine. My prayers do give me a feeling of peace and the truth that I know does make me realize that I don’t suffer and work in vain. Still, I pray for more than a feeling and knowledge. What use are they if I can’t do anything with them?

There goes the useless depressing thoughts again. I better head out to the grocery store since I hardly have anything left. The trip there and the shopping is easy with nothing notable happening until I get the feeling to look down an alley of an apartment that I’m passing by. In the alley, I see what looks to be a human figure in a trash bag. Unable to help my curiosity and knowing what it probably is, I open the trash and see a scantily dressed woman in it. This apartment is probably a prostitution den judging by the woman’s clothes and condoms, porn magazines, and other clothes like hers in the trash. Somehow, the woman is still alive, but she won’t be for much longer if I don’t do anything to save her.

Part of me wants to forget I saw her while the stronger part of me wants to take care of her. Knowing it’d be wrong to leave her here, I wake her up and help her get to her feet. She’s hardly conscious but thankfully able to get on her feet and limp walk. At least I won’t have to carry her home. With my bags full of groceries in one arm and the woman leaning on me on the other side of me, we walk back to my house until three homeless-looking men and one woman stop us on our way there. They surround us and make it clear that they have knives and small guns in their pockets.

“What do you want?” I ask while already knowing.

“You can offer us one of two things and we’ll let you go. You can either give us your groceries or show us a good time. Take your pick,” the homeless woman says.

“Tch. Take the groceries.”

“Thank you for your charity.”

The homeless people forcefully take the groceries from me and then run off. Getting back on track, I take the woman back to my house and to the basement where I heal her wounds and take out the drugs from her system. She wakes up sometime later in a groggy state.

“Huh? Where am I?” she asks.

“You’re in my house. Don’t be afraid. I saved you from dying in the trash,” I say.

“Oh. Thank you. Wait, I was in the trash?”

“Yes, you were. People throw out men, women, and children like you in the trash once you don’t serve any purpose to them anymore assuming they don’t want to use your dead body for…other sick purposes. It’s the nature of the industry you work in, so I suggest leaving the city while they think you’re dead.”

“Where would I go?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere, and don’t even think about going back. I’ve done this before and ended up finding the same people I saved dead on the side of the road, in the trash, or found somewhere else that’s reported on the news because they chose to go back to their abusers.”

“I’m not sure if I should.”

“Trust me when I say that walking or rather running out of the city and finding anywhere else to live in is preferable than going back or staying here because if they find you, they’ll convince you to go back to them and then you’ll end up dead.”

“Hmm. I have to think about how I’m going to leave. Thank you again for saving me.”

The woman gets up and I watch her as she leaves the house and walks down the street. Sometime later, I see on the news that she was found dead not too far from where I found her. Idiot, both me and her, we’re both idiots. I feel like I should do something to get justice for the woman. There is calling the cops and letting them know about the prostitution den masquerading as a normal apartment building, but it’s possible or rather very likely that the police themselves frequent it and prostitution isn’t exactly illegal in this country even if children are the ones in it. Josh and his friend Silas are the only justice-focused cops that I know of. I’d ask them to help me out if they weren’t over their heads with their suicide mission.

Just like that, the cruelty of the present is making me depressed and livid at the same time while reminding me that there’s nothing I can do about it besides pray and hope that what happened today doesn’t happen as often. It’d be useless to hope that it doesn’t happen again given how the country is. I understand how people like Silas and Josh feel and I do hope they can manage to do a lot, but I know it’s a vain pursuit to make any real changes to the present situation. Well, I guess I shouldn’t be too upset. What happened today happens every day. It’s just been another normal day in America.