"Why does the way we do things even matter anymore?"
+ strong-willed
+ reflective
+ intelligent
-/+ obsessive
-/+ naive
- explosive
- spacey
- cold
|
+ time spent alone
+ partying
+ getting ghost to the mainstream
- guns
- stale conversation
- religion
Anthony prefers to go by his middle name, Haven, because he thinks his first name sounds too corporate.
It was given to him by his father, Jericho Anthony, who is so corporate that you could smell it on him. Work gives life a purpose, he'd always say. He'd labor behind a dull grey computer screen counting stock and managing emails at BB Electronics, Inc and he thinks work gives life a purpose. A stroke of the peppery mustache that became moist with sweat after hours sometimes eased his nerves. That was his job. That is his job. And motherboard be damned if he didn't put his soul into it. His upper management watches him closely with a glass eye and a pristine lens. Through the camera stream they can appreciate his dedication. At the touch of a button, a bot might come in and bring him refreshments or maybe a cocktail at his request. Dab his forehead with a cloth maybe. Ice his weak foot, which was his left. And to think that he was just promoted from being a stock manager two months ago. So much purpose, he said, that it would keep him up at night.
Jericho's wife, or assignment, is a woman called Arelen Devis, known to the CEO as Devis. They were matched via a personality exam several years ago after his first wife was transferred out. March of 2102 was a terrible time for Arelen, whom Jericho was already friends with inside the offices of BB Inc. Her tight, wound bun pulled the corners of her friendly auburn eyes up ever so slightly making the pair smile when she didn't mean them to.
It was only long enough for Haven to become a teenager when Jericho and his first wife were reassigned. The green age of 15 was when Arelen was brought into the housing unit. A few words were exchanged between Arelen and Jericho's first wife as they were exchanged for each other. Haven watched as his first mother ducked into the murky shadow of the corporate car that was sent for her and sped off down the skyway.
It's been several years since then. From his housing unit window, Haven gazes out at the Skyline in the distance; it's electric outline carved into a blue night. A silver glint snaps from the end of his vapor cigarette and he inhales the cool mint flavored air into his lungs. His eyes never leaving the far away.
“My idea of life, it's what happens when they're rolling the credits.”