Dolorous Otiosities

The sterile darkness stares at Zircon through the open door. It slowly embraces him until he's fully engulfed in it. He shrithe aimlessly until he feels the brush of microfiber on his hand. The coarse material signals a familiar destination to him: his chair. Zircon drops his body on the chair. The plywood cries in sync with his defeated sigh. Its cries quickly overpower his sigh the deeper he sinks into its grasp.

Zircon doesn't seem phased by it. Its sharpness subdues the memory of earlier today. The sound grants him a brief moment of peace as he stares into the void of nothingness. When it finally subsides, the memory floods right back. He lets out another sigh while the moment replays in his head.

You've been laid off.

Zircon stared at the words. The message popped up on his computer monitor minutes ago. No matter how long he looked, he couldn't muster any reaction at all. He just sat there while the thumping of his heart rang in his ears. The rhythm swelled until he could feel it behind his eyes. After some time passed, Zircon finally began to move. He grabbed a piece of cardboard next to his chair. He started to form a makeshift box when he looked around his cubicle.

Tucked behind his monitor is a small black cup holding multiple pens he's been given throughout his years of work. A small stack of work related papers laid near the edge of his desk. He just finished printing this before the message arrived. Finally hanging on the thin divider was a plastic plaque that displayed "Model employee!" above his name.

There's nothing really he wanted to take home with him. They were just objects that had no real meaning to him. Zircon let the half-made box unravel in his hands. He left the cardboard on his chair while he made his way to the elevator. The journey blurred between the clicking of mechanical keyboards and muffled laughter; by the time he pressed the button to call the elevator, he was already at his bus stop.

A large bus rested there before it opened up the doors, and the bus driver exclaimed:

"Express to Ohmstead!"

Zircon nodded while entering the bus. He picked the first seat available. Zircon rested his head against the window while his eyes drifted outside. The tall high-rise he just left loomed over him. From the bus, its height almost touched the clouds as it stands as an obelisk of his wasted youth.

When his eyes fell back to the entrance, a ghost of a memory started. Zircon sees his younger self, with a messy tie, untucked shirt, and wide-eyed. He paced back and forth in front of the entrance. This was the time when he was fresh out of college. He was lucky enough to get an interview, and it was obvious by how wrecked his nerves were.

Another phantom appeared to help his younger self. Zircon remembered it being his best friend coming to save his skin. After fixing his younger self's tie, she gives him a pat on the back. The younger Zircon runs to the entrance. As his fingers touched the glass doors, the bus pulled away, leaving both the memory and building in the busy subsection of the city.

A low grumbling pulls Zircon out of his mind. He stays still wondering what is causing the sound. When it happens again, he realizes it's coming from his stomach. Deciding to listen to his body, Zircon turns on his TV. The OLED screen illuminates his home with a cold light. The screen displays a prairie dog wearing a business suit. It prances around the screen wielding a pickaxe. When it gets to a certain spot, it brings down the pickaxe.

Clink! Clink! Clink!

The prairie dog slowly digs away. Each strike of the pickaxe against the gray rocks blends in with the soft ambient music. The monotonous tones of music lulls Zircon enough that he pushes himself up from the chair and drags himself toward the kitchen.

Clink! Clink! Clink!

Zircon fills a medium saucepan with water and adds a pinch of salt. He rubs the pan on the induction burner. The sound of the pan scraping against the glass burrows into his ears. It rattles his eardrums until he decides to stop.

Clink! Clink! Clink!

Zircon turns on the other burner and places a metal mixing bowl on to it. At a snail's pace he moves to gather the ingredients he needs to make his dish. He pours a can of evaporated milk into the bowl and lets the faint sound of searing accompany him while he grates three scrapes of different cheeses: Toshi's black pepper cheese, recession cheddar, and bergenost.

Lastly, he adds potato starch to his cheese blend before dumping it into the simmering milk. A gentle stir ensures everything is incorporated completely.

Clink! Clink! Clunk!

The sharp sounds cause the music to abruptly stop. Suddenly the cool light warms into a bright yellow. With a gold coin in hand, the prairie dog prances off the screen. A blank screen stares at Zircon for a moment he continues to staring until the figure of a girl fades into view.

She appears like she's been cut out of an anime. Her long hair and eyes that glisten like honey held up to sunlight. The vibrant color pops against her cybernetic-styled outfit. It's a design that looks like it was made in the future promised in the aughts. Including a wide framed slit in her top that frames and emphasizes her massive bosom. A window into the character that is Mineva Bytes. The self-proclaimed Bitcoin Eidolon.

"Hello, gabbros."

Her voice is bruised by hoarseness.

"Today has been a horrible day."

The words straining to come out signals that she's just finished crying.

"So much red going around. It's like we're stuck in a free fall. Not to mention I had a couple of big partnerships cancel on me. A little red, and they just want to hold on to the promotion. 'Now is the right time to be conservative.' BULLSHIT!"

The strong scent of burning flies by Zircon's nose. He quickly takes the bowl off of the burner. With his attention back to the stove, he notices the pot of water is already boiling. He dumps a bag of Bittoni pasta, small shells that resemble ₿. After a couple of minutes pass, he turns of both burners.

Mineva breaks into a frustrated sob as Zircon drains the pasta. He adds the pasta to the metal bowl and fully incorporates the two together. Grabbing a fork, he takes the bowl and heads to a small table he has next to the fridge. He sits there staring at his food while her cries fill his house.

Water begins to well in Zircon's eyes. He can feel the metal fork dig into his hand. His grip on it becomes tighter until he can feel the warming metal against his bones. The longer Mineva cries, the more he feels his own frustration growing. A twisted call signaling the reality of life to swallow him whole. When the feeling engulfs him completely, Zircon's mind goes back to that painful memory.

The message and the bus keep going until they stop at the phantom recall of his best friend fixing his tie. She always did a good job comforting him when he was down. Zircon opens his phone, stopping right when his finger hovers over the messaging app. A tinge of shame starts to grow the longer Zircon prevents his finger from touching the app.

How could you get fired?

He dreads seeing those words come from her. The shame spreads throughout his body. His thumb snaps back as if pulled. Sweat builds up in his hand while his phone grows heavy, weighing it down. Then he imagines the following message appear.

What about our dream?

Zircon decides to not go through it. Right as he goes to put his phone away, the sounds of Mineva crying stop. Looking at the TV, he sees in the bottom right corner of the screen multiple colors flying up in quick succession. Multiple gabbros were sending in messages to comfort Mineva.

"You guys don't have to do this."

She protests the gifts through sounds of her clearing her nose. Zircon opens his phone again, swiping past the messaging app, and opens the Smolder app. He stops trying to think of what to send, but nothing really comes to mind. That is until a faint memory of his friend saying something to him.

We're all going to make it. Right?

Zircon sends those words and waits until he hears his message read. It only takes a few seconds before Mineva acknowledges it.

"Thank you for the Tanbiri. Thank you. Thank you."

The hoarseness in her voice slowly goes away as she chuckles reading Zircon's message. The chuckle evolves into loud laughter with hearty snorting accompanying it.

"Did you really use that cheesy saying!?"

Mineva takes a deep breath to quell her laughing fit.

"But yes. We are all going to make it! This is just a small setback. We've been through worse, right!? I'll keep going if you guys do, okay?"

Her words clear the dark fog that surrounded him. His shoulders sag keeping his attention fixed on the TV. Little by little the memory locks itself away while until finally it fades to the recesses of his mind. Before he realized Mineva begins signing off.

"Remember gabbros. Stay humble and stack stats."

Zircon looks at his food. The steam that was there before is gone as the liquid cheese congealed into a solid mold. Chewing the lukewarm food, he lets a small smile flash on his face. He digs in while listening to the outro music of Mineva's stream.