Daniel (NP*) awoke the next morning with recollection of the scene on the tower that took place the previous night. But now, it did not seem problematic. It seemed as if it was a nightly ritual, something inevitable, something that tucked the night into its bed of homeostasis. However, in these daylight hours, Daniel (NP*) had no intention of even thinking about his times on David's Heart. All day his mind would be restless, a slew of thoughts meshed together in a concoction of boredom, depression, and just plain wondering. His mind innately explored every aspect of everything that it sensed; however it wouldn't ever touch the one aspect of his life that needed the most examination. The nights on the tower seemed as if they were separate from Daniel. (NP*) They seemed to conceal themselves in a barrier impenetrable by inquiry. But, despite this fact, they were as necessary to Daniel (NP*) as eating or breathing. But this was the daytime, and in the daytime this necessity didn't exist. Daniel (NP*) stepped out of bed, the creaking floorboards making their ever-familiar moan. He looked back at the bed upon which he slept. It was perfectly made, as he was too indifferent to use his covers or adjust his position when he was sleeping. The white sheets were flawless, except for the indent that his body created. The sheets were depressed into a crater the shape of a man in the fetal position. Within this crater, the white color of the sheets became darker, almost a gray; and it contained many paper-thin creases. "I created this." Daniel (NP*) muttered out loud. Immediately he smothered the impression that he made on the bed with his body. He smoothed it with his hands until it was crease-free, and matching with the rest of the bed's perfection. Rising, he looked at the perfection and experienced a slight relief. He laughed out loud for several seconds, and exclaimed, "nothing perfect like this should be soiled because of me." He then left the his room, possibilities for the day rushed in his mind. The day was another blank slate, but stamped at it's close by his inevitable tower ritual. Without changing or eating, Daniel (NP*) left, on foot, to his workplace. Daniel (NP*) was a factory worker, he worked long monotonous hours in a food packaging plant on an assembly line. Metropolis Gourmet; a contemplation's paradise. The hours of mindlessly packing chicken breasts and sausages into plastic wrap were the perfect medium for Daniel's (NP*) constant examination of life. By no means did he enjoy his job, but Daniel (NP*) did realize exactly what it provided him. On his way to the factory, Daniel listened to his breath, the rhythmic pattern congealed in his mind with his expectation for the day; it shared one mutual characteristic: monotony. This breathing was interrupted when he crossed Phil Jamison on the sidewalk. Phil called out something to him, but it was muffled by the sounds of a series of cars passing by on the busy street. "What?" replied Daniel. (NP*) "Lookin' good Greene (NP*), I said" Phil sneered. "Oh, thanks," replied Daniel. (NP*) "What have you been hitting the Drunken Mug a little too much or somethin'? Ya got bags under your eyes bigger than the ones my wife brings home after she visits the Metropolis Mall." "No Phil," Daniel (NP*) answered. "Speaking of your wife, hope she's treating you well. From the looks of it, it doesn't look like you and her are in perfect harmony; if you know what I mean." "Hey, who told you that!" Phil exclaimed with a startled face. "Oh, just a hunch," Daniel (NP*) repiled softly. "Well listen Greene," (NP*) Phil muttered angrily, " I better not hear ya talking any more bull-ish like that, or you won't see the end of it." "Yeah, ok Phil." Daniel (NP*) answered.
"Yeah, you better."
Phil walked away, with a new negative vigor in his steps. A distinctly new sound emanated from the pavement as his footsteps hit it. The sound of the footsteps mixed in with the sounds of the city until Phil was too far away and the city was just too loud. Before long, Daniel (NP*) could hear the sounds of Metropolis Gourmet. The roar of the spinning blades, the beeps and static rendered by the intercom, and the wrenching of the processing machinery became the soundtrack of Daniel's (NP*) daily life. The monstrous brick facade of the building casts a large shadow upon the pavement in front of it, making entering the building never a bright occasion. The factory was only second in architecture to David's Heart, perhaps it was the prince of the city if David's Heart was the king. The large iron doors stood in front of Daniel (NP*) as they did every other morning, the pocks of the sewercap-like raised to him like thousands of little spirits trying to escape, only to be held back by the unforgiving iron leaving only their indents behind. He entered his key in the keyhole, turned it, and slowly placed it back into his coat pocket. He headed toward his work station, and the "no-hellos" were mutual. All of the employees were already zoned into their work, although they wouldn't have given Daniel (NP*) a greeting even if they were not busy. Daniel (NP*) stood behind his work station, behind the conveyor belt and in front of a window that looked down 21st Street. If Daniel (NP*) bent down and looked out the window at an upward angle, he could see the spire of David's Heart above the heads of the other buildings. But, this was beside the point. Daniel's work station served as the canvas for his daily contemplation. He mulled everything over in the exact position that he was currently in. And this morning was the birth of another day of thought, the chef that served the soup of the day out of the concoction of Daniel's (NP*) mind. He pulled the lever that unlocked the rotor of the belt, and subsequently pushed the green button on the side of his station that caused the conveyor belt to power on. He reached into the cabinet underneath his conveyor belt and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves. He pulled them on expertly, with no slight muscle confusion or wasted motion. The powdery rubber texture was all too familiar to him. After putting on the gloves, Daniel (NP*) looked up at the stocky, bearded man at the work station directly adjacent to him. The man had brown hair, slightly graying at the roots, and also had a noticeably large mole on his face. His name was Bertrand. No one in the factory knew his last name, he was just simply known as Betrand; and he liked it that way. Bertrand grunted at Daniel (NP*), but no words were uttered, as he handed him the first sausage that he had to wrap. Daniel (NP*) thought of saying something to Bertrand, but he thought better of it. And thus began the day of monotonous, ceaseless work, and at the same time, unmonotonous, but still ceaseless thinking. He packed the first bundle of sausages and the first crate of chicken breasts flawlessly, without mustering a thought about the process. He continued the packaging and sending meats down the assembly line all the while contemplating. "Where is she now?" "Why am I doing this at this time?" Why was I placed in this city?" "Why do we eat chickens?" "Why the hell is sausage appealing for us to eat?" These were all questions that walked down the path of pondering in Daniel's mind while he worked. However, the most prevalent kind of questions were the questions about his mother, and even more so about the girl that he saw that one day. That girl with the jet black hair, a little longer than shoulder length, the sharply and distinctly proportioned body, the "black hole eyes," and the face that if it was completely identical to one million other faces, he could still innately, and ever-surely pick it out of the crowd. She was unlike any other human being that Daniel (NP*) ever encountered, she was different. One look in her eyes told Daniel (NP*) that she was one like himself, an observer, and a trying soul; one that wanted the greatest good, but was too self-inflictedly inept to even know what this meant. He had no tangible proof that she was anything like him, but the feeling of sureness that surrounded by this assumption was too great; it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. This was all from one glance, two years ago on the streets in front of David's Heart. He had never seen her since. He knew she wasn't from Metropolis. She was most likely a visitor, a tourist, but he remembered exactly where she stood, and where he stood as he watched her, too fearful to approach her and introduce himself. Strangely, she was not in awe of David's Heart when she saw it. "Maybe she had seen it before," thought Daniel (NP*) but something in his perception of her told him that it was her first time ever seeing the tower. Nevertheless, she was always in his mind; except during Daniel's (NP*) nights on top of the tower, because during those times, no thoughts ever entered his mind, no matter how strong or compelling they were. Thoughts of the woman incessantly pecked at his mind, like a wailing obsession, and he loved it. He longed to meet her again, but the mystified ponderings that revolved around her were cherished by Daniel. (NP*) These thoughts filled his mind through the day and soon the city grew dark, and it was time to stop packing meat and time to close up the factory. Daniel (NP*) kept working until everybody left even the boss. The boss was used to Daniel (NP*) doing this, and entrusted him with the factory keys and the responsibility of locking up and closing. When he was sure he was the only one left in the building, he stopped his machine and punched out his attendance card. He shut all of the lights until it was pitch dark inside the factory and locked all the factory exits. They locked and unlocked from the outside only, so he opened the doors stepped outside, locked them, and stepped back inside to close it and move on to the next door. He managed to lock all the doors except the large main door, which he always saved for last and exited from. On this day, when he tried to open the door from the inside, he could turn the knob, but the door wouldn't budge. It seemed to be very tightly stuck. Daniel (NP*) tried with all his effort to force it open, but to no avail. He became exasperated, panicking at the thought of being stuck in the factory for the night. He thought of ways to escape, but none were subtle enough. They would all cause a commotion with the boss. Something Daniel (NP*) was not about to get himself into. Exhausted, Daniel (NP*) gave up for a moment. He slouched and sat down on the floor, back facing the large iron door that wouldn't unlock. His mind raced with fears of him not being able to visit the tower this night. He became determined to escape, no matter the means; however, he couldn't gather up the energy or courage to make any attempts. At this moment, Daniel (NP*) was a creature with a completely dead body and a mind that was completely alive; wondering about the tip of the tower, his own life desires, and if he would ever see that girl again. The girl that aroused his senses to a new high, and gave him a new courage of mind, the courage of a possible perceptual companionship.
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