The Deconstruction of David

The Deconstruction of David

By: Michael Dowell

David woke up at his usual time, five in the morning, like every morning. He did his usual morning routine: get the paper, make breakfast, and watch the sunrise. There was nothing that was not normal about this start to the day. The paper had yesterday’s events, breakfast was toast with jam, and the sun rose in the east. Normal. The way he liked it. He dressed in his usual business attire, a grey suit and pants with a grey tie and black shoes. Boring and normal like everything else in his life. Even the sky outside on November 14, 2015 was matching shade of grey. 

He got in his car and started driving off to work. Traffic was never bad where he lived, a blessing of living and working in the countryside. He got to work at seven o’clock sharp, as always. He walked into the building and was greeted by the same secretary who’s worked there since the day he was hired.

“Mornin’, Dave.” 

“Morning to you to Ms. Jameson.”

“Really David?”

“You’ll be Scarlett at lunch and at the bar but at your desk, you’ll always be Ms. Jameson” David said grinning.

“Oh get to work already,” Scarlett said, rolling her eyes

“Yes ma’am,” Said David, giving the final reply in this standard repartee. 

It was indeed a boring existence that David lived, same routine, day after day after day for over a decade. Today was no different; he was at his same cubicle and same computer with the same desktop and same mouse and same this and that. He did notice something strange though, his garbage can was in a different place. It was a small thing, nothing really, but still, it threw him off, ten years of the same thing means you become accustomed to the same setting; even this minor change had an impact.

It’s nothing, probably just one of the janitors putting it down in the wrong spot. He probably had a long day and forgot where I usually put it. That’s all. David thought. It was an easy mistake to make; anyone could make it. He didn’t dwell on it much longer though, he still had to work. Manage this ledger, respond to this email, and draft a document or two: that was his regimen at work. It was comforting, this routine, and David was content in it. He had time for his books and his bars and that was all that mattered outside of the work.

As he was going over an email from his manager, David noticed another thing off. His escape key was missing from his keyboard. Having grown used to typing without looking at his keyboard, David didn’t see it earlier. It wasn’t much, but it still disturbed the routine.

It doesn’t matter, I’ll just head to the resource department and get a new keyboard, nothing to it. David thought as he grabbed the keyboard and headed to the elevator. Twelve floors up and two hallways later, David arrived at the resource department. 

“Hey Dave, surprised to see you here” a cheerful voice called out.

“Oh, hey John, how are you today?” David replied, equally surprised to see his friend and coworker.

“I’m fine man, just fine. Still getting used to being here in the RD but all in all, I can’t really complain.”

“When did they move you up here?”

“About a month ago or so, it’s not to bad. You should request a transfer, this work is beyond easy and the pays not bad.”

“Neither is the pay for a company accountant. But anyways, I came here for a keyboard, mines missing the escape key.” David said, showing John his keyboard.

“I see, well, let me see what we have back here for that.” John said, getting out of his chair and heading into the back closet of the RD room.

It shouldn’t take long, there are sure to be plenty of keyboards back there and I can go back down to my department and get back to work, back to my routine. David though, rocking back and forth on his feet in boredom. 

“Here ya go man, brand new from the closet” Said John, suddenly reappearing from the closet.

“Thanks man, I owe you one”

“Any time” And with that, David left the room and headed back to his cubicle.

When David got in the elevator, he noticed that the button for floor three, his floor, was scratched off, leaving just a white plastic dot there. It struck David as odd, as many things had this day, but he wasn’t as concerned with it, this didn’t interrupt his routine. He got back to his floor and back to his cubicle and got back into his routine.

After David got everything back together and read the rest of his emails, he checked his watch, it was noon, and time for lunch. He headed towards the commissary and sat down by Scarlett and John, his usual bunch. David had known these two as long as he had worked at the law offices of Sokovovich & co. They too, were part of his model of a standard day.

They sat down in the back corner of the commissary and it was then that David noticed something else off-putting. The booths, chairs, tables… everything had gone from the red yesterday to blue today. John was curious as to why no one else seemed to notice it.

Surely they do, there’s no way they can’t. I know none of us spend the greatest amount of time here and I know none of us really care all that much, but still, surely someone knows what’s going on. 

Lunch was uneventful, the three made plans to go to the bar later and have a drink and John talked about the influx of people to the RD room. Other than that, it was just simple, boring lunchtime banter.

David got out of lunch and headed back to work, the rest of the day went smoothly enough; he finished his papers, balanced numbers, and read any and everything that came into his mailbox, deleting the old to make way for the new. He had just finished the routine when he glanced down at his watch, it was half past five and time to go. He logged out and punched out, exiting the same door that he entered, to a different secretary, a new one he noted.

David got home at about six and got ready to go out with his friends. He discarded his grey suit and hopped in the shower. He spent his time there, recalling the day’s events. The color change still bothered him somewhat, but there was nothing he could do about that. 

Suppose they’re going to change the whole place. I’ll get there tomorrow and Scarlett and John will both be gone and my cubicle will be bright pink. 

These were David’s final thoughts before getting out of the shower and drying off. He put on a t-shirt and jeans that were just as boring as the grey suit from earlier, his usual attire for the bar. 

David left for the bar at six o’clock. “The Bottom of the Bottle” was the name the o-so-clever owners though of for it. David got there a few minutes early and had himself a pint of the house brew. The trio liked the bar: it was small and dusty with low-pressure bulbs in the light fixtures that cast a hazy, yellow glow over the booths and tables. 

“Started without me eh Dave?”

“Oh, hey John.” Said David with a start, surprised by his friend.

“Got one early on me and didn’t even get another to share.” John continued, smirking as he waved to the usual bartender who quickly poured a tap.

“Hey, barkeep, are these new cushions?” Dave called out to the bartender.

“Not that I know of. Far as I can tell, that’s the way they been since the owners got a hold of this place.”

“Yeah man, probably just sitting funny or something today” John piped in, carrying the message further.

“I guess you’re right, probably just my imagination. Oh, look over there. Hey Scarlett.” Dave called out again.

“Hey guys,” she called back, before turning and saying, “barman, the usual.”

“Right away ma’am.”

And with that, another pint of the house brew came out of the tap.

“Anyways guys, how are you doing?” Scarlett said, taking her seat.

“Lovely my dear, can’t you tell by how my skin beams and my smile shines” John replied smiling a smart-a*s way.

“Cheeky as per usual. And you, Dave?”

“Just fine, you?” 

“Same as you Dave, just fine.”

From there, the conversation went as most their barroom conversations do. Office gossip was exchanged, John made a few sly remarks about coworkers, and Dave sat quietly throughout most of it, drinking his beer and chiming in every now and then. He was the closest thing to the “quiet one” of the group. He spoke, but not nearly as much as the other two did. He spoke even less today than normal, his mind occupied with questions about the day.

I have to ask them. I’m sure they noticed it they had too. You can’t just completely repaint an entire cafeteria overnight and have only one person see it. David’s mind was racing, even as he calmly finished his first glass and signaled for another.

David finally spoke up.

“Hey, you guys noticed the color change at lunch today, right?”

“What?” John replied.

“You know, yesterday the cafeteria’s chairs, booths, and tables were all red; today they were all blue. You guys saw that, right?” David continued, feeling more and more worried.

“Dave, are you feeling alright?” Scarlett said, looking worried. “You’re not sick or anything?”

“No, I…I feel fine. I guess I just need some rest is all. Don’t need to be going to the office if I can’t tell my colors right.”

“You could’ve stopped at ‘don’t need to be going to the office’ and I would have said amen. But seriously Dave, if you’re not feeling right, you might want to take a day off.” John said, his usual cheeky demeanor replaced by concern.

“I think you guys are right. I’ll take tomorrow off; get some rest.”

“See, Johnny always knows best.”

“From concerned friend to smart a*s in three seconds flat John, a new record?” Dave said, grinning back.

“It has to be, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him express real concern before,” Scarlett piped in; the three of them started laughing at that and the standard barroom banter came back.

It was nine fifteen when Dave left the bar; he was always the last one to leave. It wasn’t really late, but since they all had jobs, they couldn’t be out bar crawling until four in the morning every morning. John walked out of the bar and back to his car, feeling somewhat buzzed. He got in and managed to get home safely, if slowly. He got home and lied down on the couch, flipped the TV on and turned to the news.

Nothing really new was on the “News”. Even after all this time there was still trouble in the Middle East, storm fronts came down from the North, and politicians were still lying through their teeth: another wonderful routine. 

Well, not much I can do about any of this. Not much I can do about a lot. I’ll call in tomorrow and take the day off. I haven’t called in for a while now; they’ll let me. These were David’s last thoughts before drifting off. 

When David woke up at half past eight, he called the office. He expected to hear Scarlett’s bright voice answer with a “Hello, thank you for calling Sokovovich and co., how may I help you?” But instead of her, he got someone else whose voice was unfamiliar to him.

“Hello, Sokovovich and co., this is April, what can we do for you?”

“Hello, April? This is David Rubens, I’m an employee there, I was calling to say that I won’t be there today.”

“Okay then Mr. Rubens, let me check some records. One moment please.”

“Take your time.”

David lied on the couch where he fell asleep waiting for the new secretary to go through employee logs, find him, and inform him that his supervisor had been notified.

“Mr. Rubens, are you still there?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“It appears that you um… how do I put this. You’re not employed here.”

“Ex-excuse me? What do you mean, I’m not employed here?” 

“Just that, sir, our records indicated that no man named David Rubens works or has ever worked at this business.”

“Ms…?”

“Jameson”

“Ms. Jameson, can you find…” David stopped. That’s Scarlett’s name; who is this “April” person.

“Excuse me, Ms. Jameson, how long have you worked at Sokovovich and Co.?”

“Why, ten years sir.”

“Is there a Scarlett Jameson there? A Jonathan O’Malley?”

“I’ll look through the records sir.”

“Thank you.”

David was scared now. He knew he had worked there for ten years as well, same as Scarlett and same as John.

“Sir, same with you, no man named Jonathan O’Malley or woman named Scarlett Jameson has ever worked for this company. Sorry.”

“No, that… that’s okay, thank you for your time, Ms. Jameson. Have a nice day.”

“You too s…”

David had already hung up by the time April was saying goodbye.

What does this all mean? I’ve worked there for ten years, ten years for god’s sake! I’ve known John and Scarlett for that whole time. I went to lunch with them, partied. These people were my friends. No, this doesn’t make any sense I’ll give Scarlett a call, she’ll know what’s going on, she’s the one who is or “was” the secretary, surely she’d know.

David grabbed his phone and dialed Scarlett’s number. He heard the phone ring once before a voice came on.

“The number you are trying to reach is not or has not been in service. If you think you have gotten this message in error, hang up, and try calling again later.” A robotic voice said.

What on earth is going on?

David then tried John’s number, same thing.

I’ve got to go, I have to try to see one of them or the office or something that I recognize.

With that thought, David got up and grabbed his cellphone and keys and headed out the door. Except, instead of the door opening for him, the door collapsed out, hinges evaporating from the frame.

“What the hell!” David yelled out. Startled and confused by what just happened. “It doesn’t matter, I just need to get going.”

David continued on. He walked over to the car and tried opening the door, it flung off its hinges. He tried turning the key in the ignition; the key broke. He tried just turning the steering wheel; it too came off.  He looked out the windshield at his house. Instead of a small and regular house stood some shape from a Picasso painting. His car disintegrated around him. He fell to the ground, stood up, and disappeared.

A long and flat “beeeeeep” came from the life monitoring equipment. A man rose from a nap to see what the matter was. He checked his watch, two twenty six AM, November 15, 2056. 

“Hey Jeff, it looks like we lost another one.” He called onto a small radio device.

“Which one?”

“Subject number thirty-four, David Rubens”

“Well, tag im’ and bag im’ Lou, we’ll report this to the scientists when they get here.”

Author's Note

I apologize for any formatting errors, this was copy-pasted from a word document

Reviews

[OctaBrain]

This is probably the most brutal thing i've said on this site, but i think this is worth saying. I didn't even read this story past the first paragraph. No story should ever start with someone getting out of bed in the morning. my thought process is that if you don't have a more creative way to start your story, you probably don't have a very creative story in the first place. later today when you tell your friends about how some dude named octabrain was a complete D-bag on writerscafe, you're not going to start the anecdote with "i woke up this morning, brushed my teeth, blah blah blah,.. D-Bag"