A Sense of Order

an Indian summer epiphany

Aside from the constant clicking of his desktop ten key, the silence in the office was deafening. Jonathan Prince had become accustomed to the cessation of sound over the past six months, but today the stillness had become almost intolerable. There was a time when he would have paid good money to replace all the noise in his life with this blessed silence; a time when his entire life seemed to be made up of constant noise and clamor. But since the day of the mass disappearance – the Big D as he’d come to refer to it – when all hell broke loose and it seemed the noise would never end, the price he’d paid was no more than his ability to tolerate the unending silence.

Jonathan was a simple man. His world was made up of consistency and regularity. Awake every morning by four, coffee ready by the time he padded his bare feet into the kitchen. Shower, shave, dress, another cup of coffee and out the door by five-thirty. Arriving at the office, he’d have his daily tallies ready and waiting for him from the day before, exactly where he’d neatly placed any work he couldn’t finish by quitting time into the almighty in-box.

Freddie, one of Jonathan’s office mates, whom he normally despised but wished well now that he was apparently enjoying his afterlife – or wherever the hell he was, along with everyone else – had given him an ironically beautiful framed quote for his desk. Designed with deep, flowing calligraphy, it read: “A Clean Desk is a Sign of a Disturbed Mind.” It was meant to be a backhanded compliment at Jonathan’s constant uniformity; his belief that everything had its order and everything had its place. Jonathan loathed the thing. What sort of idiot would go to the trouble to frame and market anything that was tantamount to a bumper sticker, much less the idiot who purchased the damned thing? But as much as Jonathan loathed it, he’d placed the frame at the corner of his desk. Though, the gesture was more a matter of social appeasement than anything else. Better to keep the wolves at bay, he thought, than to invite a fight.

After the Big D, Jonathan had continued to get up every morning and head into work. There didn’t really seem to be much sense in doing this, considering that no matter how many tally sheets Jonathan entered into his ten key they amounted to the same negated and hollow amount. What was a few thousand against a few million when money no longer served any purpose other than fire kindling? What difference would that extra decimal point make in the grand scheme of things? But, Jonathan needed to have this structure in his daily life in an attempt to give reason to his new existence. The Big D had happened with such suddenness that Jonathan knew it could reverse itself at any moment with the same celerity. When that happened – if it happened – someone would have to be there to account for the missing time. Someone would have to be held accountable, because someone is always held accountable. If responsibility was to be left upon Jonathan, he was going to be damned sure that all the t’s were crossed and all the i’s were dotted. Secretly – not that he had anyone to tell secrets to in this new world – he had hoped that day would never come, and by the looks of things it probably wouldn’t. But, just in case, the returning order wouldn’t find him with his pants down.

So, day after day, he would awake from dreamless sleep at what he supposed was 4:00 AM, stumble down the staircase and throw a few coffee grounds into cold water. He’d stir it up as best he could, drink-chew it with a grimace and then walk into what had once been downtown Portland.

For reasons just as inexplicable as the disappearance itself, the electricity had stopped working on the Big D. With hindsight, Jonathan figured that this would have happened anyway, as there was no one left to attend to such matters. But, he wouldn’t have expected it to happen on the same day. In fact, nothing mechanical had worked since that day. not simply electrically based mechanisms, but everything mechanical. Wind-up watches, battery powered radios, anything with gears or wires attached had been rendered completely useless. Jonathan was certainly no mechanic. He knew his way around a car engine enough to understand the basics, but he couldn’t figure out why all the cars seemed to have just stopped wherever they were when the Big D happened. They were all over the highways and freeways, silently sitting like stones that someone had carelessly tossed onto the roads. Jonathan had seen a couple of incidents where cars had apparently collided, but he supposed that it was nothing more than mere coincidence that the accidents had happened only a moment before the disappearance had taken place. There seemed to be no other signs of bedlam to be found in the city, or anywhere else for that matter.

Although the walk took a lot longer than it had when he’d regularly ride the light rail, he enjoyed the walks to and from work with a newfound interest in the world. He no longer had to worry about teenagers harassing him, or bothersome street urchins begging for a quarter to “get something to eat,” when he knew damned well that they would just put the money in their booze fund. He had the time now to see the world through eyes that he had – for purposes of self-preservation – covered up for so long. His only real worry now was the approaching winter, and how the weather might make it difficult to walk the five miles into the city.

Jonathan lived in East Portland. Sans the train, it now meant a hike across the Washington bridge. He remembered that, while traveling to the city on the light rail, he’d often thought about how slick the bridge might be after a heavy rainfall. How dangerous it would be to cross such a high bridge on foot. He thanked God back then for the comfort and safety of the train, but now it seemed that his gratitude was premature. It hadn’t rained even once since the Big D, which he thought very odd for this time of the year. In fact, it seemed to Jonathan that the weather had actually been somewhat arid for Portland. Arid, yes, and somewhat stuffy. Much like he were in a small room with no windows.

However, he didn’t have time to analyze the weather because there were beans to count, t’s to cross and i’s to dot. The change would be coming any day now, any hour, any minute. And, when it did, someone would be held accountable. Someone would have to be held accountable, because someone is always held accountable. There must be a sense of order in the world, he thought, otherwise there just isn’t a point to the world and it may as well not exist at all.

The sun’s light shone down on Jonathan. And, though the air seemed suddenly more arid than before, in that moment, that split second of time, a smile began to slowly creep across his face. No existence. No order, no point, no sense, no existence. He finally understood the framed quote. Moreover, he suddenly understood Freddie and his own sense of order. Jonathan decided not to go into work that day. He looked aroound for a brief moment. He half expecting Death to float up right then and there to ask how he was enjoying his stay, like a waiter inquiring about a meal. Contentedly eyeing the yet empty bridge, Jonathan hopped up on the hood of a nearby abandoned Hyundai and waited in the sunshine.
 

Author's Note

This story was written as quickly as it came to mind. My original thought was to make it much longer, and it had a very different ending which turned into a very different story altogether. I suppose this is a prime example of how our stories can take on their own lives if we don't stick to disciplined guidelines. Perhaps I'll revisit the story in the future, add the extended version and install the original ending. But I kind of liked it this way, so I kept it. I hope you enjoyed reading it and, if possible, you've been able to forgive the many grammatical errors.

Reviews

[Ryan D. Mosley]

A very well written story Mr. Gray. I must say that I find the mysterious "Big D" a major mystery and it kills me that it wasn't explained, but the mystery of the event added so much to the story it would be crazy to explain it fully. The character sort of reminds me of Robert Neville from I Am Legend. He's the last man on Earth, but yet he tries to keep some patter, some purpose. A great ending as well. I truly enjoyed reading this. I can not wait to read more form you, Damian. Overall: Great Job!

[Creepy Swine Guy]

When I read about "The Big D", I thought of the event that many religious zealots expect and refer to as "The Rapture". Like Jonathan, I am puzzled by the immediate failure of all things mechanical. It is an intriguing story and begs to be extended.

[Dempsey Wilson (D.L. Wi..]

Damian, this is a fantastic story!! I really like how Jonathon held on to that sense of normalcy, and continued to go to work. I also really liked the ambiguity of what The Big D actually was. It let my mind go off in several directions in trying to figure out what happened. I love a story that isn't spoon-fed to the reader and lets them use their imagination more constructively. This story needs to be published! It's very well-written, it flows really well and gives just the right amount of info to keep the reader absorbed. Excellent job, Damian!!!! I'm thoroughly impressed!

[Nazarea]

I like it. Kind of a desperate sense of reaching for something that is obviously pointless. And I may be making so sense becasue I'm exhausted, but the point is, I like it.
Only issue...why did he get up at 4? I know that's not a real issue, but its a good question, I think. Anyway, wonderfully written, great story. I'm impressed, and I think you could really expound...take it and run with it, let Jonathan's full story be told. I'd read it.
N~

[[untitled]]

I like the story and it is very well written, there just seems to be too many questions left unanswered. For example, what is Big D, why did everyone die, why did Jonathon survive? Things like that would bring a lot more relevance to the story. I didn't "fall into it" like I would have liked to, if that makes any sense at all. Lol! I hope that helps!

Anyway, if you decide to re-write it or do the other ending, please let me know. :)

[Lorna Lee]

I have to agree that it definitely has the feel of "I am Legend" but in a much less malevolent sense. You often hear people express what they might do in the event that the world as they know it should cease to exist and the majority of population might comment on taking advantage of the situation. However, if this were to really take place, I know that I would also crave some semblance of normalcy..much like the character in your story. I travel for my work and even just being outside my "comfort zone" for a week, allows me to appreciate the otherwise mundane tasks I perform on a daily basis. We are truly creatures of habit but if put to the test by taking away from our daily routine, we would learn to adapt to new ones. I think the underlying obstacle for being able to do this here was the unexpectedness and uncertainness of the "Big D". To live life in a constant state of confused expectancy of something so unknown...is not living at all..it's merely existing. This leads me to my opinion of your current ending which initially...left me needing more but after mulling it over, I found it made sense. I would, however, be interested in reading your alternate ending as well as the story that spawned from it to see what direction this took you in. All in all, a very enjoyable read. I love a story that rolls around in my mind long after I've read the final line. Well Done Damian!! ~Lorna Lee

[Steffi]

I really liked the way you were talking about the silence in the beginning and then when you said that he certainly had the money to by that noise :D really good. The story in its self was really well written.

[yinseriv]

I kind of liked this ending. Sitting on the bridge Jonathan has choices. Just like how the story evolved from the disciplined guideline you envisioned, so might the character. Maybe the character was speaking to the author. Good story Damian.