I.
See that tall brown building with art deco sculptures and carvings? That's where my job is. I work for a big company. Think 'Microsoft'. I have this entry level position. But I like working there. We have a huge building in the City. And inside that building, whatever you want you'll find it. We have our own restaurants in there. We have spa and stores and theaters and libraries and bars. We have nice apartments for employees. I'm in one of them, trying to sleep but I can't. I have a surveillance camera in my room so I can check what's going on in the street. Except that it doesn't work well and the image is too dark. So I go downstairs and outside and I take one of the camera-light that is on a pillow set on a cornice. I put it in my room and now I can see what's going on in the street and I sleep well. Except that in the morning I am pissed because the security is yelling on a speaker so I take the pillow with the camera-light on it and, yawning, I put in back on the cornice. The doorman is looking at me. I hear the security guy say, At last, now I see. And in the mist of my sleep I think, That's 'cause now you have light and I don't, moron.
I'm late to a meeting to which the President will attend. Our President is very charismatic. Think 'the Virgin Compagny guy'. There is something strange about him, though. I check the floor where we have this big restaurant where people always eat mussels, and salmon, and caviar, but that's not where the meeting is. Finally, when I find it, it's in another restaurant, the most prestigious one. I should have thought about it. The meeting is already over. My supervisor is pissed. The boss gave me 5 big assignments for tomorrow. I know that the boss gave them to me. But I also have the vague feeling that I'm doing my supervisor's homework here and that he is happy he can keep eating his mussels with that female supervisor from another service while I'm gonna sweat on doing his job.
II.
I'm at a party, drunk. I have this very good friend. Special buddy. We're always together but I cannot find him. When I do, he is even more wasted than I am. We go to another room to find something and there's a whole show going on. It's like the amateur night at the Apollo Theater 125th Street. I cross the scene wasted, give the fist to the black anchorman who is also my buddy. When I reach the other end of the stage I see that there are no exit so I go back, cross the stage again, give the fist and there's my buddy who has been waiting, watching the show his arms crossed. Nodding at our black friend on stage I say, He should be more careful. Today is his day.
My friend is nodding. Shrugs his shoulders like, What can we do about it anyway? And then we return scavenging for drugs.
III.
Aerial view of the company building. I have lost my friend but I can’t remember how. We were at a party, wasted. Did he do too much? I'm flying over the building and everything is as usual. There is this huge monster that looks like several huge mushrooms one on top of the other. There is this ugly, fat green monster with a head that looks like a modern computerized version of Mickey's head. Like I said, nothing unusual. Nobody really likes to look at him because of this Mickey head that is so uncanny. It has nothing special to it. The most notable difference is that it is not black and white but in different shades of gray/green, and the features of his face are much sharper than the original Mickey. But he is scaring the shit out of me, even though I don't want other people and monsters to know it.
And then, there is him. On the roof too. He is on his belly in a very uncomfortable position. He looks like someone who ground and his body and feet more or less vertical against the cornice’s inner wall. He is twitching more and more violently. His body is of a light green and he is wearing nothing except for a king of short. You don't think ‘Hulk’ when you see it. This monster it's the company boss. That's the reason why he is away from his office so often. Not all employees know. Not even to mention our customers or providers. The uncontrollable movements of his body are not good signs. Something bad is going to happen. All of a sudden, the Big Grey/Green Mickey jumps at the Giant Multi-Mushrooms and as they fly in the air he starts tearing it apart fiercely. With the voice of a female employee of the company I know but somehow cannot identify, the Multi-Mushroom is screaming.
IV.
I'm black. My buddy is black. We are in a farm. We are dressed like farmers, but we are not. We are criminals. And right now we are busy because we have to get rid of quite a nice bunch of bodies. So instead of acting like rookies and lose time, my buddy and I adopted a more efficient way of processing. Think 'Taylorization'. One drags the body inside the barn, while the other attaches the black plastic bag inside which the body is to the hook of a crane and pulls on the chain to bring it upstairs. All of a sudden, we here a helicopter and my buddy and I we just freeze and I see the pupils of his eyes growing larger and larger. And then we both run to hide in a corner of the house, each one behind a small partition. He the heat stop here, we're good for life. The chair, maybe. The helicopter flies away without even slowing down. We feel relieved. We tease each other. Call each other chicken. And then we notice another black man. We never trusted him. He stares at us and it is obvious that he inds our behavior a little strange and it's not too difficult to guess from what happened that we are criminals. While we discuss what to do with him, we overhear voices. We crack a door open and we see the guy talking to the overseer. We can hear their voices, but not what they say. My buddy asks, Is he rating us out?
Indignantly, I tell myself, How could he do that? I'm pregnant.
Which is true. Even though I'm a man. I'm pregnant. But sometimes it's not my belly's skin that is stretched but the skin between my lower lip and my chin. Even I finds this a little strange. But I like to caress it and then I don't really care if it's normal or not. The stretched skin feels so soft.
And what do I know about that, anwyway? It is the first time I'm pregnant!
V.
The world is fucked up. I’m in the army. If you asked me, I couldn’t tell you how shit started exactly. The world is fucked up and it is a familiar feeling. You know it too. This feeling that you have already been here before. That you have already heard or said that. What they call déjà-vu. I have one of those huge automatic rifles that I check regularly. I hope I won’t have to use it. But if I have to, I want it to work perfectly. I have watched the news on TV to. I know what’s in store for me. God, I hope I won’t have to use it. I’m getting out of a building where I spent the night. It’s the building where everything started. Now the army took control of it, but the Disease has spread everywhere else. It is an old and tall building of brown bricks with a lot of ornamentations, and there are cameras everywhere on the cornices. I shake off my feeling of déjà-vu and keep walking to join my squad. When I arrive there, they are arguing fiercely. The situation is getting worst by the day now. There is this tunnel entry and nobody wants to get in there. Then they notice me and since I’m not only the last one arrived but also late, I am ordered to volunteer myself. Which I do. Wouldn’t you?
They gave me this extra big machine gun so heavy and powerful that I need a system of wheels to carry it. I go in the tunnel. It’s only five minutes since I entered when I meet my first one. It’s a young woman. She moves like they move. She walks towards me. When she sees me, her face pretends to brighten up. She is dead. She is walking towards me, holding a wallet. She says don’t shoot. She says she is the daughter of some very important diplomat. I shoot her in the head as my other hand reaches for her wallet. Inside, behind a plastic film, there’s a little card. It’s the first time I see one like that. The words “United States” and “New York City” look so strange and unfamiliar. As if not weeks but years or decades had passed since the shit hit the fan. Words without meanings. The card is a safe conduct. Some official piece of crap that were issued and given only to important people and their families so that no refuge door would be closed to them. No matter how many people were already in there or had to get out to make room for them. Some people killed to have a card like that. Now, it wasn’t worth anything. Now it was too late. There were no refuges left to hide. Then a whole bunch of people appear and I drop the card and point the machine gun at them but they are still human. They are hysterics. I tell them, It’s OK. I tell them, The exit is right here on the right. But they want to go straight ahead. ‘No! Turn right! Turn right!’ And some of them turn right and that’s when a vague of rats pours in from this direction and bite people and I have to shoot. And people are scared and instead of turning right they run down the hall straight ahead. Heading towards trouble no machine gun can save them from. When I get out, I see the rumbles everywhere. A veil of thin smoke partly hide the Manhattan skyline. I look up and see the red and gold entry gate of the Williamsburg Bridge. I cannot help it and start shouting, I know where we are! I used to live around there! I know where we are!
