5:30 a.m. 

As I stand at the station, I hear the T.T.T.T.’s wheels screech to a halt. It’s a familiar sound. One that I’ve heard every day of my life. I did my tie too loose today. They’ll probably write me up for that. Inhumane resources loves to pull you in for meetings over anything. And they’re gonna have a field day with my tie being loose. 

I work in the surveillance-surveillance department. Every day I stare at cameras, watching the surveillance-department people watch other people. I remember when I was in their position. I always knew someone in surveillance-surveillance was watching me, but I never knew from where. At first I liked knowing that someone had eyes on me. It made the chicken cage of a cubicle the company shoved you into a little less lonely. But I never learned who the eyes belonged to. They started to feel more like judges than friends. Every loosely-done tie, every knuckle crack that broke the silence, every sneeze and cough, all seen and critiqued by surveillance-surveillance. It ate at me. There was always the little voice in my head saying that this meeting with IR would end with me in the Whistleblower Room. 

Today I’m watching a new employee. At least I think she’s new. It’s hard to separate faces when your entire purpose is to stare at them all day. But you don’t need to know someone’s face to know they’re new. They all do their ties neatly. They don’t have any wrinkles in their shirts. Their eyes aren’t sunken in yet. They still look at the walls of their cage, trying to find someone on the other side. They aren’t good, company-fearing employees yet. 

There’s something strange about this girl, though. Something I haven’t seen before. I find myself staring at her grey eyes darting around her screen. I can see every neuron in her brain firing as she purses her lips in focus. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but for the first time in my life, I wish the work day would last just a little longer.
But as quickly as she appears, the woman blinks out of existence as my monitor turns off. It’s the end of the work day. My arms feel heavier and my breathing feels labored. I wish it would turn back on. I wish I could see her face again. I linger in my seat longer than usual, but eventually I muster the strength to stand up. I can’t feel my body as I walk out of my cubicle and down the stairs. 

I don’t feel the wind as I stand at the station. A T.T.T.T. set for a different compound speeds past me. I see my reflection in its black windows. My eyes are sunken in. My shirt is wrinkled. And my tie is still loose. 

For the first time, I look back at The Obelisk. The grey concrete pierces the coalescence of clouds, disappearing into the sky. I see the woman’s eyes in the color of my cage.

Is this really all there is?

11:30 p.m.