The Metropolis

Dedicated to Bin Barba “A routine is disrupted” It was pure chance that he happened to h****k the jeep that I was riding on my way home. It was pure chance that I was feeling the way I did when he pulled the knife out from his pocket. But I was sure it wasn’t chance that made us who we are today. We were the last of our kind, the very last.       I can recall the bustling hive of people as I passed the market on my way to work, earlier today. It was cramped, as usual and noisy, very noisy. People were yelling prices and shouting their advertisements. I can still hear their words, “10 pesos na lang po!” I recall those dirty, greasy steps as I climbed the stairs to the station. I remember that woman with half her breast exposed as her baby was feeding. Her hands, almost black by dirt and grime, kept reaching out to the passers-by, begging. I can recall the old man as he slept on their cardboard bed on the stair's landing. His gray beard, long and curly, covered his worn face. His ragged clothes, a surrender to life’s battle, seemed like a violent clash to the suits of the men and women on their way to the office, or to the students’ uniforms as they rushed to school or to the middle class people as they battled each day in casual attire.      I can remember that guy who gave the tickets. He seemed so bored: taking people’s money, giving those tickets, then doing it again and again. In a way, he was like the MRT or LRT whichever (one prefers one to the other), always doing the same thing, stopping at the same stations everyday, doing things over and over again and then shutting down for the night.     Such was the beginning of my day. Such was the existence of all these beings. But then, I was one of them, that much I was certain of. However, I was no stranger to the fact that they too were slowly making their way to our world.     I slipped my electronic ticket through the same slot then took it as it came back out to the other end. Some say it was the same ticket, but I wonder if it was. All of them looked the same so no one paid any mind and simply laughed when asked. But was it the same ticket that came back out? I’ve always asked myself that. In the entire time that it took to get to the office that was all that occupied my mind. Of course, I don’t voice my thoughts out loud because people will think that I was petty. Who in their right mind would think seriously if it was the same ticket that went out of that mysterious machine?     And speaking of machines, it finally came: the great white devourer of souls. As far as monsters go, it was unique because people were clamoring and fighting their way to get to it instead of away. We want to be eaten. We want to be inside that snake because we need to. ---  I stepped out when it reached the 3rd station. I don’t really know where this was or what this station was called. I just knew that this was the way to the office. Oddly enough, I was the only one to get off at this station every time. I remember the surprised eyes of the young girl beside me when she saw me get up the first time. She was about 15 years old or so and was taking this sky train on her way to school. Everyday we would sit in the same places. And she finally got used to the fact that I was the only one to get off. After that it was pretty boring. There was a blind vendor at the bottom of the steps. He was almost like a statue, mute and inert. He had the same hat on, a buri hat, a farmer’s hat. He also had those same dark tinted glasses. He had the same cigarette on his mouth or so it seemed. The bizarre thing about this is the fact that the cigarette was always halfway done. Everyday, it would be in the very same position with the same length as it was the day before. It amused me that for this man, time seemed to stop. So everyday I would drop a 1 peso coin beside him and watch it pile up until it would suddenly vanish. And so it was that I dropped a coin beside him, oblivious at that time to the fact that instead of falling on barren ground, the coin dropped on a handkerchief. A gray building loomed at the horizon. It was the office. --- My time was over and I was on my way home. But something was different. Yes, I can see them more clearly now. They were there. I saw them hover among things. I saw them making things happen. I saw them crawl and climb around. They were everywhere. But I was not afraid. I was not afraid but I felt betrayed, betrayed by those who they were after. I was indifferent to what they were doing to those I considered traitors. I no longer cared for them. Maybe that was why they don’t come near me, because I don’t care what they do to others. I passed the blind man. And I thought I heard a scream. I stopped but did not turn around. After a brief pause I continued to climb. I reached the station and saw the white creature. I saw its doors open to receive me. I saw the girl, she was reading. And then I saw that they were in it too. At that moment I felt an emotion. Yes, unfeeling though I am, I felt it. I looked at the girl. She smiled. I smiled back. I made a gesture for her to come to me. She looked hesitant. Finally she stood, taking her precious book with her. She was on her way out of the doors. I felt relieved. But then they closed. She looked out with fear, like she had suddenly been trapped in the cage. She placed her palm on the glass making a print with it, as if trying to force it open. The other passengers motioned for her to sit. The white creature moved, making a noise like that of a sarcastic laugh at my useless attempt. The girl didn’t sit down until she lost sight of me. I exhaled and went down the steps, defeated. I was going to take a jeep instead. And as if the heavens heard my silent mourning, rain began to fall on this forsaken land. --- I waited in the rain, holding my umbrella and indifferent to the other people who were soaked. I knew they wouldn’t come near for they were not who they appear to be. They had overtaken them all. Odd, they worked faster than before. I looked at some kids beside their mom who was already taken. They enjoyed the rain but when I looked closer at their hands and ears they were already being overwhelmed by “them”. Very odd. I remember when I was a little girl. They were there with us too. There was only one difference between then and now. Back then, they left children alone but now they’re easier targets. I felt saddened by this fact. A jeep stopped in front of us. I was about to get in but then saw the children. I let them take that jeep. I don’t know if I’ll call that divine intervention or pure chance. But the fact that I didn’t get in that jeep and therefore met him, it made all the difference. --- And so a second jeep stopped and I got in along with five others. Of course he was one of the five. The jeep began to move and I clutched at my purse to get my wallet. Just then someone yelled and the jeep suddenly stopped. I remember I had a hard time keeping my balance. I bumped into this guy wearing a white shirt. Then I looked up and I saw him. He was holding the driver by the neck and some passengers had already gotten off. I was going to as well but then he told the driver to keep the jeep in motion. The others couldn’t get off. Among those who were unable to leave were me, the driver, an old woman who had just been to the market, the guy in the white shirt, a college couple on their way to a party and of course the simply dressed hijacker. At first most of them were too terrified to speak. Then the guy in the white shirt spoke. “Look, just leave the girls alone!” He simply looked and smiled. “Ok, everyone gets off, but I get the jeep!” Everyone nodded except me. The driver stopped the jeep and everyone got off. As I stood up he stopped me with one arm. “Not you!” The guy in the white shirt looked at me and then to the hijacker as he said, “I thought you said everyone!” Hijacker smiled at the guy. He cast a knowing glance at my direction. “But you’re not like everyone, are you?” When he saw that the guy in the white shirt didn’t move back, he drew a knife from his pocket and placed it gently on my neck. “Leave or she dies.” This made the guy start and he moved away… finally leaving the both of us. --- We drove for a while, him behind the wheel and me behind him, watching the changing scenery. I don’t know where he was taking me and strangely I didn’t care. But then he stopped. He looked around and got off the driver’s seat. He went around back and finally stood still. He turned to look at me. Then he held out his hand. “Time to get off,” he said. I stood up and moved towards him. I took his hand and he helped me down the steps. And even though both my feet were already on the ground he didn’t let go of my hands. I didn’t remove them either. Something inside me felt a powerful connection. I slowly gazed up, for, it must be confessed, he was taller than I was. And my eyes met his. Yes, there was definitely a connection. “How are you?” he asked. “How are you, Psyche?” The world shifted. And it felt like someone had woken me up from a dream and I was seeing what was real for the very first time in my life. I looked at him and I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m fine.” And with those words I knew we understood each other. We were the last of our kind, or so it seemed to us. “They” hadn’t touched him and "they" hadn’t touched me. We were different from the rest of the world. And the path was pretty clear to us. --- Day break. I don’t recall sleeping or even resting. All I recall was something equal to blacking out. My eyes were open and yet I seem to be just waking. My body was limp but the sun helped by shining so brightly, warming my bones. I had to get up now. The first thing I did was to stand and stretch only to realize that something was added to my clothes. Oh, did I not describe the night before? I was wearing black slacks and pointed black shoes. I was also wearing a plain-blue collared short-sleeved blouse. My shoulder-length hair merely framed my face, free from any paraphernalia. My purse was a simple black velvet one with a shoulder strap. You can imagine my surprise when a familiar jacket dropped on the ground where I had just been sitting. It was his, the hijacker’s. And as I looked around I saw him standing on top of a large rock, looking at the horizon. What did he look like? Well, his name says it all. He had a gray t-shirt on. He had a pair of jeans and a dark brown belt. He wore rubber shoes with the simple design from Adidas. His hair came down to the back of his neck and like mine, framed his face in strong waves. His jacket? It was brown and made of cotton and polyester. It was a jacket for rain and cold days at the same time since it was soft and comfy cotton inside but water resistant outside. “Where are we?” I asked as I picked it up. “Planet Earth,” he said solemnly. I approached him and gazed at the direction he was facing. It was the city. We were on top of a cliff. “You’re doing this,” I said. “Naturally,” was his answer. “You’re Simply.” His smile was his only reply before I blacked out once more. --- We got to the city. Ah the familiar sights and sounds! How did we get here? We walked of course. We couldn’t just bring the jeep along with us. It was sure to have been reported lost. And then of course the criminal would be pursued. Plus, there would also be the case of k********g since technically I’m still with him. With all this in mind I simply left a message to a friend saying that I was kidn*pped by a maniac and managed to escape by jumping out while the jeep is in motion and although a bit bruised, was a-OK but would not be going to work due to the trauma of traveling. I also alerted my work place.  As for the kidnapper, he was nowhere to be seen and should be marked as a lunatic (this way, even if we were found people would think a crazy man did it and not the handsome one with me).  Kidding! Although the thought occurred to me, that’s not what I did. I left word to people who might look for me, saying I might spend the night at some coffee shop or other to unwind for the weekend. They know I like solitude and reading at a 24-hour coffee shop works wonders. And we also left the jeep on the cliff. It would have such a picturesque view of the city! Oh, his name? I said it already, right? So, we were in the city and the thing that caused me to really awaken was a newspaper from a stall. I was horrified by what I saw on the front page. An accident has happened on the MRT, one of those white monsters. At first I didn’t recognize it since they’re all the same to me (I rode the LRT when I was younger, then the MRT, then the bus and now, the MRT again). It was a public form of transportation. But then, though not very clear, I saw a burnt book lying with a pile of rubble. I was sure that it was the book that the 15-year old girl was holding. So they got to them. They probably didn’t cause the accident directly but still. And what are we? We are the last of our kind, the only ones to survive it all.   This First Person Record has been Organized and Documented by: 4160 PSYCHE   And she moved away from her thoughts and memories of days of old. Her record for the day ended with the firm belief that she and him will be the last. Yes, they had something in common which set them apart from all the others. They were free from “them”. They were free from the terrible ambitions of the human race. These ambitions will make people destroy one another. They hover on each one waiting for the chance to control them as was the case of the train manager. His ambition was to be successful and rich. He wanted to save on expenses, greed filling his mind. So full of greed was he that instead of the usual everyday inspection of the MRT that cost him money (wages for the employees), the inspection only takes place once a month. Hence, a certain malfunction of the engine was neglected and all things followed. They were a virus and it was starting to spread. Document 001: Encoded 2008 By: Computer 0808