Glass Ceiling

Chapter 3-3. An ordinary (or not?) day on the Earth

The massive business center was gradually filling with people. Some sleepily sipped their coffee, others were engrossed in their smartphones and tablets, while a few gathered in pairs or small groups, engaging in conversations.

Ten minutes past nine. The city welcomed its residents with chilly air and a gentle breeze, hinting at the possibility of a fairly warm day ahead.

-Did you see what Ponás Algíras posted on t****k today? - a woman asked her younger companion, who seemed to be a fellow student, as they sat together in a café. - You know, that popular blogger who talks about renovation trends, design, furniture choices...

-I'm not interested in renovations. I don't have my own place. I've been shuffling between rented apartments half my life, - the student replied and put her teacup down on the saucer with irritation. - I don't even pay attention to what they say there, so I won't be envious.

-He's saying that according to the Mayan calendar, today marks the countdown to the end of the world, and the natural catastrophe last night was the first sign! - the woman was speaking with quite a bit of excitement as if discussing the plot of a new movie.

-But what does that have to do with renovations? - the girl exclaimed.

-This blogger suggests that there's no point in caring about them anymore since we're all going to die soon anyway! - a young man who had just approached their table interjected cheerfully. - Mind if I join in?

The women agreed, and a fervent discussion about all these theories, bloggers, and the latest news began.

The girl kept shrugging and marveling because she hadn't noticed any "natural catastrophe" throughout the night.

-Well, clouds are clouds, - she said. - It's an unusual sight, but nothing actually happened. Besides, didn't the Maya promise the end of the world like 30 years ago?

-46 years ago, to be precise! - the young man proudly corrected with his extraordinary knowledge. - According to their calendar, the galaxy was supposed to cease to exist in the year 3286. But I'm almost certain that the end of the world has already occurred, and we've all died, and now we're living in virtual reality.

-What nonsense are you spewing? - his conversation partners reacted simultaneously.

-I'm almost convinced that the end is only starting now, - the woman who initiated the conversation said.

-Why now? - the young man countered. - Why wouldn't it have happened back then, 42 years ago? Or even earlier? There's a theory that at the beginning of the last millennium, there was a similar prophecy, as if in the year 2000, or 2010, or 2020... I forgot the exact year, but... Maybe everything already happened then!

-Because that's absurd! What "virtual reality" are you talking about? We either live or die, - the woman said irritably, waving her hand.

-Or we're living as if we're already dead, - the student replied. - I'm sorry, but I don't believe in all these theories, mysticism, and magic. But I do believe in the fact that our workday starts in two minutes, and we can get fined for being late. Maybe we should get to work?

They all got up together and headed to the office, continuing their lively debate along the way.

"They're strange," the waitress said to the bartender as the noisy group left the café. "It's obvious there won't be any apocalypse. According to the legend... First, there should be an epidemic, then a war, followed by famine, and only then the world cease to exist. But we have a perfectly healthy society here—what epidemics? The last major epidemic, if I'm not mistaken, was almost a thousand years ago, when the world was dealing with a coronavirus."

The bartender smiled and continued to silently polish glass to a shine. He raised it up, examined it carefully, hung it over the counter, and moved on to the next one. A few minutes of absolute silence passed.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," the girl finally exclaimed indignantly. "What are you laughing at?"

"Well, your theory has a little bit of logic," the bartender responded nonchalantly. "At least that legend really exists."

More and more people were leaving the café, dispersing to their workplaces. This was the usual morning routine: primarily, the same employees of this business center came here to have their morning coffee or at least grab it in disposable paper cups. Some even had a proper breakfast. Then, around 9-10 o'clock, the café would become almost deserted for a while, as the workday began.

Occasionally, someone would rush in for a takeaway drink, and sometimes guests who didn't work in this massive building and had nothing to do with it would enter. Only during lunchtime, there was a noticeable increase in the number of customers. Then the same silence until the evening.

In the evening, all the café's employees were busy again, as there were an incredible number of people.

This was the daily routine: these few hours of relative calm. Right now, there were only a few people sitting at the tables. It was time to tidy up the bar, the kitchen, clear the tables, and wash the dishes. The bartender swiftly and professionally polished and hung a pile of glasses and goblets, periodically getting lost in his thoughts and smiling to himself.

"Do you have a good mood?" the waitress attempted to strike up a conversation again. "Did something pleasant happen?"

"It's a good day," the bartender replied with the same unhurried smile, wiping his hands on the pristine white towel and attaching his name badge, reading "Jurģis," to his uniform. The girl was also scrutinizing him attentively as if trying to make out every detail of his appearance, every element of his attire.

-Why are you staring like that?" he asked, still smiling. "I forgot to attach it this morning, there was a lot of work. But you already know my name, you don't need my badge."

"But it seems you can't even remember my name," the girl grumbled with frustration, deliberately turned away, and started arranging the napkins into a fancy fan shape.

"Liana, well, what are you thinking? Of course, I remember," the young man chuckled and, seeing his classmate's annoyed look, continued. "Not Liana, right? Laima? Lina? Ah, yes, the first letter is 'L,' I definitely know that. Want a hint?"

He laughed cheerfully again, while the girl blushed with anger.

"Don't be upset, I'm just joking," Jurģis looked attentively at her; the girl was still facing away from him. "Laura! We'll be working together for the whole shift."