[Grandiagod]

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Chapter 4

It was one of those days, so dreary, that the world seemed bothered to exist. The dark, gray sky let down a drizzle that found its way between towering buildings and onto me. I was standing just outside the subway wearing a black trench coat that seemed to suck up the moisture. The entrance to the subway station was full of people mindlessly bustling about. Going from Point A to Point B. A thought struck me while I was watching these naïve, human drones. I was responsible for every one of them. I was the last hope for every living being on Earth. Have I mentioned I hate responsibility?

Trying to make my way down the steps to the subway was like swimming upstream, in a waterfall. I was bumped and jostled from every direction, by people with varying degrees of dryness. I was about half way down when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blurry figure approaching me to fast to avoid a collision. I was slammed by the figure’s shoulder so hard it felt as if I had been kicked by a horse. My torso lifted my feet off the ground and I tumbled toward the concrete wall of the stairway. The first part of me to hit the wall was, naturally, my head. I closed my eyes, let out a little yelp, and collapsed. I proceeded to shout out to my assailant questions about the legitimacy of his birth. My voice echoed through an empty silence back to me. The sounds of the busy subway and outside street had ceased. My eyes slowly fluttered open. There was not a soul to be seen. Everyone had disappeared. I sprung up and bounded the steps back up to the street. There were no cars, there was no noise except for the rain, there was no people. I looked up at a cluster of several ten and twenty story buildings. I could imagine how every floor was devoid of life. How computers sat at their desks with urgent reports stopped in mid sentence. How some incriminating paper continued to pull itself through a paper shredder, the person in jeopardy, no longer overseeing the process. For the first time in a long time, I was really, truly shocked. Standing in the rain, I let my trench coat absorb every droplet of rain. Seconds were minutes and minutes were hours. Time passed in slow motion. Soon my common sense took over. There was no need to waste my time staring at empty buildings. I shed my water-logged trench coat on the sidewalk, underneath I wore a black suit and black tie, no need to dress cheery for the end of the world. I deliberately made my way down the stairs of the subway entrance. After all, I have an appointment to keep.

The loading dock was lit by dim, fluorescent lights. The dull gray concrete looked even more depressing than the sky outside. I was at a loss at where to go next. The whole place was utterly devoid of life. At times like these I often look upward, not for a religious preference, just simply out of habit. This time my habit paid off. On the concrete ceiling was a series of large, brightly spray painted arrows. Not having any other lead, I followed them. They led to a concrete column next to the loading area for the train. On this column was a single yellow sticky note stuck about chest high. In bright, red printing the note read simply: FOURTH STOP. A small noise interrupted me from my pondering. It grew louder. I was beginning to dread where this was going. The noise was one of a subway train. I leaned over and looked down over the tracks into the dark tunnel. Two white headlights pierced the darkness. I leaned back as quick as I could. I really was not in the mood for decapitation.

The train slowed and stopped. It seemed like a very normal, yet very empty, subway car. Cautiously tiptoeing to one of the doors I examined it. It certainly seemed like an extraordinarily normal subway car door. With a hiss all the doors slid open. I jumped back. They definitely opened like normal doors. After a few seconds of deliberation I came up with a solution. I probably should get into the damn thing. All the clues, of which there were few, pointed that way. I carefully walked into the subway car. In it I saw a perfectly, exasperatingly, normal, five foot long, green cabbage worm.

It asked me for my ticket.
I explained I did not have a ticket, but I pulled out the sticky note and showed it to the worm.
It apologized and said I was okay. Then it made its way to the next car.
I sat down. In situations like these I usually find it very helpful to sit down.


To be cont...