The shrill tone of an alarm clock woke Xander up in a jolt, sweating and panting. For a few seconds, his body acted on his own, sitting up and catching his breath as if to set everything into motion. Somewhere in his flat, an old, vintage tune started playing, dragging the young lad out of his deep slumber. The sweet melodies and poppy beats always managed to get him in a good mood, nodding his sleepy head along to the lyrics. Xander always had issues with mornings, and constantly ended up grumpy and annoyed at the idea of getting out of bed. He had to, though; the bills weren’t going to pay themselves.
With a yawn, he eventually managed to slip out of bed, grunting as he yanked the covers away. It wasn’t a surprise he was always tired when he woke up. He spent most of his nights gallivanting around virtual worlds or staring at many screens, probably in hopes of finding some sort of enjoyment or amusement he’d already lost a long time ago. He stood up, wincing at his groggy muscles. The young man stretched his sore arms and legs, slowly but surely, tucking away his bed inside the wall, behind him.
His flat was small, and that was an understatement. What was it the realtor had told him ? “cosy and practical”, that’s how it was described. Everything folded back into the walls, which were built like high-tech cupboards (it was really last-gen technology, but the young man didn’t mind that). From the table to his mattress, everything had its own little alcove in the shiny and sleek walls or inside the cold linoleum floor. Xander winced as he arched his back trying to touch his toes. He tended to struggle to keep everything in order, so this studio was perfect for him; his messes were hidden away in small spaces, and no one, apart from him, ever had to know.
“Open the windows, please, Alecia, it must be light outside already.”
A cheerful ringtone chimed, sign that the AI that overlooked everything had gotten the command; on the Eastern side of the apartment, the walls started to move, revealing tinted window panes. The off-white outside light flowed through the depressingly grey space, revealing it in all of its dim glory. A tired Xander shuffled towards the tiny kitchen at the other end of the flat. A chirp on his wrist caught his eye; the chip nestled there, a brand new Chippy Xtm, was alerting him that it was time for breakfast.
Xander opened one of the cupboards to grab a bright red box of cereals, his favourite: Frosted Rockets. He’d been eating those since he was a kid, and he still loved the small colourful shapes doused in sugar and artificial flavouring. Pulling out a bowl, he tipped the contents of the box into it, humming the theme tune to the annoyingly catchy advert (“Frosted Rocketstm, so good they’ll blast your head off!”, a jingle that was forever etched into his head). The Chippy X squeaked loudly when it deemed the bowl full enough, causing Xander to unwittingly stop pouring. He always wanted just a tad more cereal, a bit more sugar and spice and everything nice, than what was recommended.
Finally, he sat down, ready to enjoy his breakfast. Xander liked to settle down in front of the windows, in order to watch the world go by. Behind the dark-hued window panes, the city was already busy. The pink neon lights and logos of the shops, the yellow and cyan banners of massive corporations, everything was flashing, twinkling, dazzling before him. Already, people were hurrying by each other in the streets, carefully wrapped in their jackets and heavy coats, left to right, right to left. They all seemed busy and full of life, at least, next to the still sleepy-headed Xander, who seemed much more interested by what was written at the back of the milk bottle (“Kow’s Milktm! new recipe: now with 50% more milk!”).
In the streets, giant lampposts, with bulbs as big as can be, were getting brighter by the minute. Ever since the Sun went out, human activities kept going only thanks to these massive lights, which were everywhere to be found. They went out during 8 hours of the day, mimicking what must’ve been the norm during ancient times, when the Night wasn’t constant. Xander vaguely remembered this from his astrophysics lessons, but had always been skeptical; he hadn’t been the brightest or the most involved student, to say the least. He didn’t believe a celestial body as humongous as the Sun would’ve been ever shone besides the twinkling stars in the deep ink sky. Of course, he was a wrong as anyone could be.
He gulped his last mouthful and glanced at the time, ticking away on the side of an analog clock. He needed to start getting ready, otherwise he was going to be late for work.
Xander blasted off to the bathroom, dumping his bowl and spoon in the sink. One of the fun features of this kitchen was that it automatically washed the dishes and put them away (it was in fact this small feature that had convinced the young man to settle for this flat). As he stepped into the bathroom, sliding the door behind him, he heard the faint whirr of the machines doing their job. In the shower cabin, the pulsating jets were already full of the right amount of cedar scented soap; “as always”, he thought, rinsing his hair. It was a small studio, but a nice one, nearly made to his measure.
The rushed youngster hurriedly spat his toothpaste in the drains as he rinsed his brush. He was used to cleaning his teeth at the same time as he had his morning shower. For some strange reason, he thought he was saving time and money on his water bill; one thing he certainly wasn’t saving was his reputation. But the alarmed beeping of his faithful Chippy warned him that he was spending too much time under the water. Xander stepped out, dripping on the cold tiles. Gusts of hot air started blasting from everywhere, drying him up in a flash; now he just needed to get dressed.
It was good that only one outfit was suggested to the young man everyday by his closet, for he had no sense of style nor fashion. In the small wardrobe, his work uniform dangled from an aluminum rod, freshly pressed and still smelling of the lavender washing powder he loved so much. In a swift motion, he put on the electric blue jumpsuit over a white shirt, both made from sturdy and rough materials that scratched his skin. After combing back his unruly hair in the closet mirror, Xander tried to straighten his bold orange name tag, in vain. It had always been a bit crooked, and he never quite managed to get it fixed. Besides, it attracted quite the attention at the power plant where he worked. Maybe not quite the one he needed, though, but he never really wondered about his career. He’d left school to work at the industry titan that was Nukes Inc.; the pay was alright even if the conditions were tough and, besides, they were the only ones hiring at all times.
A longer, deeper alarm sounded around him, coming from outside, waking him up from his daydreams. It was time to get to work. Xander peeled himself from his reflection and walked towards the door. He put on heavy duty boots, laced with a material he obviously forgot the name of, as well as a tight harness on which he clipped his keys, his wallet, and a tiny water flask, for the road. He realised he hadn’t put it on correctly as he tried to pull a mask on his face; nothing was snapping together as it should. Readjusting every bit of kit he had, he secured orange-tinted goggles on his forehead; he tended to forget them, and the nuclear air, outside, was murder on his eyes if he didn’t have them with him. Last, but not least, he grabbed his coat, a long and dense jacket filled with pockets and junk he was adamant he needed. It was time to go.
He locked the door behind him, thankful he had his keys with him, for once. Once he got into the decontamination lock, right in front of his flat, fresh, tingly air had started blowing. If his shower hadn’t cleaned him thoroughly enough, this would. As the machines stopped buzzing around him, Xander stepped outside. He was immediately hit with the scorching heat and pressure of the outdoors. He really didn’t like this feeling, and the prospect of hiking to work in this weather was not one he was awfully excited about. Maybe he’ll take the bus, for once. Besides, it was already too late to walk there.
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