CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
He felt the air blow through his long hair as soon as he opened the door. He was very proud of the fact that he was the only person in his office to have thought of taking his break on the roof. He lit up a cigarette. He knew he had to quite soon, but not today. He'd been working hard andhe deserved it. He liked being alone on the roof. He liked looking down at the city he loved. He breathed in the sweet nicotine, surverying the roof with his eyes...then choked a little. He wasn't alone today. There was an old man standing right at the edge. Right away it didn't feel right.
"Err, hello?" said Pete. The old guy looked around and smiled serenely.
"Yes, hello," he said, raising a hand to acknowledge Pete. He then turned his head back around. "Nice day for it, isn't it?" There was a small wall at the edge and the old guy's feet were right against it. Pete wondered what "it" was. He walked slowly towards the old guy.
"Yeah, it is. Warm, for March. I thought I was the only person who took his break up here," said Pete.
"Oh, I'm not on my break," said the old man, raising one foot and putting it on the edge of the wall. Peter froze. "I never used to take my breaks here, I always stayed in the office."
"So you do work in the building," said Pete, hoping his panic wasn't reflected in his voice.
"I did. They forced me to retire, last week. I had a party, you know. Didn't ask for one, didn't enjoy it, but I had a party."
"That's funny, I just started this week and on my first day there was a retirement party for..." Pete realised whose party it had been. The old man looked at him again, with that same calm smile.
"Ah, so you were there," he said.
"Yeah..." said Pete, right behind the old guy now. It was then that he climbed up on the wall with his other foot too.
"And you don't even know who I am. Haha!"
"Claire, she introduced us, I remember," said Pete, briefly remembering how irritating his new co-worker Claire was.
"Do you remember my name?" asked the old man, in a reasonable tone.
"S...sorry," stuttered Pete.
"I thought you were going to get it there!" said the old man. "It's Stuart, and don't worry, I don't remember yours either. But I do remember that you're the young man taking over my job."
"Sorry," said Pete.
"Why?" asked the old man.
"For taking your job," said Pete, struggling to think how he would bring up the subject of suicide.
"Not your fault. I'm old. Old people are useless," he said, matter of factly.
"Are you going to jump?" asked Pete, who hadn't really listened to what the old guy had just said and had to get the question out.
"Why would you think that?" asked the old man.
"You're standing right at the edge..."
"No, why would you think someone like me would kill himself. Be honest."
Pete had to think about this. Should he be honest or say that he could think of no reason and the old guy really should step back from the edge now. "Well, you did say you were forced to retire," he said, at last.
"Yes," said the old man, nodding but not looking at Pete. "Didn't want to. My job is all I have. All I had, I should say. I have nothing now, son, nothing."
"I think you should step down..." said Pete. He started to reach out with his arm then stopped. What if he startled the old guy and he fell off?
"Step off the edge, you mean? End my pathetic pointless existence? Yes, I probably should."
"No!" said Pete, desperate. "Just step back...think about this. I'm sure you have something...a lot to live for."
"I wonder what you're basing that on," said the old man. "You don't know me after all. You were at my party but I doubt you learned much about me there. Tell me, did you have a slice of cake?"
Pete couldn't think, he just wanted to grab the old guy and pull him back. "I don't...yes, I did," he said, remebering that he had had a slice forced on him by annoying Claire.
"I didn't, you know," said the old man. He chuckled. "It had nuts in it and I'm allergic. None of them knew but then why should they? It's not like I told them. It's not like I ever talked to them about anything important. I just went in every day and did my job like I was supposed to. I didn't question it. If I had...I would have been standing here a lot sooner."
"You can't just end your life!" said Pete.
"Why not? It's my life, son. I'm 68, it'll be over relatively soon either way."
"You could live another thirty years!" said Pete. The old man actually shuddered at the thought which Pete could clearly see.
"Don't wish such Hell upon me!" he scolded.
"You must have a family..." said Pete.
"Nope," said the old man, simply.
"There must be someone..."
"Not really," said the old man. "All the cliches aren't going to work on me son, so you may as well stop there."
"You can get another job, if that's what you want," said Pete.
"Oh, I don't, I hated my job. But it was all I had, as I pointed it. A reason to get up in the morning, something to keep me going. We all structure our lives, son, so that we don't see the over-riding pointless of it all. You might be too young to realise, you might be enjoying life at the moment, but one day you'll see. I worked for years and for what? It wasn't rewarding, I didn't enjoy it, the money wasn't even that good if I cared about money which I don't. All that happens at the end is that you get to retire then sit back and wait to die. I'm a patient man, but I see no reason why I shouldn't just jump to the head of the queue...so to speak."
Pete was at a loss. "You can get help..." he ventured. The old man shook his head. For a moment it looked like he was actually going to lose his balance, but he steadied himself.
"I told you the cliches won't work," he said. "And sorry for depressing you with my self-indulgent ramblings. I never used to be like this. I had a wife once, you know. She died, fifteen years back now."
"I'm sorry," said Pete, at a loss. Should he go back downstairs and get help? But if he left the old man for just a moment...
"Wonderful woman, really," said Stuart. "Sorry for using a cliche, but I really didn't deserve her. Maybe that's why she died." He Laughed. "Nah, there's no reason behind death, it's just random. All random..."
"You might meet someone else..." said Pete, clutching at whatever straw he could find.
"You know about five years after she died I thought that too. Thought that maybe it was possible. I've barely had a meaningful conversation with a woman since then. Haven't been on one date, wouldn't know how to. I'm not going to meet someone else. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
"DON'T JUMP!" shouted Pete. Maybe he could shout him down.
"Could you give me one good reason? Honestly, knowing what you no know about my life? Just one?" asked Stuart. This could be his only chance, Pete thought. But he didn't know what to say. "I thought not..."
"I don't want your death on my conscience," interrupted Pete. At this the old man looked around again, puzzled.
"Well I didn't think you'd say that, I must admit!" he said. "Go on."
"If you jump, well, that's your decision. It's not my fault, I know that rationally. But I will blame myself. I will think about it, agonised over it, possibly for the rest of my life. I don't want to watch you die and it's pretty selfish of you to make me. Act your age," said Pete. What the hell was he thinking, he thought. But it was all he could think to say, his last shot at it. And just like that, the old man stepped down.
"Thank you for being honest," he said, patting Pete on the shoulder.
"That's...that's it?" asked Pete, the panic still not gone.
"You know, I wasn't ever actually going to jump?" said Stuart. "I just wanted to know what it felt like...to be on the edge, literally and figuratively. So I came up here to find out. Then you started talking about suicide and I began thinking, well, why not just go ahead with it. You almost had me convinced I should, you know."
"I...almost convinced...you?" asked Pete, dumbfounded.
"Don't worry, don't worry, I wouldn't have done it. It's not the kind of thing I do. I've lived a quiet, uneventful, cowardly life for the last fifteen years. I'm sure I'll die a death befitting such a life. Throwing myself off a roof down onto a busy street? That's just not me!" He started walking away, leaving Pete standing there.
"So what are you going to do now?" asked Pete.
"Go home, watch telvision and try not to think about how meaningless everything is. The only thing I can do."
"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Pete.
"As okay as I'll ever be. Now go on, have your cigarette now, you've earned it," he said. Pete was still holding his lit cigarette but it had burned down.
"I'm trying to quit..." said Pete.
"Don't be silly. Life's too short! Smoke, even if it kills you. It doesn't matter, you end up that way anyway!" said Stuart. And with that, he walked back inside, but stopped in the doorway. Pete, shaken, turned and looked out over the city. He instinctively reached for a cigarette, then stopped himself. Instead he threw the whole packet off the roof.
"I think I'll just try not to die for as long as possible, if it's all the same to you," Pete said to Stuart. The old man shrugged.
"You'll be on the edge someday. How you choose to get there is entirely up to you." This time he walked all the way back inside. Pete, after deciding that he hated Stuart and almost wishing that he had accidenly pushed him off, followed.
"Err, hello?" said Pete. The old guy looked around and smiled serenely.
"Yes, hello," he said, raising a hand to acknowledge Pete. He then turned his head back around. "Nice day for it, isn't it?" There was a small wall at the edge and the old guy's feet were right against it. Pete wondered what "it" was. He walked slowly towards the old guy.
"Yeah, it is. Warm, for March. I thought I was the only person who took his break up here," said Pete.
"Oh, I'm not on my break," said the old man, raising one foot and putting it on the edge of the wall. Peter froze. "I never used to take my breaks here, I always stayed in the office."
"So you do work in the building," said Pete, hoping his panic wasn't reflected in his voice.
"I did. They forced me to retire, last week. I had a party, you know. Didn't ask for one, didn't enjoy it, but I had a party."
"That's funny, I just started this week and on my first day there was a retirement party for..." Pete realised whose party it had been. The old man looked at him again, with that same calm smile.
"Ah, so you were there," he said.
"Yeah..." said Pete, right behind the old guy now. It was then that he climbed up on the wall with his other foot too.
"And you don't even know who I am. Haha!"
"Claire, she introduced us, I remember," said Pete, briefly remembering how irritating his new co-worker Claire was.
"Do you remember my name?" asked the old man, in a reasonable tone.
"S...sorry," stuttered Pete.
"I thought you were going to get it there!" said the old man. "It's Stuart, and don't worry, I don't remember yours either. But I do remember that you're the young man taking over my job."
"Sorry," said Pete.
"Why?" asked the old man.
"For taking your job," said Pete, struggling to think how he would bring up the subject of suicide.
"Not your fault. I'm old. Old people are useless," he said, matter of factly.
"Are you going to jump?" asked Pete, who hadn't really listened to what the old guy had just said and had to get the question out.
"Why would you think that?" asked the old man.
"You're standing right at the edge..."
"No, why would you think someone like me would kill himself. Be honest."
Pete had to think about this. Should he be honest or say that he could think of no reason and the old guy really should step back from the edge now. "Well, you did say you were forced to retire," he said, at last.
"Yes," said the old man, nodding but not looking at Pete. "Didn't want to. My job is all I have. All I had, I should say. I have nothing now, son, nothing."
"I think you should step down..." said Pete. He started to reach out with his arm then stopped. What if he startled the old guy and he fell off?
"Step off the edge, you mean? End my pathetic pointless existence? Yes, I probably should."
"No!" said Pete, desperate. "Just step back...think about this. I'm sure you have something...a lot to live for."
"I wonder what you're basing that on," said the old man. "You don't know me after all. You were at my party but I doubt you learned much about me there. Tell me, did you have a slice of cake?"
Pete couldn't think, he just wanted to grab the old guy and pull him back. "I don't...yes, I did," he said, remebering that he had had a slice forced on him by annoying Claire.
"I didn't, you know," said the old man. He chuckled. "It had nuts in it and I'm allergic. None of them knew but then why should they? It's not like I told them. It's not like I ever talked to them about anything important. I just went in every day and did my job like I was supposed to. I didn't question it. If I had...I would have been standing here a lot sooner."
"You can't just end your life!" said Pete.
"Why not? It's my life, son. I'm 68, it'll be over relatively soon either way."
"You could live another thirty years!" said Pete. The old man actually shuddered at the thought which Pete could clearly see.
"Don't wish such Hell upon me!" he scolded.
"You must have a family..." said Pete.
"Nope," said the old man, simply.
"There must be someone..."
"Not really," said the old man. "All the cliches aren't going to work on me son, so you may as well stop there."
"You can get another job, if that's what you want," said Pete.
"Oh, I don't, I hated my job. But it was all I had, as I pointed it. A reason to get up in the morning, something to keep me going. We all structure our lives, son, so that we don't see the over-riding pointless of it all. You might be too young to realise, you might be enjoying life at the moment, but one day you'll see. I worked for years and for what? It wasn't rewarding, I didn't enjoy it, the money wasn't even that good if I cared about money which I don't. All that happens at the end is that you get to retire then sit back and wait to die. I'm a patient man, but I see no reason why I shouldn't just jump to the head of the queue...so to speak."
Pete was at a loss. "You can get help..." he ventured. The old man shook his head. For a moment it looked like he was actually going to lose his balance, but he steadied himself.
"I told you the cliches won't work," he said. "And sorry for depressing you with my self-indulgent ramblings. I never used to be like this. I had a wife once, you know. She died, fifteen years back now."
"I'm sorry," said Pete, at a loss. Should he go back downstairs and get help? But if he left the old man for just a moment...
"Wonderful woman, really," said Stuart. "Sorry for using a cliche, but I really didn't deserve her. Maybe that's why she died." He Laughed. "Nah, there's no reason behind death, it's just random. All random..."
"You might meet someone else..." said Pete, clutching at whatever straw he could find.
"You know about five years after she died I thought that too. Thought that maybe it was possible. I've barely had a meaningful conversation with a woman since then. Haven't been on one date, wouldn't know how to. I'm not going to meet someone else. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
"DON'T JUMP!" shouted Pete. Maybe he could shout him down.
"Could you give me one good reason? Honestly, knowing what you no know about my life? Just one?" asked Stuart. This could be his only chance, Pete thought. But he didn't know what to say. "I thought not..."
"I don't want your death on my conscience," interrupted Pete. At this the old man looked around again, puzzled.
"Well I didn't think you'd say that, I must admit!" he said. "Go on."
"If you jump, well, that's your decision. It's not my fault, I know that rationally. But I will blame myself. I will think about it, agonised over it, possibly for the rest of my life. I don't want to watch you die and it's pretty selfish of you to make me. Act your age," said Pete. What the hell was he thinking, he thought. But it was all he could think to say, his last shot at it. And just like that, the old man stepped down.
"Thank you for being honest," he said, patting Pete on the shoulder.
"That's...that's it?" asked Pete, the panic still not gone.
"You know, I wasn't ever actually going to jump?" said Stuart. "I just wanted to know what it felt like...to be on the edge, literally and figuratively. So I came up here to find out. Then you started talking about suicide and I began thinking, well, why not just go ahead with it. You almost had me convinced I should, you know."
"I...almost convinced...you?" asked Pete, dumbfounded.
"Don't worry, don't worry, I wouldn't have done it. It's not the kind of thing I do. I've lived a quiet, uneventful, cowardly life for the last fifteen years. I'm sure I'll die a death befitting such a life. Throwing myself off a roof down onto a busy street? That's just not me!" He started walking away, leaving Pete standing there.
"So what are you going to do now?" asked Pete.
"Go home, watch telvision and try not to think about how meaningless everything is. The only thing I can do."
"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Pete.
"As okay as I'll ever be. Now go on, have your cigarette now, you've earned it," he said. Pete was still holding his lit cigarette but it had burned down.
"I'm trying to quit..." said Pete.
"Don't be silly. Life's too short! Smoke, even if it kills you. It doesn't matter, you end up that way anyway!" said Stuart. And with that, he walked back inside, but stopped in the doorway. Pete, shaken, turned and looked out over the city. He instinctively reached for a cigarette, then stopped himself. Instead he threw the whole packet off the roof.
"I think I'll just try not to die for as long as possible, if it's all the same to you," Pete said to Stuart. The old man shrugged.
"You'll be on the edge someday. How you choose to get there is entirely up to you." This time he walked all the way back inside. Pete, after deciding that he hated Stuart and almost wishing that he had accidenly pushed him off, followed.
