The Hospital, Part 1

I woke up a few minutes before the alarm was supposed to go off. This was nothing new, I had been doing it since grade school, why should that change in this place. I kept my eyes closed, savoring those last few moments before you realize that you really are awake, you really are stuck here, and you really will die here.

Just as I did every morning, I tried to wiggle my toes, and just as always, there was not a wiggle to be had. I knew that this was going to happen every time, but I still could not help but feel disappointed. The toes would never move again, nor would the legs, or anything else below the waist. They would just sit there and rot, while I laid here and rotted.

With nothing left to do, I opened my eyes and looked around, waiting for the inevitable buzz of the alarm through the speaker system that would wake us all up. There was the hall, the same as it always was, with a row of beds lining each side, hospital beds - small, thin-mattressed, and uncomfortable - well, what I could feel of it was uncomfortable, anyway. The same old walls, with paint chipping, and a loudspeaker inset, the same kind that they used to call you down to the office when I was a kid. Just like then, the loudspeaker usually meant trouble - time to wake up, time to start work, condolences, or new additions to the ward. Once a day it meant something good - the buzz for quitting time, but even that was hardly a blessing, there was nothing to do but work and sleep, and eventually die.

The walls were a dust brown color, chipping, and slowly fading; we had been told that the choice of color had been for therapeutic reasons - it was scientifically determined that this color would be the best to help us relax and recuperate. Years in the trades, as well as years in here, had meant that I knew two things from this: one, the paint was the cheapest available, and was therefore what they used, and they just tried to come up with a fancy reason why. Two, no one in here was here to recuperate - they put us in here to die, and to get some last final use out of us before we kicked it. That expression always made me laugh, whenever I thought about it - as long as I can remember, I've used that expression when someone died. But when I die, there won't be anyone to think that about me, and I won't have done any kicking, I hadn't done that in a long time. Hell, I doubt if there would be anyone who would even laugh at the irony.

The walls always made me think of dried up puke after a night of way too much beer and way too much fun; I think I had stains in my apartment that were permanently the same color. Maybe this was how they made the paint, and made it so cheap - just get a bunch of working class slobs to go out and blow their paychecks binging, collect the vomit, and whammo - instant paint, instant profit.

I glanced down at my feet for a moment, and there they were, bluish, presumably cold, pointing toward the center aisle, and partially blocking my view of the guy across from me. That was a game I would sometimes play in the morning - see how much of the guy across that I could block by maneuvering my head around. It could keep me busy for the few minutes before morning alarm. Besides that, there really wasn't much to do here, other than talk to yourself, or maybe the guy next to you. I never really was one to talk to myself, I just didn't have anything interesting to say that I didn't already know, and talking to the guys around me, well that could get old quick, too. If they were like me, we'd swap stories for a while then realize that we had said everything, and that we were so much the same it wasn't worth talking anymore. If they weren't like me, then they were usually jerks I didn't want to waste my time on... they would just piss me off, and why would I bother having them do that when I can just lie here without any aggravation.

A bunch of the other guys were already awake, too. I wondered if the folks who ran the bells new this and planned for it, used it in their "efficiency models". They probably did. I was finally getting close to the end of the hall, near the only window in the place and farthest away from the swinging double doors that marked the entrance of this place. One guy who used to be here said that there should be a sign above them that said, "All hope abandon, ye who enter here". That was one thing the guy was right about - there was no hope here - but mostly he was one who had pissed me of before he kicked it. Always going on and trying to show off how smart he was, until you just wanted to punch him in the mouth. And if I had legs, legs that worked anyways, you could be damned sure I would have gotten up and punched him.

But like a bunch of others, he was gone now, and I was still here, closer to the window than I had ever been before, close enough to almost feel the light streaming in, to see the sights outside, things that I hadn't seen in years. In that respect, it wasn't so much different than when I was working. You put in your time, got bumped up in pay or promoted, but every once in a while you got slapped back down because of something you did or that they claimed you did, and some other jackass got jumped past you and flaunted it, making you remember that he was smarter than you, better than you, and that was why he got there and ignored the normal rules of climbing up the ladder.

So here I was, one away from the window, waiting for the morning buzzer, waiting for my inevitable promotion. The guy by the window hadn't been doing well for a while, now, and I figured it wouldn't be too much longer for him. He couldn't even do a days work anymore, and they never lasted long after that. I'm not into the whole philosophy BS, so I don't know why they don't last long after they stop working, they just don't. Anyway, I guess I'd kind of miss him, because I'd talked more to him than to anybody else in a long time. Or, really, he talked, and I let him keep talking. He'd tell me about all the things that he could see out of the window, and that was kinda nice, but I wouldn't need that soon. Pretty soon, maybe in just a few days, I could see out the window myself.