Escape

[Aardvark]

I'd stood here before, the roof of one of the many skyscrapers that made up my city. This was the roof of my building, where I worked. Where I had worked for almost ten years. Almost a quarter of my life I had worked in the one place. Doing the same thing. Day in, day out. 10 years either works you into a groove or causes your mind to snap. I was leaning to the latter. 10 years as a corporate desk slave, with a mundane personal life. Wife, two kids, house in a nice part of town. Same routine every week. The monotony was getting to me.

 

My breaks for lunch usually take me to the roof of the building, where I stand and watch out over the city. When I'd discovered a fast way to the roof, two years earlier, I'd taken up smoking, just as an excuse to get up here more often. Two years and not a day went by when I looked out over the edge and something inside me said to me, in a calm, soothing voice, "Jump."

 

I lead an active, healthy lifestyle. I ate right, I exercised often, being a member of a gym for about 15 years now. I looked good for my age, no severe health issues. I was the envy of my male peers. Strong, handsome, in perfect shape. My only real vice was the smoking. And the only time was at work. Just to get out of work. But I wasn't enough for me. I looked back on my life and saw the last ten years stretch back to infinity. I looked ahead and saw another ten, then an old age of wrinkled frailty. I looked once more out over the city from the rooftop and heard the voice, once more, telling me to jump.

 

I tried to block it out, I tried to drown it out, I tried to ignore it. It didn't work. It was still there. Calm, soothing and to me, right then, the picture of sense. I was trapped in my world of stability, this was the only way out. My inner voice of reason telling me to take my own life.

 

But what about my friends? My family? I thought of them and could only see pictures and profiles. Sarah Hart, age thirty five, married, two children, height, weight. John and Michelle Hart, ages nine and six respectively, Barry Jones, age forty three, good friend and neighbour. I couldn't think of the people themselves. Just who they were, what they looked like. I no longer saw them as people. They were merely aspects of my stable life.

 

I hadn't told anyone, not even my wife, about my state of mind. I'd made the mistake of marrying a psychologist who read into the work of Freud a little too much. She would recommend a shrink who would recommend pills and that's the last thing I wanted. I'd successfully kept my thoughts to myself. But the longer I bottled them up, the louder they got. "Jump, escape, end it all." It was all making too much sense.

 

I looked out over the city, again. The sun was high in the sky, there were few clouds. The air was clear, strong sea breezes having blown all the pollution out west. A cluster of skyscrapers surrounded by vast plains of houses and small buildings. Each skyscraper separated by lines of vehicles. I looked down. Thirty stories straight down. The footpaths were almost empty today, the traffic light. Little chance of hitting anyone.

 

I walked back to the stairwell down into the building. I was due back at my desk. As I gripped the doorhandle, I turned and took one last look at the city. Then I let go, turned and ran to the edge. I lept... and fell...

 

 

... and sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide open, rivulets of cold sweat pouring down my face. I looked at my watch. Three fifty five AM. Six hours before the interview. I turned to where my girlfriend was sleeping. She hadn't even stirred. My thoughts went back to the dream I'd had. The dream I'd been having every night since I applied for this position. I'd decided to settle on a 40 hour a week salary job for a company in the city. I checked my watch again. The date confirmed that I was still twenty eight and four hours away from a mundane desk job. I couldn't do it. I couldn't consign myself to that life. No, it wasn't for me, I decided.

 

I picked up the phone and dialled. He probably wouldn't be awake, but I couldn't wait any longer. I waited thirty seconds. Then the phone was answered.

 

"Whoever you are, you'd better have a damn good reason for interrupting that dream"

 

"Michael, it's Joseph."

 

"You? Damnit man, I had two chicks in that-"

 

"Forget about your dream. Remember the offer you made me?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, why couldn't you wait 'til tomorrow to talk to me about it?"

 

"I had second thoughts right now."

 

"Oh. Well. Ok. So you want in?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"You can help us secure the loan?"

 

"I've got mates at several banks who owe me favours."

 

"Well, it sounds like we're in business. Congratulations, partner."

 

"Thanks, partner."

 

He hung up first. I lay my head back down and breathed easy. I closed my eyes and dreamed....

 

 

I'd stood here before, the roof of one of the many skyscrapers that made up my city. But when I looked out, I didn't see the future, the past or hopelessness. I saw my city. The city I was playing a major part in expanding.

 

I ran to the edge. I leaped. I soared.

[Annael]

may your dreams always lead you to new heights