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"Weak Week" by Russ Bickerstaff

Monday


Trina, Apartment 311


Wake up into a whole new week. The news turns on. Something about tensions overseas. I shower to try to forget about other problems. I dress and head out into the week, crushing a couple of bugs on my way. Climb into the terminal and start the campaign. Plenty of email came in over the weekend. Answer a few more and make the right connections and a factory is okayed to be shut down. Good progress for the first week. Relaxation later. And a few more bugs crushed. (Damned little things.) Okay enough with everything to finally almost fall asleep. 


Ton, Apartment 411


Wake up into the week and there's so much work to be done. Turn the radio on as I wash up for the morning. They're talking about the conflict overseas. Only a matter of time for them. Things are going to get worse. I dress in new coveralls. Make sure everything is sealed and I'll be working my way through a couple more boxes. The irony is that my lunch is completely processed. Wonder what people would think . . . it doesn't really matter. I'm doing good work. Exhausted by the end of the day. I collapse into bed. 


Tuesday


Trina, Apartment 311


I'm up early and into the shower. Not paying attention to the news. I have a few email alerts hitting me right away. The plant closing got turned around and now I have to deal with ricocheting the whole thing so that plant stays dead. Takes the whole morning to get it to work, but I manage to turn it around pretty quickly. It's a relief. And as many plants as I've gotten to close from my apartment, it always seems strange to be able to do this without leaving my home. I celebrate my success with sleep. Good Sleep. 


Ton, Apartment 411


There's a chime to let me know the coveralls are finished. Left them in the wash last night. That wakes me up. Watching the news . . . looks like there's been an ultimatum that's going to mean possible problems in the area of the complex associated with the food supply. Need to step-up production. Get through a half a dozen more boxes. Turn them into thirty or forty more rations. A full and complex meal. Entirely organic. Could solve starvation. It's my mantra. But this work . . . it's exhausting. Fall asleep in coveralls this time. Bad sleep. 


Wednesday


Trina, Apartment 311


Sleep is annihilated by the news. There's a war broke out over the food supply. Makes a mess of things. I've got a few factories that are in the process of winding down, but I don't know. That kind of synthetic food is going to be in demand now and it will make things more complicated. But what they're doing is awful. And it must be stopped. Even as there's a higher demand for why they provide. I'm scrambling to get work done before uncertainty spreads, but it's already here for me. I watch TV before bed. Some mindless sitcom. 


Ton, Apartment 411


I try to laugh on Wednesdays.  Quite often this laughter involves situations of comedy that are brought to me and I am glowing rectangle. And I suppose I feel pretty good about that. But I don't know. There are other things that are coming in around the edges. The whole pop-up windows about things that I should probably be paying attention but I'm not going to. Because to do so it would be to go ignore the fact that on Wednesday nights I try to laugh. And I can't afford to try to do anything else other than laugh on Wednesdays.


Thursday


Trina, Apartment 311


I'm tired and it probably has a lot to do with the fact that I didn't really sleep very well last night. But I'm sure I'm going to be able to handle it. It's just a matter of walking through the day without being alarmed by any of the things that are going on in the periphery. Because there's always things going on in the periphery. Then I know that they involve voices that are probably just out of the range of my hearing. But I am probably going to be able to hear them. And I might be able to understand them. Just not right now. Right now I'm too tired.


Ton, Apartment 411


It's Thursday and I'm late. Because I'm laughing. And I'm only really supposed to laugh on Wednesdays. I don't know why. I know there's probably a reason for it. And then probably going to be docked at some points or prosecuted or put to death or put to prison or put to sleep, or something like that. There should be some penalty. There should be some penalty for me laughing on Thursdays. But I just feel pretty good. Even knowing that there is going to be a consequence, as I still feel pretty good.


Friday 


Trina, Apartment 311


There's something here about the dreams. There's something here about not actually being here. And there's something here about probably having to be here because I am not sleeping well. Like being here is punishment for not sleeping well or something like that. But I know that I'm going to wake up. I just have to wait for it. I just have to want it harder than anything else. I don't know. Maybe go through another week. Maybe I'll see what happens if I go through another week of sleep.


Ton, Apartment 411


Are you giving me the punishment and I can't help but feeling good about it. But I know that I shouldn't be laughing. So I'm not going to. I don't know who they are. And I don't know who they think they are giving me a punishment for laughing. But at least it's something to hold. Something to feel. Because I certainly wasn't necessarily feeling well after. I was supposed to laugh so I suppose I sort of did. And now I'm not supposed to laugh. And I suppose I sort of am anyway. But not really. Not audibly. Still, you have to admit it's kind of funny. I just wish I knew what it was. Or why it was funny.


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