with a new tag or mural.
We reached the intersection where we would go our separate ways. An old homeless man grumbled from beneath a snow covered blanket. I gripped my knife while waving goodbye to Aleksi. One eye constantly trained on the old man, one hand never letting go of the knife. I would go on without Aleksi but I would not be alone. There was never anyone who was truly alone. There would always be the thugs watching for their mark; the sexual deviants waiting for their victims; the street-side prophet preaching to the people; the myriad of nameless and faceless pedestrians; the neighbour listening through your thin apartment walls, watching the streets through his window; the eternal gaze of security and traffic cameras.
I finished Aleksi's cigarette and kicked the flaming butt with my foot. It twirled and sparked until it hit the ground and extinguished itself upon the snow. A young girl with crimson red hair was curled up in the bank entrance, piercings adorned every other feature. She counted the small coffee cup of change she had acquired, a cardboard sign read: “Lost. Need money to get home.” It was clear she had no intention of returning home, it was even more clear that she did not belong to this life. Soon the city would claim her like the snow. Darkened by the fumes and consumed by the waste. I inserted my plastic ATM card into the machine. The machine welcomed me and thanked me for being a loyal customer. The buttons were old and worn from the touch of thousands of customers before me. The keys refused to recognize half the commands I entered.
Would you like to make a withdrawal?
Deposit
How much would you like to withdraw?
“No! Fucking machine!”
Cancel
Welcome valued customer! We thank you for choosing-
“Fuckin'-”
Deposit
How much would you like to withdraw?
“Fuck!” I smacked the side of the machine.
This went on for a good while until I finally managed my smack and swear my way onto the deposit screen. The girl sat there silently looking down at her small cup of change.
I had to make this payment, it was around tuition time for Eris' university. I had been giving her whatever cash I could spare. After years of abuse, her less than functional family had abandoned her when she was eighteen. She worked endless shifts at dead-end jobs in order to save up enough money to attempt university, by this point we had already been seeing each other for a year. At first I only attributed small sums to help her along, by the time she had moved to university I was paying for nearly everything. I would sacrifice living my own life so that she may live her's. This was the price I was willing to pay for her. When I finally saved up enough money to move out there, when I would finally be able to be there to share in her happiness, my suffering would be worth it.
It would only be another two weeks until I had enough money. Only two more weeks of this pathetic existence. It had been two years, what was another two weeks?
Would you like a receipt?
No.
Printing receipt.
“I hate you.”
Account Balance: 0.00
“I fucking hate you and you're fucking broken.”
The girl looked up at me as I left the bank.
“Spare some change?” Her voice was weak.
I stared at her, my hand on my knife, and kept walking. The voice in my head would not cease cackling.
When I returned home I finally was able to remove my shoes and let my wrinkled feet breathe. That night I would call Eris, and stay up next to the computer waiting for any sign of her. After hours of fruitless waiting I drifted off at my chair.
II.II
Chemistry class had ended and it was a good hour before the start of my next class. The high school hallways were always strangely reflective. I sat and rested my back against the cold metal lockers.
Rean came walking down the hallway, her arms swaying in wild exaggeration. She twisted her head completely sideways as she began to walk past me.
“Hi Jo.” Her hair hung at an unfamiliar angle.
“Don't call me that. How's it going? How did the Chem test treat you?”
“Oh Jo, it wasn't too horrible. I heard your class had it rougher.”
“Eh, it wasn't too hard.”
“Haha. You're always so confident.”
“I'm invincible until proven otherwise,” I said with a smile.
“So I have a favour to ask,” she said cranking her neck back upright.
“Oh yeah?”
“I've got a friend, she's kind of new in town.”
“Yeah? And?”
“And I promised to show her around town tonight but I forgot I had made other plans with my family. So.... I'm wondering if you'd like to take her out tonight.”
“So a date essentially.”
“Something like that.”
“What's her name?”
“Eris.”
“Eris? Isn't she that weird art student?”
“Yeah. That's been said about her...”
“No way.”
“Oh come on.”
“No, she's weird and it'd just be awkward and horrible.”
“Come on Jon, do it for me. I swear I'll make it up to you.”
I stared at her silently.
“Please? As a friend? I'll be so very grateful,” she begged.
“God damn it Rean. Fine. You owe me big time for this.”
Rean never did repay me for the favour.
II.III
The next morning was the same as the others. It felt like I was being revived by a defibrillator; a sudden pain and a gasp for air. It was Saturday, no work. Despite being employed in a black-market sweatshop our hours were fair and we got the weekends off like everybody else. It was one of the only ways we got to feel normal law-abiding citizens.
Stale bread with old peanut butter and tap-water. I drank from a chipped mug, I ate off a plate I reserved for bread and never cleaned. I smoked half a cigarette to give myself the illusion of fullness, and washed it down with another glass of water.
There was never much to do on weekends. On a good day I would go outside and wander the streets at a snail-like pace. Though most days I find myself hiding inside. Surviving off my one complete meal of the day. Taking my cold shower. Killing time through television shows pirated from the internet. Waiting, hoping for a sign of Eris.
Thankfully I had a purpose to go outside due to the malfunctioning ATM of the previous night. I needed to withdraw a small amount of cash in order to sustain my minimal existence. Dragging myself down to the bank on an empty stomach was a chore. The afternoon sun reflected off whatever white snow was left and stabbed at my eyes. The cold began to overcome my layers of clothing. The familiar sensation of melting snow filled my shoes. Vapour trailed from everyone's breath, chimney stacks of every kind, sewers, and vents. It was as if everything had been engulfed in a great invisible fire.
The bank was inside a mall, or what was originally intended to be a mall. The mall concept never really took off. The entrance was lined with heaters that endlessly blasted hot-air to keep the cold from overtaking the mall. It was humid, suffocating.
Other than the bank, there were a few stores owned by fresh immigrants who sold gaudy counterfeit goods. Bright golden plastic adorned hand bags in a bad imitation of gold. Dull pink outfits made of a cheap velvet collected dust in window displays. Most of the mall was empty, just countless hollow stalls with no lighting. The mall would seem completely abandoned if it were not the sounds of distant footsteps and the constant ambient mall music.
A cardboard cut-out advised me to invest. A pale green sign hung overhead the entrance. I avoided the tellers and went straight for the machines.
Would you like to make a withdrawal?
Yes.
How much?
100.
Insufficient funds.
“What?”
Check Balance.
Account Balance: 0.00
“What the fuck. You stupid p
iece of shit,” I said as I smacked the side of the machine.
Check Balance.
Account Balance: 0.00
I smacked the machine again.
“Fucking broken ATMs.”
People glanced at me, careful not to make eye contact. After trying every ATM in the bank I managed to gather the attention of every bank teller, customer, and security guard.
“God damn machines,” I said to myself while walking up to the front desk, security guards trailed behind me.
The voice in my head was cackling now.
“Hi,” I said with a half-amused face; the other half was extremely frustrated.
“Hello sir, how may I help you today?”
“Yeah, your machines are broken. Or your system is broken. Something is broken. Because it keeps telling me that I have no money in my account.”
“Alright just let me double check your account history for you,” he entered a few keys and made a series of concerned faces, as if to convey to me that this well-rehearsed ritual was still new to him.
“I'm sorry, there was a withdrawal made sometime last night, the account is empty,” he said.
“There has to be a mistake,” my eyes widened, my heart pounded.
“No mistake, the withdrawal was made last night by the co-owner of the account. This was around the time that you also made a deposit, as our records show.” He turned the computer screen, the numbers were all there.
“Fuck you,” it felt like I was losing control of my arms again.
“Sir?”
“Fuck you and fuck this bank, you're all a bunch of god damn scammers.” I slammed the table.
“I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” he was afraid, trying to assert an authority he did not have.
“Fuckin',” I said to myself. The security guards drew closer, “get the fuck away from me, I'm leaving.” I pushed the guards out of my