Silence

Alright, I know, I know. I've been slacking off on this blog, but that's because I've been working on other things. With those out of the way (for now, anyway), I finally finished the assignment from like four weeks ago that's been hanging over me like the Sword of Damocles. So, here it is. So far, it's just called "Silence".

Christ Almighty, it's been a long time. For a minute there, I thought I'd forgotten how to talk. Seems like it's something you don't forget, like riding a bicycle.

Found this tape recorder the other day. Don't know why I'm wasting my time, really. Not like there are going to be any future generations to come and find this. Hell, as far as I can tell, the future of the human race stretches as far as the next ten years. Maybe twenty if my ticker holds out. Then, kaput.

I guess I'm doing this to keep myself sane. That's the problem with all of this space. The silence. There's some days where I think I'd cut off a toe just to hear a sound other than my own footsteps.

It gets really bad in office buildings. You walk in there, and normally there'd be dozens of people walking around in there. Phones ringing, deliverymen dropping off packages, people making plans, making dates. People being people.

But now. Now it's this ridiculous end-all be-all silence, pressing down on me like the sky has turned into a massive leaden weight.

Yesterday, I went to a car dealership and smashed in all the windows, just to hear the sound of tinkling glass and the war-whoop of car-alarms. Fucking car alarms. I used to hate them, screaming out of my window to turn that thing off. Not any more. Yesterday, I sat down and cried like a baby over the car alarms.

The worst part about this, I think, is that I can still see others, every now and then. Not real people; like I said, I'm the last man. At least that I know of. No, I suppose that I'd have to call them ghosts.

Ha. Shit, listen to me. Ghosts. Ten years ago I'd have laughed someone out of town if they'd have started up with that ghost mumbo jumbo to me. But, a lot has changed in ten years. To put it mildly.

They're stuck in loops. Like that kid said in that old movie, it's like they don't know that they're dead. They're walking around, doing all their normal things. I had one of them pass through me the other day to drop a letter in the mailbox. Weirdest thing. Mailbox wasn't even in the same place anymore; it had been blown to the other side of the street and through a store window, but this old woman comes marching down the street and puts her letter in where the box used to be. It looks so normal that for a moment, I can almost see the mailbox, I can almost hear the creak thump as she opens and shuts the door on it. But there's no sound, and no acknowledgment that she sees me.

See, that's another part that bugs me. They're going on with their lives, or afterlives, or whatever the hell you want to call it. It's like I'm not even here, like I just dropped off the face of the planet. Or maybe I've gone crazy. I don't know. I'm not even sure that I'm here any more. Fuck.

Okay, I'm back. Getting crazy out here by myself, I guess. Why else would I think it was a good idea to get all philosophical when I wasn't even sure if I'd remember how to talk anymore?

But they're not helping. I can see them now, more than I've ever seen before. It's like nothing ever happened, like this has all been just a bad dream. Over there, I can see a gaggle of kids buying ice-cream from a honest-to-god ice cream truck, and I can damn near hear its bells jingling.

Ah shit, here come the waterworks again.

Here's a pompous asshole with a briefcase in one hand, a cell phone plugged into his ear, and a stick up his ass. I used to hate guys like him, but right now I'd cut off my whole damn foot to hear him shouting into that piece of shit phone.

Jesus, it's a whole goddamn traffic jam. I can see the drivers beating on their horns. I can see the flashing lights from the sirens as cops wave the traffic past an accident. I can even see their cheeks puffing out as they blow on their little whistles. But come on. I'm recording all of this, so you tell me. You hearing any of this?

I don't know much of anything now. I used to think I was lucky to survive, but that lasted for about ten minutes. I'd have killed myself before now, but I was always a bit too much of a chickenshit to take that step. And besides, I gotta admit, this is beautiful somehow.

It's like that old song, I guess. You don't know what you got 'till it's gone.

It's creepy, too. Don't get me wrong. There's something a little off in seeing this many people in one place and still being able to hear a mouse fart.

I do know one thing now, because I can make sound, and they can't. If nothing else, for better or for worse, I do know one thing.

I am here.