Project: Life

By Jesse Abram

 

Chapter 1 : Reagan

 

            He never asked why the named him Reagan. Maybe part of him didnÕt want to know. His parents never liked Ronald Reagan, the President, the Actor, in fact, it seemed that they had disliked him. At any rate, all in all, it made kind of a cool first name, so he was happy with it. It did invite its share of questions, though, or rather, just one question, repeated endlessly.

            Reagan walked into the room. No one was there. Luckily, there was a chair, so he sat down. The room wasnÕt a surprise to him. It made him feel neither highs nor lows. So, for awhile, he sat, calm yet understimulated.

 

Chapter 2 : Deana

 

            Deana walked into the room and stood across the table from Reagan. She knew him well, so introductions werenÕt necessary.

            ÒItÕs time to goÓ, she said.

            ÒWhere?Ó, he asked.

            ÒJust messing with you. But hi. Do you have another chair?Ó

 

Chapter 3 : Carl

 

            The sound of voices drew Carl into the room. He liked voices, they meant activity, and activity meant that he could feel like he was accomplishing something. When he got there, only Deana was In the room, standing at an empty table, which was accompanied by an empty chair.

            ÒHi Deana. Who were you talking to just now?Ó

            ÒReagan. HeÕs gone to get me a chair.Ó

            ÒI was thinking of heading out, do you guys want to come with me, instead of sitting down?Ó

            ÒIÕll ask Reagan.Ó

 

Glass 1 Finished at this point

 

Chapter 4 : Johnny

 

            Johnny was walking down the street, when he came upon Reagan, Deana, and Carl. They all looked somewhat purposeful, so this gave him a sense of purpose when he approached them.

 

Glass 2 Finished at this point

 

            They knew Johnny, but not extremely well. They liked him, however, so they joined as a group of 4 fairly seamlessly.

 

Glass 3 Finished at this point

 

            ÒSo, where are we going, exactly?Ó, asked Reagan.

            ÒI figured weÕd start with the grocery storeÓ, replied Carl.

            ÒSeems an unexciting destination for such an important-looking questÓ, added Johnny.

            ÒIt all has to start somewhereÓ, concluded Carl.

 

Glass 4 Finished at this point

 

Chapter 5 : Santos

 

            His name wasnÕt really Santos. He wasnÕt even of any sort of familial or national origin that would be expected to yield a name such as Santos. He just thought that it would be amusing to people, if their grocery store bagboy were named Santos, because then, they could call him ÒSantos the bagboyÓ. Santos had an odd sense of humor.

            ÒSantos the bagboy!Ó, called Johnny.

            Santos turned around, expectantly.

            The crowd was standing in line, buying some fairly non-notable and impulse-bought food items. This didnÕt really affect Santos in much of any way. He was glad to see them, however, as he knew all of them, to at least some degree. And he was the personable type.

 

Chapter 6 : Ragnarok

 

            He was tired of life as usual. One of his jaunts into supposed purpose had landed him in the military. And he had absurdly liberal access privileges. So he pushed the button. And no one would have to call him Sargeant Johnathan Smith ever again. Because that name was immolated out of most of their memories.

 

Chapter 7: The dayÉ Of

 

            Reagan, Deana, Carl, and Johnny were all still alive, somehow. Santos wasnÕt quite so lucky.

 

In drunkenness, time goes so slowly, yet things happen so fast.

 

Glass 5 Finished at this point

 

            Santos had been impaled through the head by part of a windowframe, which was a horrible, yet fancy way to die. Needless to say, the other 4 were horrified, as Santos was a completely delightful character (not to say that it wouldnÕt have been horrible no matter who it happened to).

 

Glass 6 Finished at this point

 

This began as a tale of adventure and apocalypse, but I feel like I should record the moment, as well, the reality.

            Alone, in my room, glass of wine, bag of chips, music blaring. A calm comes over me unlike any that IÕve felt in ages. Everything is ok, can be ok.

Òis there a theme?Ó, one asked.

Òum, not reallyÓ, I replied.

Òit started as a somewhat nihlistic apocalypse novelÓ

Ònow it's turning into more of a reflection on realityÓ

Òand at the point where all music sounds good,Ó

Òeverything is amazing and feels how it shouldÓ

 

Glass 7 Finished at this point

 

I guess I should pour the rest into the glass, now.

 

Glass 7 ½ Poured.

 

            The night is unfolding, a story of its own. I started with no set action plan, no set formula for how this book had to go. I was open to the possibility that this book would bleed through into the reality of the world. And it has, and it probably tells a better story than what I started, a long 2 pages ago. Almost to the end of the bottle here, and I think itÕs just the right amount. The right amount for a story, the progress of an evening, a time to figure things out and let things unfold.

           

Glass 7 ½ Finished at this point

 

ThatÕs the whole bottle. IÕm glad things have gone the way they have, I have no regrets.

            Regrets are pointless. They basically look to time travel to solve problems. Once you can put any regrets aside, you can solve the problems that face you. Slay some dragons. Make things awesome.

            I wonder if thereÕs really a message here tonight. I hope there is. Or if there isnÕt, I hope thereÕs something to make us comfortable in there not being a message. Something that tells us that we can be happy even if there is no message. At any rate, IÕm smiling.