Solace

Grimly, Daniel Winters returned to his penthouse apartment in the skyscraper Jackson Tower. His day had been spent with needless tinkering simply to keep his infinite hours interesting and to prevent his mind from wandering into the realms of insanity. The only excitement of the day was the loss of a screwdriver, which would be tomorrow’s activity. As always, he locked the door as he entered, not for security, but for complete seclusion from the world from which he hid. The overhanging lights bloomed their colours as he kicked the electric generator into life. The generator was a composite of anything that gave electricity; batteries, petrol and if they failed, Dan had to wind up a dynamo he’d attached himself.
The penthouse was a one room, open plan flat and seemed almost completely made of glass; each wall was a window. This room was the only place Dan felt he could escape from his true life, so he had painted over each window and their spectacular views in black paint to hide from those daunting skyscrapers, a shrine to the past. In the centre of the room was a pile of mattresses, pillows, cushions and blankets, which served as his bed. Next to the bed sat a heap of various objects; photographs, books and toys and other items Dan had picked up over time. Each object held value purely to him. In what had once been an open plan kitchen area was an uneven pyramid of tinned food and next to this haphazard larder was a large, open water tank, which was filled by a drainpipe protruding through a hole in the ceiling. This was hardly the home of a king but, for the richest man in the city, this was the best he could do.
Dan walked over the carpet of empty beer cans to the kitchen area, opened a tin and began scooping out the jelly-like substance with his hand. He crammed the food into his mouth without looking to see what it was. After his supper Dan dropped his heavy fur coat, which was more a series of linked pockets than anything else, to reveal his body, nude bar the shoes he wore, and slumped onto his bed to gaze absent-mindedly at the one patch of the window-wall he’d left unpainted. The gaps in the black paint spelled out “you are the luckiest man alive.” He had written the words when he once tried to kill himself and had truly believed in their wisdom but now they seemed to mock him. Dan’s empty soul wept for hours, until he fell into a sleep corrupted by the images of reality that taunted his mind.
Dan woke, unaware of the time, and he threw on his coat and left his flat, locking the door behind him. He reached the stairwell and clambered onto a platform which he’d created, lowering him carefully down to the ground floor by means of an electric pulley system. Sunlight blinded him as he burst through the double doors of the Jackson Building’s ornate entrance hall onto the street. He raised a hand to shield his eyes and began to find his bearing amidst the matted screen of defiled, ruined buildings that made the city. The first landmark was a rusting car on the pavement. With broken glass cracking under his large leather boots, he set off past the burned out Saloon he’d checked for useful parts years ago. The street was now an obstacle course of snapped lampposts, telegraph poles and traffic lights that lay strewn across the road.
Over the years Dan has systematically looted the shops and stores in the neighbouring blocks and now he had to travel further and further afield to find what he needed. After an hour of walking, he stopped on a small bridge that overhung a main road so he could pause to observe this newfound area. The place of his gaze was a district that formed little villages, all flowing into each other to make up a city. The buildings were smaller and older than in the centre where he lived, their street levels were mainly shops with flats and apartments for shopkeepers above. The streets were lined with trees but the branches had not grown leaves since the world had given up nurturing anything. The pavements were a litter of twigs and branches shed by the long dead maples and sycamores.
He walked to the edge of the bridge and looked down at the road. On the cracked tarmac was a muddy plastic bottle with a bit of string tied around it. Suddenly he realised he had been here before... Within weeks of Dan awaking from his coma, the loneliness forced him to escape the city and search beyond his empty world. One day he got up and began walking with no prior preparation. He had no idea if he’d find anyone or anything, how long the journey would take where he was going or if he could make it. Before reaching the end of the city he felt the thirst begin to sink into his mouth. In Jackson Tower he’d just finished his crude system for collecting rainwater, but out here water was a scarce luxury. Turning to the nearest corner shop he broke in to find an unopened water bottle and drank heavily, letting the bitter water quell his need. Searching his trouser pocket he found a small length of string which he tied around the bottle’s head, allowing him to let it daggle from his wrist. After emptying the contents of other bottles into his own, he left the shop and kept walking, following the obvious path of a motorway. But as the city thinned the ability to refill his bottle became more difficult. When thirst consumed the final drops of his supply he threw the bottle to the ground in dismay. Foolishly he continued walking though he had no water, for he knew there was nothing for him in the city, but at least in the city he could find clean water and food. When the city eventually died into frosted grey fields he began to feel hungry but resisted the temptation and continued walking into the sharpened cold. The white mountains that encircle the city loomed closer. It was only the numbing air creeping over his skin and freezing his blistered eyes that broke his endurance he began to see that he could only turn back. He ran towards the city and collapsed into the first building he found, an old service station. He smashed into the shop and tore down the shelves trying to find something to drink. In the corner was a large freezer once for ice creams on its back. Opening it Dan found a bath of the melted ice. He instantly plunged his head into the water and drank until he was satisfied. Searching further he found some tinned food which he ate ravenously. It now seemed obvious that he could not make it past the mountains that encircled him, he couldn’t carry enough food and water to survive the mountains and once over them what would he do then? Having deemed escape impossible he trudged back to the empty wastes of the city that he regrettably had to call home.
Back in the present Dan walked into the town and after searching a few blocks he found a small hardware store with smashed windows and a sign saying “everything must go!” Inside were shelves of batteries priced far beyond their worth. He hastily filled his pockets with the precious objects; he desperately needed electricity and batteries for the electric generator in his room. Dan searched the shop to find the screwdriver, the whole reason for his venture, a few shelves down. He slipped the red handled Phillip’s into his pocket and left.
The search for the screwdriver had taken up most of the morning but that left an idle afternoon wasting infinite time.
Boredom was Dan’s one enemy in his lonesome world. Because he knew if he had nothing to keep him entertained and nothing to keep his mind occupied in silent hours that would leave him to the wrath of his own thoughts and imagination that would ravage his mind to the point of insanity. Thus, in a desperate attempt to escape from the dreaded monotony, Dan tried a different route back to Jackson Tower, not a move to spark excitement, but Dan always found the small things the most effective.
Wandering past boarded up houses and deserted phone booths, on the pavement the figure of a car caught his eye. He immediately ran to the car in a sudden buzz of expectation but drawing closer he found the mutilated carcass was propped up by bricks and missing all its wheels. He should have expected no less; all the cars in the city were the same. After trying to leave the city he realised the only way to escape was to find a working car, which would enable him to carry enough supplies and escape the mountain’s cold quickly enough to reach the other side. But though he searched every car escape seemed impossible as they were all irreparable. After forcing open the dented bonnet, he found the engine was rusted solid but the battery seemed intact; these dead cars weren’t completely useless. Dan disconnected the wires and lifted the heavy 12 volt battery from its casing. Dan took a step away from the car, catching his foot on something below it. The object rolled away as he put his weight on it, causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards onto the road, dropping the battery.
The mysterious object was revealed when from under the car a skateboard rolled out. He walked over to where the skateboard had skittered to a stop and picked it up. He examined it closely, spinning the wheels curiously. Though unsure of its function he wanted to resolve the skateboard’s previous attack on Dan’s stability by mastering its purpose. His first thought was of its resemblance to a car in its four wheeled structure, a method of transport perhaps? Dan carefully laid the skateboard back on the tarmac, trying to see it from a different mental angle. It was too small for him to sit on like he would in a car. Perhaps he had to stand on it? He placed one foot on top of the board and then put his other foot on the skateboard. This position seemed unnecessarily precarious but Dan persevered and soon he was standing tall. The skateboard had no visible engine like a car, so how to get himself moving? Dan tried cautiously pushing off with his foot and let himself glide to a gentle stop. Though he would’ve preferred a car and the board was inefficient, it seemed more enjoyable than walking so he tried again. Soon Dan had managed to get himself moving at a steady speed. Now that he was feeling more confident he tried a simple turn, yet misjudged it and fell backwards on to the ground. Annoyed at the skateboard’s second attack at Dan, he got back up and brushing himself down, he went for another try. After several more bone jarring falls, Dan became more aware of his movements in relation to the board and soon he was able to turn quite easily. As the empty buildings sped past Dan allowed his face to mould into a smile; an almost alien expression to him. Yet the feeling of happiness was short lived. His smile quickly turned into a frown, for he knew there was no one with whom he could share his new found talent.
It was time to eat so Dan ran the skateboard back to the car to collect the battery he dropped then skated to a supermarket whose signs broadcast the message “the food that’s nicest at the lowest prices.”
Dan explored the building, the smell of rotten food hanging stagnant in the air, so strong he could taste it. The aisle selves had been emptied and anything other than the walls had been destroyed in some previous riot Dan assumed. Shopping trolleys lain over-turned on the ground; he stood one up and put his skateboard and car battery in it. He immediately bypassed a dripping wet mountain of what had once been food in the frozen food section; the fateful event of vomiting after naively eating some mouldy pizza had taught him that only canned food was edible. Around ten cans littered the floor, he picked up just two; he had plenty of food at home and he could always return here.
Dan carefully parked his trolley so it would not roll away and sat down to eat his lunch on the kerb outside the supermarket. He withdrew the tin can opener he always carried from one of his fur pockets and wound open the can to reveal its contents: cherries, he hated cherries. In this world, where Dan could only get what was left over, he couldn’t afford to be picky. He threw the can to the floor, not thinking that that could be the last can he saw. Dan simply didn’t think like that, he couldn’t afford that luxury either. He couldn’t spend his time conserving his resources, if he did that would require him to constantly think about the future and Dan knew the future held only death. So Dan allowed himself to throw away the can of cherries he didn’t like in direct defiance of organising so he could avoid thinking about the future so he could remain always in the present. He stood up and got himself another can from the trolley and ate the preferred tinned meat. As he consumed his meal Dan looked down at the ground rather than observing his current surroundings; after about five years of wandering these streets he’d seen every old car and decrepit building; the floor was more interesting than his reality. Though Dan didn’t notice it any more, the city was completely silent; to him it had always been this way, no dogs barking, no bird song not even the squeak of a humble rat, just him.