[02] - No Collections

I put the card back in my pocket and walked towards the end of the street. My determination to find someone was admirable, sweet, childish. Until that moment, I refused to believe everyone was gone, truly gone.

I stopped in front of the house where the silver Tesla was parked outside, not in the garage like everyone else’s. If anyone could see me, they would see a hopeful glow coming from my eyes by that tiny possibility of human life.

I entered the house with ease. The door wasn’t even locked, I made myself believe this was a good sign and ignored the details. All I wanted was to find something out of the ordinary, something that would show me that a human had passed by and leave it behind its mark of chaos and destruction. I lived for a broken vase.

"Chaos is the natural order of things" my father used to say.

I stopped intrigued by the thought. For so long, I hadn't thought about him. The "physicist with exceptional intelligence" it says at the old news paper lost in my “random stuff” box. He didn't even look like my father, he was just a photo with a caption: Nobel Prize winner.

I walk up stairs not willing to fall into the memories of the fire. The door to the master bedroom was opened and I found myself inside a page of a decoration magazine. My eyes hurt. Too much light, too much beauty, who could live in such a place.

Anxiety was filling me up till my throat. I could hear a mental breakdown knocking on my door.

I ran to the bathroom, turned on the shower over my head. It had to be a dream, I needed to wake up. How could they all have disappeared !?

"7 Billion people," I say out loud, surprised to hear my own voice.

I looked up letting the icy water fall over my face. "7 billion" I repeated mentally without the same desperation. I couldn't be one out of seven f**king billion, what kind of person is lucky enough to be one out of seven billion?

The numbers brought me to a new perspective. There must be someone! I forced myself to believe it and bathe into positivity. Maybe that part of town had been evacuated due to some toxic waste that fell from the sky and the rest of the world was doing just fine. I would be perfectly fine if getting cancer was my worst concern. A cancer that would be treated by living humans that still exist on earth. See? Pure positivity.

6 continents, 193 countries, 36,722 cities, someone else had to be left.

I opened my hands and let the water run through my fingers creating small waterfalls. The logic was in my favor. Reality? Not so much. I sat on the floor letting my frustration drain with the water.

I turned off the shower when I had old people's hands and my nails were more purple than ever. Even with the house heaters set to super hot, I schiverd non-stop as I entered the closet, which, by the way, was huge, with a ridiculous amount of clothes, all of them dry and warm. I took a loose shirt and put on top of a big black sweater made of the finest wool. All the pants I found were too big, so I sat on the floor with the dryer waiting for mine to be usable.

It was time to get it back together, perhaps enter a meditative state in which my mind would escape this strange reality. But as expected, meditation was not my forte.

I got up searching the contents of the closet. Jewels, creams, gloves, hats, purses... Within all that luxury, only one thing managed to catch my eyes: an old iPod lost in the family photo box.

I took the small object very carefully and pressed the middle circle, the charge was 78%. A little smile came up to my frowny face. I put on the headphones hoping it would silence my thoughts for a moment. An 80's song started playing, but I didn't care, listening to the voice of another human being was enough.

Returning to the whole blow-drying my pants, I stared at the bedroom around me. A plan was in need, one big, elaborate plan so I could find people, maybe not at that very moment, but at least at some point, or they could find me. I needed to figure out my next step, otherwise, there was no escape from the imminent madness.

I left the house bringing one of the pillows and the car key. I made a noise down the front stairs and skipped the last step. Any sound was wellcome so it could fill the emptiness of the world.

I started the car not listening to the engine roar (because it was electric, so it was a bummer on the noise part, but great for the environment). On the panel, the pointer showed it was fully charged so I took a deep breath and reflected on what I was doing: I had broken into houses, took stuff from it and was, at that specific second, stealing a car.

“It is not theft or burglary if things have no longer owners” I talk to my mirror self as I accelerate the car.

If chaos was the natural order of things, I could help with that. I stepped down the pedals even more driving through those streets that once suffered from traffic jams. I didn't worry about going home and getting some memory box to take with me. I felt like I hadn't left anything behind. There was nothing there for me.

I headed towards the center, just to find another unpopulated darkness. Feeling scared didn't seem to make sense, I would never have to fear anyone again, there were no people. A dark street, at last, was just a dark street, the only problem was that I was never afraid of the street, or of what might hide in the corners, I was afraid of the dark, the dark and terrifying darkness.

"Chaos is the natural order of things," my father would say without taking his eyes off the sea of numbers on the computer screen.

It was like he was talking to me, eyes at work, and words placed out just for me.

“... and we keep on trying to control the chaos …”

My eyes were intrigued, but my mind was confused. I was 6, I had no idea what he meant by that. For a while we were silent, he had entered his private world and forgotten that I was there, maybe he wasn’t even talking to me, maybe he was just thinking out loud.

I stopped the car on instinct. The red light still had an effect on my mind lost in memories. I got out of the car leaving it on. I headed towards the very well lit store, all the signs were still on, waiting for customers who would never come.

On the other hand, houses and apartments were out. My new theory was that when I left the bed that afternoon, I had fallen into a parallel reality (in a troubled way it made sense).

"People don't disappear for no reason" I said, walking down streets that used to be so annoyingly busy.

I walked for 5 hours making small stops. In each of them, my body absorbed absurd amounts of red bull, chocolate bars and a random jar of pickles that I picked up at the convenience store just because. Oh, the convenience stores ... I didn't know what terror was until I entered a store in the middle of the night without a single person. It was terrifying, no matter the lights on, the darkness outside made me wait for something bad that was always about to happen. I could almost hear zombies breaking the glass to attack me and eat my brain (not that zombies were a bad idea).

If this were to become an ideal post-apocalyptic world, I would meet someone eventually. A sad human that was as lonely as me. Maybe a dog, or a cat, a bird? I would be perfectly happy with an insect, an ant to call Princess Dot. I was even open to a pet butterfly.

But nothing there was ideal. There were no viruses or meteors. It was all just a normal day where people hadn't woken up. Not people, or animals, or the damn insects.

Logic was a mess. The internet worked, the lights turned on, the store heaters warmed me up. I was the only part that didn't fit. An arts student who gave up physics in the last semester due to a nervous breakdown was the worst possible person for an apocalyptic world. I knew some basic survival stuff from TV or even a little first aid, but other than that I had no skills that would help me survive. Shouldn't it be an assumption to have some incredible ability to be left in such a world? Why me and not the guy who presents the jungle survival program? Or a Buddhist monk who knows how to live with very little and in silence? Or at least someone with an athletic physique.

I stopped, my feet hurt from all the pointless walking. I lay down in the middle of the street (classic me) looking at the stars that gained a little more space in the residential area where everything was blacked out. I took another iPod out of my pocket which I found at the cash register of one of the convenience stores. The songs consisted of heavy metal and rock, I looked up for something different, but the previous owner of that device was very sure about his taste in music.

I hid my hands in my pocket letting the cold air touch my face and freeze my lungs with each breath. The sound of the drum solo was above my thoughts, and for an instant, I think I could think of nothing.

I needed a plan, I couldn't keep wandering around forever (Or could I?). I let my gaze drift over the top of the small buildings. I wanted to find anything, anything that escaped the damn organiza-

A little light caught my eye, it was faint, barely noticeable like a lamp that had been left on by mistake.

I had to hold the hope that tried to grow on me. A light on didn’t mean there was someone inside (aside the metaphor I could take from it).

I ran up the stairs to the apartment on the first floor, 103. Elevators were a no go for me, I would not be the one who would die because the energy went off and I got stuck in there forever.

I knocked hard on the door and put my ears on it expecting some sort of noise from the inside. Obviously, no one answered. I went into chaotic neutral mode and used the crowbar from the building emergency kit.

“Someone? A person?” my voice was lost in the silence again, the apartment was empty “ Brutal…” I said seeing another well-kept place. I really wished with all my strength for a messy apartment with broken stuff, mice, and cockroaches eating the garbage that hasn't been changed in days.

I went for the tv and turned it on. With no one to choose a schedule, all that was going on was the stations’ symbols saying they would be back soon (would they?). I took the only DVD in the house and put it on. I watched Mary Poppins halfway before falling asleep.

[---]

Waking up was cruel. For a second I opened my eyes believing that everything was just a bad dream, just so I could realize I was not at home and silence was my only friend.

Even though seeing the sunlight brought me some happiness, it was not enough. I stretched, noticing everything around me. I wanted to understand where I was.

I sat looking at the small room, a kitchen/living room. My eyes searched for details that would tell me the story of the person who lived there (or lives, I wasn’t ready to set in stone the end of humanity).

I assumed the small apartment belonged to a boy, someone in his early twenties. There were no framed photos, nor much decoration, the wallpaper peeled off in some corners. Some vinyl records were stored in a box in the corner of the room, but there was no record player to be found.

I walked to the bedroom and opened the wardrobe, I noticed a neat hipster style. He liked blouses with cute prints and sunglasses, lots of beanies and hats. He had five pairs of shoes, 4 of which were sneakers and a pair of fancy gala shoes that seemed to have never been worn. I pulled out one of the drawers just to find a sea of ​​underwear and mixed socks. I pulled out the second drawer and ... a smile. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The huge iPod Classic with ugly stickers lost in a sea of old cables that no one actually knows what to do with.

I went to my backpack and grabbed the other two iPods I found earlier, opened the window letting the cold wind in and with a freeing movement, I let them fall down the building. There was no space for collections. Survivors of an apocalypse (which did not happen) could not be hoarders. I am a light traveler.

I sat down again on the sofa in the living room and turned on the iPod for inspiration. He had a good taste in music, moved through several genres with a slight preference for unknown bands (maybe he was part of one, even though there were no instruments in the house).

“9437 songs” I looked impressed, I would have a lot to listen to “Hayden” I thought out loud.

That seemed like a good name for the owner of that place. Hayden...

I looked around for a black marker (which should be a must have at anyone’s house) but all I could find was a blue one with very little ink left. I wrote the name on the back of the iPod over the ugly monsters and aliens stickers. I put the earphones on and set it to play on random. The first song that came was The Neighborhood, Sweater Weather (I particularly liked the song as much as the band, but it showed he was a little more mainstream than I had thought).

Hayden seemed to be showing me that we had something in common, that we would do well in a world where he still existed.

We agreed not to skip any of the songs and not repeat until we reached the end.

I went back to the closet picking up a sweater with navy blue and black stripes. I took off the one I was wearing and replaced it. I chose the old backpack, that was a little bigger than the one I had previously stolen and tucked two more sweaters inside. In the kitchen, I opened the fridge and cupboards in search of small packages of edible things.

Once again, I tried to use the blue pen. I started to outline my plan using the wall as a canvas (my inner child was pleased).

Six months. During that time, I would be aimlessly looking for a person. I would make recordings to be kept on repeat on the radio stations, try to put up some messages on the TV networks. I would print my next location and leave it on the walls as if I was announcing my new gig. Basically, anything that could get me closer to finding someone else.

My goal also included finding out what happened to everyone. Why was I the only one there? (At least, the only one around those parts).

Six months. That was the time that would let me believe that I wasn’t the only one, after that, I would begin to accept that I might be alone forever.

With a map on my phone, I chose my route and marked the addresses of radio and TV stations. It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was what I had at the time.

I grabbed my backpack and opened the apartment door. I was already feeling attached to the small apartment, the silence didn't seem so great there, the tidiness was not so uncomfortable as everywhere else. The Doritos dust on the floor was a sign of life that I had created. I wanted to leave chaos wherever I walked by, it was also my trail of crumbs.

I closed the door behind me and felt like the hobbit leaving the shire.

I went down the stairs one step at a time, leaving the building was more difficult than leaving my own house (the house where I lived all my life). I crossed the lobby letting my hands run through the mailboxes feeling each of the locks.

Then I heard a sound, a slight thump. I step back to see that I had bumped into an open door. Why wasn't it locked like the others? I pulled it open and put my hand inside into the darkness feeling a single torn envelope. I pulled the envelope out, it had no sender or recipient. I jumped incredibly happy incapable of holding it in. Was there anyone else there? Someone who opened that little door? Someone who opened that envelope? Someone who was just as lost as I was?

I shook my head and got myself together. It was all assumptions, most likely the envelope was opened before everyone was gone and maybe the door lock was just broken, but ... It was quite possible. An open mailbox, the light left on, the envelope open ... maybe someone was trying to communicate with me?

I get the paper out of the envelope feeling the black hole in my stomach. I held the black card with the golden letters in my hand.

"Don't thank Darwin for evolutionism. Å"