[03] - Post-apocalyptic Movies

I needed to communicate, it was all I needed most, and yet it was a somewhat ironic desire. I had the internet, it was there, working, as usual, making fun of me with its perfect signal.

You cannot find someone you don't know. I listened in my mind as if Hayden was in there giving his opinion.

" You're right. I don't know who I want to meet.

I walked back to the car a few blocks away. I tossed my backpack in the back seat and got in the driver's seat. I did not dare to start the car, I turned in my thoughts remembering all the films from the end of the world that I watched in life (Maybe, in some of them, there would be a character in a situation similar to mine).

I took my cell phone out of my pocket and searched the internet: "movies surviving the end of the world". As quickly as possible, Mr. Google offered me several answers. The first pages consisted of "List of 21 films about the end of the world" or "The 10 best films about the end of the world".

I wrote down the names of the bills and drove to the nearest Starbucks. If everything was still normal, you would get good Wi-Fi and maybe something close to a coffee shop.

With no cars on the streets and no traffic driving it was becoming a relaxing time. The music filled the void and, in a strange way, I didn't feel completely desolate. I didn't have time to enjoy the trip, seven blocks away I found one of the coffee shops.

I left the car with the door open in the middle of the narrow street. It was strange to think that if we went back in time a little, that would have been unacceptable. Deep down, I wanted to believe that someone would come and complain to me and tell me to move the car. My biggest dream at that moment was to get a traffic ticket. I looked like a pregnant woman: full of strange desires.

I entered through the glass door feeling the heat from the heater. The reason that everything was still working still made me uneasy. If everything was turned off, I could almost accept this apocalyptic world, but nothing in this world really made sense, I couldn't expect logic in it.

I sat facing the window looking outside (maybe my new best friend would pass in front of me doing his daily run). I took the computer out of my backpack and placed it on the counter. The high stool kept my feet loose in the air and I rocked them from side to side trying to use the movement to keep my restless mind occupied.

I spent three days inside that Starbucks watching films about the end of the world. My inability to prepare coffee on those machines was supplied by my ability to drink cold milk, eat cookies, and drink the juice. I did nothing but eat and watch movies one after the other (I never thought I would ever hate these things).

I am not sure how valid those hours were in front of the computer watching ways of living at the end of the world. My situation was slightly different from that of my fictional companions.

First, they were fictional. Second, they always seemed to have a mate, and I have to say that the one ball called Wilson already looked good enough. Finally, even when the world remained almost intact, they spent most of their time needing to survive.

You don't have to survive, you just need to live. I heard Hayden's deep voice again in my thoughts. Sometimes, when that happened, I wondered if it was really my thought.

I threw myself on the floor like a child throwing a tantrum. I screamed angrily with no one to watch my show (in the end, my mom wouldn't give me chocolate and I wouldn't get a new toy). My tantrum was useless and meaningless, yet I screamed until I was hoarse and my throat hurt too much to continue. I felt my sanity escape with every tear that ran down my face and wet my hair.

I hated it all. Despair weighed on the air and the silence, which one day calmed me, started to torture me. I hated being the only one left behind. I wished I had been taken with the others, whatever their fate.

I got up, exhausted from my nervous breakdown, drying my tears with my shirt sleeve. I opened Twitter, Tumblr, Snapchat ... All the social networks I had and started posting random things. Maybe someone who knew more about computers could find me. Instead of having to find her / him, she/he would find me.

In theory, it seemed like a good idea: if I wasn't the last person on earth then someone was looking for me too. I just needed to be a little proactive and maybe we would meet halfway. Of course, I couldn't just expect to come across a rescue team for the forgotten on earth, but I knew that if there was someone left besides me, that person would be looking for someone just like me.

I left Starbucks and drove to the next city. I rode for a few hours yelling at my new megaphone. When I couldn't take it anymore I stopped at an internet cafe.

I opened my selection of films once again, watching a series that caught my attention: The Last Man on Earth. At first, I thought he would adapt perfectly to my situation, however, his world made much more sense. The loneliness was justified by a virus that killed everyone and even though the name suggested that he was alone, it was not really true. However ... I gained a new perspective. Within the series, it took him a year to find someone (there were still good chances for me).

That afternoon, I left my message repeating on two radios and replaced the station's image with my phone number (it took me a while to understand how the stations' controls worked, but in the end, it worked). I was doing everything I could and yet, I already felt madness multiplying like a cancer inside me (I was running out of metaphors to explain my mental state).

I tried to think of things to hold on to reality if I would call it all reality. I didn't know how to name things in that world, half Alice, half Castaway, half The Last Man on Earth. I had no right to call myself a survivor because I didn't know if anyone had died.

I cut off my semantic reverie when I pressed play on the iPod. An Oceans version of Coasts started and, little by little, I fell into an old memory. I closed my eyes, remembering the sound of the ocean, the smell of saltwater, the droplets rising in the air against my face. I fell asleep with the sensation in mind, and then I fell into a nightmare.

"Calm!" my mother yelled at a 7-year-old me.

"Ahhh!" I screamed for the situation and not for the pain.

Blood escaped from the access on my arm in a jet that splashed against my mother's face and wall. With a handful of gauze, she removed the access and covered the blood source. We spent a few seconds looking at each other hoping to see what would happen. Slowly, she loosened her fingers on my arm and we looked at the hole with anticipation. We look relieved, bursting out laughing.

It was our annual routine (not the blood on the walls, the blood test). My mother, the owner of the laboratory, inherited from her father, collected a blood bag, sent part for analysis and the other part analyzed in the small laboratory I had at home. She was the type who thought that only she did a good job, (especially when it meant making sure her daughter was in good health).

"You want to see it?" my mother asked putting a drop on the petri dish and then on the microscope.

I leaned across the table without knowing exactly what I saw.

"Evolution is a beauty, don't you think?" she spoke to me as if I was able to understand everything, my parents always did that ... they spoke to me as if I were an intelligent adult.

"Thank Darwin" The voice echoed in my mind waking me up at a start.

Don't thank Darwin! Hayden sounded excited.

"Sure ..." I replied still partially awake realizing how stupid I looked.

There was no one there to hear me. I looked around me at complete loneliness, at least I wanted to have someone to share my anguish.

You can always write a book Hayden suggested.

The suggestion sounded tempting. I was already the best and most promising writer on earth (the lack of competition helped a little). I could name it "How to live alone on earth", or "They really forgot about me".

Not good names Hayden criticized.

"They really aren't," I let myself answer again. Whatever it was stupid to answer a voice in my mind, there was nothing more stupid unless I decided it was.

I returned the image of the beach. I had gone with my parents to a tropical beach once. Sea, coconut water, white sand, and sun. My grandparents lived on the beach, French Guiana, a little piece of the world forgotten in South America.

The beach seems like a good idea, Hayden suggested again.

It seems? ... He was right, it seemed like a good idea, but how would I cross the ocean (more importantly, how would I cross the ocean without dying on the way?). It was tantalizing the sound of the waves always breaking above the silence.

What better place to stay happy and centered while not meeting another human being?

I had to accept that I would be alone for a while. Why not take advantage of this?

"Exactly!" Hayden agreed excitedly.

I packed my things back in the backpack and threw everything in the car. The roar of the engine served to wake me up completely, I felt the car vibrate on the pedals and started off as if it were a race. The day was beginning to set on the horizon giving the sky a beautiful shade of orange. I headed south to find warm beaches. French Guiana was not a possibility, but there were other warm beaches south of the continent.

I reorganized my itinerary and updated my message on the following radio stations I went through so as not to undo my crumb trail.

I crossed the first border, there were no guards, no miserable patrol to ask for my passport. The return sign didn't always look so welcoming anymore. I crossed seven borders until I reached a peaceful white sand beach and blue sea: A paradise with a desert island feel.

About me? Hayden complained.

It looks almost deserted. I had my Wilson stuck in my mind, eternal vacations, unlimited resources ... I just didn't understand how much I felt the need to see humanity again when I never really connected with anyone.

I let go of the pedals and let the car die. Despair had caught me again. I felt my stomach churn, anxiety pressing in my throat. Should I simply enjoy an empty world or go on an endless journey in search of someone who might not even exist?

I opened the door and threw myself out, I was suffocating inside. I touched the asphalt looking for stability that never came. The rough floor against my skin seemed to fit with pain inside me.

You'll be fine Hayden said with a little bit of affection and concern in his voice. I imagined him beside me stroking my back to calm me down.

I lay on the floor with my belly up looking at the sky. It was still a city, the external lights did not allow the sky to have its complete beauty. I put my hand in my pocket and picked up the iPod. I played the part where Hayden's name was written. The ink had dried and the gaps made the letters rough.

I sat there letting myself imagine Hayden hugging me. It didn't have to be real, just needed to think there was someone else there. Whether it was real or not.

When I managed to supply myself in that inhuman cold I got up. I opened the door and took the backpack from the back of the car looking for something to eat. My hand sank through the packages in search of a chocolate bar. I took some packages off the top and went deeper touching the fabric at the end, a zipper that I had not noticed passed through my fingers and stuck on my broken nail.

I ignored the pain and slid the zipper into my pocket to find out what it was hiding.

I felt the smooth paper on my fingertips and the relief. I knew what it was. I pulled the card out:

Don't look outside what's inside you Hayden read to me in a dramatic voice. He seemed to have fun with those messages.

I no longer knew what to imagine. Didn't I want to see more of what was actually in those messages. It could have been my roommate who kept a self-help card in my pocket, and maybe Hayden liked to make fun of those cards. Maybe these cards were not a fashion I didn't know about?

There was no reason to think that someone would leave messages for me. There was no one else (or was there? My mind wandered between extreme pessimism and extreme optimism).

Believing that someone left me any kind of warning sounded as irrational as I was becoming. I needed to focus on the present, not conspiracy theories.

I tore the card and threw it on the street. I got back in the car and accelerated. The GPS voice started to instruct me and Hayden commented on it.

We can have fun and when my company becomes unbearable, you go out looking for other people.

"I like your plan."

Forget a little of that diabolical reality and pretend that everything was fine. Having fun with the voice in my mind (it sounded insane but comforting).