The Dome

THE

  DOME

  By Mike Morcerf

  ***~~~***

  nothingarts.org

  ***~~~***

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favorite ebook retailer to discover other works by Mike Morcerf. Thank you for your support.

  Copyright 2012-2014 Mike Morcerf.

  Special thanks to:

  Patricia Morcerf

  for her wonderful front cover paintwork

  Deep thanks to:

  Natalia Gioli

  Ricardo Benavides

  Chris Heidrich

  Sean Tong

  Mila Hover

  Kennedy Carvalho

  Isabella Neves

  Hugo Ramos

  Ruan Franco

  Author's notes:

  This book is the complete and authentic publication of the diary of Ramirez. Someone who, as great part of us does, struggled to understand society’s conflicts and habits in order to change his own life.

  I found his diary wrapped in plastic bags on a gas station pay phone.

  I decided to publish and share his reflections since they have helped me to better understand myself.

  I hope that it can help you, too.

  Bad things happen for a good reason.

  THE DOME

  CONTENTS:

  PART 1 - DECALCIFICATION

  PART 2 - IMPLOSION

  PART 3 - RESURRECTION

  Connect with Mike Morcerf (Author)

  PART 1 - DECALCIFICATION

  Day 1 – Friday “Stepping Into The Doom”

  Hello notebook,

  From now on your name will be Diary, and you will serve me as an antidote for a mental disease, a type of prison created by myself, which makes me live in an isolated world.

  After I have taken three sessions, my therapist recommended me to write about my days and my thoughts in order to identify and treat what bothers me.

  You will serve me as a mirror and will allow me to see the reflection of my soul.

  Before anything else I would like to introduce myself to you.

  My name is Ramirez, I’m 22 years old, but feel like 100, and I live alone in a studio that is not so spacious; however it’s cozy.

  I don’t pay rent because my mother is the owner.

  I got it as a gift right when I turned 18 years old. It didn’t take long for me to move here and taste the sweet and pleasurable flavor of isolation.

  I wish I could recall the moment and reason that made me become so hostile towards human contact, but I don’t. I believe that my brain must have blocked this memory so that it would not haunt me later.

  I work in a factory of a well-known company, but don’t want to tell you the name, as everyone I tell it to is under the impression that I’m a lucky person.

  I don’t believe that is the case.

  My salary is reasonably good compared to the majority of people my age, and since I have nothing to spend on, it accumulates.

  It’s a job that I don’t care for, and am not concerned about the growth of the company.

  The place I work is located in another city and every day I have to commute.

  It takes me 2 and a half hours going to and from work.

  I’m the first to get in and the last to get out of the bus, and because of that I spend about 12 hours outside home.

  I work more than eight hours a day due to an agreement that the old employees accepted, trading higher wages for longer shifts.

  I didn’t work there during that time. Therefore, didn’t get any money, only more hours.

  It’s a hard job that many people wouldn’t bear doing.

  I have a few blisters on my feet due this job; I often ask myself if what grow on my feet are really blisters or extra toes.

  My name in the company has five characters. They are T-399. I use that name to sign paperwork.

  Sometimes new guys come to work there. Hardly any of those guys stay more than 2 weeks.

  I wanted to work with something more valuable, but I never find an opportunity.

  Well, that is all.

  Day 2 – Saturday “Contrast Due Living”

  Hello Diary,

  There was no overtime at work today, so I decided to go out.

  I went to my mother’s house.

  My siblings always enjoy spending time with me.

  I have one brother and one sister; however, we don’t share the same father.

  The youngest is named Alex and is five years old. The other is eight, and is named Alice.

  After catching up with my mother, I spent a little time with the tiny brats.

  I took some playing cards and did magic tricks.

  They were amazed. They were laughing and jumping while trying to understand how I had done the tricks. That was golden.

  It is fascinating how children are dazzled by the simplest things.

  Their innocence contrasts with our eternal dissatisfaction.

  I even suspect that the deepest secret about happiness is hidden in them.

  Day 3 – Sunday “A False God”

  Hello Diary,

  Today I went to visit my father.

  He always says he’s very proud of me for the job I have.

  He never finished high school, but learned many things from life.

  One of these things was to worship God.

  Knowing that I never go to the Holy church of the Almighty he invited me, as usual.

  After a few unsuccessful attempts to convince him otherwise, I gave up because I knew how important church is for him.

  Until then, I hadn’t been to his current church.

  I was very intrigued when I got there.

  The person responsible for bringing the supreme Holy words to the people, to whom I will refer as the messenger in a suit, screamed his mantras with fervor and the people accompanied him with the same intensity.

  Their level of faith was so strong, that several people started to spin and speak gibberish. That was the holy language according to my father. And no one could translate.

  Perhaps after I die, I will stop by God’s office and ask him the bilingual dictionary of this language.

  A little later, the messenger in a suit started putting his hands on people’s heads to purify them.

  As strange as it seems, they would faint and suddenly wake up crying.

  When I looked at my father, he had a suspicious look in his eyes. He was up to something.

  I was scared.

  As I suspected, he grabbed me by the arm and threw me in the holy hands of the messenger in a suit.

  He was huge and his hand closed on my head in a way that even if I tried to dive to the floor, I couldn’t escape.

  I quickly crossed my arms in disagreement, but he didn’t let me go. Instead, he tried to purify me; or exorcize me; I don’t know.

  Someone appeared from the crowd of worshipers and uncrossed my arms against my will.

  The messenger in a suit screamed his cleansing prayers in my ears. At that time, I swear, I felt afraid of falling.

  But his efforts were in vain.

  Then he started shaking me by the head, trying to make me fall guiding me all around, even towards the chairs.

  I seriously thought about falling so that he would let me go, but instead I remained standing.

  He wasn’t able to cleanse me, but left me with messed up hair and a terrible headache.

  If I really have an evil entity in my body, then it must be very powerful.

  My father tried to convince me that this was normal and the beginning may seem strange.

  I
f God really exists, I’m completely sure that he’s not bizarre, cruel, frightful, and alienating like the God I met there.

  I don’t understand the emptiness people must have to submit themselves into these things.

  I saw a lot of pain and despair there.

  Day 4 – Monday “Brain Starvation”

  Hello Diary,

  Today my co-workers debated all day long about a subject of great importance; baseball.

  I spent most of my day in silence.

  Personally, I don’t know anything about baseball except that you play it using a bat.

  Perhaps if they were talking about the entire biodiversity of Earth, the conversation wouldn’t have lasted so long.

  I have discovered that if you’re a person that enjoys long lasting conversations, then you should specialize in baseball. I guarantee that if you do that, your saliva will dry up before you can finish a discussion about baseball itself.

  I find being obsessed about sport teams and scores is an unnecessary distraction that keeps people from learning things that could be a plus to their lives.

  Anyway, I was never interested in this type of entertainment.

  Day 5 – Tuesday “We Are Not There Yet”

  Hello Diary,

  Today’s topic for discussion in my work was even further out there than what we could ever imagine.

  The subject was the end of the world.

  Some guys saw on TV that the end is near.

  They know the hour and minute it will happen, according to a mystical calculation.

  In my lifetime alone, the world was supposed to have ended three times already. Some people didn’t want to risk witnessing those days and killed themselves before it happened. When the expected day finally arrived, nothing happened.

  The media’s reason to spread this information is unknown.

  It might be that humans need to believe the world will end someday.

  I don’t know who benefits from this lie.

  Maybe it’s the church’s strategy to get more followers; or maybe it’s Hollywood’s to make more movies.

  Whatever it is, it’s better not to believe it.

  Day 6 – Wednesday “Flames Falling Down”

  Hello Diary,

  Last night I fell asleep thinking about the end of the world and ended up dreaming about it.

  It was one of those magic dreams. Those that make you wake up differently next day.

  I will probably reflect on it for weeks.

  In the dream, the end of the world was completely different from any end of the world told in movies or books. People were smiling. They were calm.

  In the middle of the chaos and disasters, no laments could be heard; there was no crying or screaming, but instead, laughing and loving farewells.

  Behold the end of time; the world reached mutual serenity.

  Angels were flying and spreading flames everywhere;

  Not even one painful cry was heard;

  Love between different species spread out everywhere;

  Rivals forgot their rivalry and became partners;

  The nonconformist ripped off their uniforms and cheered the sedentism;

  Revenge had no more purpose and the enemies shook hands;

  Thieves didn’t have interest in stealing from their victims anymore;

  Money lost its charm and could be found in stacks throughout the streets;

  Missiles and bombs had no more targets and stayed down in their silos;

  Guns had no more value and nobody else would be taken by them;

  Mercenaries and assassins didn’t need to kill anymore;

  Traps and poisons got unsightly against such terrific event;

  Ambushes were sabotaged and soldiers could remember about their families;

  Children ran, enjoying their last games;

  Teenagers tasted the freedom flavor together;

  Adults turned their TVs off and started talking to each other;

  The elderly felt tranquil knowing that their biggest puzzle would finally be solved;

  Men and women applauded the end of differences;

  By that last moment peace ruled humanity.

  Day 7 – Thursday “I’m A Clean Slut”

  Hello Diary,

  My boss asked me to have a hair-cut.

  My hair is relatively long, just the way I like it, but what I like doesn’t count from my boss’ perspective.

  Day after day I feel less human and more as a robot.

  I’m renting my soul every day in order to make someone get rich in exchange of a miserable amount of money that provides me not much than enough to keep me alive.

  I’m like a slut who doesn’t sell sex, but her entire body instead.

  Buzz my hair.

  Choose my clothes.

  Tie my tie.

  Can my soul breathe?

  Day 8 – Friday “It’s Getting Heavier”

  Hi Diary,

  I haven’t seen my therapist today.

  I don’t want to go to him anymore.

  I will take the responsibility of healing myself, although I already feel overwhelmed, as it’s an inner fight.

  When I dip myself into my childhood memories, I remember that the only duty I had at that time was to look both ways before crossing the street.

  I miss that time.

  Day 9 – Saturday “A Zombie Day”

  Hello Diary,

  I had to do overtime today.

  As I do very often, I worked with my auto-pilot turned on, which is a term I use when I’m living using the fewest functionality of my brain, so I don’t feel frustrated while doing things I wouldn’t do if I had a choice.

  If I could, I would also turn my ears off just to avoid hearing classical old bullshits we have to hear from people. They’re always talking about the same things; like there is nothing else in the world. They badmouth other people’s lives, complain about anything, talk about celebrities, etc.

  I have to find a way to live less in this auto-pilot state. I feel that I’m having a zombie life most of the time, and it burns my soul.

  I would like to be learning more and meeting interesting people instead of having this mediocre life style I’ve been living.

  One day, I will break free from all of this.

  Fighting for freedom is the only fight that is worth fighting for.

  Day 10 – Sunday “Rewarded By Chance”

  Hi Diary,

  This morning I took a bus and got off at a random stop.

  I had walked through random streets without worrying whether I would find my way back home or not.

  My reward for this little unusual adventure was a poetry that was written on a wall.

  I took a pen out of my backpack and a bank receipt from my wallet and copied it down.

  The poetry is the following:

  “Earth’s seeds:

  We’re really hoping nothing.

  We don’t hope you get thin;

  We don’t hope you be happy;

  We don’t hope you take a step.

  We’re the Earth’s seeds;

  Living beyond your creeds;

  Invisible for your profane eyes;

  Deaf against your bunch of lies.

  Your achievements don’t make us proud.

  You’re just one more in the dirty crowd.

  We’re out of reach from your hypocrite God;

  We’re out of reach from his punishment rod.

  Perhaps someday you’ll hear our muffled shouts;

  Perhaps you may think we’re just a joke.

  We hope you spend lots of time smiling;

  We hope you spend little time driving;

  We hope you buy poetry as utensils;

  We hope you live above the hills;

  We hope you start to think;

  We’re really hoping everything.”

  Thanks to the lunatic poets scattered through out this world who come up with this kind of piece.

  Day 11 – Monday “The Lad
y Killer”

  Hi Diary,

  There’s a colleague in the company I work for who is well known by everyone as a lady killer.

  According to himself, there’s no woman in this world who could escape from his sharpen claws.

  He’s also known as a promiscuous guy.

  He’s miles and miles away from being the right man to get married to.

  His life is all about getting successful in his flirts and his happiness depends on this to stay steady.

  I have a strong belief that he feels lonely when he’s by himself, and I also think he doesn’t do anything else but to score girls.

  I find that when someone else tags you as something, it’s time to stop for a while and think about your life, in order to avoid looking at life from just one perspective, which often is a poor perspective.

  The horizon is endless and this fertile land could be used to grow diverse kinds of goodies.

  Day 12 – Tuesday “Who Am I Exactly?”

  Hello Diary,

  I was thinking about how I am to my friends, acquaintances, and the like.

  Actually, I thought mostly about the way I interact with each of them.

  I just realized that I pass on to people just what I want them to notice.

  It’s like I’m a different person for each of them.

  I use this chameleon ability to adapt to any type of person, place, or situation.

  The speed with which my personality adapts to situations is impressive and even scary sometimes.

  Who am I at last?

  Day 13 – Wednesday “A Not Smart Decision”

  Hi Diary,

  It’s not allowed to smoke inside the place I work because smoking is harmful not just for the smokers, but also to whomever is surrounding them.

  I started smoking at 18, after seeing an advertisement saying that smoking was prohibited for underage people. Subsequently, I thought I was mature enough to choose to mess up my health.

  That is why I bought my first pack, and I have never stopped ever since.

  What I will say can sound strange, but I feel that all the stress I have in my days sits in my lungs, and the smoke takes everything out from my body when I’m smoking; purifying me.

  When I smoke, I feel sublime.

  The way smoke blurs the air amazes me.

  It feels like I’m spitting ink on God; filling emptiness with gray.

  Day 14 – Thursday “Synthetic Nights”

  Hi Diary,

  My mind seems to be always thinking about hundreds of things at the same time and it brings me insomnia.

  Lucky me, mankind created something really useful against it: Sleeping pills.

  When it is time to sleep, I take a pill. Consequently, I don’t have a natural sleeping nights; I have industrial ones.

  I also have synthetic dreams, which sometimes are so short that I confuse them with reality.

  I have memories that I don’t know if they were real or just dreams.

  Day 15 – Friday “An Overwhelmed Friend”

  Hi Diary,

  A colleague told me this evening that he has a huge credit card debt.

  He said shopping makes him feel less depressed about his life, but the funny thing is that when I asked him the reason for his depression, he answered that it’s because he doesn’t get paid as much as he needed. The poor guy is trapped into a ridiculous suffering-endless-looping. It’s so weird committing to something you can’t afford. It’s like buying a pet and not having money to buy its ration.

  I was on the bus thinking about money, a worshiped piece of paper that makes people do what they wouldn’t like to do.

  Day 16 – Saturday “Are We God?”

  Hi Diary,

  Today I should have gone to work, but I didn’t go.

  I got to figure out a really good excuse to justify my absence. Even though it won't change the fact that I will be yelled at by my boss tomorrow, but I don’t care.

  I resolved to give myself a day off.

  I filled a juice bottle with wine and took it with me to a park which I used to go to when I was a kid.

  I sat on a bench, started drinking my fake juice, and lighted up a cigarette.

  I stayed there for almost the entire day remembering my childhood.

  There was a toy there that was completely destroyed.

  Someone who was passing by probably thought that this toy should not exist anymore, so he or she destroyed it.

  It brought me a couple of thoughts.

  People often mention God as the one who creates and destroys. The one who gives life