State of Sleep, Page 3
Neve Pearce
CHAPTER 3
Frank was woken up by the clutter of pans coming from the kitchen and the crackly voices on the radio. It was cold. He dressed for work and went down to the kitchen where his mother was preparing a fry up and Dad was reading the newspaper. He shuffled into a chair next to the large table and listened to the weather forecast on the radio. He ate his cereal in silence as his parents sat alongside him.
He found it strange that they weren’t talking. He realised that they never talked over breakfast. That had always been the way. For years they had all sat quietly with their thoughts. Strange that only now he was realising this.
Frank left for work soon after and headed for the station, not realising it was still closed after the attack. The entrance was covered in police tape saying ‘No Entry’. It looked old and dusty and there was rubble by a wall that had collapsed. It seemed hard to believe that just a week ago it would have been filled with people getting on and off trains. Around the rubble there were people in white coats with small test tubes and swabs. They looked like little white mice with their dust masks and science gear. Frank watched them, he was suspicious of them. This wasn’t a gas explosion.
On one of the nearby walls Frank could see a poster saying ‘The Government Protects’ and below it was a picture of a woman and her child. In smaller writing it said ‘British Baby Formula’.
“The government protects,” Frank said to himself. The slogan on the poster looked out of place beside a blown up station. “Not always,” Frank mumbled. “You’re not always protecting… You can’t. It isn’t possible to protect constantly.”
He turned from the station and headed for the bus stop realising that he might be late. With no trains running there were more people than usual, but as he waited for transport he overheard something curious. Two old ladies with trolleys and woollen hats were chatting. “Did you watch Government Apprentice last night?” one of the women said.
“Oh, yes. Wasn’t it marvellous? Did you see when they tried to milk that cow and none of them could quite get it right?”
“There was something wrong,” replied the first woman. “They were supposed to have enough milk for seven hundred children but they only had one cow. Not even the government can feed seven hundred children with one cow.”
Frank leaned in closer to listen. What the old woman was saying was what he had realised himself last night. It wasn’t just him, he thought. Other people could see that things were weird. But why hadn't he realised this earlier, or for that matter why hadn't anyone else realised this?
----- X -----
Frank entered the rear doors of the supermarket and immediately spotted his manager, Mr White.
"Good morning, Frank. How have things been?" he inquired with a polite smile.
Frank felt slightly uncomfortable to talk to his boss but it was refreshing to have someone ask how he was.
"I’m feeling better, thank you. But ever since the terrorist attack things have been going a little weirdly... Have you noticed?"
Mr White rubbed at his beak-like nose and touched his bald head twice. "Don't be silly, there's no such thing as a terrorist attack, the government would never allow something like that.”
“It happened, Mr White. I was in the middle of it. That’s why I was in hospital.”
“Ha. It was a gas explosion, Frank. Honestly, the things you say never cease to amuse me… but don’t be telling your tall tales to the customers. Right?"
Frank nodded. “Right,” he said sadly. Another person who didn’t believe him. Miserably, he took his apron and went and sat at a cash register.
Ten minutes later, he heard the shrill and excited voice of his colleague, Mandy. "Oh, my God. Did you watch Government Apprentice last night?"
She rushed her sentence which meant the words spilled out as one single big word that took Frank a moment to decipher. When he did he simply muttered, "Hi, Mandy.” He wondered if she would ask how he was or where he’d been.
"Oh, God, Did you see that scene with that guy, Dave… And that moment when he..."
Frank cut her off, "I saw it Mandy. It was great."
At nine in the morning they unlocked the door for the customers and Frank found himself mumbling the lyrics of a song he had heard a long time ago. Perhaps he had heard it from his grandmother when he was a child. He wasn't sure. “Only trouble is, gee-whiz, I'm dreaming my life away,” he whispered to himself. He could only really remember that line of the song but it played on a loop in his head. He remembered the title as 'All I Have To Do Is Dream'. It occurred to him that he never seemed to hear music like that anymore.
----- X -----
The clock on the wall read 3:00pm but he felt like he’d been there for days. There were another two hours before he could leave and he had reached the point of counting down the minutes. He had been given the tedious job of restocking shelves. This was becoming difficult because he was exhausted after his fitful slumber of last night. He could have gone to sleep on the supermarket floor given the chance.
He wondered whether he could get away with being sent home early, but felt it was pushing his luck as he’d already had a week off.
He picked up a pack of tooth brushes with four different coloured brushes inside. Each one was labelled with 'Mum', 'Dad', 'Son', 'Daughter'. They were all colour coded and the woman on the front of the box was a familiar face on advertisements. All products in the supermarket were endorsed by actors or popular singers who were government favourites. He could hardly believe some of the advertisements he saw and would have to rub at his eyes and blink in disbelief at some of them. One that stood out was a simple box of soap. The man holding it on the cover of the fancy pink package had a speech bubble saying, ‘Smell like a beauty for your country.’
Frank sighed at the box. It was nonsense. It was all nonsensical propaganda. How had he never noticed this before?
“Mandy,” he called to his colleague. "Would you like to swap jobs for the rest of the day? I’m not feeling well and I’d be more comfortable on the checkout."
Mandy said yes. Probably not even knowing what job he was doing and Frank took her place at the till facing a line of glum customers.
As the shoppers thinned out, his attention was caught by a man wearing bright orange shoes who had been wandering the store for more than half an hour. He was walking through the same row of products again and again until it began to concern Frank. There was something wrong with the man. He could sense there was a problem.
Frank approached him thinking that he was just a little bit crazy and asked, "Are you ok?"
The man in the orange shoes looked back with a slight gaze of either fear or confusion. "There is something wrong. Something is very wrong with the world." His voice trailed away and he moved to the exit and vanished into the street.
Frank wanted to chase the man and find out what he meant. His words seemed to hover in the air. There’s something very wrong with the world. There’s something very wrong with the world.
“There is,” Frank said to himself. “There is something terribly wrong.” But for the life of him, he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
Frank was woken up by the clutter of pans coming from the kitchen and the crackly voices on the radio. It was cold. He dressed for work and went down to the kitchen where his mother was preparing a fry up and Dad was reading the newspaper. He shuffled into a chair next to the large table and listened to the weather forecast on the radio. He ate his cereal in silence as his parents sat alongside him.
He found it strange that they weren’t talking. He realised that they never talked over breakfast. That had always been the way. For years they had all sat quietly with their thoughts. Strange that only now he was realising this.
Frank left for work soon after and headed for the station, not realising it was still closed after the attack. The entrance was covered in police tape saying ‘No Entry’. It looked old and dusty and there was rubble by a wall that had collapsed. It seemed hard to believe that just a week ago it would have been filled with people getting on and off trains. Around the rubble there were people in white coats with small test tubes and swabs. They looked like little white mice with their dust masks and science gear. Frank watched them, he was suspicious of them. This wasn’t a gas explosion.
On one of the nearby walls Frank could see a poster saying ‘The Government Protects’ and below it was a picture of a woman and her child. In smaller writing it said ‘British Baby Formula’.
“The government protects,” Frank said to himself. The slogan on the poster looked out of place beside a blown up station. “Not always,” Frank mumbled. “You’re not always protecting… You can’t. It isn’t possible to protect constantly.”
He turned from the station and headed for the bus stop realising that he might be late. With no trains running there were more people than usual, but as he waited for transport he overheard something curious. Two old ladies with trolleys and woollen hats were chatting. “Did you watch Government Apprentice last night?” one of the women said.
“Oh, yes. Wasn’t it marvellous? Did you see when they tried to milk that cow and none of them could quite get it right?”
“There was something wrong,” replied the first woman. “They were supposed to have enough milk for seven hundred children but they only had one cow. Not even the government can feed seven hundred children with one cow.”
Frank leaned in closer to listen. What the old woman was saying was what he had realised himself last night. It wasn’t just him, he thought. Other people could see that things were weird. But why hadn't he realised this earlier, or for that matter why hadn't anyone else realised this?
----- X -----
Frank entered the rear doors of the supermarket and immediately spotted his manager, Mr White.
"Good morning, Frank. How have things been?" he inquired with a polite smile.
Frank felt slightly uncomfortable to talk to his boss but it was refreshing to have someone ask how he was.
"I’m feeling better, thank you. But ever since the terrorist attack things have been going a little weirdly... Have you noticed?"
Mr White rubbed at his beak-like nose and touched his bald head twice. "Don't be silly, there's no such thing as a terrorist attack, the government would never allow something like that.”
“It happened, Mr White. I was in the middle of it. That’s why I was in hospital.”
“Ha. It was a gas explosion, Frank. Honestly, the things you say never cease to amuse me… but don’t be telling your tall tales to the customers. Right?"
Frank nodded. “Right,” he said sadly. Another person who didn’t believe him. Miserably, he took his apron and went and sat at a cash register.
Ten minutes later, he heard the shrill and excited voice of his colleague, Mandy. "Oh, my God. Did you watch Government Apprentice last night?"
She rushed her sentence which meant the words spilled out as one single big word that took Frank a moment to decipher. When he did he simply muttered, "Hi, Mandy.” He wondered if she would ask how he was or where he’d been.
"Oh, God, Did you see that scene with that guy, Dave… And that moment when he..."
Frank cut her off, "I saw it Mandy. It was great."
At nine in the morning they unlocked the door for the customers and Frank found himself mumbling the lyrics of a song he had heard a long time ago. Perhaps he had heard it from his grandmother when he was a child. He wasn't sure. “Only trouble is, gee-whiz, I'm dreaming my life away,” he whispered to himself. He could only really remember that line of the song but it played on a loop in his head. He remembered the title as 'All I Have To Do Is Dream'. It occurred to him that he never seemed to hear music like that anymore.
----- X -----
The clock on the wall read 3:00pm but he felt like he’d been there for days. There were another two hours before he could leave and he had reached the point of counting down the minutes. He had been given the tedious job of restocking shelves. This was becoming difficult because he was exhausted after his fitful slumber of last night. He could have gone to sleep on the supermarket floor given the chance.
He wondered whether he could get away with being sent home early, but felt it was pushing his luck as he’d already had a week off.
He picked up a pack of tooth brushes with four different coloured brushes inside. Each one was labelled with 'Mum', 'Dad', 'Son', 'Daughter'. They were all colour coded and the woman on the front of the box was a familiar face on advertisements. All products in the supermarket were endorsed by actors or popular singers who were government favourites. He could hardly believe some of the advertisements he saw and would have to rub at his eyes and blink in disbelief at some of them. One that stood out was a simple box of soap. The man holding it on the cover of the fancy pink package had a speech bubble saying, ‘Smell like a beauty for your country.’
Frank sighed at the box. It was nonsense. It was all nonsensical propaganda. How had he never noticed this before?
“Mandy,” he called to his colleague. "Would you like to swap jobs for the rest of the day? I’m not feeling well and I’d be more comfortable on the checkout."
Mandy said yes. Probably not even knowing what job he was doing and Frank took her place at the till facing a line of glum customers.
As the shoppers thinned out, his attention was caught by a man wearing bright orange shoes who had been wandering the store for more than half an hour. He was walking through the same row of products again and again until it began to concern Frank. There was something wrong with the man. He could sense there was a problem.
Frank approached him thinking that he was just a little bit crazy and asked, "Are you ok?"
The man in the orange shoes looked back with a slight gaze of either fear or confusion. "There is something wrong. Something is very wrong with the world." His voice trailed away and he moved to the exit and vanished into the street.
Frank wanted to chase the man and find out what he meant. His words seemed to hover in the air. There’s something very wrong with the world. There’s something very wrong with the world.
“There is,” Frank said to himself. “There is something terribly wrong.” But for the life of him, he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
