First chapter of my book

Thinking about reopening this for NanoWrimo 2012. Any ideas anyone has to enhance this concept?

The Occupation

By: Brooke Francisco

NanoWrimo 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Yet where does this anarchy exist? Where did it ever exist…? And can history produce an instance of rebellion so honourably conducted? I say nothing of its motives. They were founded in ignorance, not wickedness. God forbid we should ever be twenty years without such a rebellion. The people cannot be all, and always well informed. The part which is wrong will be discontented in proportion to the importance of the facts they misconceive. If they remain quiet under such misconceptions it is a lethargy, the forerunner of death to the public liberty… what country before ever existed a century and half without a rebellion? And what country can preserve its liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms.”

-         Thomas Jefferson in a letter to William Smith

 

Chapter One: The Realization

          I woke up to the sound of my alarm, and as I sat up, a bright ray of sunlight pierced the side of my face. Based on the warmth and intensity of the light, I knew it was going to be a scorcher. I grabbed my towel off the back of my computer chair and headed for the shower. I always used my shower time wisely. It offers me a place of concentration and solitude away from the chaos that takes away my focus on what’s important. However, today something was different. I felt a burden on my shoulders today, something heavy and unnerving. Something I could not trace back to the source of the problem. It seems to me that all your worries and problems, and details of problems, wait until you’re somewhat fragile and then they unload on you like dirt falling out of a truck bed. Small particles of doom and desperation just piling, and piling, and piling. Bills, midterms, not getting enough sleep, no girlfriend, no money, and trust me, the list goes on. After the water had heated up to my preferred optimal temperature, I stepped in and began lathering up with the last of the soap. As I was standing under the water, hoping it would wash away my worries, I remembered that my parents always told me not to sweat the small stuff, so I continued washing, rinsed off, and stepped out of the shower. Once I opened the shower door and grabbed my towel, the bathroom became full of steam and humidity, so I quickly put back on my old clothes and headed downstairs to escape the sweaty heat trap that was our bathroom. I broke towards the stairs after some breakfast. I then made a mental note to buy more soap, and do laundry this weekend. I saw my roommate as I reached the last stair and heard him say

          -“Hey Mark!”

I responded with

          “Morning Jake.” And proceeded to grab a bowl from the cabinet and fill it with store brand cheerios that had been in the cabinet for God knows how long. I reached into the fridge for the milk and came back empty handed. No milk, no laundry, no soap, and no money for any of it. Great day so far.

         

          Jake had been my roommate since freshmen year in college. We were now what I refer to as “Super Seniors”, and going five years strong. We both had enough credits to graduate, we just chose not to, because the job market was currently not at its best. So we still registered for a class or two at a time just for the hell of it. It offered us a safe haven, allowed us to tell ourselves we were still working towards something. Jake is my best friend, and believe me, I would do anything for the kid, but sometimes I felt like he was missing a few screws. And right on time Jake says

          -“Hey dude, there’s a concert down at the pavilion this weekend. You in?”

I replied with

          “Jake, dude, we don’t even have money to buy milk, let alone concert tickets.”

          -“Chill out man, I was talking to this guy in the park down in the business district yesterday, he gave me free tickets.”

          “I’ll see what’s up with work that day, but hell if it’s free, I’m in.”

          -“Atta boy Marky!!”

I hated when he called me that. Ever since we were little kids. But I guess old habits die hard, so I never made a big deal about it.

          Realizing that milk was out of the question, I left my bowl of dry, desperate for milk, store brand cheerios on the counter, put on my shoes, said goodbye to Jake, and headed out the door.

          “Later man.”

          -“Later Marky.”

I almost screamed at him for calling me Marky two times in a row, but I once again let it go, and began my daily walk towards the bus stop. I looked down at my wrist to check my watch and it read 8:07, just in time to catch the 8:15 bus. After waiting a few minutes at the stop, I saw the bus round the corner. The bus driver opened the doors, I flashed him my bus pass, and nestled into a window seat and prepared myself for the hour and forty-five minute drive downtown to get to work. I felt the bus pull away from the burn, and I pressed my forehead against the window and let out a breath of agitation. Every day, at lead four hours wasted on waiting for or riding on a bus. Just to get to work to make minimum wage putting burgers in bags, and then handing said bag to people. I didn’t even get to flip the burgers; I just ensure the precious cargo gets into the hands of the lovely, polite customer who orders it. Shittiest job ever. Real talk. I made about thirty dollars a day for about five hours of work, and then I get to sit on the bus for two more hours to get home. After I get home, I take another shower. Lather, rinse, and repeat. This had been my life for the past five year. Throw in a few parties, a few classes, and one or two girlfriends and you could write a novel on the life of Mark Vinsent. Pretty pathetic, I know.

          I dozed off for a little while on the bus and woke up with about ten minutes left until we arrived at my stop. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s timing. The bus pulled up to my stop and I stepped off and headed up about six blocks towards Lucky’s Burgers, the finest burgers in L.A. That however, was according to the sign, and I choose to disagree. Unless you consider the best burger in Los Angeles to be a grease wrapped bun of doom. But that was evidence for a later battle. Bottom line, Lucky’s is full of back stabbing liars, and false advertisement, but it had been my only source of income for the past five years.

          I finally reached the door to Lucky’s and I pulled it open, grabbed my apron, and punched in for five hours of burger hell. After five minutes of being there, the smell of the grease and the customers made me nauseous. You would think that after five years one would adapt to the smell, but you would be wrong. I never understood why people eat here. Out of all the places to eat in downtown L.A., you pick Lucky’s Burgers. This made me laugh, as it did every day, as I grabbed my first burger of the day and threw it into a soggy paper bag. Right after the burger reached the bottom of the bag, I saw my tank of a manger Jill emerge from her office on the other side of the floor.  Jill definitely wasn’t known as being the nicest lady around, and she looked like she had survived on Lucky’s double stackers her whole life. She caught eye of me and began staring me down. I knew it was coming, and I didn’t even know what I did this time. Right as I began to ponder why I could possibly be in trouble, again, I heard Jill say

          -“Mark, you’re seven minutes late and that’s twice this week. I’m docking your file.”

Part of me wanted to reply with “With all the shit you put in my file, I should be out of this hell hole by now”, but I held my tongue, as my mother had taught me, and instead fired back solemnly with

          “I’m sorry Jill, it’s the bus. It won’t happen again.”

          -“It better not happen again, or that’s the last of you around these parts.”
          “Yes ma’am.”

Jill walked away, back to her office, where she would sit on her ass and do nothing except try “samples” of product. One day she would get hers.

          From that point on, my day was filled with staring at black order screens with tiny lime green font. After receiving orders from an outdated machine, I pick up the sandwich with the right sticker on it, and place it into the right bag, and then hand it to the right customer. Repeat this about 300 times and bam! Shift over. It sounds a lot easier than it is, but the hard part stems from the mental game associated with it. Five years of college, and the best I can get is a fast food, matching job? Sometimes I want to just quit, walk out, and regain my freedom. But it wasn’t that easy. I know that I can’t afford to do that. I had been applying for new jobs for about a year now, but had no luck in my quest. So as of now, I’m stuck at Lucky’s.

          My shift dragged on and on, but finally came to an end. Three o’clock rolled around, and I hung up my apron, and punched out. I broke clean for the door and took in a deep breath of fresh air as I opened the door to the outside. Even though it felt great to be out of Lucky’s greasy atmosphere, I quickly remembered I still had to wait for the bus, in the heat, for over an hour. My mood significantly receded again. The bus was scheduled to arrive at 4:20pm. There were plenty of other things I could be doing at 4:20pm, most of which is illegal, but nonetheless, waiting for a bus was not one of them. Instead of getting upset about it, I sat my ass down on the bench and began patiently waiting for the bus to arrive. Countless numbers of men in suits, talking on their fancy, state-of-the-art cell phones whizzed past me as I waited on the bench. Probably on their way to their afternoon meeting, or on their way to their favorite coffee shop to pick up their favorite fall favorite. I hate rich people. Seriously. Not one of the men or women in suits and fancy clothes looked at me. Not one. It was almost as if common folk were invisible to them. I let my mind wonder on this thought for an undocumented amount of time, and then snapped back into reality as I felt a bead of sweat drip down my face. Mid October in Los Angeles, California and it was still 90+ degrees. This global warming shit is real I thought to myself. Luckily I was saved from the sweltering heat as the bus pulled up, right on time. I boarded the bus, once again flashed my pass, and began the search for a seat. All the seats were occupied by at least one person, so at that moment it was decided that I need a seat mate. I cleverly chose to sit next to a quite refreshing looking girl. She caught me off guard by saying

          -“I’m Maria, what’s your name?”

          “I’m Mark, nice to meet you.”

I always considered myself to be somewhat socially awkward, but I felt a slight sense of comfort with this girl. She looked to be my age, around 23-24, with long brown hair, and eyes that lit up the whole bus.

          We sat in silence for a few minutes until we got to the edge of downtown and the bust was drawn to a sharp halt. I looked out the window for a closer look and was slightly surprised to see hundreds of people standing in the streets, blocking the entrances to many buildings. Hundreds of colorful, yet damaged bodies, holding signs and saying unrecognizable phrases through their megaphones. I turned to the girl in hopes that she might know what’s going on.

          “Do you know what this is? What are all these people doing down here?”

          -“They are a part of the Occupation.”

          “What is the Occupation?”

          -“You really haven’t heard about it yet?”

          “Nope.”

          -“It started to pick up a lot of attention a few days ago, when it got on the news. A few citizen rebels came up with the idea to protest big business.”

          “Sounds pretty lazy and stupid if you ask me.”

          -“Yeah, it kind of is. People are sick of looking for jobs, and suffering, so they just stand out in the streets all day and yell at those who have jobs, and success.”

          “I can’t believe I haven’t heard about it yet.”

          -“Me either.”

At that moment I remembered I didn’t have a T.V., cable, or internet, so there really was no way for me to know about it, but I left those details out, to save my reputation in front of this quite beautiful girl.

          Maria gave me a soft smile as the bus approached my stop, however she got up to get off the bus too.

          “This your stop too?”

          -“ Yep. This is the one. So I guess I’ll be seeing you around Mark?”

          “Guess so Maria, have a good day.”      

          -“You too Mark, until next time.”

I let her get off the bus in front of me and watched as she headed towards 7^th Street, as I headed towards 9^th. I smiled as I walked farther and farther away from her and finally reached my apartment building, smile still intact. I jumbled around in my pockets for my keys, and after finding already chewed gum and lint, I came up successful. I opened the door and was excited to tell Jake about Maria, but he wasn’t home, which was weird for Jake. But oh well, maybe he actually went out to look for a job, or a hobby, or something. I decided to lay down in my room for a nap. I crawled under my worn, slightly musty sheets and dozed off for way longer than expected.

          I finally woke back up and rolled over to face my clock. Expecting it to be around dinner time, I was shocked when I saw that it read 3:07am. Whoa. I realized that I had been awakened by the sound of the door, as I heard it slam closed. I assumed that it was Jake coming in from another wild night, but I went downstairs just to make sure, seeming how we didn’t live in the best neighborhood. As soon as I reached the bottom of the stairs I heard

          -“Marky!!!!!”

I saw that he had someone with him. But unlike the other times, it wasn’t a girl. Mark quickly chimed in with

          -“Marky, this is Kado. He’s the one who’s giving us those concert tickets for this weekend.”

          “Yeah Jake, about that, I pissed off Jill again today, so I don’t think I’ll be asking for any time off.”

          -“Weak man, weak.”

          “Anyways, where have you been man, and nice to meet you Kado.”

          Jake ignored my question, and instead let out a deep breath. I could smell the alcohol radiating off it. Great. Right after I took a deep whiff of the alcohol, Kado stepped forward and put his hand out and said

                   -“Nice to meet you Marky, Jake has told me so much about you.”

          I seriously considered punching this man for calling me Marky, but I rethought it, as Kado was at least double my size, with huge arms. Not a road I wanted to go down right now. So for the third time today, I let it go. Instead of violence, I responded with

                   “Nice to meet you too Kado.”

          There was an awkward pause and a few seconds later I looked up at Kado to observe him more closely. He had dark brown eyes, but something bright shined through them. He was wearing all black, except for his shoelaces, which were red.

                   “So what exactly do you do Kado? What brings you here?”

          Jake decided to re-enter the conversation with

                   -“He’s an occupier.”

                                -“I prefer the term prepper, but occupier will do.”

          I stared at Kado for a few more seconds and curiosity sat in and I said

                   “So you’re one of the guys who were blocking the street today downtown?”

                   -“Well, not quite, those were the foot soldiers, my job is much more important. I prepare for the end.

                   “The end….? Of the world?”

                   -“No Mark, the end of the system.”

          I was completely confused at this point, but the tone of his voice carried seriousness and fear. Part of me wanted to know more, but the better half didn’t. I remembered that I had to get up at seven to get ready for work, and even though I had slept yesterday away, I know that I would regret it if I didn’t at least try to go back to sleep.

                   “Well Kado, it was nice meeting you, but I have work tomorrow morning, so I’m gonna get to bed.”

                   -“Mind if I ask where you work, Mark?”

                   “Lucky’s Burgers, have you heard of it?”

                   -“Oh yes, Lucky’s! The finest burger in L.A.”

          I laughed at this and said in a sarcastic tone

                   “Yep, that would be the one.”

                   -“Mark, what if I told you that you wouldn’t have to work for Lucky’s anymore? Or for any company for that matter?”
          Kado’s voice changed from light and joking, to heavy and serious.

                   “I can’t quit my job Kado, no way in hell I can afford that.”

                   -“You can work for me.”

                   “And how would that work?”

                   -“All you have to do is join my team, join the Occupation that your roommate Jake here committed to today. We are a brotherhood, we provide for each other. Food, shelter, entertainment, and anything else you might need.”

                   “Doesn’t sound very stable to me Kado.”

                   -“Tomorrow, come occupy with some of the foot soldiers, learn the ropes, meet some of the team, eat some food, check it out. We start at 11am.”

                   “I have work tomorrow, sorry man.”

          I turned around and headed for the stairs, anxious for more sleep, when I heard Kado say

                   -“You’ll be there tomorrow. You’re fed up too, and you know it. Stand up for yourself Mark.” 

          I once again didn’t appreciate the tone of his voice, but my curious side once again stepped in and I took my foot off the step and said

                   “Tell me more.”