MARTINA: Chapter 3

"What are you doing to yourself?!"

"Trying to stay alive."

"Tsk. If you did like me, you'd never have to worry about strength."

"Then I have more to worry about than you, now don't I?"

The rest was in Espanol. Martina's mother had a good source for organic produce and always haggled for more than her allotment. This was in order to help her daughter out. The crap people were eating now only guaranteed a quicker death.

"I just don't see why you need to go around pumping muscles, pumping muscles..."

"Because I want to okay?! It makes me feeling...stronger!"

"Maritianna, you have always been a strong woman." said Mrs. Simone, ignoring her daughter's outburst. "In every sense. Your genes!"

It was true. Martina's gift for anything physical or mental compelled her to treat life with an athlete's discipline. This included working-out religiously, a waste of time according to her mother.

"Why don't you spend the night?" her mother asked.

Mrs. Simone was showing signs of not wanting to be alone. Not too much, at least. Neither did Martina. She'd been single far too long. And alone. Trev really broke her heart. That's when all the working-out began. Yup, insecurity had set in, along with rage. She could tackle both issues at Planet Fitness.

Problem was, she was too smart for her own good. Her mother had common sense in abundance. Where would Martina be without her? Don't think about that. She didn't want to remember the dreams she had last night. All that death...

All that death...

MARTINA: Chapter 2

Stillness settled into her veins by the second cup of chamomile and jasmine. The view from her balcony still continued to soothe, even after several years of living in the hills. And the sunset was spectacular this evening. The day had been grueling...unrelenting in its capacity to confuse and oppress. Those noises on the phone persisted, making communication virtually impossible. It also made work hell. It wouldn't have been so bad if people had just chilled out about it, instead of becoming more frazzled about meeting those damn deadlines!

"You kidding me?" she blurted out loud, surprising herself, almost knocking over her hot concoction. "Those deadlines don't mean Jack Schitt anymore!" and she let out the biggest laugh she'd had in over a week.

With a deep sigh, Martina got up and walked into her condo and got some kava-kava jello out of the fridge."Tomorrow is gonna suck too." Rummaging through her thoughts, she tried to make sense of things (too much internet had actually taken away the ability to do that). She thought about swiping her card at CVS this afternoon. Those self-checkout machines...and that sound...like the sound...on the phones... Was there a connection? She needed someone to talk to. Her foreign counterparts were no longer reachable, and Rally...well, last time she saw Rally he was far too high on some street drug. She had taken him to her place for the night, but he refused to stay, opting to "run free as a bird" through the hot night. Wonder if he's okay? She walked to the land line, only to remember Rally didn't have one. She'd stop and see him on her way to her mother's, tomorrow after work. Work... What was she doing there again? Oh right, getting news out to the masses. Right...

The sunset had gone from a blistering pink to an astoundingly deep purple. Martina had never seen anything like it. It looked like the goddam Apocalypse. What on earth would make it do that? It was a sight to behold, though, casting a million different hues upon sea and land. Walking back out onto her balcony, she noticed others outside taking notice as well. For the most part, people were indulging in the romance. No one went inside until the shade had darkened into an almost-black indigo. It made the palm trees and neon lights look as they must have in Hollywood's hey day. Or even more surreal than that. Like one the movies itself, a painted backdrop. Not surreal, but totally unreal. That's right. This isn't real. It can't be.

She was worried. Maybe she should pack a bag. Maybe she'll want to spend the night at her mother's. She should take booze.

And tonight she'd take a sleeping pill.

Chapter 1: Beginning/End/Beginning

Gaseous winds shot up and down the skyscrapers, scorching the concrete with poisonous air; humans having become accustomed to the noxious smells creeping into their daily existence. The human race was over. Nothing could be done. We had all finally come to accept the fact that our generation was to be the last. And what was to come next? No one actually knew. Oh there were theories of course, but any information was purely second-hand now that broadcasting had been shut down. Yet people still reported to work. People still kept going. Everyone had started meditating more than usual, it's true, trying to move into Inter-Dimensional Consciousness: Phase Four. This provided hope. Hope was a slim commodity, and very desirable.

"I have some new Trans Trance for you," said Martina. She loved this poor little man that spent everyday inside his donut cart. He spent 79% of his profits leasing his spot on the sidewalk, as well as maintaining his donut license.

"Oh luvly!" the man gushed. Bernard took Martina's congeniality with tremendous gratitude, as she most certainly made his mornings meaningful. Yup, she was on his side. She got it. Not to mention how she walked in those heels. Wowza!

"Some of that Ginger Tripe you love so much." Ginger sang with the voice of an angel, couched with darkly sexual programmed beats. Martina was not a fan, yet she always stopped what she was doing whenever Ginger was on the radio. Back when there was radio. Why was she so seduced by the singer? Or was it the engineering that was so slick and seductive? It bothered Martina. She set the memory key atop Bernard's metal counter.

"I'll thank ya fer this," said Bernard with a wink of his eye. Tonight would be a very gratifying masturbation session, followed by rejuvenating sleep. Thank you, Martina. Thank you.

In the newsroom, Martina found herself feeling more nauseous than usual and ducked into the ladies room to vomit. Shit, someone's in the fucking bathroom! Why can't I ever have it to myself?! She decided to perform the common task of duking up her last meal, in front of Clarice. Fuck it. We're all in the same boat. Privacy is futile. Just puke.

When she finished, Clarice offered her lipstick. "You know better than that," croaked Martina.

"Do I?" asked Clarice, "Seems like we should go ahead and share everything by this point...instead of doing what they want us to do all the time. Share and share alike. Wouldn't that spread the love HAHAHA!" Martina washed her face and left without responding. That was a scary laugh, she thought, but what if Clarice is right? Why even bother to keep track of each beauty product, each food parcel, even each medication for that matter. Share and share alike. Aren't we all ONE, anyway?

Sitting at her desk, Martina picked up the phone to hear that familiar crackling sound. Not again! How was she supposed to get any bloody work done?! They're in charge today. They want to run the show. Fine, let them...but she was going to find out who this they actually are. Today, if possible.

After she drinks her coffee.