“Start it up.”
As David McConnell woke up his head surged. The feeling surprised him at first because, unlike the usual migraine he would get in the morning, this made him feel woozy enough to almost fall asleep again.
However, David Eugene McConnell would not be swayed from his daily routine.
Although Mr. McConnell's routine of carefully retracing his steps to the bathroom, picking up his toothbrush, brushing his teeth, combing his hair and shaving his face seemed dull and routine to all who witnessed it, he liked it.
In fact, it was his favorite part of the day, the boring, monotonous routine comforted him. Somehow, it was, to him, the most fun he would have all day.
Mr. McConnell walked back to his bed and carefully pulled the sheets up. He looked with pride upon his carefully made bed, it resembled how much care he took into his daily routine.
As he spun on his heel to face his closet, another surge of dizziness hit him. David McConnell attempted to regain his balance, but his legs gave out and he dropped to the ground.
David McConnell suddenly sat up. His face was cold and sweating and as he reached for a tissue he noticed his hands we shaking. ‘Strange' he thought, ‘I'm never this bad', at almost the same instant this thought passed through his head, his hand jerked suddenly to his left. The momentum of his hand pulled him off of his small twin bed and onto the floor. He laid, face down, on the ground for a moment before he pushed himself up.
He took a look at his surroundings, his room was messy and unkempt, the walls were moldy and the air felt humid. David McConnell did not like this, in fact, he hated it.
And the fact, the simple fact, that he had no decision about how it was pleased him. Filled with rage and hatred for the moldiest wall, he walked over to it and punched it. Sweet Jesus his hand hurt, and it felt natural. Something about having to conform to something else's reality, something else's laws of physics was amazing.
David pulled his hand from the wall, as he did he rubbed his hand and winced. He headed to the kitchen to get some ice for his hand. He thought about what he would do that day, go to work, come back home late, reheat a pizza and fall asleep on the couch watching TV. David retrieved a plastic bag from a kitchen drawer and walked to his fridge, he attempted to put some ice in the bag, most of the ice spilled on the floor. David watched as this happened, turned away from it and walked back to his closet, he pulled his fast-food uniform from his closet, changed into it and began to walk to work.
He always loved his walk, by the time he would get to work his feet would be throbbing. He loved the way people snickered and whispered when they saw him, unkempt and messy. They were crazy to him, not enjoying all parts of life, especially the things we can't control.
He reached the fast food restaurant and just, as usual, his feet hurt. He had to work at the cash register today, his day at work started normally: he took about 30 orders during the breakfast rush, was yelled at by at least 13 of them and broke the register about 5 times.
The lunch rush was generally similar, too many orders, too many customers yelling at him, too many cash registers broken.
After lunch is when his day became interesting.
Three masked men entered the restaurant, they were armed. David noticed this, and carefully placed his hand on the silent alarm.
The three men approached the register.
“We don't know the passcode to the safe,” David said, as calmly as he could.
“No matter,” said the man standing closest to the register, “we aren't here for the money.”
David was taken aback, as usually any robberies they had were people so desperate for money that they usually only make off with about $10.
“What are you here for, then?” David could hear the fear in his voice.
“Time to wake up, David.” the closest to David said as he raised his gun and pointed it at David.
David pressed down on the silent alarm, but for some reason, an alarm actually blared. The sound of a Claxton reverberated in David's ears and shook his chest.
As all of this happened the man closest to David pulled the trigger of his gun.
Everything went black
David attempted to stand up, but he was strapped down to a table. He was hooked up to several machines, most of their monitors looked normal, but the one attached to his head was violently spiking. David heard something, the Claxton. An intercom squealed to life, “Subject-098 is awake, anesthesia team requested immediately.”
David became angry, “You can't keep me in reality!” he shouted. He focused his energy on removing the table and straps.
They disappeared.
If they were going to pull David out of his favored reality, he was going to make this his reality.
The door to his room became a bagel. He walked through the doorway, reality began to distort itself as he walked, everything was changing to his desire.
He chuckled to himself as a team of doctors rounded the corner, escorted by a few armed guards.
He looked at them and smiled as their heads collapsed in on themselves.
The bodies dropped and began to spew blood.
David continued to walk and create his reality.
He hated these people, they really did cause Chaos.
Things changed around him to the dismal life that he wanted. The street he walked was becoming a reality. He could see his dismal house, cracked street, even the people who laughed at him.
That Claxton was really annoying, so he removed it.
Blissful silence.
This day was amazing.
Not that more “Reality Benders” as the Chaos called them, wouldn't change it back after he fell asleep next.
But, at least this was fun for now.