The Same Launch

I woke up to a brand new day, feeling groggy and sluggish as I opened my eyes. The dim light filtering through the cracks in my windows and the cold winter air seeping into the room only added to my drowsiness. My phone vibrated on the bedside table, blaring an alarm tone that jolted me out of my slumber. With great effort, I lifted the covers and embraced the cold air on my feet and hands. I hesitated for a moment, longing to stay wrapped up in my warm blankets, but reality started to set in. I silenced the alarm with a swipe and a feeling of regret washed over me for leaving the warmth and comfort of my cosy bed.

I had two hours of complete freedom before the day's responsibilities began. I coaxed myself to get cleaned up and move to start the day, but not before taking a moment to appreciate the cosy bed and the memories of the night before. My mind raced as I remembered the events of the previous day, the failed launch and my suspension. I felt a sense of shame and regret for not choosing the safer option, and for letting my emotions control my actions. I knew I needed to make a change, take responsibility for my actions and make amends.

But instead of dwelling on the past, I decided to focus on the present moment and make the most of the two hours I had before the day's responsibilities began. I took a deep breath and got out of bed, determined to make the most of this time. The bathroom was like a tundra, and as I grabbed my toothbrush, ready to start my morning routine, I was met with the emptiness of the toothpaste tube, intensifying the bitter chill in the air.

I braced myself as I stepped into the frosted-floored bathtub, eager to be enveloped by hot water and banish the cold rot from my bones that were beginning to ache. To my disappointment, the water was lukewarm at best, and I stood there in the shower, denying my surrender to the cold and soldiering through it all. I got out of the bathtub feeling numb and saw my reflection in the mirror. I was pleased that my appearance was decently handsome when wet, but my pleasure was short-lived as I realised there were no towels around, and I had to command my body to march through the freezing conditions to rescue a towel.

With my body warmed up and dressed in smart-casual clothes, my next priority was food. Heading down to the kitchen, I was greeted by the sight of a complete mess. Still feeling tired and now alongside disgust, I began to seek a clean bowl to eat at least some warm sweet cereal to accelerate the frigid sensation. I rummaged through the cabinets, my stomach growling with hunger. As I searched, I realised that my body may have overindulged in alcohol the night before. My emotions intensified and I felt a sense of shame for allowing myself to get into a state of forgetful drunkenness. It explained the struggle of getting out of bed that morning. I couldn't help but reflect on my actions, and vow to make better choices in the future.

Nevertheless, there was a discovery of an unused and clean bowl. With slight excitement, I heaped in some sugar-coated cereal. Then hopped over to the fridge for a carton of milk, already imagining the taste and pleasant feelings that would arrive from consuming the cereal. After opening and holding the carton in a pouring stance, lumps of expired milk plopped onto my cereal. My eyes began to water and I started to feel sadness, crushed by the experience but quickly recovered. I picked up the kettle and poured water into it, switched it on, picked up the putrid abomination and threw it in the overloading bin. As I walked past the fridge, I noticed a mark on the calendar in large, bold ink, "Launch Day!" In shock, my world shrunk for a moment and I came into a state of panic. I launched myself towards the front door, gathered up my closest belongings, and then slammed the door behind me only to be met with rainfall. In a realisation, my heart skipped a beat, there were no keys or phone in my bag or any of my pockets.

I stood in front of my inaccessible door, the bus gliding across my vision. I immediately went into analysis mode and thought of the best way to reach the bus before it left. I thought about shielding myself from the rain, running at a speed that wouldn’t make me slip, and reaching the bus before the doors closed. Time seemed to be moving quickly as I watched passengers getting on the bus. I spring into action, but the punctual driver ignored me and I only reached the exhaust of the bus. As it drove off, my body was soaked and the bus stop was empty, so taking cover there was the best option for me. I sat on a wet bench, drenched and disappointed as my plans didn't follow through.

I found myself contemplating my life choices and whether to go to work. My occupation only held a fancy title, but in reality, my job was dull and neglected the majority of the time. As I sat there, lost in thought, my face must have looked so sad that a charitable driver pulled in near me and rolled down their dark-tinted window. To my surprise, it was my older sister!

Knowing what today was, my older sister looked at me with shock and disappointment and then, naturally, began to shout at me. Through her tantrums, she offered to give me a lift to work. Still, without giving any words in exchange to preserve my sanity, I opened the front passenger door and sat down, keeping my gaze forward and ignoring her death stares. She focused on driving to my workplace, but her sense of focus only lasted for a brief moment.

Throughout the journey, she kept lecturing me, giving advice or just having a go at me. I drowned out her voice with the music coming from the local radio station. The journey was long and it was natural for me to allow myself to rest, considering the day so far. From closing my eyes, hearing my heartbeat, feeling the vibrations from the car and experiencing the warmth from the heated vents; it all felt like the past when a younger me lived in my parent's home.

Sitting beside the fireplace, I heard the crackling of burning logs, felt the warmth of the fire touch the side of my face and was wrapped in a comfy woollen blanket. I felt pleased with the condition that my body was in. Then I noticed the rain pounding the window panels, forbidding it to make me wet and leaving me alone to read my book. I heard laughter coming from one of the other rooms, it sounded like my older sister and mother talking. In another room, my dad was shouting at my older and younger brothers for something they must’ve done together. And here I was, in peace without worry, living a gentle and calm life. Suddenly, a loud beep from a horn and a chasing light came from the windows which shocked me back to reality. I woke up to the realisation that we had parked and my sister was looking at me pressing the horn on the steering wheel.

My older sister stopped pressing the horn and returned to spewing hatred and disappointment at me. I opened the door and left her still in the car without saying a word. The rain began to clear up, giving me the chance to slowly build speed and reach the entrance without being automatically marked late. The car park was massive, as it is for a company with a large number of employees and with a lot of investors interested in seeing it succeed. So, the run to the entrance was exhausting for someone who doesn't need to do cardio; my job was a desk job that didn’t require much movement except for my fingers and wrists. Nevertheless, my body did manage to reach its destination feeling like it just ran a marathon.

After arriving at the facility and managing to enter, my supervisor, Ms Macchabée, somehow sniffed me out. She had a reputation for being a career woman who always followed the rules, looking sharp but being blunt with her words. As she followed me to my desk, she began to ramble on about something unnecessary, micromanaging me despite knowing my purpose and my hard-working mentality. My work speaks for itself, and I don't require any awards or commendations, just a good job and a chance to carry on.

As I took my seat at my desk, a man from another desk shouted across the room, complaining about my lateness. I didn't know who he was, as we all dressed the same and had pretty much the same, blurred but static faces. I felt a pang of annoyance, not just because of his comment but also because of the monotonous atmosphere of the facility. I couldn't help but wonder if this was how my life was going to be from now on, a never-ending cycle of monotony and conformity.

Sitting behind a collection of monitors, I eagerly awaited the opportunity to enter my username and password to access the imperative information for the launch and my part of the mission. But as I typed in my details, an invalid account or password warning popped up. I ignored it, assuming that my large fingers had miss-typed or accidentally pushed another key. I re-entered the details again, but it still did not accept them. Panic started to rise within me, as I knew that after seven more attempts, I would be locked out and unable to access my account. I had heard rumours that in case of attempted breaches, all data would be erased.

I tried again, again and again, but still failed. I had four more chances to get this right, or else this mission would be delayed or even failed because of the data loss. I would be fired. The migraine that I had been dealing with all day was making it hard for me to think. I had four more chances and I needed to think hard but my mind was foggy. I had two options, either to click on "reset your password", which would send me to technical help and resolve the issue, but I would be demoted due to delays or, under Ms Macchabée’s desire, be fired. Or, to keep trying until my last attempt and risk losing the mission and my job. The pressure was immense and I was at a crossroads. I had to make a decision fast, it was now or never.

Either choice had a doomed outcome, either choice would lead to personal or global grief. A lot of people were dependent on this launch, a lot of people were relying on me to do my job; a lot of people I didn’t care about. But I knew what I had to do, I would try to guess the password. Four chances left, four things in life I liked, no. Four things that were important to me, no. Four memorable numbers, no. I typed a set of numbers and letters but failed. Typed an important thing to me, failure. Typed things in life I liked, still a failure. All flustered, I took a deep breath and looked around my desk, all neat and empty. I opened my drawer and nothing but office stuff, why do we need this? We do everything on the computer now.

Then I paused for a second, looked down at my chest and saw my identification card. That's it! The first initial of my surname, the two last letters of my first name and my date of birth. I quickly typed it in, and to my relief, the account was accepted. I felt a sense of pride and relief wash over me as I waited for the loading screen to finish.

Sitting there staring at my screen for the last twenty minutes, my eyes fixed on the black, glossy screen where a lifeless, frozen face was reflected at me. A message displayed on the screen, reading "self-disk fragmentation is in progress and appropriate staff have been notified." My heart sank, I knew it was over. I could hear deep, piercing footsteps approaching, and I knew it was Ms Macchabée, the only one brave enough to wear high heels, which only added to her imposing stature every time she walked. She arrived and began to berate me, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she said those dreaded words, "you're suspended."

I should have reset my password. I grabbed my belongings and walked out, feeling defeated and regretful for not choosing the safer option. I couldn't help but think of all the things I could have done differently and how my actions had led me to this moment. I felt like a failure, and the weight of my mistakes seemed to be crushing me.

As I walked out of the facility, I couldn't shake off the feeling of regret and disappointment. I knew that this was a valuable lesson for me, to always consider the consequences of my actions and to think twice before making a decision. I also knew that I had to take responsibility for my mistakes and work hard to redeem myself and regain the trust of my colleagues and superiors.

It took me five hours to walk back home. On the way, I picked up a couple of bottles of liquor, something sweet and influential, something that I needed at that moment to numb the pain and disappointment of my suspension. I arrived at the door, forgetting that I had left my phone and keys inside. So, I sat there, popped a bottle open and drank, then drank some more and a bit more. I continued to drink until my vision started to fade. I guess I drank enough for me to pass out.

I woke up the next day, feeling groggy and sluggish as I opened my eyes. Wait, this sounds familiar.