The End of Days

Location: Kansas / Year: 2181 / "2 Days Before the End of the World"

Coughing, a man leaned over and covered his mouth while he expelled spit and specks of blood. The cotton mitten he wore rubbed against his nose and brought forth a sizable sneeze.

"This shift couldn't end any sooner..."

His name was Artie Ernest, age 17, and he worked as a waste collector for the community, an overworked one at that. His dark brown eyes were half open and blinking uncontrollably from the smoggy air while he worked.

The pollution on earth had exceeded what anyone could have conceived. In fact, it was pointless for him to be working as a trash collector. The damage to the Earth had already been done. Bodies of once fresh water and forest were cloaked in waste, and the pollution index only worsened with no signs of improving. The danger became so extensive that the young couldn't leave the indoors without a gas mask.

Artie looked forward toward the setting sun. What was once a beautiful sight had shifted into a disdainful reminder of his reality. The sky lacked any of the vibrant colors it once knew. The beautiful oranges and yellows that made up a sunset were replaced with muddy browns and greys. The layers of smog cut the distance you could see in half, and only vague shady shapes could be made out in the space. At the time, he was tasked to clean the streets of one of the city's wealthier neighborhoods. He was sure it looked more attractive decades ago, but now it appeared haunted. The buildings in the area all had exterior paint peeling, and any metal was severely rusted. Across from the tall buildings was a park; however, any greenery you'd expect to find in a park had rotted away long ago. The street lights were on year-round because it was too dark to see even with the light of day.

Life sucked, not just for Artie but for everyone on earth. The world was ending, and nothing could be done to prevent it.

A loud HONK snapped Artie out of his gaze. He'd spaced out in the middle of the road, so he stabbed a cluster of litter with a trash pick, then hurried out of the way. He watched as a black luxury car drove by with tinted windows and large canisters on the back. They were oxygen tanks, and only the wealthy could afford to install them on their vehicles. He began to ramble on to himself in a lousy fit of discontent.

"Must be nice. Who would've guessed being able to breathe clean air would become a luxury... Well, soon, even that won't be possible anymore. Since we'll all be out of oxygen in two days."

He stopped and tilted his head to one side in wonder.

"That is. Unless their science fair project succeeds. What was it called again... ah, Little Bang. The news said it's supposed to replicate the Big Bang that created the universe. Just on a smaller scale in order to generate a single moon and planet for humans to move to. I don't know much about the details, but it sounds impossible, even with modern advances."

Realizing the inside of his mouth was exposed, he pulled a scarf up over his face and ceased his meaningless rant.

Shortly after, a ding sounded from Artie's phone, notifying him that his shift was over. It was a blissful sound to his ears. Although he was excited, he maintained a slow pace to the waste station where he turned in his equipment. He could make out the figures of others returning, some noticeably happy to be leaving. He thought it was too dangerous to move too quickly as it would only elevate his breathing.

Less than ten minutes passed before he reached the waste station. Once there, he unzipped the green vest he wore and removed the hard hat on his head. Next to him, people had been chatting and discussing how they would be spending the remainder of their afternoon. The sound of conversation irritated him. Artie's eyebrows arched down, and the right side of his mouth began to sink into a frown.

("Suit yourselves; if you want to drag race to your graves, be my guest... Well, we may arrive at different times, but this is a race we all lose in the end.")

Artie snickered to himself as he walked away from the station.

"When you think about it, it's comical right? We're all slowly trending to the end of times, and no amount of being careful or cautious will change that. Dead like the goldfish I won in my childhood."

"That wicked seller told me it was just asleep..."

He began to take heavier steps on the ground and sneer.

"Sleep upside-down?! If I'd known better at the time, I would have punched his kneecaps."

It was an old grudge he never let go of. Artie was unaware of it, but he had begun speed walking down the smog-covered city. There were very few people outside, most of whom had good reason to be out. The "outside world" was not a place to venture into for fun or free time.

The apartment he lived in was located twenty minutes from his workplace. It wasn't at all impressive; it was what you'd picture the bare minimum to look at. A small studio apartment with four even walls and a roof. A single door leading to the bathroom and a small kitchen area. The lights were blue and dim to keep the room as cool as possible year-round. With global warming- Global baking rather, the average temperature leveled at 90 degrees Fahrenheit(32 degrees Celsius). On worse days it could rise another 40.

As Artie disrobed, you could see his malnourished and lanky figure that revealed his very ribs. He had pale brown skin, and despite his age, he had little to no body hair. He'd known his eyes to be naturally expressive and inviting, but now they were spiteful and slightly red from being outside. He had black hair but kept it cut short in another attempt to stay cool. At 5 foot 9, he could reach the back of his wardrobe where he pulled out a heap of wrinkled clothes. Everything Artie owned was creased, stained, or torn, and nothing around the place was organized. A mattress lay on the floor without any rails, and the walls were bare without any décor. By his bed was a metal canister labeled "Oxygen Tank" that Artie looked at for a while before finally grabbing it.

"Just a little"

He strapped a clear mask to his face, closed his eyes, and strongly inhaled. There was an honest smile on his face as he exhaled and reopened his eyes. He convinced himself he deserved a bit of pleasure after working long hours, so he indulged and went for another swing of oxygen. This time, as he inhaled, he was met with despairing silence.

"A-Already?! this was supposed to last me until..."

He cut himself short. He didn't want to linger on the idea of "Hope." Of Course, he hoped for a new world, but there had been dozens of "hopeful" promises made in the past. One involving his position as a waste collector. He dropped the clear mask onto the floor and lightly mushed his face, mockingly reciting the words of the research team dedicated to saving the earth.

"If citizens volunteer to clean up pollution, we can save the earth," they said, "We'll be back to manageable levels within a year," they said."

Artie kicked the pants off his legs then dragged himself over to the bath. After a long day, the shower was comforting. Running water reminded him of when he was young, a time when the rain wasn't harmful and kids could happily play outside.

Thrilled, he made his way into the tub, adjusted the direction of the shower nozzle, and waited for the water to turn on.

Instead, a soft, barely audible grinding sound met his ears. A single drop of muddy water leaked from the showerhead, and with it, the last bit of joy in his eyes. Still undressed, he silently relocated to the mattress and laid there. His body was sticky from sweat, and his hair was oily and damp. Looking up at the dim blue ceiling light, he tucked both of his hands behind his head and chuckled dishonestly as he shut his eyes.

"Fuck"