A view from the cubicle

Staring at the ceiling, as late last night ground its way determinedly into early this morning, I calculated that I’ve been awake for approximately 82 of the past 96 hours. Which gives a rough ratio of 85 per cent of the time conscious to 15 percent unconscious.

When you’re awake three and a half days in four, you have time to get some sums done. It’s a bit like counting sheep, except it’s counting the bits of your life you’d planned to miss and are now disappointed not to have done.

You all know by now, what goes on at 5am – the larks, the jokes, the things that go bump in the half light. But now, like a Jacques Cousteau of the witching hour, I”m going to tell you about what happens before that.

Welcome to Therebefore-Therebeforelight.

Fuck all is what happens: one vast widening gorge of peeling paint and stains on the ceiling. If I lived in a comic book, I’d be the scientist or lab technician, who gets trapped in the magic-ray, time-fracturing, light-dismantling, zombie machine, only for one of the auxiliary staff to override the automatic vaporise-then-bring-back-with-superpowers  process,  by pulling the plug out at the wall. Then, through the sound proof glass, he’d tell me the catch on the door was broken and couldn’t be fixed. When it was built, they made the bolt out of Adamantine as a safety feature. The loo in the canteen has the same system. Anyway, everyone’s going home now, and, in all honesty, experiment hasn’t produced a single piece of meaningful data in 12 years, and we’ve gratuitously pissed away billions in taxpayers money, so they’ve decided to shut it down. Everyone’s leaving now, and they’re not coming back. Enjoy your new life in the impregnable iron cubicle. Byee.

So suggestions anyone? Think of this as a locked-door mystery in the Agatha Cristie mould. If you can figure out how I, The Murderer, escape from The Cupboard of sleeplessness, and make off with The Body (going to sleep)’s priceless amulet (a nice dream… about a horse?), The Museum Curator (my now-ruined body and barely-standable legs) will be forever in your debt.

I’d like to say it’s a race against time, but it’s really just a race agains my steadily encroaching delirium and me swearing at you all some more.

Advertisements

~ by David Thorley on October 15, 2010.

2 Responses to “A view from the cubicle”

  1. 1am was a new record for me this morning. It’s been 3.45 every other day. And not even a novel to show for it.

    I like the idea of you as a frustrated Dr Manhattan. To think the coalition’s cuts to research funding are depriving us of the radioactive superheroes of tomorrow.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: