Completely unedited

The squeal of the airbrakes signaled the buses impending stop. It was also his queue to begin gathering up his belongings, a coffee mug with the phrase “I’d rather be in Rio” that was given to him by his daughter, his ratty faux leather briefcase with a broken clasp on the handle, and a mason jar with a live goldfish in it. He rose to his feet, and braced himself against the back of the seat as she drive all but slammed on the brakes, throwing everyone forward. Fucking civil servants. What was it about everyone who worked for the government in any capacity, that made them complete idiots? The guy at the local govy sandwich shop couldn’t even make a sandwich. I mean, who cant make a damned sandwich?
Once the bus came to its final halt, the last hiss of the air being let out of the brakes subsided and the door opened, letting in the fetid midmorning air. As he stepped through the doorway, he was accosted by the recycled air blowing through the front vents, reaking of everything from rat urine to stale body sweat and was yet again reminded of how the day was going to be one of those fuck-shit-goddamn miserable ones.
Standing just outside the doorway, he looked both directions, just trying to get his bearings amidst all of the downtown confusion, settled on a NW bearing (turned left), and joined the bobbing heads on the sidewalk.
After walking a few blocks, he stopped to check his reflection in the mirrored window of one of the buildings, adjusted his tie, and headed inside. The air conditioning was a welcome relief, it had been stifling outside. Weatherman claimed it was 91 and a 20% chance of rain, but he knew better. It was actually a little known fact that the government had been manufacturing weather reports for years. There was a 20% chance of rain, because there was about a 1/5 chance of the cloud dispersing aircraft not functioning correctly, thereby, allowing it to rain, and the temperature was actually closer to 100 degrees than it was to 91. See, what very few people knew was, that a few years back, the meteorlogical society, which was a private entity well funded by the new government, actually recalibrated all of their temperature readings to cause people to believe that the mercury wasn’t nearly as high as it truly was. The reasoning behind this was 2fold, one, was so that people wouldn’t become alarmed at the increasingly record setting high temperatures, but 2, by keeping them subdued about the actual temperature, it kept anyone from getting curious as to why it didn’t rain as often as it used to. This needed to be kept secret for the simple fact that the drought was actually man made. And not manmade in the “reckless stupidity caused it” kind of way, but was actually INTENTIONALLY manmade. Once those in power realized that they could control the rain, they could control the people. By causing rain in those area of govt run crop production, they found that they were able to not only control competition from farmers, but they were able to control the water levels of various areas on demand. The next step was to garner influence with the private utility companies holding the water, and voila!, government waterworks and foodstuffs, with the front end backing and appearance of legitimate capitalistic private enterprise.
After basking in the cool air blowing down on the top of his balding skull for a few too short seconds, the man made his way over to the elevator bay, checked to make sure the up arrow had been pressed, then stepped back amongst the others waiting.
As he waited, he took stock of his surroundings. At least 15 others waited with him for one of the 3 lifts that should be on their way. Your typical corporate fodder. If he had been a happier individual, perhaps he could have found the humor in the looks of those waiting with him. The older crowd had distant, vacant, depressed looks on their faces. As the ages went down, the excitement of their expressions went up. If everyone had stood in line by age, you would be able to see the gradual progression of what working day in day out in a corporate, business setting does to someone.
One younger gentleman caught the man’s eye. The kid couldn’t have been a day over 25 and he just looked downright excited. He could tell it was probably the poor saps first day on the job. His shirt, tie, and slacks all neatly pressed. His hair perfectly combed to the side, a new leather satchel under his arm, and his bargain brand shoes spitshined to the point that he could use them as a mirror under some unsuspecting woman’s skirt (and probably did). However, it wasn’t entirely the pride he took in his appearance, or the anxious, excited attitude he seemed to have about getting on the elevator and going to work. It was the way he looked at the man with disdain. A look that said “I will never allow myself to be that guy”. Little did he know, that all he was doing was looking at his future self with disgust. The man had been happy once. He still remembered his first day on the job, but the memory now seemed distant. A fading image slowly dissolving into the far reaches of his mind, only to surface on the rare occasion or in his dreams.
They made eye contact and the boy looked away, not wanting the pitifulness to invade his soutl the way it had the mans…as though the future was contagious.
The elevator dinged, causing a stir among the crowd, and snapping the old man back to the world. Everyone crammed in, he couldn’t help but notice the sign inside the box that read, max weight 2500 lbs, and, after a quick scan of the sardines packed in around him, concluded that there was a pretty good possibility that it had been exceeded. Everyone hit a button. 30 floors and 29 of them were pressed. He was going to 30, what fucking great luck that was.
somebody farted. Not one of those loud, boisterous, I AM ASS, HERE ME ROAR kind of farts. No, more of the silent but deadly variety. revealing its presence by a barely audible whisper of a squeak. He wasn’t even sure he had heard it. seconds later, the methane filled the cramped quarters and the crowd erupted in complaint. Nobody took credit for it. Now everyone was bitching…like that was going to do anything but cause them to expend more oxygen.
2 Floor, door opens
Seriously? Who fucking rides an elevator to the 2 floor? its not like this was one of those fancy office buildings where the first floor was a massive atrium, essentially making the 2nd floor the first, where it would make sense to take the elevator. NO, this was your plain old average, run of the mill 15 foot second story. Then, perpetrator got edged their way to the front. The woman was every bit of 108. She looked like she was carrying her death bed on her shoulders. Gradually edging her walker through the double doors.
pass by floors 4 and 5, next stop, 6.
There was a big time law firm on 6. This is where the majority of the buildings occupants worked. They were all hot shot lawyers and legal clerks who thought they were hot shots because they worked with hot shot lawyers. They had started as a small firm over on 9th. Then they got the big case not to long ago, the one with that guy who invented some kind of music somethingorother, and after getting an obviously guilty murderer completely set free, their business exploded, and now they have this great big gawdy aweful space on 6.
The floating coffin was now headed up again. floors 7-12 were all inhabited by government monkeys. the bureau of this and the bureau of that. The elevator whizzed right passed them stopping at 13.
Now 13 was an interesting floor. For all the man could figure, it was the floor that both hell and God either forgot or pretended didn’t exist. A bunch of looney toons always got off and on on that floor. Most of the time, if they got on, they were going to 30 so they could take the stairs to the roof and jump. Sometimes, when he was in the elevator headed down, the used to would be jumpers would be headed back down to 13, all covered in sweat, stinking of failure for not having been able to muster the courage to jump.