The Creature's Choice

Alan heaves himself across the pothole that's greeted him for the past three weeks. It's a massive, unfilled pain that floods with water when it rains, splashing grey filth into his office building when cars drive by. He dreads every step, as short as the walk is. If he had a say, he wouldn't be here at all. He'd be in bed, still sleeping off the years-old exhaustion that mimics his every step.

Pushing past glass doors, Alan makes a beeline for the elevator. Above him, the one light that isn't broken flickers, casting shadows across the empty lobby. To say it kindly, the elevator has seen better days. Sure, the light could be fixed. It'd improve the atmosphere instantly, but replacing the broken light won't do anything for the mold growing in the corner seams or the mess of fingerprints on the walls. He knows for a fact that the stain in the corner has been there since he started, and somehow it's grown to infect the entire left side of the frankly disgusting machine.

Heaving a sigh and dismissing his thoughts, Alan presses the number for his floor. He'd lean against the wall for the ride if it were clean. Instead, he taps his foot, watching the blinking lights climb across floor buttons and wishing he'd called out for the day. Or the week. Or the year.

On the plus side, tomorrow is the beginning of the weekend. Two days in which he can do as he pleases, rest as long as he needs, and finally relax. Yes, he'll be back to the same state come Monday, but right now that doesn't matter. He just has to get through the day, and then he’s free! Kinda.

It really never ends, does it?

As if by fate, or perhaps a cruel joke on the universe's part, the elevator freezes. The lights flicker in tune with the bulb overhead, and then disappear entirely. He gives it a second, because this is an old, unkept elevator, and it isn't uncommon for it to stop only to start again a few minutes later.

One minute passes, then five. Alan lets loose a sigh. A headache spikes behind his eyes as he presses the 'emergency' button, finally giving in to lean against the wall. Perfect, isn't it? Getting stuck in a stupid elevator that he's loathed since his first day here. He knew, he knew, he should've called out. Monetary loss is nothing compared to dealing with this. Unfortunately, there isn't very much he can do but wait for help. Cellphones barely get service in the concrete building, but in the elevator, he can't even connect to the Wi-fi. He's attempting to breathe through his frustration when the door opens.

Alan looks up, expecting Tom or one of the other maintenance technicians, only to see a creature. They step without footsteps. Talons that leak oozing tar carry the mass to the left corner. A growing shadow pokes at the roof of the elevator with its horns. Yet, the only true features Alan can see are glowing yellow eyes that remain locked with his, never moving, even as the creature settles into their corner.

When he blinks, the door is closed. Only the overhead light has returned to normal, but the floor panel still flashes, and the emergency button is still pressed. He checks the corner one more time, assuming the creature to be just as imaginary as the open door, but it's actually there. Just watching.

"Alan." It greets, as though this is perfectly normal and not at all concerning.

He blinks again, squinting his eyes. The metal walls are almost visible through the creature's willow-like body. It’s got to be a hallucination. Maybe he’s been getting less sleep than he thought. Or this is something his brain is coming up with as a result of being stuck in the elevator. 

It doesn't matter. Eventually, the elevator will move once more, the door will open, and Alan will trudge through the day as he always does. His eyes track back to the creature, still there, still watching. They blink back slowly, an empty void of a mouth opening to what Alan assumes is a smile.

"If you could do anything, what would you do?"

Alan snorts, an age-old question his mind often throws his way. This is a conversation he's had a thousand times. He thinks again of the exhaustion that's carved itself into his bones. Then comes the trip to the mountains that he'd never actually taken, which leads to the bleak reality of a life spent toiling for a paycheck that barely pays his bills. That, of course, bleeds into the dimmer future in which he continues this never-ending cycle until he dies.

While he may not be the brightest, he does know that he doesn't want that. It sounds unbearable, even though it's always been explained to him as 'life'. Privately, he thinks everyone has at least one want outside the rat race. Alan has two. Two great desires that poison his mind and burn through any hope of productivity. He thirsts for freedom; he craves rest.

So he answers one insane question with another. "Freedom and rest. How do you choose between them?"

The creature snorts, a gurgling of tar. "Humans are already free."

"No, we're not. If we were, I wouldn't be entertaining this conversation."

In its audacity, the creature laughs. Those glowing eyes finally close, horns scraping along the ceiling. "But you are free. You confine yourself to laws, expectations, customs, and beliefs. But at the end of it all, you are not bound to these things. You can do as you please. This?"

It gestures to the walls. Metal gives way to transparency, and Alan watches with wide eyes as the office comes to life around him. At the reception desk, Bill notates his fourth sticky note of to-dos, even though business hours haven't started yet. Rose is at the coffee pot, carefully measuring grounds and preparing cups for the morning staff. John is already working on morning prep sheets, numbers large enough on the screen that Alan can make out a 'four' from the elevator. One of the meeting rooms is full, and Lucy stands at the front, barely awake herself. In the same hallway, Tom kneels before the water fountain that broke last week, tools at his side and grease staining his clothes.

"This is all choice." The creature says. "None of you have to do any of this. You could run amok in fields of flowers, swim through lakes, and bask in the sun. You have free will, Alan, it is the beauty of humanity in all its violent kindness."

Alan shakes his head, chest twisting as the walls fade back into reality. "You're not making any sense. This isn't a choice, it's a necessity. If we don't work, we don't have money, we can't pay our bills, we can't buy food, and we lose our homes. We'd be dead within the first three months-"

The creature sighs, a groan of bolts that keeps the elevator suspended midair. "You're confining yourself. You expect me to believe you want for nothing but money. That your purpose lies in vain labor. But I know that is untrue. And it is not what I asked.”

Looking away, Alan stubbornly crosses his arms.

“You have a choice to make. If you do not believe you have one in life, I swear you at least have one with me. So I will ask again.  If you could do anything, anything in the world, would you choose to do this? To continue, as you are?"

Alan flinches at the thought; he knows his answer before the sentence is finished. To continue would mean the same weekly cycle he's had since he could remember; the same dread, the same exhaustion, the same emptiness. "No." He croaks. "I wouldn't."

"What would you do?"

"I'd rest," Alan admits, voice so very small, so very drained. "I'd rest until I forgot tiredness, until my soul was free from the strain of living, until my energy was actually restored. I would live openly in my freedom, and never grow weary again."

At that, the creature offers him another smile, pleased by him, or maybe his answer. He lets his head hang back, forgetting about the stickiness of the wall in favor of closing his eyes and truly feeling the weight of his statement. Rest sounds like a dream, freedom like a fantasy, but it is nice to dream. To hope that one day, he may acquire both.

"Why ask?" He muses. "It's not like any of this matters. I'm still stuck in an elevator. I still have work once I'm out of here. You're just a hallucination I've conjured for company."

"Am I?"

Eyes snapping open, Alan stares at the creature. His heart beats against his eardrums, breath snags in his throat.

"Aren't you?" He whispers.

The creature hums, echoing their amusement. "Humans with their expansive imaginations think of many wondrous things, but they cannot take credit for my existence. I have been here before the first of you, and I will remain when the last of you is gone."

"Why are you saying this-"

"You have a choice to make, Alan. To continue down a route that brings misery, or to seek joy. Will you succumb to duty and normalcy, or will you begin anew? That is your choice, human, decide well."

Alan rolls his eyes, scoffing at the creature, but when he looks back, it’s gone. The elevator is no more than an empty box with two doors. He stares at them both, tracing the sides to the bottom, notating the lack of buttons that ferried him around the office building. Beneath him, the rubber floor is cracked. Above, the light still pulses, and he briefly wonders if Tom will ever get around to fixing it.

Tom probably can’t do much about the lack of buttons, though. The right one reads ‘back’ and the left one reads ‘forward’. The absurdness of it all nearly makes him laugh, but the creature did say he had to choose. 

He cannot continue. The mere premise is a mountain on his back. A stone on his ankle that drags him deeper into certainty that he cannot. It pushes his shoulders to the floor, leaves him throbbing with tangled emotions that rage against the very idea. No, he cannot continue, not like this. Not if toiling to his death with small pockets of relief is all this life has to offer.

So he stands, legs and hands trembling as he turns to the door on the left. His hand shakes as he presses the only button available to him, half expecting to find his office floor on the other side.

Instead, peaceful sunlight greets him, bathing the elevator in a pale, golden hue. Air rushes from his lungs as he steps forward, trading rubber for the soft grass of ever-sprawling meadows. Alan falls to his knees, something releasing in his chest. Sweet air fills his nostrils as his hands dig into the dirt beneath him, checking to make sure it still crumbles and falls between his fingers. The sight of it brings tears to his eyes. It is not a painful cry. Not the type that stuffs noses and makes breathing near impossible. Nor is it something he fully comprehends. Merely the overflowing feeling of something, gentle in its reckoning.

The creature waits for him, standing motionless until Alan raises his head. They stretch a talon out to him, and he takes it, staring over its shoulder at the landscape around them. He can find peace here, in these sprawling fields. In the midst of sunshine and birdsongs. 

 "I presume you are pleased with your choice."

Alan laughs, the sounds carrying in the breeze, finally smiling back at the creature. "I am."

The creature tucks his arm into tar, a mere soft cloak, pulling him forward. Flowers bloom with each step as they begin a new path, away from the elevator to something new.