The Creature's Choice

     Alan heaves himself over the pothole that's greeted him 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.

     As it is, Alan has bills to pay, so he did as he does every morning; dragged himself out of bed after his sixth alarm, grabbed a granola bar for breakfast, and sat in his car for five minutes before he had the strength to turn the stupid thing on. Traffic was awful, as always, everyone rushing to get to their jobs on a highway that never seems to have enough room for the cars on it.

     The worst part of the morning, the drive, is over. Now he pushes past glass doors, making 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 about the mold growing in the corner seams, or the mess of fingerprints across metal walls. Alan 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 walls for the ride if they were clean, but they're not, so he stands straight, watching the light climb across 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, for a while.

God, it really never ends, does it?

     As if by fate, or perhaps a cruel joke on the universe's part, the elevator freezes. Alan watches the lights on the buttons 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, then ten, and Alan lets loose a sigh. A headache spikes behind his eyes as he presses the 'emergency' button, finally giving in to lean against the walls. It's 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. He would've taken the monetary loss if it meant not dealing with this.

     Unfortunately, there isn't very much he can do but wait for help. Cells barely get service in the concreate 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 carrying the mass to the left corner. A growing shadow pokes at the roof of the elevator with their 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, the 'emergency' button still pressed, the bulb overhead constant in its flicker. He checks the corner one more time, assuming the creature to be just as imaginary as the open door, but the creature is still there. Still watching.

     "Alan." They greet, as though this is perfectly normal and not at all concerning.

     Alan blinks again, squinting his eyes. He can nearly see metal walls through the creature's willow-like body. They've got to be a hallucination. Maybe Alan's been getting less sleep than he thinks he is, or maybe the twenty minutes he's been stuck in the elevator are starting to get to him.

     It doesn't matter either way. 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, 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. He turns his head away, leaning against the steadily warming wall and sighs. This is a conversation he's has a thousand times. He thinks again of the exhaustion that's carved itself into his bones, of the trip to Cape Cod that he'd never actually taken, of the years spent toiling for a paycheck that barely pays his bills, of the years left before him in which he continues this never ending cycle until he can continue no more.

     While he may not be the brightest, he does know that he doesn't want that life. He hungers for something better like a man starved. A life of joy that isn't ripped away when he sets his alarms at night. A life where he and his friends can enjoy their time together without constantly checking the clock. A life where he can see his family without worrying about losing pennies from his paycheck. A life where he is free. A life where he isn't weary.

     Everyone has at least one want, but Alan thinks he has two. Two great wants that infect his blood streams, poison his mind with thoughts of happier days. He thirsts for freedom; he craves rest.

"Freedom and rest." Alan muses to his creature, giving up on ignoring the thing. "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 it's audacity, the creatures laughs. Those glowing eyes finally close, horns scraping along the walls while they cackle. "But you are free. You confine yourself with 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?"

     They gesture 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-do's, despite the fact that 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, Lucy stands at the front, barely awake herself and speaking to her assembled unconscious co-workers. 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 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 necessity. If we don't work, we don't have money, we can't pay our bills, we can't buy food, 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 you are the same as rich men whose hearts are corrupted by greed. That your purpose lies in vain labor. But, that is not what I asked. 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, differently."

"If you could do anything, anything in the world, would you chose to do this? To continue are 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.

     Still coated in tar, the creature hums, echoing their amusement. "Humans with their expansive imaginations think of many wonderous 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." They say. "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 the creature is gone. The elevator no more than an empty box with two doors.

     Alan stares at them both, tracing the cool metal sliding 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.

     He wonders if they'd miss him. If they'd throw him a going away party and celebrate his departure. He'd be letting them down, abandoning them for some place better that they can't accompany him to. If he chooses to rest, he may never see them again. He may never see anyone he cares for again, and that should fill him with dread, but he feels nothing at the thought. Missing them is not the question, he will miss them like suffocating lungs miss air. But the thought of continuing...

     He cannot continue. The mere premise is a mountain on his back. A stone on his ankle dragging 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. He presses his hand against it, unsurprised when the doors slide open of their own accord.

     Peaceful sunlight greets him, bathing the elevator in a pale, golden hue. Air rushes form 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. Tears stream feely down his face, sweet air filling his nostrils as his hands dig into the dirt beneath him. It is not a painful cry. Not the type that stuffs noses and makes breathing near impossible. Merely the overflowing of something soft, gentle in its reckoning.

     The creature waits for him, standing motionless until Alan raises his head. They stretch a talon out to him, but he hesitates, a single doubt lingering in his mind.

"My family- my friends, will they join me? Can they join me?"

"If they so choose." The creature mummers. "But you must remember that not all choose rest and freedom. Some will choose love, other hate, relationships or material possessions. You cannot choose for others, Alan, you can only choose for yourself."

     He nods, expecting disappointment, but it never comes. He is too light, too overcome with joy not felt in ages. Taking the offered talon, Alan allows the creature to pull him upright. Home is here, he thinks, in these sprawling fields, in the midst of sunshine and birdsongs. He could be at peace here. Here, he can rest. Here, he is free.

"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 their tar, pulling him forward. Flowers bloom with each step as they begin a new path, away from the elevator to something better. Alan does not look back, he can only look towards the horizon and bask in the hope finally radiating in his chest.