Chapter I: Note
It was a cloudy evening, a blanket of stagnance weighing down upon the atmosphere like the depths of a barren sea. From a blinded window, now agape, a weary young man looked outside, his dulled eyes and bland skin aging his features. To no surprise, the outside world reflected his own little bubble--cluttered, yet lifeless. He receded back to his abode, and groped around bottles of plastic by his nightstand. He shook them, but most were empty, even his usual capsules that smoothed out the rough edges of his days, were gone.
Below, he peered down at broken little machines that once gave bright light, now vestigial. Meaningless. Escapism was an unaffordable luxury now.
Once upon a time, he would cry out, or bring forth a bullish rage. Now, it only felt hollow. No incentive in him, no motivation. It reflected in his lifestyle, his frustrations, grades, achievements, and lack thereof.
Then, sparked a distinct zap across his nerves.
