Justin Hill 2250 W. Elizabeth St. Fort Collins, CO 80521 720-281-1614 liberationartist@gmail.

com

about 6,000 words

STANLEY by J. T. Hill

Stanley awoke this morning as he did every morning. His alarm went off, breaking the silence with its monotonous high-pitched beeping at precisely 6:00. He stepped into the shower at 6:07, washing first his hair, then his body with the same generic brand shampoo and body wash that he had for the past few years. He brushed his teeth at 6:18, dressed himself in his grey and blue work uniform, and grabbed a mug of coffee he had preset the night before along with a partially burnt piece of white bread toast as he walked briskly out the door at exactly 6:28 a.m. He

Hill / Stanley / 2 always left himself two minutes to walk the three and a half blocks to the metro station, and was never late. The train ride came out to be roughly twenty minutes long; depending on the time it took at the three stops it would

routinely make before arriving at Stanleys work. Stanley would get off the train, walk into the lobby and greet the old man behind the desk with a good morning or a how do you do? then take the elevator to the sixth floor. At 7:00 a.m. he would

then enter his work room; the door labeled with his employee number: 427, and begin his day. He received one lunch break, usually taken around 1:00 p.m., for forty five minutes and not a second more, on which he would eat the ham and cheese sandwich he had prepared for himself hundreds of times before. At the end of the day, Stanley would power down his room with the flip of a switch and punch his time card in the machine by the door. He would then take the elevator six stories down to the lobby where he would bid farewell to the old man behind the desk and hop on the train to return home at exactly 5:30 p.m. Stanley had repeated this routine like clockwork every day for the past ten years of his life, and he was perfectly content with himself. Why should he not be? What did Stanley have to worry about? He had a steady job, a roof over his head, food on the table; he was perfectly content.

Hill / Stanley / 3 The factory at which Stanley worked was a very large and very old brick building on the opposite edge of town. Stanley knew it had something to do with the power generated for the city

because thats what it said on the application, but he was not honestly sure how his specific day-to-day activities affected the company. When people he met on the train or in the grocery store would ask him what it was he did for a living, he would simply say that he worked at the plant on the edge of town. That seemed to suffice as an answer because people would just nod and smile in agreement. You see, Stanleys job was to sit in a room surrounded by computer monitors and flashing buttons and switches and push them in the order dictated to him by the larger monitor in the room. He was very good at this job. Stanley took great pride in doing exactly what the screen said to do in an accurate and timely fashion. No one else could do this like me, thought

Stanley to himself often. He was the perfect man for this job. Stanley was also not what one would consider social. He

exchanged words with his coworkers from time to time but it was always meaningless talk about sports or work. He never knew any of them on a personal level, but he was perfectly content with the illusion of sociability created by his acquaintanceships. On top of all this, Stanley had never really met his employer. In

Hill / Stanley / 4 fact, he didnt even know the mans name, it if was in fact a man. Stanley was hired via a computer application he had filled out and reported to work once he received an email confirming his acceptance. That was about ten years ago now, and Stanley hardly even remembered it. Come to think of it, Stanley hardly ever thought about the past anymore. His days had become the same. It was hard for Stanley to remember when things began or ended now because so much of his life was a constant. He took comfort in the predictability of his life but sometimes, before he would fall asleep at night, he would feel a void; something missing in his life, though he could never quite put his finger on what it might be. Just silly feelings, he would always think to himself. Then, at 10:00 p.m., he would set his alarm, shut off the light, and fall into a nearly dreamless sleep. ### It was a Tuesday. Stanley awoke with a start. Something wasnt right. He turned to his clock and recognized the problem

immediately. His alarm had not gone off. Stanley had forgotten to set his alarm before but his consistent sleep pattern caused him to wake up on time anyway; but his alarm going off was not even the worst of the problems. Stanley stared blankly at the red digits on the little black box with a resounding lack of

Hill / Stanley / 5 pensive grandeur. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared again. 10:02 p.m., read the little red digits. Stanley looked at his wristwatch. The little hand was also on the ten as the big hand stood two clicks to the right of the 12 on the face of the watch. Perplexed, Stanley looked out the window next to his bed to see the sun just beginning to peak over the skyline, just as it was every morning at the time he would wake up. It mesmerized him for nearly a minute, though he was not really in thought but rather dumbstruck by this most simple and repetitive act of

nature. Yes, that was it that is what confused him so if it can even be called confusion; Stanley was not even sure if he knew how to be confused the fact that this occurrence was one that happened every day and he had not noticed it until just now. Well, not quite that either, for Stanley was perfectly

aware that the Earth revolved around the sun, causing it to appear to rise and fall every day, but he had never been quite so conscious of it before as he was right at this moment.

He shook himself back to his mundane reality, the landscape of his bedroom, reset grayed his by the to shadows the cast by the rising began sun. his

Stanley

clocks

proper

time

and

morning routine.

Hill / Stanley / 6 Out the door almost a full 3 minutes late, Stanley had to take up a light jog to make his 6:30 a.m. train. Yet another thing today that was somewhat strange to Stanley, jogging. He could not remember the last time that he had to exert himself past a rapid shuffle. Stanley took a seat on the train noticing the general lack of passengers today. The train was never very busy at this hour, maybe two or three other passengers, but not

today. Today, there was not a soul. The train tossed back and forth, rattling noisily on its old tracks. Stanley found comfort in the regular *whoosh, whoosh, whoosh* of the wind outside in the tunnel, and found himself slipping off into thought again. A discarded newspaper blew to his feet and he caught a brief glimpse of the front page.

Murder, tragedy, war; Stanley stared at the headlines with no more emotion than he would exercise when staring at a fork. But for almost a second, no, a fraction of a second, Stanley asked himself why? He almost began to wonder why people kill each other off in mass quantities over things he didnt understand. He almost began to imagine a world where this was not the case, but his mind quickly receded like a hand from a hot stove. Stanley arrived at work at his usual time and walked into the lobby to meet another curious inconsistency of his day. The old man behind the desk was missing. Stanley could not remember a

Hill / Stanley / 7 single day that the man had missed but he shrugged it off; simply guessing the man was finally on a vacation or taking a sick day. Stanley arrived at his room, number 427, and punched in as usual. He sat down at his desk to meet yet another strange

inconsistency. None of the monitors or buttons or switches on his control panel were lit up. This deeply worried Stanley as something like this had never happened before. He had no idea who to contact in order to resolve this issue. He walked over to the door, which would always close automatically upon his

entering the room, and next to the panel on the wall where Stanley punched in everyday was what appeared to be a little PA system. It was a small black box with a little round speaker on it and a small red button no larger than Stanleys finger nail. Stanley held the button for a second, and then let it go. No response. He held it again. Hello? he asked shakily. Still no response. Stanley returned to his chair and sat for a moment trying to think, though not a single idea entered his mind. He wanted to try to think of a solution to his problem but he had become so reliant on the consistency of events in his life that he did not have to do too much original thought anymore. Stanley started to

Hill / Stanley / 8 wonder if he was even thinking or just trying to think about thinking. He found himself caught, yet again, in the circular thought process at which he had arrived this morning. But for the life of him, Stanley could not imagine a single reality outside of his mundane and predictable own. This made his head hurt, so he tried instead to remember in his mind any of the button and switch combinations he had used on any given day of work prior. He could not. He just stared blankly at the control panel, unable to imagine a single

original combination of his own without the strict guidance of the monitor. Stanley, a voice suddenly came over the speaker of the

little PA on the wall. It took Stanley a second to break from his trance and try to think if he was just hearing things. Hello Stanley. It appeared to be a mans voice; deep and a little rough, but not unpleasant to the ears. Upon the second time hearing this voice he was somewhat startled to hear his actual name here in his office. Typically he was referred to strictly as Number 427. Stanley bolted over to the wall and held the button down. Hello? Who is this? Silence. Excuse me, sir? Are you the tech support? asked Stanley.

Hill / Stanley / 9 Stanley, today you are going to be given an opportunity, a chance to be free, said the voice. ### Free? Stanley was sure he had no idea what the man was talking about. He was free; or at least he thought he was. He had a job, a home, some saved up vacation time. Stanley had never felt like anything less than free in his life. But then again, his life was the only one he knew. You look confused, Stanley. It is understandable. I am going to show you, but its going to take some work on your part. Stanley could not imagine what this man was possibly talking about. He thought it was some sort of practical joke being

played on him by his coworkers. No, he thought, he was not well acquainted with any of them well enough for that kind of Wait a minute. Did that man just say I look confused? Stanley thought. Can he see me? Stanley looked nervously around the room and sure enough there was a small camera in one of the corners of the room. Yet another thing Stanley had never really noticed before today. This must have meant that the man was in the building. Somewhere like a security room, Stanley thought, but he did not know where that was.

Hill / Stanley / 10 Who are you? Where are you? Stanley was terribly confused and it was giving him a headache. He looked frantically around the room in frustration, his eyes darting from the camera in the corner to his functionless control panel then back to the PA on the wall. You must hurry Stanley. There is not much time. If you would like to take advantage of my offer, you must move. There are many things I have to show you. Before Stanley could open his mouth to utter a protest that he had admittedly not even thought of yet, he heard a soft click. Suddenly, the door slid open as it normally would on breaks and when his day ended. These doors must be automatic, thought Staneley, control and of this the man whole has control over them. Does a he have

building?

Stanley

got

little

uncomfortable with the thought of being trapped in this place like a rat in a maze. Go down the hall to the lunchroom, Stanley, said the voice. Still unsure of whom this voice was, what his motives were and what he meant by a chance to be free, Stanley left his room and looked down the hallway, dimly lit by old fluorescent lights but not a shadow in sight. Driven by either curiosity and fear, or a deadly combination of the two, he walked slowly and timidly towards the lunchroom, just as the voice had told him. The

Hill / Stanley / 11 thought of going and trying the elevator did not even cross his mind in his fearful state. The hallway seemed to go on forever in front of Stanley. He stared towards the lunchroom and the hallway seemed to sway, though raised somehow, his mind Stanley to a kept his composure. to which His it adrenaline had never

superior

state

travelled before. He started to become more astutely aware of his surroundings. The pasty white walls, the square pattern of the faux-tile, even each of his footsteps resounded in his ears, their pace matching that of his heart. When Stanley finally reached the lunchroom, it was as it

always was for the past ten years of his employment. White, plain walls with two long, grey tables, each with about ten seats attached to it by metal bars that ran along the floor. There was a small bulletin board where work news was posted and people hung miscellaneous for bikes and birthday lawn wishes and and things personal of that

solicitations

chairs

nature. There was one microwave on the counter next to the sink and it was always caked in a thin layer of brown because no one cared to clean it out. Next to that was a refrigerator with two

sliding glass doors, fairly empty; it held only a bottle of salad dressing and an unmarked brown paper lunch sack most

Hill / Stanley / 12 likely forgotten from the day before. The room was silent aside from the low hum of the motor on the refrigerator. Stanley immediately noticed the use of security cameras in the break room as well. He had also noticed them in the hall on the way from his office. Very good, Stanley; you are well on your way to your

freedom, came the voice over the crackling speaker overhead. I dont understand, Stanley said with much earnest. What do you mean by that? Where is everyone? Have you done something with them? Stanley, I want you to see something. Confused as to how this strange voice was going to show him something, Stanley opened his mouth to protest. Suddenly, a

computer screen on the wall that Stanley had hardly ever noticed before now, snapped on with a buzz. Stanley waited for it to fully power on, and when the lights finally came to life his jaw dropped. He stood there before the screen with his mouth hanging open in bewilderment at the images that flashed in front of him. Photos of corpses laying, mutilated, ripped apart and full of holes on dirt roads while men with guns stood over their bodies in triumph; images of small families, thin as bone and their bellies inflated showing their starvation squatting together

outside straw huts in the dust; clips of animals being tortured

Hill / Stanley / 13 in factories, poked with needles crying out in pain, locked in cages far too small for their own bodies. Then came the videos, similar to the images in their gruesomeness, but far more

appalling in full motion high definition. Men

being shot in the

head execution style by soldiers, entire villages being engulfed in flames by bombs dropped by planes, large groups of people men women and children being stripped naked and forced to lay in their own defecation and vomit, being urinated on by

soldiers. When the screen finally shut off Stanley was speechless. He felt as if he was going to vomit. He did. He had seen scenes like these on the nightly news and in the papers, but these scenes were much more graphic than the watered down versions he was used to. This was much more literal and abrupt as opposed to the sensational hearsay that was usually plastered all over the news. These scenes were also contrary to the perspective of the stories he had heard. The only stories printed in the news and shown on the in television were of wounded soldiers and random far off lands. It was always so positively

explosions

reflecting of the soldiers, presenting them as the good guys or the saviors of these far off lands. Wha What is this? Stanley asked.

Hill / Stanley / 14 This, the voice said with solemnity, is the world outside of your own Why would you show me this? Because Stanley, this is the cost of your current life, the means by which it is obtained. But this is only a small part of that. I still dont understand why, Stanley said, frustrated at the illusiveness of the voices point. I told you, Im going to give you a chance to be free. But first, you must understand this freedom, what it means. Now, its time to keep moving. I have more to show you. Go out the other door of this room and take the elevator to the top floor. ### Still very confused, and now somewhat scared, Stanley walked out of the door and towards the elevator. There was no turning back now. The voice had Stanley on the edge of his proverbial seat, next. Stanley couldnt remember ever being over on this side of the building before in his ten years of working, so he felt a little out of place. Fortunately, the building was designed to be questioning what this mysterious being might show him

symmetrical and he just had to do everything the opposite. Left down the hall instead of right, then a right instead of a left,

Hill / Stanley / 15 and there it was: the elevator. Stanley pushed the button marked with the upwards arrow, walked through the immediately opening doors and pushed the 12 button on the panel. As the doors closed and the elevator shook to indicate its begin to ascension, Stanley looked around the elevator cab for a camera, wondering if the voice could see him here as well. There was a small hatch on the roof of the cab for emergency exit, and Stanley imagined opening it. To his own surprise, Stanley

imagined escape for the first time. But it wasnt really an escape per se, because Stanley could leave at any time. It was more just a thought of leaving all this strangeness behind,

going home, and getting a good nights rest. Though, he had not a single thought as to where he would go once in the shaft of the elevator so he lost interest in the idea quickly. *DING* The cabin shuddered to a halt, Stanley couldnt figure out if it was that or his increased nervousness that caused his stomach to lurch, but he swallowed hard and stepped out of the doors into a lobby with nice red carpets and a chandelier. There were tables on either end with nice plants on them and the ceiling was detailed with beautiful artisanship in white and in a circle pattern that somewhat mirrored the pattern on the carpet. Before

Hill / Stanley / 16 him were large wooden double doors with a craftsman ship that matched that of the lobby. Stanley approached the doors slowly, leaning his head up to one side listening for signs of any occupants. Then he reached his hand for the handle turning it slowly and silently. He

pushed the door open and it made a slight squeak from its age. Stanley stood in the doorway of a large office, adjacent from a big wooden desk. The floors were of the same carpet as the lobby and the ceiling resembled similar architecture. Along the wall to his left were three large windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, with long white curtains drawn back, letting in the sunlight. Stanley squinted for a moment from the light because he was not used to being exposed to the sun at this hour as there were no windows in any of the parts of the building where he worked and the brightness of the sun compared to the old fluorescent lights was astounding. Stanley noticed a large bookcase behind the desk and walked over to it and did not recognize a single title among them, but that was no surprise as Stanley was not much of a reader. What do you think? the voice from above said. I dont know. Is this the boss office?

Hill / Stanley / 17 Yes, you could say that, said the voice. This is one of his offices, but it is not the one in which he conducts his

business. What do you mean? asked Stanley. Does he have a different office? What does he do? All in due time Stanley, said the voice. But now, since there are no cameras in this office and I cannot see you, go to the bookshelf and find a little red book with a worn spine. Stanley quickly found it at about shoulder level slightly to the left of the desk. It was a small, thin book with a hard, red cloth cover. It appeared worn from excessive use and the little gold words on the spine were barely still visible. Not to his surprise, this was another title Stanley had never heard of. Stanley raised his hand to grab the book, but something

stopped him. He did not know what, but he was struck for a second by an overwhelming feeling that he could not describe, as it was something he had never felt before. Something was just telling him, screaming at him, not to pull the book just yet. Stanley removed his hand slowly and turned towards the desk. Thats it! he thought. There were no cameras in this office, the voice had said. He was totally blind to Stanleys actions and he had a brief chance to take advantage of that. The only problem was Stanley had no idea how to do that. He started

Hill / Stanley / 18 shuffling through the papers on the desk and saw nothing of immediate interest. He didnt even know what he was looking for really; he was just struck by this strange feeling to do

something, anything to try to explain his current situation. He moved on to the drawers, tossing them open and shuffling through them without concern for leaving a trace of his snooping or for the noise he was making while doing so. More papers in the drawers, all unidentifiable to Stanley. It was just boss paperwork to Stanley, whatever that was. He did not even know what his own job was, much less the day to day activities of his boss. He sat down in his boss black leather chair sighing loudly, flustered with both his own ignorance and the lack of

information he had gleaned from his search. ### What are you doing? asked the voice. Why havent you

grabbed the book yet? This confused Stanley. How do you know I havent grabbed it yet? I thought you couldnt see me. No answer. Quickly, Stanley got up out of the chair and went back to the bookshelf where the little red book was. He grabbed it and

pulled, but it only came about halfway out and stopped fast.

Hill / Stanley / 19 There was a loud knock that seemed to come from inside the wall. Then, right before Stanleys eyes, the bookshelf gave way. Splitting down the middle, the two halves of the wall became two large double doors swinging back into the wall revealing a dimly lit hallway behind them. The hallway was much darker than the sunlit office and appeared dark to Stanleys unadjusted eyes. He stood there, where the bookshelf once was, on the threshold of the darkness of the hall and the light of the room behind him. His shadow was cast long and black onto the abyss before him and a cool air was blowing into his face, being released from the cavernous blackness beyond. He paused there for a long moment, allowing his eyes to adjust before moving on. Please, come in, the all too familiar voice rang within the space before him. Stanley took his first step into the darkness, holding his hands out before him so as to not hit anything, as his eyes were still becoming used to the lack of light. When he could see properly again, Stanley found he was standing in a room roughly the size of the office he had just left, though much less

ornate. In fact, this room looked very much like Stanleys workroom 427. The walls were plain white, dulled by the poor lighting, and the floor was plain grayish white tile. In the middle of the

Hill / Stanley / 20 room was a control panel like the one in his room, only much larger and with many more monitors, buttons, and switches. There was a simple rolling chair like the one in his room sitting empty behind the control board. The thing that confused Stanley however, was the screens on the wall adjacent to the control panel. On the large wall in front of where the panel operator would sit were a series of small TV monitors with writing above each one; and each screen displayed a room of the building, all empty of course. Upon closer examination, Stanley saw that the writing was numbers. Each TV was numbered with an employee number. Was this the security room perhaps? Stanley thought. He didnt see the man who was guiding him throughout this strange day. This was nothing like he had expected. Then again, he didnt know what to expect. He had been very confused all day, and this seemed to be a rather anticlimactic end to his chance at

freedom, whatever that even meant. Stanley was flustered and confused worse. What now? asked Stanley to the empty room. Are you going to explain any of this? No answer. and his confusion was only making his frustration

Hill / Stanley / 21 Stanley went and sat down behind the control panel, observing his surroundings trying to think. He glanced at the buttons and switches on the board noticing their similarity to the ones in room 427. There was something different about this one, a small difference, but he couldnt quite put his finger on it. His eyes wandered to the screens on the wall again and he looked at the empty rooms, trying to imagine where everyone could possibly be. Then he looked immediately back at the control panel. For the second time in less than an hour, Stanley felt as if he was going to vomit. His stomach seemed to be in his throat and his heart began to beat through his ears. Stanley saw the difference between the control panel in room 427 and the one in front of which he currently sat. The buttons were all in the same places and looked the same on the board, but these buttons, unlike the ones in his room, were labeled. Stanley could not believe what he was looking at. Over each button was a small metal rectangle with labels

engraved into them. But these labels were none like Stanley had ever seen, because the buttons were not labeled with mechanical functions, but human ones. These labels were functions like eat, sleep, walk,

work, and more. Then on the other side of the panel, the

Hill / Stanley / 22 labels were even more disconcerting. These buttons and switches were labeled with human emotions; happy, sad, angry. Now do you understand? the voice asked, echoing eerily in the room. Stanley didnt know what to say. He didnt know if there even was anything to say. Was he even the one choosing what he said? He didnt know anything anymore. He wanted to wake up from this terrible dream, but he knew it was not a dream. He had so many questions, but he didnt really want to know the answers to them because he knew they would be terrible. Was his entire life being dictated by a man at a desk? Was his desk being used for the same thing, meaning he was controlling the lives of others? How many lives were being controlled?

Stanleys mind raced faster and faster thinking of these things. But the worst question of all was if everyone is in fact being controlled and he was helping, did he control some of the people he saw in the videos and photos earlier? Stanley began to weep just at the thought of it. I dont even know what to think anymore, Stanley said,

trying his best to keep his voice from shaking. Why? Why are you showing me this?

Hill / Stanley / 23 I told you, said the voice. Im giving you a chance to be free. Ive lifted the veil between your world and reality. Now that you understand, you can be free. How does this make me free? I dont understand anything! Stanley exclaimed, standing from the chair in anger. Because your previous life was one lived in the dark, in blind ignorance of reality. Now that I have showed you the

truth, you can go and live free. But what am I supposed to do? I dont know anything else. Ive been living this life for ten years! Stanley was shouting into the empty room. He was beginning to grow angry with the voice now. What if I cant? What if I dont want to? Though Stanley was sure he had no idea what he wanted anymore. There is a door, just over there, which leads outside, said the voice as calmly as ever. You can go out that door and do whatever you want. You can leave this place forever and start a new life, telling as many people about what you have learned here as you can; or you can go home, set your alarm, make your lunch for tomorrow, and continue your life as you have for the past ten years. Stanley was pacing around now, looking all over the room from top to bottom. His anger was overwhelming him. He was confused, lost, and worst of all, alone.

Hill / Stanley / 24 I wouldnt even know where to start, Stanley yelled. I didnt know about all this before you showed me. I was perfectly fine before. I cant go back to that now. I didnt know about this before you showed me. That phrase resonated like a bell in Stanleys mind. It repeated over and over, just as he had said it. Then it struck him. He could not believe he didnt see it before. This whole time, this whole day, the voice, the instructions, the monitoring. Stanley had produced the first unique thought he could ever recall having. What was it called? An epiphany? He didnt know, but he was having one, and it was the most liberating feeling he had ever had. Suddenly, the whole day made sense. He thought back on all of the thoughts he had all day. The moments of confusion and doubt and mental inadequacy all came together, and he

understood. Stanleys heart began to beat even faster, because he knew what he had to do. You! Stanley shouted at the ceiling. And how are you any different? Silence. You have been instructing me all day. Watching me, dictating my every move! Stanley yelled. He was beginning to laugh. The excitement was overwhelming, like a mental and physical high, he

Hill / Stanley / 25 felt as though he could fly. Yet you hide behind your

anonymity, giving me instructions without direction, promising me freedom at the end of this this goose chase! If I was truly looking for freedom, I would not have to follow your every

command, and blindly so! Still silence. Whats the matter!? Stanley yelled rather maniacally at this point. Nothing to say now? Laughing hysterically by this point, Stanley grabbed the

wheeling chair to the desk by the seat and the back rest with both hands. Lifting the mostly stainless steel seat over his head he gave out a scream that echoed through the room and out into the office, then smashed it down with every considerable ounce of his force onto the blinking control panel before him. It burst with a barrage of sparks and metal debris. Again, he lifted the chair and again he smashed it down on the panel. Stop! What are you doing?! came the voice above. Stanley then heaved the chair back, arching his back like a slingshot. He then thrust the chair forward, snapping his body like a tree back into place and threw his arms forward like a shot put, launching the chair into the collection of monitors across the room. It erupted into a projection of sparks and glass, showering the floor with debris.

Hill / Stanley / 26 Stop now! said the voice, full of a newfound emotion

contrary to its cool and in control tone from all day. Stanley ran towards the door to which the voice had referred earlier, the one that led outside, and thrust it open. Sunlight poured into the dark room, causing Stanley to shield his eyes. He stopped for a moment at the threshold, electronics popping and zapping behind him, and then walked out onto the roof of the building. He could hear the voice yelling behind him in the room, which was starting to catch fire, but could not make out his words. He to walked the to the edge where stood there on the was a ladder for a

stretching

ground.

Stanley

ledge

moment, reflecting on the day. His heart racing faster than ever as he stood there, the breeze hitting his face and seeping

through the fabrics of his clothes, listening to the traffic sounds below. Stanley walking laughed to himself, scoffing at the people below,

about

their

daily business as they always had. Now,

Stanley looked at them in a new light. He now knew the useless nature of their endeavors, the triviality of their feelings or their motivation. There was no such thing in the end. Their relations, Peons. loves, hates, excitements, all worthless. Pawns.

Hill / Stanley / 27 Stanley remembered when he thought his life was genuine, when he believed he was worth something. Reality was a thick fog to his consciousness now. Then, Stanley did something he had not done in a very long time. Slowly, a cold tear rolled from his eye down to the

nostril of his nose, then finally to the corner of his mouth. Soon, he was openly weeping there all alone on the roof of that building, rattled to the very fiber of his being. Finally, after a long while, he let his knees buckle beneath him. His body went limp and he fell, all twelve stories, onto the bustling street below.