4.1) Mary Everhart, The Existentialist

Mary Everhart eventually opened her eyes as the light shone through the thick curtains of her room. She was still alive, to her slight disappointment.

Reaching up to the top of her bed, she turned her phone over and looked at the time. It was 1 PM. There was a text message from her brother, telling her that she should let him know if she wanted to hang out. She left a thumbs up reaction on his message to give him an indication that she was still alive, then put the phone back down on its screen.

Now that she was awake, she had to at least do the bare minimum.

She got off the bed, sighing, got on the floor, did about thirty push-ups, grabbed fresh pajamas, dragged her legs toward the restroom, brushed her teeth, then showered.

After putting on fresh pajamas and drying her hair, completely skipping the step of putting on a shower gown and applying skincare products, she stared at the mirror.

That was her new bare minimum. The rest of the day was up to her personal whims. Maybe next week, she could make the routine even shorter.

With her bag of old clothes, she walked back to her single dorm. She yawned, inserting her ID card into the door and entering her passcode. Then she plopped right back on the bed, flat on her face.

Once again, for reiteration, her posture on her bed resembled a depressing sack of potatoes. This was her life. Was it a pleasurable way of life? There was no way to tell–she seemed completely fine in her own head, yet for an observer, it could seem that she was the most miserably successful person in the city of Los Angeles.

Then again, anyone who looked far enough could see that her current misery was seem insignificant in comparison to a vast majority of the world.

But that wasn’t the point, was it? She didn’t care about what anyone thought of her. She was simply suffering in her own head–she didn’t compare herself to anyone who was suffering more. She knew there were people suffering worse than she did.

But she was suffering nonetheless–and she didn’t want to suffer anymore. That was the truth.

She moved her right arm toward her phone, as her left arm reached for her earbuds. She put on an hour-long video of rain and thunderstorm, then returned her face back into the mattress. Almost as if she didn’t want to breathe any longer. Still, not being able to breathe was uncomfortable, so she alternated various positions throughout the hour.

And once that video ended, another video continued to autoplay.

But she couldn’t fall asleep. She had spent over twelve hours asleep. There was no way she could go back to lucid dreaming.

She rolled to her side, then turned on her phone. And there, she swiped, swiped, and swiped videos after videos, trying to pass the time.

But she was missing something: food. She had failed to restock her junk food because she had encountered her brother the day before.

She sighed. Watching videos just wasn't the same with tasty chips.

She rolled herself off the bed, put on her sandals, and dragged herself toward the closet, then pulled out one of the few sets of clothes that were still fresh. She was slowly running out of clothes to wear–eventually, sometime during the week, she would have to go downstairs and do laundry...

… Which should be easy, now that basically everyone was missing from the building, but it was a bit lonely in the laundry room, now that nobody was here. Her own room was supposed to be quiet, but the laundry room was not supposed to be quiet. And that disturbed her.

Still, it was just one of the things she just had to deal with at the end of the world. It wasn’t as bad as being overworked and having to deal with a full laundry room.

… I think.

She grabbed her wallet and opened the door to the empty hallway. As she walked, she viewed the various nameplates of the students and the whiteboards of the various dorm rooms. There were some sweet things drawn here and there, and everyone, everyone seemed to have written a farewell message.

She remembered the previous school year when she was a Resident Assistant on the same floor. Back then, there was someone on the floor who would erase all the things students had written or drawn on the white boards. This happened every quarter, but this time, there was no such person.

No one at all.

She pressed the button on the elevator, and watched it open immediately. There indeed was no one else using the elevators–both elevators were just as she left them the day before.

She entered, then spent the elevator ride choosing an album to listen to. Eventually, she found one that spoke to her silent melancholy.

The rest of the walk was familiar. Turn right, another right, go straight through the hallway, turn right again, then exit the building. And everything was the same, except the fact that she was the only one who walked the pathway down to the student store.

The end of the world. How wonderful, she thought once more.

Yet this didn’t exactly feel right, either. Everyone was gone. The university’s buildings continued standing without its students; the vacant university retained its majesty, but it was now hollow. It was as if she was watching a movie in an empty theater: now matter how spectacular the sights were, the fact that she was alone made the experience seem meaningless.

Eventually, she crossed the street to the campus itself, then walked down the familiar path that was covered by trees.

When she walked up and down this crooked path, she would often be annoyed by the scooters and bikes that would pass her, ignoring the sign that read: Please do not ride your scooters or bicycles! Please step off for the students on foot!!! Well, she didn’t have to be bothered by them today. Was that a good thing?

As she passed by the grass field, she noticed a familiar face that was practically staring at her. It was Atlas, leaning forward on the short wall that separated the pathway from the grass field. It honestly surprised her every time she saw someone still on campus, unless it was someone who worked there.

As she approached the man, he greeted her first.

“Hey there.”

It was a sudden change of pace, from his usual silence. She slowly took her earbuds off and put them in the pocket of her hoodie.

“Hey, Atlas. Sleep well?” she eventually responded.

“I didn’t sleep,” he said.

“Really? Sleeping is the best thing you can do, nowadays. At least, that’s how I feel. And plus, I don’t think it’s very healthy for you to go so long without sleeping.”

“I don’t need to sleep.”

“... Sure, buddy. Why are you still here? Didn’t you go home yesterday?”

“I came here to see you. To thank you. And to apologize.”

“Apologize?” She tilted her head and put her knuckles on her chin. Then she snapped her finger in realization. “Oh, yeah, yeah, about that–don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault, really. It wasn’t enough to make me declare bankruptcy or anything. I promise.”

“Well, I still wanted to repay the favor,” he said.

Her curiosity was slightly piqued. “Repay the favor…?”

She waited as he continued staring at her. She had no idea what he was thinking.

He slowly spoke. “Say… do you…”

He leaned closer, and she was slightly uncomfortable with how blank his expression seemed to be, contrasting harshly with her rising curiosity.

“... Do you want to go skydiving?”

She blinked. Then, she scoffed. Skydiving? That was a silly thought. Skydiving at the end of the world? With what money? And what kind of skydivers would still be lending them their services? If they were, she was certain it would be quite expensive.

She decided it was an attempt at a joke. She would have laughed, but she didn’t really have the energy left to do so. Still, she was grateful that he seemed to have noticed her melancholy and was trying to cheer her up.

It’s just… it would have been more effective if you were smiling...

She closed her eyes. From the moment she had seen him, she also felt a similar melancholic feeling exuding from him. A feeling that made others feel comfortable, yet also made others aware that there was something off about him. It was like he was there for others, but wasn't there for himself.

“... Say, Atlas. You’re like me, aren’t you?”

“In what way?”

“Even at the end of the world, you try to be kind. But deep down, you don’t really care, do you?”

Atlas tilted his head with the same blank expression on his face.

That blank expression yours is what makes it clear, you doofus.

She pointed at the sky. “I’m saying you wouldn’t care if the world ended right now, at this point. You’re a free spirit that flourishes at the cusp of the apocalypse. You can do anything you want, compared to what you would have to do if the world wasn’t ending. Because you would have to continue fighting for your existence.”

She closed her eyes. “Yes. From the very beginning, I sensed that we were kindred spirits. You aren’t like my brother–you seem to be silently thriving off the fact that the world is ending.”

Atlas crossed his arms, as if contemplating her words. Then he sighed without refuting her statement.

She continued. “You don't need to say anything. I feel the same way, you know. There’s no need to hide it from me. You won’t hurt me with your nihilism.”

Atlas looked up to the sky, with his arms still crossed. “You sound so sure of yourself, Mary Everhart.”

She felt a slight shiver go down her spine, knowing that this was the first time she had called anyone by their name. It looked like she had his attention.

Then, she got an idea.

“Say, Atlas. If you really want to repay the favor, you can help me with carrying some things to my room.”

“... That’s how you want me to repay you?"

“Yep. I just want to laze about in my room until the end comes. Being comfortable is my end goal,” she said, no longer hesitating to admit it.

“Sounds sad, if you ask me.”

She raised her eyebrow. Atlas was being more vocal now–perhaps too vocal now. Almost as if she had unlocked another side to his personality by calling him out on his "true" feelings.

“What seems to be the issue? Are you going to help me or not, Atlas?”

Atlas uncrossed his arms and sighed. “I'll help you.”

"Alright. Then let's get going," she said, walking towards the center of the campus as Atlas leaped over the wall to follow her.

It looked like she had made a single-serving friend at the end of the world. And a quite strange one, at that. And slowly but surely, the implications of her actions slowly dawned on her.

Do I really need him to carry things back to my dorm? Or is it that... I don't want to be alone?