Prologue

Kiran was a successful young man. He had the diploma, the high grades, the internships. With his degree, he'd been told a six-figure job would be practically handed to him. A cushy future was all but guaranteed.

This was a lie.

In reality Kiran was far from successful, the young man was actually on his way delivering fast food on his bike while also trying not to get run over in the chaotic streets of New York. How much he got to spend that month was entirely dependent on how generous his recipients were feeling with their tips. The stuff about his degree, his internships, his high grades all of that was true, but after six months of non stop applying, first to stuff that made sense, but after a couple dozen rejections, he then expanded his focus on to anything, really anything that was hiring, fast food worker, waiter, mailman… he received nothing. He had finally turned to gig work, found a food delivery service and applied. Finally, for the first time in six months since graduating, he had a job.

This wasn't the life he wanted, toiling away in the heat, on the weekend no less.

Was it the weekend? He began to second guess himself. The days had begun to bleed into one another since he started work, each day no different from the last. It wasn't exactly uncommon for him to forget what day it was.

Kiran let out a heavy sigh, he was tired, not just from biking all day, though that certainly didn't help. He knew he shouldn't do it while biking in traffic, but he popped open his headphone case and turned on the news on his phone.

“The stock market is at an all time high!”

Wow, well at least those bastards in Wall Street aren't struggling! He thought sarcastically.

It really felt like a slap in the face that the government had the audacity to flaunt those numbers around while he was struggling to even land a decent job, just yesterday he'd applied to what felt like another hundred jobs after opening his email to another hundred rejections. He wondered if today would be any different, was there even any point in checking? It'd probably be another dozen AI generated rejection emails.

He'd like to think he was a smart kid, beyond just computers too. He wasn't as easily fooled by these deceptive numbers these damned politicians put out, though he wondered was there any point? What use is it to a bird if it knows exactly how each piece of its birdcage works? No matter how intimately it understands each part to the tiniest most minute detail, at the end of the day, it's still trapped inside. He wondered why he even bothered keeping up with the news.

He was truly miserable.

Kiran had finally made it to his destination, he knocked on the door. Even after doing this job for a couple months straight, this part never felt any less awkward. After a couple of seconds he knocked again, this time a little louder. He hated customers like this.

“I'm coming! Jesus,” yelled what sounded like an older woman from behind the door, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching following suit.

The door swung open revealing an older lady with heavy makeup on, her face wrinkled and contorted into a menacing grimace.

Kiran cursed internally, the last thing he needed was a bad review, “Apologies ma'am, I didn't mean to-”

“Whatever Napoleon, just give me that,” she snapped, snatching the bag from his hand and shutting the door in his face.

Kiran took a deep breath, mostly bothered, by now he was very used to dealing with customers like that.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, it was a notification. He clicked his tongue in frustration, a one star review and zero dollars on tips.

Kiran breathed in once more, this time slower, there isn't any point in stressing about it he told himself. On the bright side, that was the last order of the day.

“I'm home.” he groaned wearily.

The first thing he saw when he opened his apartment door was his mother in the kitchen, she didn't even glance at him, it was as if he was invisible. The silence she offered was far heavier than any lecture. His parents always had high expectations of him, it was suffocating. He remembered how proud of him they were when he'd picked up an interest in programming when he learned about how video games were made. He wished he hadn't, if he were less “promising” earlier in life perhaps they wouldn't have had such high hopes in him. Instead he was a gig worker, the lowest on the food chain bringing home pocket change to his family's household, a complete and utter disappointment.

He quickly escaped into his room not bothering with the lights. Taking a seat at his desk as he opened his laptop to scroll through his emails.

As expected, it was no different from yesterday, they all said more or less the same thing:

Dear Kiran Stone,

We appreciate the time you took to apply and share your background with us.

After careful consideration, we regret to inform you that we will not be moving forward with your application at this time. While your qualifications are impressive, we have decided to proceed with candidates whose experience more closely aligns with the requirements of the position.

We wish you all the best in your job search and future professional endeavors.

Kiran wasn't fazed, he learned to stop getting his hopes up that “today might be different” a long long time ago. He quickly turned his attention to a different tab scrolling online for job openings, submitting his resume to a couple dozen jobs. He wondered, just how many of them were actually real, companies would often post fake job openings just to give the illusion to investors that they were still a growing company. “Ghost jobs” is what they were called.

His mother knocked on his door, that meant dinner was ready. He should have been starving after a long day of biking around the city but instead he felt sick. He reluctantly sulked out of his room taking a seat at the kitchen table across from his mother. Food was already set at the table, his father's seat was, as usual, empty.

Before Kiran even had a chance to fully sit down his mother spoke “Kiran,” he couldn't help but let out an audible sigh. He already knew what was coming, she was going to ask the same question she asked yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.

His mother was clearly not pleased by his reaction, “I didn't even say anything and you're giving me this attitude?”

“I- It's just, I already know what you're going to ask, ok? It's the same as yesterday, no one's accepted my job application,” Kiran responded weakly, his head hanging low.

“I make you food every day, and this is what I get? What did I do to deserve this attitude, it's been months and you still don't have a job? You come home and go straight to your bedroom. What do you do in your room all day?” She snapped, meanwhile Kiran was stone-faced, gazing at the floor with a dull expression. He'd already tuned out the minute his mother started ranting, there wasn't any point in arguing with her, it wouldn't fix the issue, it wouldn't create any understanding, if anything it'd probably cause a bigger fight. He simply did what he learned was best in a situation like this, just shut up until she's done.

“Your father is working late at night to support this family and is never here so I have to take on the role of two parents just to raise you, and you can't even land a single job, you'd rather play outside riding on your bike around the city. Do you think this'll last forever? We won't be here forever, do you understand that?” She continued. Meanwhile, Kiran continued to try and remain stoic, but it was hard. The world was so unfair, outside he was treated like dirt, when he applied for jobs he was rejected over and over again, and his own parents couldn't be bothered to give him even an ounce of empathy or understanding.

“I told you already, I'm still applying for jobs, they just keep rejecting me” he finally answered.

His mother was clearly not having it, “Oh you're applying, are you now, six months, not even an interview?”

Kiran hesitated, he didn't know how to respond to that, “The j-job market's just really bad right now,” He stammered now flustered, his head bowing lower, his ears hot with shame.

His mother slammed the table in frustration, “If it's not working, try changing your resume, put more effort in, try to ask around all the places you go and ask if they're hiring, do anything!” 

Kiran felt his heart racing as the pace of his breathing quickened, on impulse he stood up, “I did,” He yelled, a moment after he stood there shocked at himself, his mother stared back, her face contorted into an expression mixed between fear, disgust and anger. Kiran quickly tried to save face, settling down back into his chair, “Sorry, I uh- it's just, I've done so much to my resume to see if it would help, it's done nothing. And hiring doesn't work like how it used to back in your day, you can't just walk in and ask for a job it's just-”

“You think this'll last forever, right? That you're going to have a free roof over your head and I'll be here to cook for you till’ the day you die? Just wait till I'm gone then you'll understand,” her tone was laced with venom, the sudden calmness in her voice only making it more unsettling. And with that she walked off slamming the door behind her, leaving Kiran alone in the kitchen.

It was suddenly 11 PM. Kiran felt the bass from the blaring music in his chest, the sound of overlapping laughter and bursts of shouting hitting his ear, the dim lights made it hard to make sense of the mesh of silhouettes in the darkness, the strong scent of alcohol made his nose turn. Kiran had found himself in a local bar he'd often frequented when he was down on his luck, drunkenly crying in his arms. After the fight with his mother he'd stormed off not even bothering to touch his food, he was too stressed and needed to calm down. He knew alcohol definitely wasn't the right answer, but he couldn't help himself. He'd always spent so much effort doing what was “right,” he wanted to indulge just once tonight. It was chaotic around him, he felt invisible here, but it wasn't bad. There were no expectations for him at all, here, he was just another drunkard to everyone else. It was freeing.

Kiran giggled to himself, he couldn't help it, his parents were right, he really was a failure. What moron would feel unironic comfort at the idea of being a drunkard? His quiet giggle soon turned into maniacal cackle, then into a full sob at the absurdity of it all. He didn't know how long he'd been going at it but he began to feel short on breath until a tap on the shoulder snapped him out of it. It was the bartender, his face marked with pity.

“Hey, I'm real sorry about whatever you're going through, but maybe you should call it a night.” This wasn't a suggestion, he was being kicked out politely.

Kiran immediately felt like he sobered up at that moment, his face hot with shame.

“Of course, I'm so s-sorry,” Kiran responded. He stood up a little too quickly resulting in him clumsily attempting to stay steady, the bartender stared at him awkwardly trying to make sure Kiran was ok. Kiran thought he may have heard the bartender offer him some water first, but his mind was all mush at this point, by the time he processed the thought he was already outside.

It was pouring, Kiran stopped by a deli, standing beneath the awning to stare at the sidewalk and not think for a bit while he waited for the rain to stop. It was so hot in the morning but now so cold, the stormy winds not helping.

His phone buzzed. He pulled it out to see what the notification was… it was an email:

Dear Kiran Stone,

Thank you for applying. We are pleased to inform you that your application has been reviewed, and we would like to invite you to an interview to further discuss your qualifications and interest in this role tomorrow.

Please confirm your availability for the proposed time, or let us know if an alternative schedule would work better.

We look forward to meeting with you and learning more about your background and experiences.

Kiran stared blankly at his phone for what must have been at least a full minute. A job offer? After all this time he had a job offer? He burst out into laughter, overwhelmed with joy. The search was finally over.

Then panic began to set in. He was drunk as hell, and he had to join an interview tomorrow? It was nearly midnight so that was just a couple of hours away. His clothes were drenched, he could have rushed home for a suit, but that's a while away. In his panic he didn't stop to think and ask some questions that really should have been asked in hindsight.

“Please,” he whispered, thumb hovering. He tapped Schedule Interview.

The button blinked. ACCEPTED.

Kiran blinked, swaying.

His phone suddenly vibrated once more, seemingly out of nowhere for no real reason. The vibration jolted the phone from his numb fingers. It skittered off the curb, face down in the bus lane, screen still glowing, frighteningly close to a nearby storm drain.

“Shit-” He stepped after it without looking. Desperately chasing after his key to his next step in life. He couldn't lose this now, not when he was so close.

The last thing he heard was a deafening horn.

The last thing he saw were blinding lights.

The last thing he felt was the wet asphalt.

The boy's life was short, he hadn't gotten the chance to do much of anything with it, never felt what it was like to be free. In his last moments he was desperately chasing after a key that would trade one cage for another.

It was utterly pathetic.

I had been watching him this whole time.

I couldn't help myself. Kiran reminded me of my younger self.

And now he was lying half-dead on the street twitching like a crushed bug.

He was perfect.

This was going to be very, very interesting.