Fired From A Long-Term Job [FICTOID]

“They’re not coming back.” 

“It’s my job to wait until they return.  I’m not a runaway from duty.”

“They’re not coming back.” 

“They are, and when they do I will sign them in.  Look, I have their names alphabetized in a vertical list on this tablet.  I even printed up a copy as a back-up.  I’m ready for them -- when they return.”

“They’re not coming back.” 

“I don’t have an aversion to duty -- no, sir, not me.  Others may quit and go home or on the road or sit and play the guitar, but not me.  No, not me, never me.”

“They’re not coming back.” 

“They are!  They -- they’re just late, that’s all.  Over due.  Why, if the mouse on this tablet was working, I could call up headquarters and get a report -- “

“There is no headquarters.”

“What?  You’re talking nonsense.  Why, if there were no headquarters, why would I -- “

“We lost.  Do you understand that?  We lost.  The military has been disbanded.  Headquarters is no more.  All ranks -- phffft!  Gone.

“Only you remain, with your steadfast refusal to leave until the last crew comes home.”

“It…it’s my duty -- “

“Your duty is over.  “They’re not coming back -- ever.  They are dead, dead and forgotten, and the only people who ever cared about them are gone as well.”

“…I care about them…”

“You care about yourself, about what meaning you can find for your life.

“There is no meaning.  It’s over.  Crumple up that piece of paper.  Go away.

“They’re not coming back.” 

© Buzz Dixon