Behind the Sky, You Will Be Happy

KOMPAS/CAHYO HERYUNANTO

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After twenty years of being a robot-like human, his body crumbled into dust one afternoon before sunset. His bed in his rented room was filled with the dust of his body. He desperately wanted to get up from his bed because he had to go to work. However, he couldn't get up at all.

He came in late that afternoon. Not showing up to work without notification would result in him getting fired. A month ago, he had already received his third warning letter from his superior. The clock on his wall, cracked and filled with ant trails, showed 3:35 PM. Dirty tissues were scattered on the edge of his bed. He had to arrive at the office no later than 4:00 PM. The journey from his boarding house to his office would take at least half an hour. However, he couldn't get up. He didn't have the energy to restore his body's shape, like Sandman did in the Spiderman story.

His life still remains on top of that bed, even though now he takes the form of dust. Becoming dust is no less unfortunate than metamorphosing into a cockroach like what Gregor Samsa experienced. He tries to scream for help. He hopes his screams can be heard by the occupant of the adjacent room. But, he quickly realizes that it is unlikely his cries will be heard while no sound is coming from inside his room. He regrets locking his bedroom door. A few minutes later, he remembers what he conceptualized as God and tries to ask for help. "God," he pleads, "please return my form. It doesn't matter if I have to spend my life as a robotic human."

Realizing that his howling was in vain, he started to cry. Of course, no tears wet his bed. The scattered dust on the bed remained dry.

When her tears stopped, the clock showed 4:15 pm. It was too late now. She tried to remember what she had done. At 12 pm, she swept her 3m x 4m tiled room with a floor that resembled dull concrete. The dust on the surface of her room's floor was thick and abundant when collected in a dustpan. The dust mixed with strands of her falling hair. She thought God cursed her for sweeping the dust in her room and disposing of it.

Shortly afterwards, another part of himself also spoke up, and there was an interplay between one part of him and the entity of his other self.

"That's not why you're reduced to dust!"

"So why?"

"Remember, in the past few months, you have been thinking about suicide. You are tired of living. You are fed up with being told what to do by your boss, scolded, shouted at, rushing to the office, and fighting traffic. You combine eating schedules and restrain your cravings to save a small amount. Let alone a house, you can't even afford a new phone. And the worst part is, you can't imagine how much longer you have to live like this."

"It's not like I really want to die!"

"You are sick of carrying out your job. A job that you can never love. A job that does not match your interests and passion. You want to quit being an employee, but you fear becoming unemployed."

“But I never really wanted to die!”

"That's your denial. You want to die. You often think, if you don't become an employee, what do you want to be? How do you want to live? Do you want to farm? Whose land will you cultivate? Your parents don't have any inheritance for you. In fact, your parents hope, even demand, that you can provide for them, sending them money every month, repaying their kindness for raising and supporting you since you were a baby.

And don't pretend to forget that you are just a loser who can't do anything when the woman you love is taken by another man.

"No! I'm not fed up yet. I still want to live. I can repay my parents. I can go into debt with the bank or sell my organs to pay my debt to them. I can live by working. I have to get up! I have to work!!!”

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When he angrily shouted those words, his body briefly returned to its human form for a few seconds. However, once he finished uttering the phrase, he turned back into dust scattered on the worn-out bed.

The conversation between himself and his other self stopped. He shouted again to return his bodily form, but his efforts failed. He tried to shout louder, but still failed. He continued to try to shout louder with words containing a more fervent spirit of life, but he still failed to return his bodily form.

He remembers his grandmother who passed away when he was 12 years old, 28 years ago. Maybe this is what it feels like to die, he thought. He tried calling for his grandmother.

In his belief, for a year now, the deceased can meet with the deceased and penetrate space and time in an instant. He is convinced that he is now in the same realm and dimension as his grandmother.

"Grandma? Nana? Nana? Can you hear me, grandma? Where are you? Come over here. I'm already dead, Nana." There was no answer. He tried again, but there was still no response. He realized that the dimension of the afterlife also had space and time.

He began to lose hope. The feeling that he had died disappeared and he resigned himself to the fact that he was still alive. In despair, he gazed at the ceiling, scanning the entire room.

"What should I do? I have to work! I'm still alive! I'm not dead yet!

"I need to work to earn money! I need money to continue living! I need money to pay off my gratitude debt to my parents!"

He traces the correlation between life and money. Looking for money to live on? Live to make money?

"Why do I have to be born into this world!!!" he shouted, and once again there was no sound heard from his room by his neighbors.

It is now 4:45 pm. He remembers his boss who always pressures him with an increasing workload. If he consistently meets the work targets for several months, his workload will be added with a fixed salary. That's how it always is.

"Today must be better than yesterday. Tomorrow must be better than today. Motivate yourself to continuously improve your performance and productivity. Make yourself better day by day. There is no such thing as satisfaction!" said his superior, who always behaves as if he is the owner of the company's shares.

Every time he heard sentences like that, he felt like he wanted to spit the thickest phlegm in his superior's face. He remembered the grin on his boss's face when he gave him the second warning letter. At that time, he heard curse words from his superior's mouth and it made him almost lose control.

"Once again you curse at me, I'll break your lips!" he said.

Like a soccer referee who gives a red card when facing a player who protests after receiving a yellow card, his superior responds to the threat with a third warning letter half an hour later.

"From now on, you should start preparing to become unemployed. The company will make a poor record of your performance here and no company will be willing to accept you," said the superior as he handed over the envelope containing the warning letter at the employee's seat. He didn't even open the third warning letter envelope and threw it directly to the trash can.

It is now 5.15 PM. Evening is approaching. The image of being unemployed forms clearly in his mind: walking alone on a deserted road, barefoot, with people laughing loudly on both sides, as if he were the funniest clown in the world.

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In his bedroom ceiling, behind a tightly tied circle of rope for a month, he saw a big white cloud descending towards his bed. The white cloud transformed into a giant eagle with its wings spread downward and ready to welcome him.

“Go up,” said the cloud eagle, “You have nothing to fear. There, beyond the sky, you will be happy.”

For a moment, various things appeared in his head in flashes: about his brothers who only cared about his achievements, about his friends disappearing one by one, about the difficulty of finding a job, about many things, about this, about that…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzp< /i>. Then, in a split second, the image of a psychologist appears, who often appears on social media homepages, giving advice to people experiencing mental disorders. The psychologist recommended that people like him consult with experts and he knew that following that recommendation would mean cutting a large part of his salary that he could use for this or that expense. He smiled, then laughed out loud, hearing the psychologist's words in his head.

Dispelling the remaining doubts, he followed the instructions of the large white cloud eagle. His body immediately returned to its original state, with both feet floating above the bed. (*)

Abul Muamar, resides in Cawas, Klaten. A book of short stories, Angelina Jolie's New Boyfriend (Gorga, 2019)