Work Text:
Sun shines, grass grows, and people fight for a living. I don’t know which falls faster, the share price, or the men. Now, the city, the country, or even the world, becomes an arena, only winners live.
I am walking past downtown. Hopefully, I am lucky enough that the bank is opening today. Bank savings are something that you know, but can’t touch. Banks are closed all the time. To save the bank, basically, all banks are allowed to suspend operations whenever they want. Bank saving is used for saving banks. Everything is making sense. Basically, drawing a penny from banks is more difficult than winning a jackpot. But I am still walking through downtown, going to the bank anyway. There is no reason for me not to go there, after all. I have plenty of time to do whatever I want. I don’t have a boss now. No one, not a single soul, can boss me.
Many souls are speaking here but not a single soul exists. All I am hearing are just the voice made by corpses. They may lie on the ground or sit against walls. With little stuff in their hands, they seek more by moaning. Moaning certainly doesn’t help, but it is all they have. Even one with little common sense knows they can do nothing to stop things decay. The economy, the money, the food and the body. There is no escape. No hopes in their eye, and so does the soul.
Alas! I am thinking as if I got a soul. I walk near a window. The humanoid with a deteriorated mask. Continuing my route on the pathway, ‘I shall not comment on them’ I think. One day, I will join them. And the day is foreseeable. The walk resumed. Some extra sound of steps enters the orchestra of moaning.
Here it is. The gate of the bank is grand. A typical neo-classical design with Ionian pillars. As expected, this gate is not classical at all. I saw the old one when I was small. Nevertheless, the picturesque gate is the only thing that doesn’t decay in this city. Other than this? All are stepping downward. The shining golden door knocker on the bronze-coloured gate is showing its pride, and so does the bank’s, although everyone knows that only God can save the bank. Bank saving can’t save it. Many other peers already proved it.
There is not a single person queuing in front of the gate. There were used to be, but almost all of them gave up after days and days of pure waiting. Now, there is nothing but the gate and litter on the stairs. Trying not to step on the litter, both in the general sense and plant sense, I trot through the stairs. The destination is reached. I lean against the gate. A fairly fine street view is shown to me.
The building opposite is another bank building. In the first few days of the calamity, no car could get into this street. The street was just fully filled with rage and agony. The long-shut gate blocked them to take what they own. They can’t get their possession even if they can break through that gate now. That bank was bankrupted. I sighed. Is it a kind of fortune that this bank is not officially collapsed yet? I don’t know. I continue to lean on the gate. Let the dawn sunlight warms my skinny body.
Not long later, 9 bell sounds spread across the downtown. “It’s time,” I whisper. the gate should be opened now, if no such things happened. But they gate clearly betrayed my desire again. No signals of moving at all, just like walls. The “wall” is cold and solid, as it should be. Seems that today is another day of closure, just as usual. I hope that it is not the case, but truths are always against expectation. So, I tort downstairs, and am ready to return home.
At this moment, I hear some squeezing sound right at my back. When I turn around, I see the unexpected. The gate is opening, slowly, and gently. After days and nights, the sealed gate finally turns its wheel. The staff behind the bronze pushes it carefully. Indeed, damaging the only proper thing here is worrisome. If I were him, I certainly would do the same.
It may be the first time I gain a sense of motivation in these months. The expression on my face should be more exaggerated than opera actors. Regaining something is one of the best feelings in the world. I finally can get something out of my possession.
I stood still, and control myself not to rush into it. The staff, after cautiously opening the gate, sticks a notice on a pillar. “The first 50 customers can withdraw $100 from their account, deposits are welcomed,” I read the notice quietly. It is just unbelievable. My hand is shaking, and so does my leg. I make my steps into the bank. It is the first time my shoes make contact with this particular floor in a long while. Hopefully, it is not the last time I can step in here.
The nervous staff at the counter is in my view. What I only need to do is to arrive there, give my bank card and retrieve my money. Simple, but difficult. After reaching the counter, I act like a handicap. The shaking hand just can’t take things out of my pocket properly. I spent quite a time taking my card out, and placing it on the table. I say, “100-dollar withdrawal.” My throat is so uncomfortable, and the voice is so thick. I just haven’t spoken normally for hours, not to mention in this situation.
Receiving the card, he checks every single detail and whispers the guidelines and procedures. This is so new for me, and also for him. Assured everything is correct, he goes to the back deck and returns with a pack of banknotes in hand. “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Here you go,” he counts the 10 dollar notes 1 by 1 and hands them to me.
It is my turn now. I receive them and count them slowly, both for assurance and a sense of fresh money experience. This is not only new for him, but also for me. I place these notes into my wallet and return to my home.
Passing through the gate, ignoring the litter, I jump downstairs. The mere facial expression already can’t restrain my pulse. I want to return home as soon as possible. The walking pace nearly reaches sprinters’ one. No one noticed this information. I am the only one on the street. I need to go away before it is too crowded.
And now, I am on my way home, quickly.