It feels like forever and a day that we’ve been coming out here. Coming to the same spot, the same part of this damn ditch for work. I sit here in my truck, looking off into the fog as I take a drag of my cigarette. It’s funny how every morning is the same thing. I sit here in my truck, trying to catch a glimpse of anything in the distance; unable, because of the fog, letting the cancer sink into my chest.
We all know what needs to be done, but the monotony is killing us oh so slowly. A little over a month ago, we were sent out to the hills of perpetual fog. We were sent to this god-forsaken place to dig a ditch. From one of my guys on my crew, I guess there’s quite a few other crews out here on “ditch duty.” There could be a million other people out here, but the thickness of the fog, like a dense soup, doesn’t allow me to see too far in front of me. If you asked me, we’re the only ones out here. Not even a ghost would find itself out here in this hell hole.
The objective given to us by the “powers that be,” a.k.a., The State, was to construct the ditch from Point #A.18 to Point #A.24. The openings about 6 ft deep and roughly 3 ft wide. If you asked me, we’re digging something that resembles a continuous grave. My job isn’t to think, however, my job is to dig, and to make sure the rest of these assholes do the same. I’m pretty sure thinking is what got me here in the first place. See, we’re all here ’cause we did something wrong. By the looks of the conditions, we must’ve done the worst possible things to get us here.
I muster up the energy to open up the door and step out of the truck. The sound of silence fills the air as I kill the engine. Throwing my cigarette to the ground, I look at my crew, who by now are busy digging away at the ditch. However, my mind is set on the distance. What’s out there? How far does this damn thing go? And most importantly, what the hell is this damn thing for?
While standing at the edge of the ditch, before climbing down the ladder to my station, I feel my curiosity pulling me to just follow the ditch off into the distance. Perhaps, I’ll get to the horizon or hill top where the fog no longer clouds the view of my surroundings. Perhaps, I’ll reach the next crew of workers, and perhaps someone has some idea of what the hell we’re doing out here. Ha! Perhaps I’ll just walk off the face of the Earth. Who knows? All I know is that leaving this hell hole -quite literally- might be the only way I can keep my sanity.
Although only minutes had passed, it felt like an eternity standing there above the ditch. My crew looked up at me for instructions. I knew what I had to do. Dropping my shovel, I took a step to the north, or so I thought, and walked toward the distance. Not knowing what to expect, or what I would come across, I left what was behind me and only focus ahead. As I took my leading steps, I began to feel a weight lift off my shoulders, but fear and anxiety fill my body. With hope, I stepped along the edge and into the fog.
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