The room was black, as black as his past. He sat there alone, in his black Victorian-chair, accompanied only by his books. He had no friends, for he thought there were no one he could speak to, he thought everyone else was dumb and that if he socialize with them, it could lead him away to reach enlightenment. So he locked himself in his black painted office, where he could spoke and listened to Heidegger and Machiavelli -some of his few imaginary friends. They told him -and he believed- that when he had enlightened, his black-painted office would transform itself into a brilliant white box. When someone was too lonely, sometimes there was a voice that one couldn't differ whether it was real or not.
He had been a director in Mayhem-Factory for almost a thousand years. This job was no different than any other job; it had its ups and downs, and maybe this time, right now was the most-down side his job. He mourned a lot, for everything around him, it seemed like forever for him.
He had a good taste in music though; he needed it very much to entertain him. Music could take him anywhere he wanted to be, even into different universes. He liked Janis Joplin very much, and Radiohead too, of course. His favorite was "Ball and Chain" by Janis, and "No Surprises" by Radiohead, those songs confronted his monotone tasks at the factory, to forget that he was a slave. Yes, he was nothing but a slave to this factory -even the "director" titled gave him slice of difference though.
Today he listened again to "Ball and Chain."
"I don't understand how come you're gone, man. I don't understand why half the world is still crying, man, when the other half of the world is still crying too, man, I can't get it together. I mean, if you got a cat for one day, man, I mean, if you, say, say, if you want a cat for 365 days, right, You ain't got him for 365 days, you got him for one day, man. Well I tell you that one day, man, better be your life, man. Because, you know, you can say, oh man, you can cry about the other 364, man, but you're gonna lose that one day, man, and that's all you've got. You gotta call that love, man. That's what it is, man. If you got it today you don't want it tomorrow, man, 'cause you don't need it, 'cause as a matter of fact, as we discovered in the train, tomorrow never happens, man. It's all the same fucking day, man!"
He liked this part so much, in this part Jan did not sing at all, it was only her kind of speech, but her voice flowed to his ear more beautiful than an angel's voice. He met an angel once, and it was not better than Janis. The angel's voice was so tender, but he'd prefer a hoarse voice, the one just like Janis. If he could meet Janis he would ask her to have dinner with him and thank her for this song that helped him not to count the days that passed him by. Unfortunately he could never leave this factory.
"Its all the same fucking day, man!" He sang that part loudly. Danced with his imaginary Janis, a voice from a 1983 gramophone.
He never thought that his life would change, that he would never live more lively. Not until his butler came to him and whispered him gently.
"She is already on her way here!"
He had been waiting for her for thousands years. He was relieved; finally the one that would free this factory is about to come.
"This is not the same fucking day man!" He shouted loudly and kissed his butler's cheek. His butler startled. He had never seen his master smile, laugh or that happy!
