I Don't Want the World to End Unless I'm the One Who Gets to Push the ButtonAutumn 2024

I don't want the world to end unless I'm the one who gets to push the button.

INT - CAFE, DAY

The overweight door opens and in walks Adam from the street, mid-thirties, mid-beard, mid-height and in the middle of the walkway where a waitress is trying to get to the table closest to him with two overflowing plates of breakfast burritos.

Adam apologizes even though it's nothing to apologize for, finds his way to a booth against the wall and sits. The cafe door faces the street as do two massive floor to ceiling glass windows on either side. Adam always sits with his back to the door - it's less to pay undivided attention to his table mates and more to think of Wild Bill Hickock and tempt being shot in the back.

Coffee?

Bowl-sized please.

We have cup-sized cups. Will that do, your highness?

Adam tried to smile through his reply, discouraged by his failed joke.

That'll be fine, thanks.

(sitting in shame, glances at the message in his glasses)

An alert flashes in the corner of his eye. He reads the message:

I'm almost there, I got lost.

That's unusual.

Adam thought about this for a while.

(To himself)

If you were wearing a blind-fold and an old barrel for a suit you could still find this place. Nevermind if you had the frickin’ directions beamed into your CPU. I knew this wouldn't work out.

Adam gets up to look at the pile of cookies under a glass dome, lifted by a wooden cake stand. Leaving his smart RayBans on the table.

I can bring you one if you like, they're great with coffee. And one for your... friend as well.

Adam turned to his booth to see the back of his date’s head. Her hands folded neatly on the table as she waits.

Oh, no... I don't think she'd want one of these. Probably get stuck in her gears.

The Cashier rolls her eyes and turns and walks away.

Adam returns to the table to meet his date. He adjusts his worn shirt cuffs over his long-dead wristband watch.

Hi, you must be …her.

I am. Nice to meet you.

(gestures to his seat)

May I?

Please, be comfortable.

Thanks. So. How does all this work?

Tell me about yourself. What do you love to do?

Oh you know, beach walks, capture sunsets, collect resentments and animosities. What about you, do you... have... interests?

Right now I'm interested in you, handsome. I'm here to give you what you want and maybe even what you need.

Adam smiles and shifts in his seat a bit. He isn’t used to this level of intimacy or personal attention. His discomfort is obvious.

Tell me something you never tell anyone.

Unlikely. We just met!

Exactly and now we'll know something true about you. Obviously, I can’t share what you tell me. There is literally no risk of me leaving you, either.

Yeah, I did read that. Still.

Go on…

The moment is agonizing for adam. He can feel the tight shoulders of his shirt and the shadows under his eyes and the grays standing out amongst the thinning colors in his hair. Getting to this point wasn’t easy but he took this step and was determined not to be alone anymore.

There is one thing, I guess. I don't ever talk about this. From the time I was a little boy I've had this inescapable, unavoidable, persistent intrusive idea. It comes up all the time and it always has.

When was the last time you thought about it?

Just 3 minutes before you sat down when I tried to make someone laugh.

The table behind them erupted into laughter, making Adam uneasy. He tried to hide the shame, shifting in his seat. His date eyed him.

You want people to laugh.

Let’s talk about something else.

She

No, you're doing great. I'll tell you what Carl Jung would say if he were here right now.

Adam

Wait, what would Jung say if he were here right now?

She

He'd say, "See a shrink, psycho!"

Adam

Ok, that’s pretty good.

They both chuckle and Adam is eased. A few tables over a full and perspiring pint glass slips through the waitress' hands and it shatters all over her customer's table.

Adam notices.

She

Don't worry about that. Stay here with me. When people laugh…

Her hand touched his, a bit of comfort and encouragement to continue. Feeling a hand-shaped hand was more of what he needed than he even knew.

It’s not when people laugh or don't. It’s when anything good happens.

What do you think about when something good happens?

I immediately start to think about the bad thing that has to happen next.

Why does a bad thing have to happen next?

I can't believe I'm saying this shit out loud.

When I was young, I spent a lot of time in front of the television. One lonely day I watched a movie called The Day After.

Ah... yes.

Exactly. For a young guy seeing the nuclear apocalypse made real right in front of your face - I had nightmares for weeks. You know the game kids play punch buggy? You're driving with your parents and you see a VW Bug and you punch the shoulder of the kid next to you?

Well, I wasn't…

I know, but you can reference it, right?

Yep.

You have so much fun playing that you start to see VW Bugs everywhere. Even when you're not in the car driving with your parents. And the opposite is true too. When something scares the absolute hell out of you, you think about it even when it's not there and start to see it everywhere. Movies, news, books, history class.

I still remember seeing the mushroom cloud on a magazine cover in my grade three class. Just sitting there with all the newspapers and cut up magazines. Like it was any old thing. Mixed in with the smell pencils made in those old sharpeners. Like the purple photocopy ink smell when fresh copies of lessons were made for class. It was just in the air.

Eventually, an entire era of dysfunctional family trauma and the psychogeography of the entire western world compressed into a hard diamond of anxiety in my mind.

That's quite a story.

Yes. Sorry, you asked. I dressed it up a bit.

And skipped a few things.

Yes, that was deliberate.

OK, connect some dots for me, Adam. How could you be so sure your happiness would bring the end of the world.

I'm not… not entirely.

The door is open so I guess I'll jump right through.

Jump in, the water's fine.

Ok. Heartbreak.

Whose heart, yours?

The first. And the worst.

I've never had to put this in words before either. It's always been a nebulous cloud of associations and memories and misunderstandings and revelations years after the fact.

Sounds serious.

I can only say this much. Even ...even her sharp edges shone like... some kind of other-worldy beautiful thing. If I was a painter a thousand years ago it'd be full of rays of light and simmering bands of gold. And I'd build churches just for a canvas grand enough to commit... ok, that's probably enough.

That's really incredible that you had that. Did she leave you?

Ha! Yes, of course. I was way out of my league. She was a fully formed, authentic person, dyed in the wool, hearty and full of a soul she was already familiar with. I was so raw, and wounded, and honestly a disaster. She was right to go on without me.

Did she just leave or did something happen?

I don't remember much of that time at the end, but I know that whatever betrayal happened it was because I created the conditions to invite it.

Not because she was young and needed adventure?

Adams' eyes drifted down to his fingers and the grain of the table. He tried hard now to recollect a hurt he spent so much time over 18 years trying to forget.

Sunlight streams through large windows, illuminating canvases and art supplies scattered around. KAY (19), an energetic artist with paint-smudged overalls, is painting on a massive canvas. The room exudes creativity and freedom.

ADAM (17) stands near the window, gazing out. He appears restless, his posture stiff.

Can't believe you slept in so late. I thought you'd hibernate forever.

Yeah, well, late nights will do that.

He avoids eye contact, fiddling with a trinket on the windowsill.

Oh, so now you're blaming me for keeping you up?

Didn't say that.

An awkward silence settles. Kay notices his distant demeanor. She studies him, sensing something's off.

Something on your mind?

Can't a guy have a moment of silence?

It's like you checked out or something.

Maybe I'm just thinking ahead.

About what?

He picks up a sketchpad, flips through it without really seeing before half-heartedly throwing it back.

You heading back to campus, me stuck in school.

"Stuck"? Senior year's not exactly prison.

Yeah, but you're already out there, doing whatever… you do.

Out there?

You're off and I'm... I don't know.

You're overthinking. Again. Can't we just enjoy right now?

Maybe "now" isn't enough.

Kay fully stops what she’s doing, crosses her arms, frustration building and focuses on Adam.

What's that supposed to mean?

It means maybe we're kidding ourselves.

About what? Having fun? Liking each other?

About this lasting.

She throws up her hands. The tension is building and their body language shouts it even when they aren't speaking.

Who said anything about "lasting"? Why can't we just be?

You'll get bored. Move on. Find someone more... exciting.

And what is this boring bullshit if not you pushing me away?

…bullshit.

She shakes her head, genuinely hurt now.

I don't need saving and I don’t need a dad. And this weak insecure bullshit I also don’t need.

Adam shifts uncomfortably, realizing he's overstepped but unsure how to recover.

Maybe I just don't want to hold you back.

Hold me back? From what? You're not making any sense!

FUCK. Forget it. This was a bad idea.

He runs his hands through his hair, and rubs his temples, frustration evident. He swats a container of brushes soaking in turpentine across a table and onto the floor, ruining a clean canvas.

Thanks! Those are fucking free. Maybe you should figure out what you want before dragging me into unnecessary drama. I have assignments to finish and this isn’t helping.

I’m out.

He heads toward the door. She watches him, a mix of anger and bewilderment.

(more softly)

What the fuck? You know, it didn't have to go like this.

He pauses briefly but doesn't turn around.

(quietly) Yeah. It did.

He exits, leaving Kay to watch him go.

INT - CAFE, DAY

Whatever it was, I don't blame her. I'm sure I was petty, jealous, needy, generally an undeveloped mess of a person.

And yet you couldn't be further away from that now.

Fuck, I hope. I put in the work.

The whole thing is like anything that's happened to me. We had a little more money growing up than most, not much, but enough to be different. Still it's cold comfort in the chaos of dysfunction and grief. Could have been a great home. It wasn't. Could have been a great childhood. It wasn't. Could have been the love of my life. It wasn't. Always the sun behind a dark cloud.

As soon as I started getting close to a move up in my last full time job, the right title and salary bump, I torpedoed it.

Like I do with everything.

I'd ask how but I guess it's more important to talk about why.

With work it's always a level of deadness that rises. Like a flat disinterest in doing anything to cross the finish line and get to the next level. With relationships, I start thinking about the ever-expanding checklist of resentments until I just let it die.

So you're making a choice - there isn't some malicious external force out to destroy you when something good happens. It's just you and your choices.

It's a preemptive strike! If I don't tank it, it will tank itself. It always does. She will leave or I'll get pushed out or they'll stop calling to go to shows and all the weekends alone will pile up and the healthy inner dialog will become a cloud of manias and resentments.

Have you tried seeing things through, pushing through to the finish line, crossing over to see what happens?

Of course I have. I've pushed hard, done the work, and seen some moderate wins. And every single time the hammer falls and darkness comes. And the darkness comes.

But you ordered me. You must have some hope in there.

And... I even... just once in a while… play the lottery.

Wow. So you think if you win and the world will end if you do chaos and suffering and everything goes The Second Coming - you still play.

Yes. Sometimes. I trade crypto. I play the lotto. It's not when I'm angry or just want to avoid going back to work for another day of soul-crushing pretending to care.

Why then?

The organic textures of grain and knots and treeness are all trapped under a transparent epoxy or plasticity of some kind. Adam's finger traces the lines, feeling nothing but the cold smoothness.

I don't want the world to end unless I'm the one who gets to push the button.

Adam

(Laughing)

Its crazy to say it out loud. Really it is. I want to just relax and sit in awe of the universe without assigning any intent and just fade to black when it's time to go. I mean isn't it an act of hope just finally giving in and calling you and setting up exactly what I need, off the shelf, with no risk of deep emotional scarring.

So it's a good thing. Should I dig into what a therapist might say?

Let's wait until we're further along. I'm guaranteed to need it eventually! haha

But what if you win the lottery between now and then?

Well then we'll have bigger problems and I'll have dodged an excruciating analysis.

You must have some dapps at the ready. Pick one.

I have one but really I only test those waters when I'm in the right … headspace or more accurately the wrong headspace. I’ve been in full-on anxiety mode for weeks now.

Do it. Play one. For me.

Ok, there's a massive pool lottery draw on this crypto site. It draws a winner every few minutes for a small percentage but it's near impossible even if you win to get the life-changing kind of win a traditional lottery has.

He picks up his smart glasses from the table and puts them on.

(to glasses)

Switch to Blast, yes, 10 ETH, pick the biggest pool wheel and add me.

What does it say?

We’ll see in a few minutes… oh what the hell? The pool closed right after my entry.

The waitress passed by their table rolling her eyes. Patrons nearby talked about scandals and outrage that a sane person would dodge for fear of contagion. A young couple smiled at each other full of sugar and caffeine. The sun came out from behind a cloud and the entire cafe filled with a warm yellow hue and the interior lights were swarmed with it. Making their radiation nearly inert.

I won a crypto lottery. A fucking lottery! I won… Did you know?

Did you know I'd win?

And what happens now?

Outside on the street, in the distance someone screams and people in the restaurant and passing on the street turn their heads in the direction of the screamer.

A car races down the street causing people on the sidewalk to move closer to the cafe and people in the cafe to share in their outrage.

Adam begins to shake. He looks into the face of the robot companion sitting across from him.

It's real. I'm going to be sick. It's really real.

What does it feel like?

A car crash out of view of the cafe windows gets people to their feet and out the door. Downtown the air raid siren begins to wail. Adam tries to absorb the shock.

Tell me. Tell me now, what are you thinking about?

I never did anything...

What do you mean?

I didn't call her back. I didn't build anything. I didn't spend enough time with my dad.

You had an instinct that the world could end at any minute. You even tempted it to happen. You didn't do anything you wanted to?

Not enough. I kept thinking about every life lived. One, two, five thousand years ago, The Inca, Rome, Phoenicians, random people in random places, their losses and their wins, all meaningless when their civilizations fell. Does anything we do matter at all? What does it matter now?

The cafe has fully cleared out. Outside, the air raid siren sews together screaming and car crashes and distant explosions.

Still you want it. You want more. You want to do everything you didn't. And now there's only minutes left.

A tear rolls down Adam's smiling face as he looks around the cafe. His eyes land on the pile of cookies under the glass dome.

The robot stares into Adam’s eyes, it’s face reflecting an abyss of unfeeling blankness, and places it’s cold hand on his. This time, Adam doesn’t feel any better at all. Not one bit.

Minutes…

The missiles are flying. What are you going to do now?

I’m going to eat this fucking cookie.