They Are Not Human

Chapter 1

It was another slow day at the diner. All my regulars were there, crowded around the television. This had become the daily routine for most people once they had gotten off from work.

Living in a time after World War Three people didn't look forward too much. The world had practically gone down the drain since the Third World War, and people were still paying the price all these years later. Many predicted that mankind would cease to exist, and the world would be over. Sometimes I wished that prediction was true.

Even though I think most people would agree with my view on life, folks around here still found a thread of hope to hold on to. They would often commit to the same mundane routine and come down to the little diner I worked at, have a drink, and would then crowd around the television, often bickering about what the new government had in store for us.

I always had thought it was interesting how folks around here would shout their opinions at the television set. As if the person on the other end could hear them. One-man comments angrily "What are these politicians doing? Can't they see we are already taxed enough and barely scraping by as it is?!" A second man replies with a snarky sigh "if only the rich folk knew what it was like to work for things they had. They would not last a day in our shoes."

I couldn't help myself and let a giggle escape. "A little riled up tonight guys?"

The first man responds to me with a little too sour of an attitude for my liking and replies, "Do you think the world we live in is a joke Zia?"

I can't  help but hide my amusement. This man practically drinks himself into a coma every night, and he wants to be snarky with me? My eyes light up, and I can feel the sarcasm thick on my tongue. "Not as big of a joke as I think your life is".

Everyone in the room bursts into laughter. The man obviously offended by my comment, replies with his face redder than I have ever seen it "I don't have to put up with this you know?! My money is good other places."

"You know where the door is." I reply winking at him. "Just don't let it hit you on the way out."

The man shoves himself away from the table angrily and stumbles towards the door. It was obvious he had too much to drink, and walking was proving to be difficult for him right now.

"See you tomorrow then?" I ask as he fiddles with our door handle leading out of the restaurant.

Avoiding eye contact he gives me a small "sure." and exits the building into the darkness of the night.

With the first man's departure, everyone decides that's their cue to go, and begins to get up and make their way towards the exit. They all wish me a good night and give me the promise of seeing me tomorrow.

I let out a big sigh once everyone leaves the building. It was a rather early night, and the silence was now making me anxious.

Although many people enjoyed down time at work, I hated it. Work and customers would often keep my mind busy and serve as some sort of distraction from things I did not want to think about and deal with.

In order to keep me sane I begin to observe every little detail about the diner. I laughed because everything is the same since the day I started working here. The outside of the diner consisted of metal walls and rusted screws holding the foundation of it together. The floor was scattered with a few old worn wooden tables, with stools that were definitely not safe to be sitting on. In the corner there was a small box style television that played a total of two channels. The first channel was the news, and the second channel was the weather. There was a small bar surrounding where I usually stood with metal stools with foam coming out of their cushions scattered in a disorganized pattern around it. Lastly the kitchen door lay on the other side of the diner. I could remotely hear the cooks arguing about who would come in early tomorrow to open.