I want to wake up in a city that never sleeps

Chapter 30

I want to wake up in a city that never sleeps

A shrill tone sounded in the darkness. Stifling, gut wrenching awareness crescendoed into Nom's being. "Fucking mornings." He muttered aloud. "I fucking hate mornings." It never seemed to matter how much he had slept, or how well, or what he had done the night before. Mornings were a curse—one that made the prospect of food poisoning, or simply being stabbed in the stomach an intriguing alternative.

The lights of Manhattan's nocturnal skyline crept in around the edges of the curtains. Were it not for the ear plugs that he found it necessary to always use, the soft hum of the world's most active city tempered only by the window glass would have gently washed over him. Sleeping on his right-side Nom reached over with his left hand and pulled his phone from the night stand. A well-practiced flick of his fingers dislodged the power cord and then unlocked it with the fingerprint scanner.

O'one-hundred hours. He had insisted the night before on this insane wake up call. Nom lifted the receiver for the old-fashioned land line phone and acknowledged the greeting of the new day. Silently, he checked himself from wishing a demise on the caller. After all, the front desk clerk was only doing his job, and Nom had asked for the call. It seemed rude to kill him under the circumstances.

The lamp was switched on, and a blinding crescendo of LED light seared his retinas. Thanking the non-existent deity for adding a fresh aspect to the agony that was each morning, Nom flipped the covers off and sat up. When his vision returned, his phone began its morning ritual of bringing him up to date.

Stripping his pajamas and running the shower, Nom brooded over the morning headlines on the usual dozen apps. While the shower steam filled the bathroom and brought it up to a pleasant relaxing temperature, he performed his morning duties. Having finished he climbed into the shower and continued his refresher course on reality. He would never torture his mind with a troglodyte pastime like sports' scores but politics and current events were more than adequate. Before he had even finished his shower, he had browsed a series of news releases from the White House. They announced plans to help the richest one percent steal even more money with new tax breaks. The news had him so awake with rage that he wasn't sure he really needed coffee.

The owner of the fine home he was using was Ms. Katlin Burnstien. She was a mid-level HR executive with ZLOY Inc.

Over the last two months Nom had finished designing and building his guillotine. He had, through meticulous online research, compiled a list of all current HR personnel working for the ZLOY. Using his powers to force low level bankers was the next step. He had them give him bank accounts filled with millions; it was an act of child's play, now that he was accustom to being in Death's driver seat.

Nom spent that time carefully rebuilding himself. Slow and meticulous self-awareness had brought him to the point where he could alter his own body. He did not think that anyone else could harm him. He began wishing death to a few fat cells. Then, he ordered his body to remove the remains through minor abbesses he grew for the purpose. It proved remarkably effective at bringing his weight down to a tight and trim figure. Plaque in his blood vessels and even a minor tumor all met a similar fate. After a bit of healing, he was in the best shape of his life.

The Detroit area was not known for being a fashion Mecca. But, as with most mid-sized cities, it did have stores that catered to the one percent. A quick visit to Armani and Brooks Brothers saw him ready for his new leading role. Eventually, he would need to get a tailor, but this wardrobe would do for now.

A private jet saw him to New York in comfort. Nom had always hated flying commercially. It wasn't the act of 'slumming' that he detested, though being with other people was always a laborious chore. No, it was the fact that he was enclosed in a metal tube, breathing recycled air for several hours. Not just any recycled air, but air containing the flatulence, eructation, coughs, sneezes, body odors, and used breath, of the one-hundred plus persons on board. It always resulted in his contracting a nasty sinus infection that took weeks to overcome.

If he was going to declare war on earth and conquer it, well it was time he started living the life style.

Landing at JFK, Nom had arranged for a car service to pick him up. The driver took him to the Ministry of Information Building. He had arranged a meeting with Katlin. Once he was in her office, it was a pleasant surprise to see that the Der'Mo News fashion of hiring beauty pageant winners did not stop at the news desk. Katlin was a stunning ebony skinned woman in her mid-twenties. Nom decided to have her clear her schedule and to relocate their meeting to her apartment.

Kaitlin had been fortunate enough to afford an apartment in The Plaza, Nom had to admit, this was the lap of luxury.

Kaitlin had not woken yet. Given how vigorously Nom had made her work for an orgasm the night before, even without the alterations he made to her brain, she might have slept in that morning.

For a moment he pondered. Didn't the big executive type usually sleep next to nothing and work virtually nonstop? No matter. Nom decided to let her sleep. She had done her part. First in making him an employee at Der'Mo News and secondly in relieving some of his tension the old-fashioned way.

They had been interrupted when the messenger arrived with his employment packet. Katlin had used her phone to take his employee picture and send it to her office. The office intern generated the appropriate IDs, employee records, and granted him an unlimited security clearance.

Awkwardly thanking the messenger girl with a tip, Nom showed her out the door. Katlin did not have a second robe, and he had been forced to make due with a towel around the waist. In her semi trance state Katlin had answered the door in the buff. Nom had swooped in with her robe, swirling it around her shoulders, while she signed for the package.

Nom checked to be sure that the contents were what he needed, since the HR office would be closing for the day shortly. Satisfied, he stowed the ID and returned to his evening entertainment.

Nom gathered his wits and finished his shower. He shaved his head, combed his beard, and dressed. There was a knock at the door. Who would have thought it? An apartment complex so posh it offered room service. A fat tip and accepted tea tray exchanged hands. Nom made his way to the dining room and spread out his fare. Black coffee with pink sweetener, toasted black bread, hard boiled eggs, half an orange, and a few strips of bacon. He switched to his emails while he ate, and mass deleted his way through the lot. Facebook, followed by Twitter finished it off for him, and he was downing the last sip of his coffee.

With his morning rituals completed, Nom grabbed his satchel and went out for his first day of work. The ZLOY building was located only a short jaunt down the street.