What Is David Ogunkoya Was Dying?

David Ogunkoya was dying. As the clouds floated past, the bird chirped, and the sun shined, he stared out blankly. He could almost feel his heartbeat slow as his watch ticked another minute closer to the train’s coming. The hot, sticky sweat from hours of sitting on the magnetically charged trackline in that thick uniform. The charming hum of the tracks had almost lulled him to sleep, but the watch’s insistent clicking always brought him back. “Do not fade,” it seemed to say, “you still have something left in you... do not fade.” He swore he felt like another piece of the puzzle, humming in time with the magnets and permanently stuck in its cycle of attraction. The once indomitable man was becoming one with the system he’d created. Laying there,
So nice to see you!” in that cheery, but strangled voice that tells him almost as well as the dying watch in his pocket that time’s running out. For the past five weeks, he’s been given this same greeting, been given the same walk back to the office, and received the same ultimatum. “The committee has been very clear,” he says, “If there is no production, there is no need for you or Kikuchi, so finish your godforsaken work and get it back online before you run out of time… now.” The man straightens his already perfect rows of paper, pencils, and desk ornaments, signalling for David to leave. It’s been close to a year now since he'd shut Kikuchi down, and all he does is roam its every inch, like something’s missing. He takes the clock out, hears its slowing tick, and knows it’s time. David has done nothing, can do nothing, if he cannot find what is wrong with the station. He spends the next ten hours of his shift designing a grand ballroom that’ll never exist, slugs out of the office, into the street, and back to Kikuchi. He pops in the fifteen digit code, cornea scans , and rigorous security questions, and strolls around the Ticket Halls, swinging his heavy suitcase as he