Final Exit: Chapter One, Transition

Gary Bolton enjoyed the ride from his home in the quiet Pittsburgh suburb of Moon Township on this first full day of autumn. The fall colors of the trees on the surrounding hills were at their peak brilliance, the air was crisp and the sky was unusually clear. A perfect day, he thought, but it would be better if his pain medication did not dull his senses so much. The driver introduced himself as Pat but the exchange was a drug induced blur to Gary.

Normally Gary liked to engage the Municipal Access driver in conversation during his frequent doctor and therapy appointment trips. Today was different and he was lost in a fuzzy world of thought about his life and the events to come: has he made the right decision, what would his pro-life daughter think when she found out?

The ride through the Fort Pitt tunnel then breaking out the other side to the vast expanse of the city was as impressive as ever. Out the right side of the van from the bridge Gary could see the Gordon Pharmaceutical buildings along the river on land once occupied by the steel mills. “What a change this has been,” thought Gary, “from the smoky steel city era to the high tech center the city had now become.”

The white van pulled into a portico located at the side of the Gordon Pharmaceutical building. “Are you ready to go, Gary,” Pat asked. “Yes, I suppose so,” replied Gary with a tone of resignation.

Chat: Sue and Joan

Sue: ok here i am, now who the fuck are you

Joan: You don’t have to be so vulgar about it my dear. I am your mother, of course.

Sue: how can you be my mother, she died. i am going to disconnect now you pervert and report this to the police

Joan: I know that this is difficult but please wait and let me explain.

Sue: this has to be some kind of cruel fucking joke  how did you get my email address

Joan: You are my daughter so I have your email address.

Sue: this is impossible my mother died

Escape

The world can no longer offer anything to the man filled with anguish -Kant

George Davies dutifully went to work as he had done every working day for the past 20 some years in the belief that company loyalty and hard work was the best way to provide for himself and family. The clock radio was tuned to one of those automated FM radio stations that had an easy listening music format and came on each morning at 5:30. For the past two weeks it came on playing “Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.”  Changing the station seemed pointless since he turned it off right away and trying not to disturb his still sleeping wife got up and busied himself with his mechanical get-ready-for-work routine.

The 40-minute drive to work did not seem much different than any other day; uneventful and boring except for the occasional moments of shear terror reacting to the insanity of aggressive drivers.   The car radio played the same annoying commercial at the same spot in the road and the traffic was like a gathering of old friends: license LULU 2 belonged to the brunette who was always putting on the final touches in the rear-view mirror, the blue pickup with the sports bumper sticker, the sedan with a collection of baseball caps lined up across the back window.

Tracking the progress of the construction of a new building along George’s usual commute offered a bit of a diversion.  George thought that the site chosen for the building was a rather unusual; the narrow strip of land between the road and the river seemed more suited for a park; but then he had an affinity for parks and nature anyway. The sign in front proclaimed “Future Home of Escape.”  No other words were posted saying what kind of business it was.  Was it a bar or perhaps a restaurant?  The sign had to be some kind of marketing tease to create suspense and attract the curious when the business finally opened.