Superworlds - Interlude 1

~~ Interlude ~~

I wake at 6:48am for that is my custom.

I rest not more than 12 minutes, one unit, a fifth of an hour, so that I am about my day by the seventh chime. Over-rest is as debilitating as under-rest and renders soft one’s body and mind. I cannot afford to be soft.

Vigilance is the soil of greatness.

When I awake I check the cameras to ensure that my house is empty. Bedroom, bathroom, hallway, staircase, entrance hall, living room, kitchen, dining room, study, garage. Only when I am certain I am alone do I rise.

Vigilance is the price of responsibility.

I make my bed as soon as I leave it, for cleanliness is next to godliness and an ordered house brings an ordered mind. I run on the treadmill for thirty minutes to maintain fitness and cardiovascular health. I set the speakers to play Franz Schubert’s Four Impromptus, D 935, for classical music stimulates mental acuity. I cease. I wash myself. I see to my appearance. How a man presents is how he is known to the world. I brush my teeth for the count of one-hundred and twenty, rinse and swirl mouthwash, apply cleanser, hydrating serum, then moisturiser with an active SPF component.

Vigilance is the safeguard of prosperity.

I dress. My shirts are ready, pressed and starched by my own hand, for I must be self-reliant. I select a pastel blue, for yesterday I selected a pastel purple, and the progressing gradient serves to effectively mark the days. I put on a white undershirt, I put on trousers, I put on socks. I put on a pair of medical grade, powder free, disposable, non-sterile, food-safe white latex gloves, size medium. I put on a pair of tan leather over‑gloves from my collection, a decision I permit myself to make at random to allow for spontaneity. I put on the selected shirt. I check my gloves are sealed beneath the sleeves and that the sleeves are correctly buttoned, once, twice, three times.

Vigilance is the foundation of safety.

I re-check the cameras. I descend. In the kitchen, I prepare a breakfast of bircher muesli with Greek yogurt and seasonal fruits. In the dining room, I consume my meal along with five-hundred millilitres of chilled, filtered tap water, which I mentally convert to 16 fluid ounces to assist my American cultural acclimation. I sit in silence and stare down an eight-seater dining table which has only ever sat one.

It is 8:12am. I have not yet killed anything I did not mean to. It is the only measurement for success.

~~ End Interlude ~~