I stared at the stack, seeing it not as a burden, but as brutal geometry.
My brain drew imaginary neon-blue grid lines over the suffocating pile of sacks. A fifteen-degree tilt angle. Optimal fulcrum at the third lumbar vertebra. The force vector must be perpendicular to the floor.
If I lifted it the way normal people did, my back would snap in two years.
But I utilized biomechanical principles I had learned from a 3D Blender anatomy tutorial three years ago.
Hup.
I locked my core, bent my knees, and used the momentum of my thighs to lift the weight. The cement sack hovered, landing with precision on my left shoulder.
Efficient. Minimal friction.
"Good work. You're quick," commented a passing coworker, his breathing heavy and ragged.
I didn't turn my head. The praise was empty.
What was the use of advanced anatomical understanding if it was only applied to being a slightly more efficient day laborer?
What was the point of Python algorithmic logic if it was only used to calculate the most optimal arrangement of bricks on a wooden pallet?
One... Two... Fifteen...
Sweat began to drip from my temples, stinging as it reached my eyes.
My body operated like an old diesel engine forced into an overclock. Heat spread from my calves up to my back.
Yet, my mind drifted far away. Detached.
Inside my head, I wasn't lifting cement. I was arranging nodes in a visual script.
This cement sack was a Variable.
My movement was a Function.
This warehouse was an endless Loop.
While (Heartbeat > 0):
Execute(Suffering);
A funny irony. I had become an expert in everything this physical world did not require. A Swiss Army knife trying to chop down a banyan tree.
"Akh..."
A sharp throb in my lower back shattered the imaginary code.
The body's early warning system flared up. Health Bar critical.
The sunlight filtering through the gaps in the tin roof shifted to a reddish-orange hue. Not because evening had arrived, but because the blood vessels in my eyes were dilating from the rising blood pressure.
I set down the fortieth sack.
My hands were trembling. Not from fear, but from the muscle tremors of glycogen depletion.
I stared at my rough palms, coated in gray dust.
These lines on my hands... was fate truly written there? Or were they just random folds of skin we assigned meaning to because we were too afraid to face the absolute absence of it?
The world spun slowly.
Dizziness.
Dehydration.
I needed water. But more than that, I needed a reason.
Dusk arrived unannounced.
The sky outside the warehouse shifted into a bruised purple—an atmospheric contusion caused by the industrial town's pollution. The Maghrib call to prayer began to echo from nearby mosque loudspeakers, overlapping and competing with the roar of truck engines warming up.
I sat on a rickety plastic stool in front of a warung tenda. In my hand was a glass of sweet iced tea; the ice cubes had begun to melt, diluting the artificial sugar into something bland.
Bland. Just like the rest of my day.
A notification popped up on my cracked phone screen.
"Your Paylater bill is due in 2 days."
"AI Prompt Engineering Course Promo: 90% Off, today only!"
My thumb swiped across the screen. Clear. Clear.
The ad algorithms were mocking me. They knew I was poor, and they knew I was desperate.
"Want some more gorengan, Mas?" the stall owner's voice shattered my reverie.
I gave a slow shake of my head. "That's enough."
I stood up. My knee joints popped again. This time, it felt like forcing open a rusty door hinge.
The walk home was a walking simulator with terrible graphics.
Damp, narrow alleys. Sewer rats darting across my feet without a hint of fear. The neon lights of the row houses flickering erratically, as if the electrical grid in this neighborhood was also on the verge of death.
I didn't greet anyone. The neighbors... they were NPCs running the same dialogue script every single day.
"Just getting home bro?"
"Yeah."
"Working hard as always."
"Yeah."
Binary conversations. Ones and zeros. Soulless.
I reached my room.
The temperature inside was hotter than it was outdoors. The air was trapped, hanging stagnant between the unplastered brick walls.
I didn't turn on the main light. Only the glow of my old computer monitor illuminated the suffocating space—the solitary window into a world where I had once felt relevant, now pulsing like a digital graveyard waiting to claim my last shreds of sanity.