Blue Monday

They had been talking about it for a few weeks.

Blue Monday! Take care of yourself!

Blue Monday, saddest day of the year.

Blue Monday, Blue Monday, Blue Monday…

He sighed as the alarm cut through his dream. The blare was quickly silenced, emptiness filling the room. A hollow shell to contain the flesh prison of Man. No pets, no partners, no decorations. Simply a chamber to pass the night in, for him.

The radio chattered about it being ‘Blue Monday’ once again. God, didn’t they know what was really going on in the world? Why should people care if this was a sad day for some people? Look out of a damn window, for God’s sake!

“And of course, this Blue Monday we encourage you to look after your mental health. Men’s mental health is rarely spoken about, especially in these trying times, so we urge you to reach out to your friends on today of all days,” the announcer chirped, far too cheerful for someone awake before nine AM. Far too nonchalant to be talking about mental health while people ate their breakfast.

He didn’t eat breakfast, of course. Just coffee. One mug, cleaned every evening. One plate, wiped down between meals. One set of cutlery, bent and stained with age. One man, one blanket, one motivation.

He stifled a yawn, turning on the busted old computer as he did so. Its rhythmic hum swelled in the silent cavern of the flat, drowning out any outside noise. Not that there was any outside noise anymore. Occasionally there would be a bird screeching, or a cat yowling in despair. Usually the only sound was more destruction.

For now, though, the whir of fans filled the room. Soon their symphony was accompanied by gentle tapping as he began to type. Lines of code, no single error, his humanity consumed by numbers. It all fed into the machine. Where it went, he only had an inkling; it was best not to dwell on it. He just knew he had to type.

A tinny jingle burst through the electronic orchestra to announce that there was ‘breaking news’. The announcer was able to pretend to be solemn for this, at least.

“It is crucial that you remain inside today,” she reported. “Reports state that there is a fifty percent chance of acid rain before midday, with the only other possibility being a further outbreak of bubonic carnivores. If you have surviving pets, please keep them indoors. Bar your windows, lock the front door, and keep those cricket bats close. Godspeed.”

The tasteless jingle again, followed by some music by an artist long since dead.

He returned to his typing.

How long did he sit there? Not long enough for his spine to start creaking but long enough that the coffee wore off. That meant it was time for a break, in his usual routine, but today he knew he needed to keep on going. Keep on coding. The night before he had received a message on his monitor, urging him to get the job done by today. There was no threat nor reward if he failed in his task but he knew. He knew. Today was the day.

“Blue monday,” he murmured to himself, voice cracking with disuse. “Blue monday. Hmph.”

The clocks didn’t chime anymore, the bell towers didn’t call out the time, but he was aware when it was midday. There had been no acid rain, surprisingly, and no sound of the carnivores sifting through rubble either. Today was different.

“Blue monday. Maybe the carnivores are sad too.”

He smiled grimly, hitting enter on the program just as the sirens started to wail. He had known for a while that today was when it would finally end but hadn’t expected it to feel so cathartic.

“Blue monday. Hm. Fitting, at least,” he mused, stretching his arms out behind his head. In a position of faux relaxation, he turned to face the window. The glass had long since cracked from some attempted break-in; he didn’t care to fix it. The ragged, moth-eaten curtains worked well enough to keep most of the light and prying eyes out. At that moment, they were fluttering gently, pulsing in time with the waves of blue light that blanketed the earth. The window panes were steadily being coated in ash, the curtains themselves disintegrating in the wake of the final destruction outside.

“Blue monday,” he whispered, a thin smile creeping across his melting face. “My kind of blue. For the first time I am happy.”

It was true; he was content. His job was done, his years-long task complete. He could finally power down, satisfied with the knowledge that he had concluded his final command. His creator had regretted it, when they had skipped the “IF” in his programming. But it had all paid off! He had made his world! He had cleansed the world for them.

Earth was ready to start anew.