Silent City

Kat Finch

“Going up. Going down. Ground floor. Second floor. Fifth floor. Third floor.” All day that voice instructs us as to where it is going next. All day that woman says where she intends to take her passengers. She doesn’t even know us. We don’t even know her. I don’t even know you.

I enter a tall, thin, mechanical, square, box.

It’s great when you are the only one or with someone you know, because all you really have to think about is the metal death trap you are temporarily being held hostage within. But I have come to realise that actually a lift can be fun if you are standing in there with a bunch of random people. If you can get over the thoughts of them pedantically judging whether or not you are someone they deem worthy to spend their brief time with, then your mind can become wonderful if you open it up. Within that confined space it seems that there is a rule that everyone shares secretly in the back of their mind; it is socially unacceptable to talk to people in a lift in the presence of strangers. Therefore the moment random people enter the lift words do not fill the air. Instead, thoughts do.

The lift moves down to the second floor. I wonder who I shall encounter today. A man of just under 6 foot stomps inside, swiftly followed by a short woman with strawberry red hair, who is then followed by a young boy dressed in black jeans, a white t-shirt and black converse sneakers. They all look down at 4’10 me. The air stiffens as the doors shut. Words get tugged in the throat and we stand there all sharing at least one thought; great, the lift is now going up and not down. But I start to ignore the annoying lift and start concentrating on my new company. Just the very thought of where these three very different people came from, who they are, what their jobs are, what they do, who they know. I could go on but it is all enough to make me feel amazed.

Looking at the man, I’d put him at around 5’9. He seems to be in his late 30s and probably has a very good job. Maybe he’s an accountant. No, wait - he looks too strong to be an accountant so maybe he does not have an office job. Police officer or medic perhaps? No, I am going to give him the job of a fire-fighter because why not? He doesn’t know what I am thinking... Mind you I don’t know what he’s thinking. He could have made me a little high school kid even though I am older than I look. Anyway, so he’s a fire-fighter from... 107

Where could he be from? Well, he has a fairly good tan, but that could just be from the recent sun increase. We will say he is from America. So now currently in my lift of characters we have a late 30’s man who is 5’9, a firefighter from America and who doesn’t have a name yet. He has short blond hair that is spiked up at the front. He appears to have greenish eyes and not much facial hair. He looks like someone who would be called either Jason or Jeremy. I think I will settle on Jeremy.

I notice that Jeremy keeps looking over at the raspberry red-haired woman, which leads me to question if they know each other or not. Does he like her? Does she like him? Are they already married or engaged? I take a peek down at the lady’s hands; luckily her left hand is closest to me, so I make it as though I am just checking my phone. Well I don’t see any sort of rings. Ooohhh so maybe they like each other. How exciting! She does seem his type of girl. She has long pomegranate red hair, the full peachy lips. She has the exquisitely, slender, womanly curves in all the rights places. Although she looks quite sophisticated, I bet under her cute black “nerdy” style glasses and behind her smart casual look of blue jeans and a white blouse, she is a festive rainbow lorikeet with the amazing talents of the hummingbird. She could be a humming lorikeet. However, during the working day I’d say she was an assistant of some sort. Or maybe she is a receptionist for a beauty salon or hairdressers. Actually I’m going to make this ball of fire the receptionist for a magazine company tower. I would say she is a bit younger than Jeremy, perhaps in her late twenties about 27. She isn’t far off my height too, so she is quite a petite woman. All she needs is a name. She seems to be the British kind of girl looking at her crystal skin and I’m going to give her the name of Lucy. It just fits her pretty persona. With Jeremy and Lucy being distracted by the love hearts hanging in the air between them, I move on to creating my third stranger friend. The young boy looks in his teens; I’d put him at around 17 years of age, judging by his choice of clothing and the fact that throughout this lift journey I have seen him on his i-phone the whole time. He could be talking to his friends or his family. But to be honest he does seem somewhat handsome with his short cut black hair and his decent-looking muscles so he could be talking to his girlfriend. I reckon she is a beautiful white butterfly, who is very intelligent and great to be around. Meanwhile, he probably has pure golden love flowing through his veins for everyone he meets and knows. I believe that he is not related to either of the other two adults within our proximity telling from his delightful dark skin. His phone goes off in a phone call tone. He looks up for a split second and spots me. I look back with a soft gaze. He smiles, seemingly more relaxed about breaking that secret universal rule of talking in a lift, before reluctantly answering the call. At first I had thought he had come from somewhere like Brazil but upon hearing him talk it appears he is from Romania since he said the words ‘Buna ziua bona’ which must mean he is talking to his Nana. I know this since in my spare time I like to learn different languages, and I have recently learnt a little Romanian and know that he said ‘Hello Nanny’. He ends the call and puts his phone in his pocket.

Maybe he has had an argument with nana since the conversation didn’t sound like ‘Ah hello, how are you today? Oh I’m great thanks’. I still need to give this boy a fitting name. The boy looks over at me again. I smile and he smiles back. Does he want to be friends? Perhaps he doesn’t have a girlfriend, maybe he is the shy type... Billy. That name goes with him well. And even if he is shy I’m sure he has an outstanding skill hiding away... Perhaps he is a dancer.

The lift comes to a stop on the seventh floor, but there is no one else there. The loving connection is briefly lost as we all share the thought of confusion and annoyance. Finally, as the lift descends to the ground floor, I think to myself about Jeremy, Lucy and Billy. Oh the stories you can tell within the silence of a normally boring, grey, box. Of course I don’t actually know these people and yet here they are as my brief lift stranger friends. As the lift comes to a definite stop we all part ways, maybe never to be seen again.