[ WP ] You 're just an average person in The Matrix and do n't know the truth . Weird things keep happening around you .

My alarm clock buzzed it's monotone symphony at exactly 3:15 am, east coast time as it had for the past 13 years and 8 months. The sounds of downtown Capital City, USA were few, save for a couple cars and the chatter of some drunks outside my apartment window. I was a simple man, a garbage truck driver. Garbage men are often forgotten but the few times I've been late to work all hell breaks loose as people suddenly have overflowing trash and things to do and they ca n't deal with this and I should get a real job. 
 
 I snapped out of my running mind and grabbed my overalls from the hamper. Did n't bother to wash them yesterday. I do n't think anyone will notice the smell. Before I leave for my shift I grabbed one of those shitty cereal bars that never quite fill you up. Oh well. My bike leaned pathetically against the wall, I told myself that I would start to ride to work but my growing beer belly liked to protest. I grabbed my keys the 1990 Honda Civic parked in the back and hit the road. 
 
 I arrived at the Capital City Dump around 3:47 I think. I'm really not sure as the mornings were never kind on my aging brain. I clocked in on the timesheet and left my keys and wallet in the locker. I met up with Bradford who would be touring the alleys of Capital City with me today. We exchanged some masculine grunts of acknowledgement and got in truck number 65. I noticed a single well dressed man with a black suit and tie. His gold tie pin shined in the spotlights of the parking lot. I wondered about him briefly and then my uncaffeinated brain lost focus. 
 
 We were on 176th street and Coverge Avenue, behind a couple abandoned office buildings. My partner suddenly perked up. `` I just heard gunshots''. I blew it off, gunshots were normal around here. Besides, who shoots a garbage man? Bradford let a smile slide and agreed, `` Yeah who shoots a garba-''. a soft pew pierced the morning air and Bradford let out an animalistic squeal, his final sounds as 4 or 5 more shots destroyed what was rest of his head, and my seat. 
 
 I ducked down to try and spare myself from Bradford's fate. The door of the truck opened even though I made sure to lock it and a familiar well dressed man dragged me out. I tried to scream but no sound was made, I felt an extreme alien presence about his man. My body was fueled by adrenaline yet it did nothing, the man had me under his complete control. And with that horrifying thought permeating my mind, I was shot by the same pistol that killed Bradford. 
 
 The world darkened, I heard the screeching of wheels and the sound of breaking glass shortly followed a cacophony of identical voices. `` The name is Neo...'' And with that I ceased to exist.
