Photo: Andrew Amistad
Trevor awoke with a lurch, first aware of the tubes in his mouth, nostrils, hands, and who knew where else. Then came the retching, his stomach discharging whatever the hell that brown goo was.
He held the bedside table and the mattress as he vomited, not really sure where he was, or if he’d have to clean up this mess later. Light was scarce in the room, signalling either the start or the end of the day.
What was this place? Did he have too much to drink again? That wouldn’t be a surprise. Yes, that’s gotta be it. A celebration. Bits and pieces of information followed his train of thought.
Photo: Brandon Holmes
Life was easy as a subtitler. The job wasn’t demanding. You sat in a comfortable office, and the only person who ever bother you was your supervisor, and that’s only to make sure you’re making deadlines.
The labour’s a piece of cake too. You ran a video through a subtitling software and correct the transcriptions made by the computer. That’s it.
Of course, things would’ve been much worse without the software. While the computer’s ability to decipher words might be horrendous, at least I didn’t have to manually insert the timestamps, which would’ve made my work three times harder.
Everything was fine, until ‘the awakening’ happened. If I had to pinpoint an exact time, it’d have to be when the software produced a particularly hilarious sentence.