As an ordinary genius

Aaron Hayes' alarm clock buzzed angrily at 6:30 a.m. sharp. He slapped it, groaning as he sat up in bed. The cracked screen of his secondhand phone blinked at him, reminding him of his mounting bills—rent, utilities, and that overdue credit card payment.

"Another day in paradise," he muttered, swinging his legs over the side of his worn-out mattress.

His apartment was barely livable. The radiator clanked noisily, never actually warming the room, and the faucet in the kitchen sink dripped constantly, no matter how tightly he turned it off. The fridge hummed ominously, as though it might give out at any moment.

He shuffled to the kitchen and opened the fridge, staring at the near-empty shelves. A half-eaten slice of pizza and an expired carton of milk greeted him.

"Breakfast of champions," he said sarcastically, grabbing the last slice of pizza and eating it cold.

By the time he stepped outside, he was already running late. The elevator in his building hadn't worked in months, so he jogged down five flights of stairs, muttering curses under his breath. The sky was overcast, threatening rain as he hurried to the bus stop.

The 7:15 a.m. bus was as packed as ever, and Aaron barely managed to squeeze on. He clung to the overhead rail, swaying with every lurch of the vehicle.

"Can this day get any worse?" he grumbled.

Aaron's office was a beige, lifeless sea of cubicles. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, and the air smelled faintly of stale coffee. His computer, a dinosaur of a machine, took five minutes just to boot up.

Before he could even settle in, his coworker Sandra leaned over the cubicle wall.

"Aaron, my computer's frozen again," she said, her tone bordering on annoyed.

"Did you try restarting it?" Aaron replied, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," she lied, crossing her arms.

Aaron sighed, standing up to check. It took him less than a minute to fix the issue, which, as expected, involved restarting the computer.

"There you go," he said, forcing a polite smile.

"Thanks," Sandra said without looking up from her phone.

Aaron returned to his desk, only to be greeted by a frantic voice on the office intercom.

"IT, we need you in the conference room. The projector isn't working!"

He sighed again. "And I thought this job couldn't get any more thrilling," he muttered to himself as he grabbed his toolkit.

The rest of the day was more of the same—resetting passwords, explaining to coworkers how to copy and paste, and fixing printers that jammed for no reason. Around noon, Aaron finally had a moment to himself. He sat at his desk, unwrapping a soggy turkey sandwich he had packed the night before.

His coworker, Greg, strolled by, munching on a bag of chips.

"Still bringing those sad little sandwiches, Hayes?" Greg teased.

Aaron glanced at him, unamused. "Not all of us can afford takeout every day, Greg."

Greg smirked. "Maybe if you actually asked for a raise instead of hiding in your cubicle all day, you could."

Aaron bit his tongue. He had asked for a raise—twice. Both times, his boss had given him the same rehearsed line about budget constraints.

As if on cue, his boss, Mr. Benson, appeared, a scowl plastered across his face.

"Aaron, I need you to stay late today. The new hires can't figure out how to log into the system," Benson said, not even bothering to wait for a response before walking away.

Aaron clenched his fists under the desk. "Sure, why not? It's not like I have a life or anything," he muttered bitterly.

By the time he finally left the office, the sun had set, and a cold drizzle had begun to fall. The bus ride home was quieter but no less miserable. When he stepped into his apartment, he was greeted by darkness—the power had gone out again.

"Perfect," he said, dropping his bag by the door.

Lighting a candle, he sat down at his desk. Despite his exhaustion, this was his favorite part of the day. Tinkering with gadgets and writing equations in his notebooks gave him a sense of purpose that his job never could.

As he fiddled with a circuit board, the candle flickered, casting long shadows across the room.

"Someday," he whispered to himself, "someday I'll make something that actually matters."

But deep down, Aaron wasn't sure he believed it.