City 55

by William Pinecroft

“What?”

  “It’s Charlie.”

  “It’s dark. This sucks.”

  “Yeah, well, thank Dan for this.”

  “What? I heard my name.”

  “Yeah, you son of a bitch.”

  “Who?”

  “You.”

  “Everyone be quiet.” They all lay in the silent darkness rolled up in the three ugliest rugs Ahmed could find.

  “I smell pee,” whined Pam.

  “Shhhhhhhh,” hissed Dan and Charlie.

  “Whatever,” replied Pam with disgust.

  They were sitting ducks right now. If The Corporation had Ahmed on the payroll, they were all dead. They could hardly move. Ahmed had placed two spacers in the rugs with each of them. These weren’t meant for comfort. They were meant to keep the rug from completely collapsing on them, rendering escape from their clutches impossible. As it was, Charlie could still barely wriggle within the heavy rug that held him.

  The truck slammed to a stop and there was banter back and forth. Charlie couldn’t make out what either was saying. It wasn’t English. The back door of the van swung open, allowing the light and heat of the afternoon to pour in on top the inventory. Charlie felt people climbing over the rugs, prodding a few here, and patting a few over there. Jesus, Charlie thought. He hoped they didn’t skewer them before they even got inside. After another five minutes of rummaging around in the back of the van, accompanied by the now heated debate between Ahmed’s workers and the guards, the back door shut, and the van proceeded to the next stop. Step one, done.

  ****

  Charlie, Dan, and Pam were near the top of the pile of carpets in the first van. There were a few carpets resting against the door of the van and a couple more on top of them. Pam could feel the sweat dripping from her body. It seemed to mix with the pee infused carpet that encased her like a mummy. At one point in her life, she would have kicked and screamed if placed in this kind of predicament. Something about these two lunatics must have a calming influence. Maybe it was because they were all in this together. God, if she ever got out of here, she was going to a hammam and have the entire top layer of her skin scrubbed from her body. Then she was going to soak away the rest of it in a steam bath. Pam was able to lose herself in this daydream when the van came to another abrupt stop, and the three workers slammed the front van doors shut. Maybe they had made it to the drop-off point. Maybe they were almost out of this nightmare.

  The weight was lifted from them, the air became cooler, and then Pam was floating in the air, carried along to almost certain death. With a thump, she hit the ground, the air expelled from her lungs. As she gathered her wits, another carpet dropped squarely on top of her. Fuck. Where is Charlie? Where is Dan? Fuck. Pam lay there, still as the night, trying to control her hyperventilating. Pam was sure everyone could hear her inside that carpet. Every tiny movement she made was a calling card to the workers around, exposing her as a smuggled stowaway. Surely, they were standing around her in a circle, amusing themselves with how ridiculous this person inside the pee smelling, shitty carpet was. She could see it now. All of them in their multi-thousand dollar suits, sipping mint tea, waiting to see if the stupid criminal in the carpet would try to break free before they unrolled her.

  ****

  “How about that one?” a director said, as he pointed to the carpet two behind Pam. You’ve got to be kidding me, thought Ahmed. He had actually stained that carpet. Maybe this idiot thought that was some sort of unique technique they used in Iran when weaving rugs together. God, he should have been more obvious. He should have torn a hole in it.

  “Sir that is an excellent choice. A bargain deal. The staining along here and here,” responded Ahmed as he pointed to what he had previously considered obvious, “has largely taken this carpet out of the market. But it would do nicely in some corner of your office.”

  With a flick of his hand, the executive disregarded the carpet as hastily as he picked it.

  Ahmed and his men kept piling the carpets up, rolling out the selections made, and re-rolling those that were snubbed. Each unloved carpet was placed in a side room that opened into one of the main arteries of the office complex. So far, Dan was free and clear. Ahmed had moved him inside the stained carpet, along with two other tapestries dismissed by the executive after Ahmed’s sarcastically veiled sales pitch. There goes Pam. Now Charlie and his carpet were all that was left. The executive examined Charlie’s rug, commenting on the color and how the textures ran together to give an overall feeling of…. Ahmed couldn’t take it. This guy had no idea what he was talking about, but he sure did like to hear himself talk.

  Ahmed motioned to one of his workers who grabbed a prearranged carpet from the back of their pile. “Sir, great eyes. You have a knack for this,” exclaimed Ahmed. “Here I have another option for you to compare.”

  The worker unrolled the $20,000 rug before the executive. The price tag was plainly visible. It was marked through with a dark red marker and replaced with $4,999.

  “This was recently reduced due to the dwindling market for the finest rugs originating within the Hindu Kush Mountains,” Ahmed went on.

  The executive kneeled down, turning over the rug to inspect the underside, as if demonstrating that he could distinguish the different types of loops, which are possible on a rug of this sort.

  Ahmed watched. “As you may notice, this is a double loop rug, dyed with natural vegetable dye, authentic to such parts in Afghanistan.”

  “Yes of course,” exclaimed the executive. “This one then,” he followed up.

  Ahmed had the workers move the preplanned rug over for the executive. “And this?” Ahmed said as he pointed to the rug with Charlie inside.

  “No. Absolutely not. The two would not do together,” said the executive.

  “Of course, sir.” With that, Charlie arrived next to Pam and Dan. Ahmed knelt down and tapped each rug three times in rapid succession. Ahmed and his men would keep everyone out of this room for five minutes.

  ****

  The first one free was Dan. He jumped out of the rug looking about for Pam and Charlie. All he saw was the top of Pam’s head as she struggled to worm her way from the opening of her cocoon. Charlie’s rug flopped back and forth, as he tried to muscle his way free of its clutches. Dan came to the rescue freeing both of them.

  As Pam hit the cool fresh air, she gasped in delight. “Thank god.”

  “What smells like piss?” asked Dan as he knelt down to help Pam up.

  “Fuck you, Dan,” Pam responded.

  “Stop screwing around,” said Charlie. “Get on the suits. We need to move.”

  The three of them pulled plastic bags from the opposite ends of the rolled up rugs. In each, were designer suits tailored for the three of them. Ahmed had his brother do them a favor, much to his distaste. Dan’s plea for a bright, three-piece pinstripe was immediately rejected. A couple of minutes later, no one would have guessed they had traveled two hours rolled up in old rugs that had graced Ahmed’s store for god knows how long.

  “Bathroom,” said Pam, as they all darted across the hallway. Five minutes later, the three met back in the hallway, proceeding down corridor H to the Promised Land, Mr. Nelson’s passkey hanging from Charlie’s neck. Now was not the time to walk by Dr. Buscher.

  “Stop,” said Pam.

  Charlie looked at her and realized he was unconsciously patting his left breast pocket as they marched down the hallway toward the media room. The device with the computer virus rested against his chest in that breast pocket. Charlie wasn’t sure why he couldn’t leave it alone. It’s not as if it could fall out. Wouldn’t that be a unique turn of events? They make it all the way to the terminal and the virus is sitting somewhere between the water cooler and the women’s restroom.

  Charlie stuffed his hands into his pants pocket. Look confident. Feel confident. Show everyone you belong here and you know where you’re going. Fuck, are we lost? Charlie smiled again at another employee who walked past. “Good aft
ernoon.” Man, there’s another one. “Good Afternoon.” Do any of these people work? Go back to your offices. Charlie, Dan, and Pam turned down the last corridor. At the end, lay the media room, the perfect launching point to infect this soon to be obsolete set of office buildings.

  The media room was a natural thoroughfare for information. As Charlie recognized a few weeks ago, The Corporation is exceptional in their ability to influence the audience’s perception of what they are watching. To achieve such effects, the media room acts to meld information, propaganda, and decision transfer by The Proxy. The Proxy receives the information on what has happened, whether a murder, a demonstration, or the fact that tomatoes had a bad harvest. The media room also receives the surveillance, to then select the vital parts of the story. The Proxy decides the outcome based on the events and feeds that decision to the media hub. The media hub processes the data, splicing in the subliminal undertones based on guidance from The Proxy. The media center feeds the final product back to The Proxy before it’s broadcasted to the masses.

  As they approached the media room door, a pretty assistant turned the corner in front of Charlie. “Oh, hello. Can I help you with anything?” she asked.

  “No thank you, honey. We are here to observe what happens in this fabulous room. The bigwigs have been talking it up for months, so I figured I would finally come down and check it out,” responded Charlie. For some reason, he had acquired a country accent.

  Pam and Dan looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Oh, okay then, let me know if you need anything.”

  “I surely will. Thank you, darling.” They continued on to the closed room. Through the windows lining the walls either side of the entrance, Charlie made out four or five workers engrossed in their routines. They seemed to be buried under mounds of information projected on walls and above tables. Automation reigned, but the company still employed people to create backups of the information passing through. The Corporation was paranoid regarding information loss, so in addition to the automatic backups occurring constantly within the network, these workers were generating hard backups that were catalogued and placed under lock and key in a separate location.

  Confidence. Charlie swung the door open and traipsed into the center of the room. Pam and Dan followed at his heels.

  “Hello, gentlemen,” said Charlie.

  The four workers looked up from their current projects, irritated at the intrusion.

  “Yes, who are you?” asked one.

  “Oh I’m sorry, fellas. I have been hounded to come down here and observe what your brilliant minds are doing for our company. The Corporation would not exist without the sweat and heartache that all of you are willing to endure. We are most truly amazed and thankful,” said Charlie in a heated speech.

  “This is easy,” said one of them.

  Charlie stumbled for a second. “Well, well of course it’s easy. It’s easy for you, for all of you. But believe you me my boy, that’s because you all are the cream of the crop. This work, which you are able to accomplish without a moment’s hesitation, would take an average person days to finish. You keep this place moving. More importantly, you keep this place secure. Now, would you be willing to give a short—and I mean short, fellas—presentation on what it is you do here?”

  The four experts looked at each other and nodded.

  The room was laid out in the shape of a half moon, permitting information to be broadcasted up to the front center of the room for easy deciphering. All outputs back to The Proxy routed through the terminals were at the center of the room. At least that’s what Timber told them. As Charlie walked over, he grabbed a bench resting next to a set of terminals and dragged it to the center of the room, right up to the central terminals. As he did this, the four stared at him with indecision. They wanted to show the mechanisms of their projects from the terminals surrounding the main stage, as it were.

  “Sir, here is—” one of the young men began as he pointed to the information he had brought up for Charlie to see.

  “Young man, I am jet lagged. Do you mind if I sit here and watch? In fact, do you have any of that Turkish coffee here? That will pick me right up,” said Charlie.

  “Yes sir, of course,” said one as he walked into an adjoining room to fetch Charlie’s request.

  The main terminal housed the connections to The Proxy and to the rest of the company. The resident virus had to be loaded onto this terminal, where it would be able to propagate, morph, and infect the entire system. Once it was able to grow the electronic organs, Timber would have access via different protocols to control where it went and what it did. The systems would alert everyone in the company if an unauthorized device loaded something foreign onto the network. Timber had instructed Charlie to load multiple media sources directly into the main terminal, simultaneously with the virus she had provided. By doing so, the alarms would sound, but as long as Charlie was able to remove the device containing the virus before observation, everything could be blamed on the additional media. At least that was the plan.

  The men began their presentation, explaining the process of combining and splicing information. Charlie leaned back in his chair, sipping the coffee provided. “This is wonderful,” exclaimed Charlie. “The coffee and the presentation. Magnificent.”

  “Sir, thank you. Allow me to show you the final processed project that will be uploaded to The Proxy,” said the presenter.

  As he leaned down to switch the files, Charlie plugged every possible device into the plethora of inputs at the terminal on his desk. The virus, which he had been holding in the palm of his hand, was the second device to make contact. By the time he inserted the last device, he removed the virus, which Pam seized. Pam placed the electronic device in an area these computer nerds would be too uncomfortable to search. The man presenting turned back to Charlie to continue with his description only to be inundated with flashing alerts across the terminals he was working at.

  “What? George, I’m getting the emergency alerts. It’s saying an unregistered device is connected to the network. It’s also asking if we need to shut down the system.”

  George rushed over and both men looked around, finally noticing the myriad of technology now attached to the main information intersection before Charlie. “Sir, what did you do? Why are these connected?” asked George as he raced over to Charlie.

  “Oh well, shit. I’m sorry fellas. I told you I’m jetlagged. I was experimenting with what you have here. There is so much new stuff all around. I wanted to see what everything did,” responded Charlie never breaking his country accent.

  “Sir, this is the main hub. Nothing is supposed to be connected,” said a frazzled George.

  “Well, my bad guys. I feel like a horse’s ass,” continued Charlie.

  “Oh god, shut up Charlie,” Pam whispered as she gripped Charlie’s shoulder.

  Charlie winced under the increasing pressure applied. “We’ll get out of your hair now fellas,” said Charlie as he got up and followed Pam and Dan to the door. “Great presentation, by the way.”

  Dan was already halfway into the hallway when George spoke up. “Sir, we should keep you here to explain—”

  “Son, you don’t want to explain why someone like me was able to mess with your central processing thing there. I don’t think they would look too kindly upon that. I’m truly sorry. Fix the issue. Blame it on a power surge.” Charlie paused and shrugged his shoulders. “Right?”

  While the poor technicians were deciding how to avoid losing their jobs, Pam, Dan, and Charlie practically ran through the door, and then left down the hallway. Timber had provided them an escape route through the kitchen of the cafeteria. As they passed behind the steaming vegetables, they turned their suit jackets inside out and pulled out pre-positioned baseball caps from the breast pockets. Charlie grabbed a trashcan and lifted it high on his shoulder shielding his face from anyone watching the three building exits. Pam and Dan did the same.

  “Hey,” yelled a suited
manager.

  “Yes, sir,” said Charlie turning face to face with the man.

  The man looked at each of them.

  “Yes, sir?” said Charlie again.

  “Make sure you don’t leave the trash from the conference room down hallway B. Yesterday, we had overflowing containers stinking up the place,” finished the man.

  “Of course, sir,” responded Charlie. “We’ll make sure everything is disposed of.”

  The man walked back to his station, nodding his head as he rounded the corner out of sight of the three friends.

  They burst through the final doors of the kitchen, which led out onto a parallel alleyway.

  “Holy shit,” exclaimed Pam. “We did it. What a rush.” Pam let out a tiny yelp as she looked between Charlie and Dan.

  “What’s with the country accent dude? That was some of the coolest shit I have ever seen. You were smooth as they come,” said Dan.

  The three continued on down a side street away from the corporate building. This was no time to go back to the rooms. As soon as they found an acceptable watering hole, they dove in off the streets.

  Charlie felt like James Bond. Dan was right. That was the coolest thing he had ever done. The three of them celebrated as if the world was going to end tomorrow. Maybe the end would come. But maybe it would be the end of the world as they knew it and everything possible would open once it was gone. Or maybe they had done nothing. Maybe it hadn’t worked. None of them cared, not right now they didn’t. As far as they were concerned, the world was about to be reborn and they were responsible. If there was going to be a new world then they were the ones who made it.

  They drank the night away, happy to be with each other. The sense of accomplishment and adventure brought them even closer than before. Charlie looked around the bar at the patrons who sat at tables talking over today, tomorrow, or any other day. It didn’t matter because all of those days were the same. One was a carbon copy of another. Life was not lived. Survival was the extent of their dreams.

  The bartender continued pouring drinks as he had probably done a thousand times, happy to pour another. Blind ignorance a blissful sensation. Charlie could never go back now. His eyes were wide open. Charlie looked over at Pam in a state of euphoria. She was looking at him, her gentle eyes locked on his. They had accomplished something real that could change the world. He truly reveled in the fact they were here together, a team that had endured so much. All of them ordinary people that were able to dream something impossible. They alone were able to dream the way to change an unchangeable world.