We Are Them

by L. K. Samuels

  “There must be something you can do. Stop it or slow it down,” Tommy said.

  I just swallowed. I had never thought of myself as a heroic figure. I was a government employee who just happened to be living in a screwed-up city that had gone berserk. I had very little authority to do anything. The mayor and the city council ran the show and the next election was almost two years away.

  “Use monkey wrench,” Lenny suggested with a mischievous grin. “Throw something in big machinery. Old Russian trick.”

  “You mean sabotage?” I asked, a little horrified at the thought.

  “What about slowing down the computers?” Tommy proposed. “That would cause drivers to get discouraged and stop calling us.”

  “We’re already backlogged,” I stated with a lopsided grin.

  Tommy shrugged. “We have to fight back somehow.”

  “This is not a war,” I tried to explain. “We’re not even sure who is the enemy.”

  “Maybe, the real enemy comes from within,” Rudy spoke up with a chilling notion. “Something is making our elected officials overextend their authority. I mean, they’re risking their political careers over petty road directions. How stupid is that?”

  “I see the enemy clearly,” Rant said. “Those in authority are our adversaries. They’re the ones who seek to overstep boundaries. You know, the camel nosing its way into the tent. To them, we are mere cockroaches, suitable to be squished when convenient. That’s why there have been so many genocides. They see us as disposable.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Tommy said and looked up from his typing, glancing at Rant. “We all have cravings to control our neighbor. It’s an ancient, primal response. We’re pre-wired to take control of others before they can control you. Today, that urge is mostly dormant. And yet, something has to provoke this reactionary instinct to bubble to the surface. Think about it. Something or someone is pushing the gas pedal. Someone has rev up this human trait to full throttle.”

  “Phooey.” Lenny made a sour face. “Could be strange virus accidentally released from biological lab?”

  “You mean on purpose?” Tommy asked.

  “We don’t do things like that no more,” Lenny’s lips slowly parted into a thin grin. “We civilized now. The Russian Federation plays nice. Besides, who wants worldwide pandemic? Not good for anyone.”

  I lowered my head. We were getting off course again. But what if it was some type of toxic organism that had been released to harm humanity? This was a serious issue. I paused and thought about the problem knowing that there was no clear answer.

  “Well,” Tommy turned to me and asked impatiently. “What do you think?”

  I bit down on my lips, looked up, and stared at everyone with a scared look. “If some compound, chemical, or biological weapon had fallen from the sky, it would eventually wear off. The effect would diminish with time. But the opposite is occurring. Everything is getting worse.”

  “A time-released weapon, maybe?” Tommy stopped typing. “Sorry, but I’ve found nothing so far.”

  “It could have been a missile,” Sarah said, drifting to the middle of the living room. She found a chair, sat, and looked eager to participate. “Why do we assume it was just a rock from space?”

  Tommy closed up his laptop computer. “There is so much we do not know about the vast universe. I mean, our galaxy rotates once every 220 million years. And man, we have no idea what type of new space we’re entering each day. Or what unknown materials might enter our atmosphere and infect us. Real bummer.”

  Tommy was right, unfortunately. I had seen reports that in a few hundred years we would be entering space clogged with significantly more debris of unknown origins. Some scientists believe that this space dust and gases might cause another Ice Age. Nobody really knew for sure.

  “Then what is our plan?” Sarah asked.

  “There is nothing we can do,” Tommy said. “We’re still totally in the dark. I suppose we just have to eat what nature dishes out. Always been that way, because of the magnetic pull of the planets…”

  “Fine!” I interrupted Tommy in mid-sentence. I knew he could talk until everyone had died from boredom. And yet he had avoided most of his normal ramblings for days.

  “So, what can we do?” Sarah asked again.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “We need more facts to figure out some type of strategy.” This was exactly why I hated meetings. They were just one long talkfest that often provided more questions than answers. I could see that we could not agree on anything, except to meet again sometime in the future. What a waste of time.

  Chapter 12

  The next morning, as I sat in my office chair and sipping coffee, I kept looking over my shoulder. As I worked on work schedules, I kept pondering over Candy’s quick changing reaction. One minute she herald City Hall leaders as virtuous and wise. In the next instant, she had switched over to the other side. In the span of a nanosecond, she had dumped what I thought were her long-held and deeply cherished values. Curious.

  Candy’s statement about the citizen’s duty to always obey city laws seemed excessive. Our public office holders were chosen to govern the citizenry, not to rule like tyrants. They were usually seasoned in democratic sauces of limited potency and obstinacy. They were our head chef of fine politicking, and yet, our current crop of political culinarians often left a sour taste on many palates.

  What I did not find illuminating was my predicament as the ringleader of a secret society. I knew it was just an innocent discussion group, but as fear morphed into full-blown paranoia, my nerves found little solace. It was just a matter of time before my activities made the front-page headlines. I would not last long in solitary confinement.

  My fears of spending time in jail had to take a pause. From down the hallway, I could see a walking hippo destined to alter my career path at a moment’s notice. Like a good weatherman, I knew that my future was going to be stormy with an occasional tornado.

  “Where’s Spencer?” Big Al shouted as he lumbered from the hallway into my office.

  I wished I could ponder weighty issues in peace and tranquility. We lived in a world of so many fascinating mysteries. I could be happy in studying a diverse range of fascinating fields and disciplines. But no. I found myself caught in a trap of my own making. As Big Al approached, I knew I was only going to get a crash-course in how to survive inside of a prison-holding tank.

  “We caught our first violator.” Big Al sailed into my office with an air of supremacy.

  I closed my eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Spencer?”

  “I just have something in my eye.”

  “Both of them?”

  “It all depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On circumstances.”

  Big Al laughed. “Quick fooling around. I have big news.”

  “Okay, I will bite. What news?”

  “Like I said, we apprehended our first violator under the new rules.”

  My eyes shot wide open. “Really?”

  “Yes,” Big Al said. “Gee, you almost act as if it were you.”

  “No, I’m just too busy working to pay close attention to the enforcement branch.”

  “Well, it’s a big one.”

  “So, you caught a big fish. Why don’t you take a photo of your prized catch and hang it on the wall?”

  Suddenly, Big Al exploded with excitement. “What a wonderful idea. I guess I could put it next to one of my wall paintings.”

  I could understand his wild enthusiasm if he had actually apprehended a violent criminal from the FBI’s Most-Wanted List. But I bet his net entrapped a poor stupid sucker who forgot to call the authorities before going to the laundromat.

  “Oh, it gets better,” Big Al almost attempted a little Scottish jig. “A lot better. You see, the driver refused to accept the ticket. She tore it up in front of a pissed police captain. Right in his face. Boy, the squad of officers took her down. Handcuffed her and threw her in the back
of the police vehicle. This will make great copy on the evening news.”

  The way Big Al acted, it seemed that he was not telling me the whole story. I got the distinct feeling that I might be acquainted with the victim. Maybe it was Mayor Quinn’s wife. Now that would be asking for too much.

  “Guess who it was?” Big Al taunted as he slipped a new cigar into his mouth. “I understand she’s a real terror.”

  I shook my head. “No, who?”

  “Your soon-to-be-ex, Sarah!” Big Al bellowed ecstatically.

  My head drooped. Just great. I had explicitly told Sarah to call the DED in the morning, just to play it safe. She resisted at first, but after I supplied her with an earful of negative consequences, she agreed to call and get approval to drive to her workplace, about the only place she ever went. Now it appeared she had ignored my warnings without considering the harsh outcome.

  Poor Sarah. My first response was to find a way to quickly rescue her. I could be her knight in shining armor, ready to slay the dragons of injustice and provide comfort to a wrongly imprisoned jailbird. Of course, I could also hire a good lawyer and post bail.

  “She’s over at the police station. I think you might want to have a little chat with her.”

  Luckily, Big Al was mainly amused and not angry with me. I supposed that was because he had gone through a messy divorce and detested sassy women. Luckily, I had not told him that Sarah and I were getting along much better.

  * * * * *

  I gained swift access to Sarah because of my political connections. Still, I was not sure what to expect. In the past, Sarah did not take self-made errors well. Her habit was to pin blame on others at any cost. She was always the innocent one, playing the victim of someone else›s fault. I had to be careful not to get caught in her web of victimhood.

  As I entered the crowded holding tank, I saw her in a corner sitting on a bench all by herself, looking disheveled and scared. When she saw me, she rushed up and smothered me with a big hug.

  “Spencer, I’m so happy to see you.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “No, but I will survive. Besides, it was my own damn fault.”

  I leaned back, surprised by her honestly. Her response was a breath of fresh air and made me wonder if she had suffered a head injury. This was not like her.

  “I hope this will not cause any problems for you at work.”

  I smiled. Sure, there would be some repercussions at work, but her little act of defiance was not going to jeopardize my position at DED. I was simply too valuable. I was actually proud of her for finally taking a stand. I was almost jealous. She was outshining me. My attempts to revolt against the Man was pathetic.

  Sarah sniffled, trying to hold back her tears. “I tried calling. I could not get a line. I was on the phone for over thirty minutes. I had to get to work. They depend on me. I had to take a chance. I had to disobey.”

  “Well, you did the right thing.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. That is not what is troubling me,” I said. “The real problem is why it took my people thirty minutes to answer your call. That’s not possible.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “No, I don’t believe my staff. They are purposely misleading me. I’ve been assured that waiting time is no longer than ten minutes max.”

  “There’s more,” Sarah continued. “I hate to tell you this, but the police now have roadblocks. The traffic is simply horrible.”

  “Roadblocks? Are you sure?” The only time I had seen roadblocks were on New Year’s Eve, and that was late at night in an effort to catch drunk drivers who might kill innocent people.

  “You doubt me?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know.” I could not believe that the city police had resorted to such strong-arm tactics. In fact, I was almost sure that the Supreme Court had ruled random roadblocks unconstitutional, citing that it was an affront to civil rights.

  “I understand.”

  “No, this is my fault,” I said shaking my head. “I should have known that my staff was falsifying data.”

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  I nodded to Sarah as if I was in total agreement with her. I was not. I was definitely the person to blame. I should have known better. My trust was misplaced.

  Sarah put her head against my shoulder and sighed. I enjoyed the feeling of closeness and trust and wondered if this was what true love was supposed to feel like.

  I paid Sarah’s bail. The police had impounded her car, and it was going to take a day or two to work out the paperwork, especially since they caught dozens of other violators that day and impounded their cars as well. I drove her back to work and arranged to have her picked up later in the evening.

  The real pain was filling out the mountains of paperwork and understanding all of the conditions for Sarah’s court date. The police department handed us a twenty-page packet with information, warnings, and forms. I had to schedule a psychological test for Sarah and get her to sign up for six months of sessions on anger management. Next, they required a history of any drug use, past sexual abuse by friends and relatives, if she ever had had an abortion, a medical examination by a doctor, information on our insurance, who we banked with, our investments and IRA accounts, what organizations we belonged to, and so forth. It was a total invasion of privacy, but the penalties for failure to report were high.

  Returning to work, I sought out Tommy in his cubical behind a wall of filing cabinets and boxes of records. His office qualified as a pint-size closet, filled with dusty shelves, and cluttered with overflowing wastepaper baskets. When I found him, he was being rather intimate with a bag of French fries. I frowned. He grinned, and quickly justified his fatty diet by lifting up a bowl of old alfalfa sprouts.

  “Tommy, I have something important for you to find out. What is our average waiting time on the phone?”

  Tommy shrugged. “The daily stats say six minutes average.”

  “I’ve heard someone say that it actually takes almost 30 minutes. Could you mosey around the office and chitchat with some of the more friendly operators? And forget the daily stats.” I knew that anyone could manipulate statistics to prove any point of view. I wanted information from the horse’s mouth, not Big Al’s windpipe.

  “I heard they caught Sarah,” Tommy said in a low, wistful voice. “Like, man, that›s a real bad career move.”

  “Just get me the information.”

  “Sure, what am I looking for?” Tommy was stalling. He wanted to do something first. That is how he flaunted his independence, and I usually allowed it. “It’s time to check my wart project.”

  Tommy still wore at least five patches of duct tape on his hands. He peeked under one and remarked that it had diminished a little.

  “Can’t you do this later?”

  “You cannot rush science. Besides, I’ve got to record the results.” Tommy pulled out a little spiral pad of paper and wrote down a few figures. I supposed it was the scientific thing to do, but not on company time. I could see that I was excessively lenient with him. A few of my now 150 workers resented the preferential treatment Tommy received from me. Some complained bitterly, but they were crazy. They acted as if I was substituting Tommy for a son. How could anyone believe that hogwash?

  “How about another $20 until payday?” Tommy asked as he played with his duct tape.

  I quickly handed over a bill. “But don’t buy any more fries. They’re terrible. They’ll clog your arteries.”

  “They’re tasty.”

  “You won’t get any more money.”

  “That blows.” Tommy made a disgusted face. “I’m not a child, you know. Like I should be able to buy anything I want.”

  “Shall I take the $20 back?”

  “Fine! No fries.”

  I shook my head. Tommy was incorrigible but entertaining. He would make a fine gypsy, a wandering free spirit disconnected from realty. I should have fired him long ago, but then the world would be a
dark hellhole.

  Ignoring Tommy’s childish response, I made a hasty retreat back to my office. Surprisingly, he dutifully obeyed my instructions. Like a bumblebee, he flew from workstation to workstation to pollinate egos and gather information. I watched as he became chummy and congenial with everyone in his path, tossing his thin arms above his head, as he got excited over some subject that probably had nothing to do with his mission. Within an hour, he had gathered a sense of what was happening to our system.

  “It’s a mess,” Tommy said matter-of-factly. “Everyone is telling me that they cannot handle all of the calls. The wait is up to 30 or more minutes during the morning peak hours. Demand levels off in the afternoon. The reports only show averages, not the spikes.”

  “So, you are saying that when people need to call most, they can’t reach us.”

  “Yeah, how do you like them apples?” Tommy grabbed a handful of cold fries and soggy sprouts from his pocket. “Want some?”

  I turned away in disgust. It was so unfair. If I ate just one fry, I would gain 20 pounds before I stopped chewing. Tommy was the opposite; he was impervious to the ravages of fat. He could devour dozens of cream puffs and lose weight in his sleep. Life was unfair.

  Tommy’s information was both bad and good news. The long wait was obviously bad, but the implications of hiring more staff and equipment meant a salary of even higher proportions for me. If this growth continued, I would be able to retire handsomely in Beverly Hills with several Rolls-Royces. The thought was both satisfying and heartbreaking. It was all an artificial growth, not based on filling the demand for a product or service, but on controlling and punishing normally good people. That was what made it so ludicrous. These jailed drivers were not committing some violent act, robbing a neighbor or perpetrating fraud. They were just minding their own business. And yet, a few altercations with the DED might ruin their whole life. Then there was a problem with getting the police involved. You would think that they would have something better to do than to spend precious time going after forgetful drivers. What about burglars, rapists, and murderers? Were those now on the back burner?