Oct 14 - I was interviewed for a news story. Candace Harrelson, the reporter, wanted me to tell her what some of the stranger results have been, but I didn’t tell her much. I said that some of the more typical results are CANCER, CRASH, and HEART. I also mentioned the ALMOND one, and they asked me to verify that one guy whose card said JOY. Candace came in knowing a lot already. I don’t think I was much help to Channel 5 Prime Time News. Apparently the story is going to be about how the machine is sometimes cryptic, but never wrong. They’ve compiled results from machines throughout the country, and have two dozen predictions that have all come true. Candace even volunteered to find out her own results. They filmed me drawing the blood and everything. She was talking about how easy the process is, and how the results are printed up on a single business card, with the same results every time. I had to just sit there and wait for her to stop talking before I informed her that she’s going to die by BULLET. For a second, just for a second, she got this funny look on her face. Then she wrapped up by saying, “A harrowing prediction. Will it come true?” It was completely professional-news-reporter sounding. Totally didn’t match the shocked look on her face just a second earlier. My guess is the station will cut that part. She spent the whole report basically convincing the viewers that the predictions always come true, but she gets hers, and suddenly there’s a question? I’m sure that part will never air. That’s too bad really. So many people come in here, and they’re all easygoing until they see the card. Then, suddenly, they’re serious. Almost panicked. I’m sure I’ll see a rush of people come in here after the story airs. I just wish they’d show that one second, where Candace Harrelson stops reporting the story and starts thinking about her mortality. That’s what the real report should be about.
Oct 21 - I was right. I’ve been swamped. I watched the report, and sure enough, they cut the part where Candace hears how she’s going to die. Instead, after the report, Mark the anchorman asked if she took the test herself, and she said, “Maybe. But I’m not telling.” I guess she figures I won’t squeal, since I wouldn’t tell her anything. Since the report, I’ve heard from the media almost as much as I’ve heard from new customers. The death machine is the talk of the town. It’s bigger than Tickle-Me-Elmo. I can only guess how well Tell-Me-How-I-Croak-Elmo would sell. Some people are coming back for a second run. One guy came in with a little silver frame pinned over his breast pocket. When he got the result (HEART), he slipped it into the frame. I asked if he knew that his card would say HEART, and he said he’d taken the test before, but he thoughtlessly threw away the card. Now it’s a fashion statement. He’s planning to sell the frames with a fake HEART card inside. That way, if people are proud of their deaths, they can stick it in the frame, and if they get, say, BOTCHED PLASTIC SURGERY, no one has to know. If the frames sell well, he’s going to try making custom T-shirts.
Oct 28 - There has been a line going outside the door. I’ve seen so many death cards in the last two days that I can’t even remember most of the weird ones. So here’s a list of the ones I do remember, FEAR, TRAPEZE, GERALD, RELIGION, MINK, MARSHMALLOW, CAMCORDER, PIE, and RONALD MCDONALD. I want a custom made T-shirt that says RONALD MCDONALD. Seriously, after reading that one I was slightly tempted to try the machine myself. But then I got another visit from Beth. She wanted to try the machine again. We both knew she’d get the same result. It was like watching a car crash, and not being able to do anything about it. She said something to remind me just exactly why I didn’t want to take the test. She said, “I’m the same person as I was in July, only now I’ve emptied my bank account talking to doctors and I have panic attacks in the middle of the night.” That warning should be put on the front of the box. I told her so. It was nice to see her again. She told me about a dream she’s been having, where the machine is just this spigot that attaches to your arm and slowly drains all of the blood out of you. I had a similar dream, where instead of getting a business card, your death was written on a big cinder block, and I had to swim across the river with it around my neck. Oh, I almost forgot the best card: DISK ERROR. I had to run that one three times before I was convinced that the guy would die from DISK ERROR and there really was nothing wrong with the machine.
October 30 - Another busy week. I actually ran out of blank business cards. I kept fifty people waiting while I sent Paul to pick up a new box from the store. I was waiting here for him to come back when I had my epiphany. Let me set the scene. I’m waiting in the office, alone, with all kinds of people waiting to get in. I’m trying to think of how many words I can make out of “Brick Wall”. I cross out the letters as I go, and suddenly, it hits me. $¢NIKCLE is one word written on top of another. It’s SINK written on top of ICICLE! The guy has two deaths, unless he manages to sink into a pile of icicle. So I thought about that for awhile, and here’s my best guess. He said he was in a car accident, right? What if it was a recent car accident? Maybe he had a blood transfusion recently, and the machine tested the blood of two people at one time! How long does it take for blood to acclimate to a person? My guess is that one or the other will disappear in time, but for now, he should probably avoid sinks, sinkholes, and cold climates. I’ve got him coming in for a second test next month. I am now officially more knowledgeable than the product rep at EndVisions. Hope that knowledge won’t give poor Neil a stroke.
Nov 4 - Why on earth is the government killing so many people? Candace over at Channel 5 did a story about it. There were a bunch of people who came forward and said they were disturbed that their card said GOVERNMENT and more than a little distrustful of our elected leaders.
Nov 11 - Neil showed up unexpectedly yesterday. I was excited to tell him about the double printing on $¢NIKCLE but he kicked me out of the office, said he needed to make some adjustments to the machine. It was a nice change of pace, to be away from the brick wall and the icy specter of death for a little while. I actually called up Beth, to see how she was doing, and we had lunch together. A good lunch. I like her. But get this: part of me doesn’t want to get involved with her because I couldn’t deal with it if she died. She’d have her midnight panic attacks, and then I’d get worried that she was dying. It’s too stressful. I checked back in to the lab after lunch, and Neil was already gone. Great customer service there, Neil. It didn’t take too much investigation to find out what he had changed. Now the machine, the Bucket-Kick-O-Meter, is hooked up to a phone line. His note said that it would make maintenance easier, and I should not unplug it for any reason. I can’t believe that the machine of death gets its own phone and I have to share the one in the hallway with Paul. If the machine gets a window with a view better than a brick wall, I’m going to personally start telling people how they’re going to die.
Nov 18 - I was talking to Paul about Thanksgiving. Get this: He canceled his ski trip this year. Fear of heights? I told him he’s the same person he was back in July, except now he doesn’t want to go skiing. I guess it didn’t sound as profound as when Beth said it.
Dec 1 - Sad news. Mitch, my former coworker who got laid off, died yesterday. It was really sad. He couldn’t get a recommendation from work and couldn’t find a job. His wife left him, and he killed himself with aspirin and alcohol. Once again, the machine was correct. If he wouldn’t have taken the test, he’d be alive today, I’m sure of it. Tammy and the rest of the HR people aren’t beating themselves up about it though. She told me I don’t need to report results to her anymore, because now the machine does it automatically. That’s why Neil was in before Thanksgiving. If there isn’t a database of results already, you can bet your ass that Human Resources is starting one. Then she sent out a memo to the whole office that says everyone needs to retake the test. Dr. Caine is resigning. Seriously. I still don’t know if he drew SHIV, but it sure sounds like it. Who is this going to affect? People who drew health problems, like HEART? People who drew deaths that imply they’ll happen sooner than later, like FALL? Now I’m thinking about resigning, too.
Dec 8 - Not resigning. I bi
t the bullet and ran a sample, telling them it was my result. It said ALMOND. They wouldn’t lay me off for ALMOND, plus I didn’t have to, you know, actually take the test. Of course, this means that from this day forward, I can’t test the ALMOND sample anymore, but I’ve long since given up testing the samples anyway. We closed the office to outside clients for a day so I could test everyone else. I guess I underestimated the contingent that didn’t want to be tested. In fact, there were a couple of people who took the test and then threw the card away without looking at it. Mike was really resistant to getting tested again, now that it’s a mandatory thing. I feel bad for him, since GOVERNMENT sounds like one of those deaths that HR would get really worked up about. I also retested $¢NIKCLE, but the results are the same. I told him that if he knew who donated blood to him, I could test that person and we’d know which applied to which person. Unless the donor has already died in a tragic icicle accident or something. I found that funnier than he did.
Dec 10 - I just now realized that I told Neil I would die by ELECTROCUTION and I told Tammy I would die by ALMOND. I hope they don’t compare notes.
Dec 15 - The powers that be running the lab have been good enough to put off layoffs until after Christmas. Nothing like a little yuletide panic. Last year, our Christmas luncheon had fried chicken, potatoes, a bunch of pies; it was really good. This year, we’re getting salads and low-fat, unfrosted angel food cake for dessert. For a healthy new year, they say. Beth called me and asked if I wanted to catch a movie with her. I said no. I just have too much stress in my life right now.
Dec 30 - A local news story made the national news this week. The mayor’s cousin (or maybe second cousin) found out that his roommate was sleeping with his girlfriend. He also found out that his roommate’s death card said PIE. So this cousin has been slipping pie crusts and pie filling into the roommate’s food, hoping that will be the pie that kills him. He hasn’t done anything to the pie, it’s perfectly normal. The day after Christmas, roommate is eating supper when he finally notices a hunk of pie under his turkey. He gasps, chokes on his food, and he really does die. Now the mayor’s cousin has been arrested for murder. All kinds of big-name politicians are in town, all with their own take on pie murder. The mayor is humiliated. Reporters from every channel have come in to talk to me this week, and I’ve seen myself on three different news programs. It’s unreal. I feel like I shouldn’t be interviewed by this many reporters without my own book coming out, or winning the Super Bowl, or something. After they turn the cameras off, I’ve asked each one if they’ve taken the test. (I’ve tested so many people in the last three months, I’ve honestly lost track.) Every single one of them said yes.
Jan 6 - Wow, Cleveland is the place for controversy, and it’s all because of Murder Pie. Suddenly, Congress wants to talk about the Buying-the-Farm-Reporter. The Op-Ed pages are filled with pleading to get the government to pass some death machine laws. The flames have been fanned by a person who took a bunch of hostages and died in a shootout in Texas. They tested him posthumously, and sure enough, the result said “SHOOTOUT.” There’s been a push to register people’s death cards with local law enforcement, or even the federal government. I’m trying to get ahold of Tammy to approve some vacation time quickly, because I do not want to be here when the shit goes down. I’ve heard people are planning a protest for right outside my building. Why am I in the middle of all this? All I did was read an instruction manual, for crying out loud.
Jan 8 - Things are crazy. They’re protesting right outside, and throwing things at cops. I am not going to sit here and protect the damn machine. They can have it. I’m getting out of here...
Jan 27 - OK, so it’s been a while, but now here I am. Tammy talked me into coming back, but I really don’t know why I came in at all. Everything has pretty much gone to hell. Here’s what’s happened: On January 8 about 2,000 protesters marched through Cleveland, opposing the death machine. Police showed up in riot gear to try to keep things civil, but the crowd turned violent. People started throwing things at cops, a bunch of people got arrested, protesters were burning effigies, cops were getting fire hoses. There was some kind of blast that took out a bunch of windows, and started a fire right here. The lab sustained some water damage when the firefighters showed up, but made it through in pretty good condition. On the other hand, the building next door—the brick building that was outside my window—was completely destroyed. It was a firetrap. The shell of bricks that remained has been torn to the ground. Apparently, it was thought to be abandoned but was actually housing a sweatshop, employing illegal immigrants, even kids. I’m almost certain they included the family that was in here earlier, the kids who didn’t speak any English. The ones whose cards said FIRE. The remains of 27 people were found inside the building, and six more, including my coworker Mike, were killed in the protest. I got out of here just as things were turning really bad. I’ve been at home, left alone by the media and this is my first day back in the office. It is unworldly. I never thought something like that could really happen here. I always thought that chaos and disaster were reserved for other countries, or at least big cities like New York or Chicago. Even after all this time, it’s like I’m walking in a dream. There is a bodyguard stationed outside my door at all times, but I am still alone in this room with the damn machine. Now, instead of staring at a brick wall, I stare at scorched rubble. It’s a huge, dirty, gaping pit, and every time I look up at it, I feel a wave of despair. I think about those poor kids. There was a sweatshop—a sweatshop in Middle America—mere inches from this room, and I had no idea. And now, because whoever was running it didn’t give a damn about their employees, 27 of them are dead. If a machine that can predict death can also bring about so much death, is it really worth it? I don’t think anyone can convince me that it is.
Feb 3 - When a single machine is the cause of so much heartbreak and so much risk to human lives, what’s the logical next step? Order more machines, of course. I’m aghast. Apparently, I am no longer the sole operator of the Posthumous Predictor in Cleveland. Now, I’m just the senior operator. Meaning I’ve been taking calls from the Cuyahoga County hospital about installation all day, in addition to handing out SUICIDE and DROWN cards to my morose clients. Someone at Cuyahoga County wanted to know if people traded their actual deaths if they traded their cards. I rolled my eyes and was about to tell her that was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard, but you know, I have no idea. I gave her Neil’s number. Let him roll his eyes awhile. The tension here has eased quite a bit. I think the politicians are still talking about the machine, some even talking about making testing mandatory, but the news media have lost interest. Some people apparently saw a nipple on TV over the weekend, so all of their attention has gone elsewhere.
Feb 4 - They were clearing out the debris from the building next door today. It’s just a blank lot now, and yes, I can see the next brick building down, but I can also see the sky and the street below. All it took for this window to serve its function was the deaths of a bunch of kids. Over lunch, I grabbed one of the bricks before they cleared them all away, and now it’s here on my windowsill. I really don’t know why I kept it.
Feb 10 - Guess what I found out today? Paul and Beth are dating. How did that happen? I saw her come in yesterday, thinking she wanted another go-through with the machine. But then she and Paul left holding hands. I’ve got to admit, I feel weird about that. She didn’t even stop in and say hello to me. They looked kind of sweet together, I guess, but I have to admit, when I saw them walking out to her car, I couldn’t help but think of two doomed prisoners on their way to the gallows. Or something. She with her cancer, he with his falling, it’s like they’re on borrowed time. Is Paul more willing to deal with suffering than I am? Or is he just more desperate for sex? Or does he not understand that one day, the cancer will overwhelm her, and he’ll be left to face his fall all alone?
Feb 17 - I’ve seen a couple of those custom shirts in the last couple of weeks. One said EXPLOSION. One s
aid OLD AGE. The public has embraced wearing their death on their sleeve. What’s more disturbing, is there’s some role-playing game based on the death cards. Apparently a starter pack comes with 60 fake death cards, and you’re encouraged to shuffle your own into the deck. Then the characters in the game start dying left and right and the winner is the last person standing. Also, on my way to work, I always pass this building that says “Palm Readings” in the window. Well, they took down the sign a few weeks ago, and now they just put up a new sign that says “Death Cards Explained.” At least three private businesses in town have gotten their hands on their own machines. Apparently they’re a lot cheaper than they were last year. Now, with the added competition, demand at the lab has dropped considerably. I find that more often than staring out the window, I’m staring at the brick, waiting for someone else to come in. Everyone’s getting rich off of death but me.
Feb 24 - Happy first birthday, you freaky pile of circuits and premonitions. I sincerely regret that you’re still around.
Mar 3 - I’m in trouble. All of a sudden, Tammy has questions about the card I submitted for myself. Was she talking to Neil? What’s so implausible about ALMOND? I finally came to accept it. She wants to bring in the examiner from the hospital to administer the test on me “again.” Now what? Plus, Paul’s mad at me because I confided in him that I lied about my card. I think I could get into serious trouble here. I could lose my job for this.
Mar 4 - I got no sleep last night worrying. Dr. Henry from Cuyahoga County is coming in this afternoon. I’ve been worked up about it all day. I think I’m just going to have to go through with it. I’ll tell Tammy I sent her the test card by mistake. Paul probably won’t tell her anything. I won’t lose my job. But I’m still stressed out because I don’t want to know. Let it be a mystery! No one needs to know! I don’t need to know. Whatever that card says will just consume me, and those feelings of doom I get when I see Paul or Beth will paralyze me every time I look in a mirror. I wish there was some way to avoid this. I shouldn’t have to know if I don’t want to!
Machine of Death Page 7
