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A Brief Word
Firstly, shout out to the #freewriters community for providing endless inspiration and an inexhaustible supply of great and original reading. This community truly is awesome.
Secondly, I am committing myself to making the highest quality posts that my limited talent and resources will allow. As a result, I am experimenting with various things. These include imbedding audio, and the usage of AI for illustration purposes. These are done to aid the work that I have physically poured myself into.
I apologize if these do not work. I am learning as I go.
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The Coward's Dilemma is a short story series written for the Hive platform. The previous entry can be found here:
The Coward's Dilemma Part 1: Big Timmy Isn't Authorized
The Coward's Dilemma
Part Two
"The Bureaucratic Hellscape"
Audio Format
I never thought I would say this.
But I should have taken the beating.
At least then I'd keep my job. At least then I would get some actual time off. Lord knows how rare that is these days. But no. I had to go and open my big mouth.
Now I've put my job, and probably my life on the line. All to satisfy the curiosity of Big Timmy and his labor cronies. I could rat him out. Then again, I could stab myself in the back and save everyone the trouble.
Take a trip down to the Sludgeway, stick a knife in and join the rest of the garbage oozing out toward the ocean.
After all, that's what happens to people who cross the labor gangs.
God, I'm such a coward...
While appreciating my life choices, I somehow put-in my best work performance in over two months. A week's worth of shipping and receiving invoices had been magically completed. Inventories had been adjusted. Papers were signed, dated, scanned and filed chronologically in recto ordine.
Internal packages were catalogued by department, and notices were sent to their overseers for retrieval. Dozens of manifests and bills-of-transport were produced on quadruplicate and dispatched to their respective load and carrier teams, ready for the next shift.
All done meticulously. All done without conscious thought.
They'll probably give me a lobotomy, I thought. If I'm lucky, that is. I'd make a better automaton than a man, if I'm completely honest. Free will has never been my strongest quality. Maybe then I'd actually be worth something.
Now there's a comforting thought.
Well... no time to dream of happy endings. Not while I had crimes to commit and, apparently, restricted files to steal.
I gathered my things as the end-of-shift siren blasted from the PA system. It almost approximated a song, but the blown-out speakers reduced it to an ear splitting wail.
I slung the loop of my satchel over my head and slotted home my favorite pens in my shirt pocket, then moved toward the door. Taking one last look at the dingy office which had been my second home, I paused to reflect.
"So long, stained walls." I said. The mystery of the filth coating everything never truly being solved.
"So long, old nemesis." I said to the printer. Surely I would see it in hell where our final showdown would take place.
And with that, I closed the door behind me.
The clerical offices of the Logisticae Annex were a labyrinth of dimly lit and identically beige corridors, well trodden stairwells, spartan conference rooms and, of course, horrible smelling break rooms.
Above us a thousand Eyes watched everything. They saw through opaque glass bubbles, blistering the ceilings like a plague of boils, or through cameras lurking in corners or above doorways. All was seen, all was recorded.
One such camera watched me as I exited the office, and saw as I joined the slow procession of smelly imbeciles shambling their way to the level twelve stairwell.
My heart was racing. I needed to think of something. Some way to access level two information.
The physical files would be locked and vaulted. Probably off site by now. My only option would be to access them digitally. But how?
There was only one person on my floor with that kind of access.
The first shift Section Sub-Leader.
Brevins, was her name. Patricia Brevins.
Maybe I could access her terminal. Surely her password wouldn't be too hard to guess. Like Timmy, her password was also probably 'Password'. No one ever changed it. No one ever had a reason to.
After all, who the hell would want to hack one of our boring user accounts?
Me, I supposed.
I looked up over the grumbling, slow moving line. I could almost see the stink wafting from the group like a heat haze, and taste the hundred hot breaths all confined in the narrow hallway. How had I become numb to it? When did this become my norm?
I'll be passing her office soon.
Maybe there was a chance I could do it. A chance I could pull it off. Oh who am I kidding. I thought. Am I really, seriously going to do this? Another flash of Timmy's wrench breaking my ribs crossed my mind, making me twitch involuntarily.
"Careful!" A nameless shirt said beside me.
"S-sorry." I replied.
A hand shoved me back into step with the rest of the workers.
I passed another set of office doors. There were signs and posters hung here and there. It was important to remember what floor you were on. It's easy to get lost in this place. Equally important were the reminders to be happy, or else, and to be productive, or else.
Implied threats are just as effective as overt ones, or so I'm told.
The sign at the end of the corridor pointed toward the exit stairwell just around the next corner. The elevators were still out, so as I approached the line became a press of bodies. A bottleneck of people as they began trotting downwards, making way for those doing the same on lower floors.
There would be a steady flow of dreary, sweaty clerks leaking onto the street for the better part of the next hour.
Only I wouldn't be one of them.
Minutes passed shoulder to shoulder. Some tried in vain to squeeze past. Everyone was irritable and tired, impatient to finally breathe some fresh air.
I inched further forward, and there it was.
At the end of the hall, visible above the shoulders of the throng was Sub-Leader Brevin's office. My gut dropped like a stone. My hands went clammy. It was suddenly stiflingly hot. I stopped but again was pushed forward. I began to shake.
Oh God, there's a camera above her door. I thought. It can see me. It wouldn't take all of thirty seconds to know that I'm the one who hacked her computer.
Maybe I could go back? Access her account on my terminal instead. No, that would be easier to track. That would trip alarms straight away. She would get notifications alerting her to the log-in.
I should run. I thought.
I can't. Timmy would find me. Him or his goons. There is nowhere to hide in the wards. Nowhere to hide anywhere. Not from the gangs or the cameras or the enforcers. Running was pointless. If I ran I was screwed. No. This was the only way.
I tried not to stare at the camera, its gaze was burning me alive. Suffocating me under its relentless scrutiny. Breathe. I thought. My only chance was to look normal. Everything had to look normal. Like I'm meant to be here. Like I'm meant to go into her office. Make it look like she called me in. If someone was watching, all they would see is another moron doing his moron job. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Before I knew it the door was within arms reach.
Okay, Bartholomew. I thought. Deep breath. Straight back.
I reached out, my sleeve damp with sweat.
I knocked.
People shoved past me, some giving me annoyed glances.
No response.
It must be empty. I knocked again and feigned hearing an answer. Have to make it look convincing for the cameras. I turned the knob, the metal felt hot. It was unlocked. I held my breath and pushed.
"Bob!" A voice called behind me.
I damn near jumped out of my skin as a hand slapped me on the shoulder.
"Whoa! Relax, big guy."
It was Kevin O'Shey, the closest thing to friend I had in this place. The closet thing to a friend I had anywhere.
"I didn't see you during break." He said.
I didn't take a break. I thought.
Kevin looked me over. "I saw the lug-heads leaving your office this morning. I wanted to ask you about it." He squinted. "Now I'm not sure I should..."
It was all I could do to nod.
"Breathe, Bob. Geez! You're shaking." Kevin helped me breathe with him, gesturing in and out. "There you go, mate."
"Sorry, Kev." I said, the tension in me receding like a tide. "You remember what happened last time..."
"I do." Kevin gave a small sympathetic smile.
His gaze moved between me and the Sub-Leader's door.
"You were going to talk to Patty about it? You know she don't give a shit, Bob." He said.
I stared at him like a stunned fish while my brain put together what he said.
"I.. uh, thought it was worth a shot." I shrugged.
"Understandable." Kevin said. "You know she's probably at the meeting." He gestured at the Sub-Leader's door.
"Meeting?" I asked on impulse.
"Timmy really fucked you up, didn't he?" Kevin laughed.
I slumped, the guilt written all over me. You don't know the half of it. I thought.
"Patty called us to the planning room before we leave. Probably some compliance bull-shit, knowing her." Kevin thumbed in the direction of the conference room, which was right of the T-intersection we were currently standing in. Left would take us to the stairwell.
We began walking, moving against the tide of workers. It was hard going, but with my satchel braced in my arms we made our way.
"Reckon it's because of Theo?" I asked.
"Yeah, probably. A man does the sparrow and now we're the ones stuck off the clock." Kevin said. Like normal he was the victim of someone else's tragedy. Typical Kevin.
"Does the sparrow..." I repeated, my thoughts elsewhere.
We navigated a set of winding corridors, following others from our section until we arrived at a set of brown double-doors. I followed him in and was met by a crowd of my colleagues standing around a large white oval desk. They turned to watch us enter, a few forced smiles crossing some of their exhausted faces.
"Bartholomew!" A voice called. It came from a tall, thin, black haired woman with sharp aquiline features. She was dressed in a black collared shirt with flared sleeves and equally flared grey and black dress pants. She stood with a mild hunch, giving the strong impression of a vulture or maybe some other carrion-eater. Standing beside her, towering like a monolith of fat and poor hygiene was Big Timmy. He looked at me with those same beady black eyes, the dumbest smile I'd ever seen plastered across his face. Behind them on a catering dolly was, if my eyes didn't deceive me, a spread of doughnuts. Actual, real doughnuts.
"Get over'ere, Bob." Timmy said in the friendliest voice he could manage.
I stopped. Everyone's eyes were on me. I felt trapped.
Run. I thought, yet again.
"Don't look so shocked, Mr. Eddison." Patty, The Crow said, using my surname. She never used my surname.
"Get on with it, Bob. I want to go home." Said legless Brad from his wheelchair. He was another one of Timmy's customers who one-day got the wrench. Only instead of the ribs it was his knees. Amputation was, they say, the only solution for damage that bad. A few team mates bemoaned agreeance, clearly not wanting to be here any more than I did. So, I swallowed and shuffled my way to stand beside the Sub-Leader.
She began.
"We all regret the loss of Theodore." She said. "Such a tragedy. Such an unfortunate circumstance to accidentally fall from the office window." She smiled thinly. Timmy bowed his head in an attempt at mournfulness.
"Very tragic." He sniffed.
"Now, now, Timothy." Patty said, gently patting him on the arm. "I know he was your friend."
The image of Timmy throwing Theo from a twelve story window crossed my mind.
"I-I told him to close it, I did." Timmy sobbed. "But he didn't! It's dangerous, I said." He blubbered almost convincingly."Ol'Theo loved the breeze. Breezy Theo, I called him." Give that man an award. I thought. Maybe acting was his true calling.
"I know you did. There, there..." Her saccharine squark was like nails on a chalk board, but Timmy seemed to appreciate it. Well, pretended to appreciate it, at least.
"But we must not let that deter us." Patty continued. "Must not! Death is the unfortunate side effect of life, and Theodore's shining personality was a testament to the fact that he, indeed, was alive." She clasped her long fingers together, reminding me of the way an eagle clutches a rabbit.
"I'll be blunt." She said, face straight. "Your productivity has fallen, and that is unacceptable."
"Unacceptable." Timmy added, fake tears banished.
"You are adults, yet you are letting this event affect you as if you were children. You have a job to do. Some of you will do well to remember what happens when you perform too poorly for too long." Patty's gave a saintly smile as she held a hand out toward poor One Eyed Hellen.
"Isn't that right, Mrs. Clemmons?" The Sub Leader said. "For a while you were the lowest performing member in our little team, and now look at you."
Suddenly singled out, Hellen cowered. I could see that her burns had not fully healed. They likely never would. Hellen still couldn't bring herself to look at Timmy and I didn't blame her one bit for it. Poor Hellen, I thought.. Patricia, happy to see the reaction, paused to savor the power she held over Hellen and the rest of the team.
"Bartholomew!" Her gaze turned to me and sent a chill down my spine.
"Great work today." Her look of pride made me sick. "You made the whole department look like idiots, Bob. You not only finished your work, but you finished the work of three other clerks!" She looked at the team. "Meanwhile you lot were crying like babies. Waaah! Poor Theo, boo-hoo!" She paused amid dead silence. "It's a joke." She said dryly. "Come on, have a laugh, you sods! No need to be so deary all the time." Then there was one, maybe two nervous chuckles. Everyone else stared like living corpses.
Patty's charm truly was legendary.
"Can anyone guess why Mr. Eddison was able to be so productive?" She opened her hands to a response she never expected to receive.
"Because of... Timmy?" Kevin guessed from the back of the room.
"Because of Timothy!" Patricia clicked her fingers.
"Right you are, Kevin! It was Timmy's inspiring talk with Mr. Eddison that lifted his spirits and enabled him to get on with his work." She gave the fat gangster and infamous thug a genuine smile of appreciation. Timmy was practically glowing from the praise. Again he reminded me of a child. Albeit a six and a half foot, obnoxiously large child who always smelled of spoiled cabbage.
"Let's all thank our wonderful Productivity Enforcement Supervisory for helping us remain focused and on task." Patty clapped, a cattle-prod gaze spurring the team to join in with a few more.
"To show our gratitude to Timothy, and of course to you, Mr. Eddison. And to honor the memory of our dearly departed, I, Patricia Barbara Brevins, on behalf of the Omega Logistronic Group, am awarding each of you one entire doughnut each." The Sub-Leader gave us the most corporate smile she had in her arsenal. Again I felt ill.
"Go ahead, Mr. Eddison. Grab one. You deserve it." She winked and gestured toward the tray of white, rather nice looking powdered doughnuts. At that moment I realized I hadn't eaten. I couldn't remember the last time I ate anything. Yesterday? Maybe not even then. All I did was sleep, go to work and go home. I must admit my mouth was watering.
As I reached a hand something caught my eye. Something on the dolly. There was a shiny little object lodged inside one of the little hand-hold grooves. Like a ring, or maybe a small set of keys. I leaned closer, my curiosity getting the better of me. Like always. Always getting me into trouble. Why should this be any different? I have always been my worst enemy.
"Well, hurry up. They're all the same." Patty whispered behind me.
It was a little keychain. Someone probably dropped it when moving the dolly. It...
Oh my god. I thought.
It wasn't just a keychain. Looped between two little keys was a two-factor authenticator. A god damn authenticator fob. The Sub-Leader is the only person who would have one. Of course. I scolded myself. Of course she would have one. This quest was doomed from the outset. Hacking her computer or not, I'd get nowhere without the authenticator.
"Hurry up!" Timmy snorted. "I'm hungry."
I swallowed. I had to try. This was my only chance.
Gliding my hand across the tray, hoping my sleight of hand would go unnoticed, I dipped a finger into the groove and dropped the keychain into my satchel. I feigned indecision then picked a doughnut near the middle. I turned to face the team.
I faked a smile. "Here's to Theo." I said, and took a bite. It was chewy, tasteless but for a hint of sugar, and disappointingly stale. Still, in that moment it was everything.
The room gave a half-hearted round of applause. Less so for me. Less so for Timmy or even poor dead Theodore. But more so for that home and sleep were now one step closer. One by one they formed an orderly line. Legless Brad shoved his way to the front with his wheelchair, almost knocking Lanky Jacob to the ground.
"Careful now. No need for violence." Patty said through chuckles of amusement. "There's plenty of doughnut for each of you."
As I finished I felt the attention move away from me.
Now's my chance. Time to move. I stepped to the side opening a path between me and the exit. It wouldn't take much to make a clean get-away. Not when with everyone fixated as they were. Another step and I was in front of Big Timmy. He glared at me; the smallest, cruelest grin inflecting the side of his mouth.
"Mister Eddison." His voice was the grinding of tectonic plates. The patient doom of simmering volcanoes. It was danger as palpable as his breath, stinging my eyes and making my stomach turn, but Big Timmy made no move. He was a tower ready to ready fall and bury me. I saw the wrench again, the anger, the pain. I was shaking. Heart racing, breath heaving under his all consuming shadow.
Timmy laughed at me.
"I'll see you tomorrow, won't I, Mr. Eddison?" He waddled his huge frame backward, allowing me to pass.
"Y-yes, Timmy." I said, clutching my satchel for dear life.
The urge to run hit me again. My vision narrowed until I could see were the doors. I lurched forward, half skipping in an aborted sprint. Attention was the last thing I needed. I swallowed and walked as quickly and calmly as I could, gently navigating around a few powder faced colleagues. Some were lost in a blissful daze. Some looked asleep on their feet. Before I knew it my hand was on the doorknob. Someone said my name, but I was already in the hallway.
You're committed now. Go, you moron. Go!
Thank you for reading. If everything went well I will continue to post this story with audio and visual aids. Please follow for more. Thank you.
Thank you
~ Simon Tonkin.
