I woke up this morning. The room was really bright. It felt like my face was on fire.
Mary must have left the curtains open again. I went to the bathroom and tried to find something to put out the fire, but I only had green tablets and those were for something else. I took three.
I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. The flames were beautiful... mesmerizing. A soft crackling sound echoed through the bathroom. "No point shaving today." I thought.
I got dressed for work and headed for the door. "Have a nice day!" Mary said. I paused before opening the door and looked at her. She was sitting on my favorite chair, just staring at me, the mesmerizing flames reflected in her big black eyes. "Cats don't talk." I thought.
I opened the door and took one step towards the bright outside. Something wasn't right. That feeling was back. My days were numbered. I just know it.
The pathway from my front door to the road was covered with little black birds. They pecked the cement pathway until their black beaks bled. "Devil's little hell pigeons!" I murmured.
I closed the door and reached for my modified prescription shades. The modifications helped me to see people who were watching me before they could see me... and they were fireproof.
I walked past the birds pretending not to notice them. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. I climbed into the bus that was parked outside. It was the D63. I took it to town every morning where I held down a job working for The Man.
I sat in the seat closest to the exit and peered behind me. There they were. The watchers. Good thing I had my shades on. No one said anything about my face, but I knew they were all thinking about it.
I spent most of the journey arguing with myself about my job and hoping that the watchers couldn't hear what I was thinking. "Working for The Man isn't all it made out to be." I thought.
The bus dropped me outside The Man's offices and I pushed my way through a bunch of watchers to get to the office doors. Paul, the office security guard, greeted me. I said nothing. In all the years I had been working there I had never gotten to know him. Maybe it would have helped if he had a face.
I took the lift to the 27th floor. There was a man in it. I could tell by the way he was staring at the floor that he was probably on his way up to see The Man. I didn't say anything to him. I entered my office and sat down at my desk... and there it was. The box.
It contained my new computer. I'd sent an EX/4.27 down to the third floor, requesting its installation. But it's been weeks, and I can't do anything until it's installed. I stared at the box for a while. I hoped the computer inside was as nice as the picture on the outside. I just stared at the box for the next three hours before I got bored.
The tablets must be wearing off. Luckily, I keep yellow ones in my drawer. I thought of phoning a friend but then I remembered that my phone only receives calls... and I don't have any friends. That's the way The Man likes it.
I took the yellow pills out of the drawer and tried to read the instructions, but it was hard to see through the flames. It could've said take two. I took seven. I sat back in my chair, and just as the box was getting interesting again, the phone rang. It was Mary, which was strange because I'd asked her never to call me at work, but I decided to talk to her anyway. I asked her if she knew anything about the watchers, but she didn't answer... because cats can't talk. I put the phone down and reorganized my stationery.
The fax machine beeped three times. It does this just before a fax comes through. I hadn't had a fax for months. Wait till Mary hears about this. I watched the fax machine with anticipation and after a few moments it spat out a purple piece of paper. I opened my drawer and took two more tablets. Purple is not good. The fax read: 'Employee number 287452610. Report immediately to The Man.'
I told you my days were numbered. I opened my drawer and swallowed the rest of the yellow tablets... just in case. I walked up to the door and tried to open it, but I couldn't because it wasn't there anymore.
I'll have to send a fax myself... 'What should I say on the cover letter?'. When I turned around to reach for my pen the door was back, so I decided to use it. As I approached the door, I didn't take my eyes off it for a second – just in case. It worked.
Back in the lift, I pressed the button marked 'Top Floor'. No one knows what number it is because they stop numbering floors after 138. Nobody is sure how many floors there are between 138 and the Top Floor – or what goes on there. All these questions got me wondering what this was about...
I've never stepped out of line. I've never missed a tablet. I have two parents, ten fingers, ten toes, went to school for twelve years, university for four, I'm at work at seven, never leave before five and never take more than six days of leave a year. These are good numbers. It can't be about the numbers.
When the lift opened there was a massive room before me. It was empty, except for The Man's desk far, far away at the other end of the room and a sea of purples faxes which littered the floor. This was not good, but it was really purple. And in the moment I found it quite calming, so I switched to the present tense to heighten the suspense.
I make my way over to the desk. As the faxes crunch beneath my feet, it occurs to me that I should've put shoes on this morning. Maybe that's what this is about. The Man's chair is turned backwards so I can't see him.
I sit down and wait. On his desk is a computer still in its box. Hanging from his fax machine is my request for the installation of my own computer. I wait a little longer but the silence is killing me, and I'm worried that the tablets will wear off, so I say,
'Good morning Mr The Man. It's Employee no. 262762726, reporting as requested.'
He doesn't answer. Two of the devil's little hell pigeons are on the windowsill, fighting over an old bone. Maybe that's what he's looking at. I don't have a window in my office, so I move over to his to have a look outside.
Even though they're really small from up here, I can see that the watchers are still watching. I feel queasy and dizzy and take a few steps backwards. When my legs feel a chair, I sit in it.
Then I realize that this is the Man's chair, which means there are several possibilities: I'm sitting on The Man, the Man is the chair, there is no Man...
...or I'm The Man.
