Pisanthraphobia (H2OVanoss and Others)

Chapter 4

Bryce was, in all meanings of the word, simple. He lived alone in a small condo, he was of average height and build, and he had a forgettable face. Or at least, that's what he thought.

His landlord had demanded his rent early, and with his part time job at the convenience store he wasn't able to pay. The man had decided to tax him, in a sense, for his misdemeanour, and he owed even more than his pay check would deliver.

Desperate, he had phoned one of his best friends, who had directed him to a location not too far from his house. He had seen the lit up sign before the actual building, which was almost invisible in the sunset.

It seemed relatively quiet, a reserved area surrounded by forests and the singular road he had pulled in from.
A sign next the door layer out several restrictions beyond the usual 'no smoking' or 'no pets' policies, and there was a government symbol confirming it.

His friend hadn't told him what this place was, but he was getting a bit suspicious. He opened the door to find a room with a door and an elevator. The door was labeled 'stairs' in faded black paint, and the elevator was like a beacon, flashing with red and blue lights in a frenzy.

As per recommendation, he took the stairs up to floor 13, which was apparently called the unstable floor. He stepped cautiously, expecting some sort of creaking or groaning from his weight, but it seemed to be solid and firm.

The carpet was thin as he stepped, and he wished he could hear his own footsteps, or at least some sort of noise. Multiple signs advised against this, however, and he tried to slow his breathing and calm himself.

He reached a door on the end of the hall, a bronze knocker clashing against the silver. He lifted it slowly, hitting the door in a specialized pattern.

Three long thuds, a pause, four sharp taps, and two more thuds after another pause. There was a clicking sound, and the door swung open.

He blinked at the sudden light, a contrast to the dim hallway, and stepped inside. The door, which he now realized was electric, slowly shut behind him.

Everything in the room was a pristine white, except a grey desk in the center. Three doors were behind it, white like the walls, and there was a white fabric chair in front of it. He sat slowly, assuming it was for him.

As he eased his weight on to the chair, another click resounded and a tablet rose up from a hidden compartment on the surface of the desk. It was brand less, but it lit up when he tapped the screen.

It opened to a messaging interface, somewhat like the iMessage he was used to. He began simply.

Hi.

A second later, there was a response.

Welcome. What brought you here?

A friend. He said you could help me.

With what?

I need to pay for something, but I can't afford it.

I see. We can help with that. When are you available?

He typed in his schedule, taking a few minutes as his fingers shook in the room that had suddenly become cold, and awaited the response. There was nothing for a while, and he almost got up and left. But suddenly, he noticed a paper by the tablet.

He picked it up, careful to keep it flat and unwrinkled, and scanned his eyes over the typography that spanned across the surface. The more he read, the faster he read, and a smile slowly eased itself onto his face.

He set the paper down, taking a few moments to collect himself, and turned back to the tablet. The smile was still there, and he never thought to remove it. His hands floated above the surface, the shaking replaced by twitching, and he pressed his fingers to the keys.

After clicking send, he stood up and left, going back to his simple car and simple condo, but not to his simple life. A new thrill had sprung up from the shadows of his future, and he figured he ought to thank his friend for answering his call.

Back in the room, the tablet glowed as one last message appeared on the screen before it faded to black and sunk back into the desk.

I accept.

:)