The sun was quite charming today. I could feel it’s rays sneaking in
the window and warming the mood inside. It explained the cheerful,
energetic mood in the office. Probably, Mic has had too much of it
today.
“If there is one thing that I hate more then a bad coffee is to read a scrap story from one of my own, pay rolled writers”.
Tim why can’t any of your stories have an happy ending?
It’s a ghost story Mic. Ghosts don’t have an happy ending.
Off course they can. send them to heaven or a vacation or let them find love.
Mic, ghosts don’t take vacations. you and I do?
“If you kept on talking like this, you may earn one. Write me a story with happy ending. End of meeting.
This kind of talk is an every day talk, specially if you are working with Mic. He’s got lot of pressure, I guess.
But him giving me one was not welcome at all.
“Happy ending, what does he know?”
“what do you understand by an happy ending?” This thin skinny man, walking in front, plain shirt tugged out. probably a man from small town, knew about happy ending. I tugged him on his shoulder. What I got was a familiar look of terror on his face.
It wasn’t before long that he sped his way ahead. Hey! Before I could say another word. I realized he had taken to air, a projectile headed towards right hand side of the road. It took another half a minute before the walk light went green. Silently, I made my way to where that man should have landed. There he was, I was right he wasn’t young, probably middle aged, bald in front, a nose had an odd curvature. well not as odd as shapes his limbs did.
It was horrifying. Had I experienced this accident ten years back, I would surely have vomited. I checked his dress, an expensive fabric, three piece suit. I was sure there was a gun somewhere under the coat. I waited for another five minutes, hoping some body will come to the scene. meanwhile I took as much notes as I could without looking too stupid. then decided to move on.
Story or no story, I was hungry. ten minutes had already passed. I had another thirty five to return to office.The lunch cube was still a few buildings away. I always admired the way the building was designed. The grandness that existed inside was never evident at the door. you would just walk next to it and think just another food joint. but when you went in, the hundreds of people in queue was over whelming, and a same no may be inside on the dinning side.
I have my prints at the gate and look the line computer suggested me. It displayed the letter F. I wanted to crush the screen. but moved on. There are instructions displayed at each junction, helpers at each food wall. but we regulars rarely talk with them. What interests us most is the structure, the people, the interactions going around. Once served, the lanes take us to the Jupiter box.
A huge globe of tables. it is the most intriguing part of our daily meal. The randomness of the tables in front was always overwhelming. people occupying small cells distributed everywhere, in every possible dimension. The people above the equator were always the richer folks.
Mob men, prostitutes, bankers, politicians. Their place in the social structure had been virtually written in the DNA of the system. while down below our feet, was the hive over crowded by people like us. while we could see the boundaries of the globe above. Looking down only made you sick. There were only & only people there. Not very soon but finally I spotted a table for me. With only one person in front, it was an easy catch.
“hey wait!” I shouted and rushed to the table.
Though looking at the man in front, I gulped for once. Here was this man, dressed as if ultra rich. If he wanted he could reject me the seat but I had to take chances. I sat down and entered my ID and gave my thumb impression. Without hearing a word from him.
The table takes a few seconds before it decides based on our data which would be the suitable position for me. It depended on my data and that of the other person in front. I was sure, I would be traveling really up high today. I never been too high in the cadre. except for a few times I came with mic. My table always slides down.
The word lightening, I had read it several times. seen it too. it is kind of a rupture in the sky. that exists for less then a blink of an eye. you never want to travel that fast. because well you just cant. But I guess, i was riding lightening that day.
I had this sensation that my skin was tearing away from me, my clothes would shred to pieces. Except for the horror of the moment there was nothing left in me.
It was a moment of lightening. the next moment I remember, the man in front was all over the table. I did not have the strength to scream, I was searching for my heart beat, I was cold and I was sweating too. I felt my heart beat a moment later. a second later I heard a push from another man, hey wake up, sleep head. give some space. hey! he shook me pretty hard.
By the time I had adjusted my eyes. I realized I was still at the equator line. but my heart beat did not return, a hand smacked me at the back and I puked over my lunch box.
“Gosh! you OK man”.
can you take me to the exit corner, May be I need to see the doctor.
Yeah! sure, man, sure. I took his shoulders and he walked me to the medic.
by the time, my senses returned I was still sitting in the medic’s room. I checked my watch, it was 1:40. I got to go.
The medic gave a smile “take lot’s of water for next few hours”
My stomach was grumbling hard. Instead of the return path to globe’s office. I took a detour to Jack’s joint.
Jack Sterns, a 5 feet large rhino shouldered, jolly man, now in his forties was the only person, I tried terming as a friend. We shared a past. and we shared our horror too. Unlike me our cursed did not direct his life. He stuck with what he adored most in his life, food.
Hey Tin man, you look exhausted. jumped off a train or something?
No, just bad dreams.
He studied my face, with a serious look, something that was very rare of him. I know, what you need, you need a big Jack’o'burger and a cup of coffee.
He shouted out loud, get this men some Jack style life please and bring me a glass of pumpkin juice.
The quiet was a few minutes long. did not break until I had a few bites.
‘what happened today’
what else! I told him everything that had happened in the lunch cube.
“pretty scary, yeah!”
but hey it happens, now look there, at your back. I see a man jump from that big building, nearly everyday. I have sometimes gone there to try to talk with him. but you know how it is. They can’t hear us. I mean he is like my milkman. never misses. and the day I don’t see him jump. I feel like, my day is incomplete. Forget it, write about it and then forget it.
you are one big no help!, i said sarcastically to Jack.
hey but I give you free burgers?, yeah! and they are good too.
now that is flattery. but even that won’t get you a free second, tin man.
“it was about six pm, when mic called me in his office. you know I hate pastries from johnny bake point. you know why, because johnny doesn’t care about his clients, he talks too loud and his cakes are always half baked and he is always late in doing his order. This is a johnny cake.
which part.
-Which part, he started staring right through me, where are facts, where is reality, who is going to read it?
what’s wrong with it.
-even my boy can tell, Tim. A table that falls, breaks, it shatters and if a rich man is sitting on a table, it goes up, it doesn’t go down. it falls from top to the equator. not from the equator to the bottom. This story is silly.
-Are you going to put it up?
this week no. this form not a chance.
-Fine Mic! but you will forget me for this week.
I made my heavy feet out as fast as I could. I was angry but not furious. Mic was correct even I had noticed those discrepancies. But I knew what i saw.
I stamped out of the office, saying, -”Fine I will edit and return it tomorrow. “
“Tomorrow would be too late!”, Mic shouted from behind.
“Today? Fine but it will charge you extra. Now what’s that name again?”
-”Timothy Johnson. He works for the Cube Entire”..
cont..
“If there is one thing that I hate more then a bad coffee is to read a scrap story from one of my own, pay rolled writers”.
Tim why can’t any of your stories have an happy ending?
It’s a ghost story Mic. Ghosts don’t have an happy ending.
Off course they can. send them to heaven or a vacation or let them find love.
Mic, ghosts don’t take vacations. you and I do?
“If you kept on talking like this, you may earn one. Write me a story with happy ending. End of meeting.
This kind of talk is an every day talk, specially if you are working with Mic. He’s got lot of pressure, I guess.
But him giving me one was not welcome at all.
“Happy ending, what does he know?”
“what do you understand by an happy ending?” This thin skinny man, walking in front, plain shirt tugged out. probably a man from small town, knew about happy ending. I tugged him on his shoulder. What I got was a familiar look of terror on his face.
It wasn’t before long that he sped his way ahead. Hey! Before I could say another word. I realized he had taken to air, a projectile headed towards right hand side of the road. It took another half a minute before the walk light went green. Silently, I made my way to where that man should have landed. There he was, I was right he wasn’t young, probably middle aged, bald in front, a nose had an odd curvature. well not as odd as shapes his limbs did.
It was horrifying. Had I experienced this accident ten years back, I would surely have vomited. I checked his dress, an expensive fabric, three piece suit. I was sure there was a gun somewhere under the coat. I waited for another five minutes, hoping some body will come to the scene. meanwhile I took as much notes as I could without looking too stupid. then decided to move on.
Story or no story, I was hungry. ten minutes had already passed. I had another thirty five to return to office.The lunch cube was still a few buildings away. I always admired the way the building was designed. The grandness that existed inside was never evident at the door. you would just walk next to it and think just another food joint. but when you went in, the hundreds of people in queue was over whelming, and a same no may be inside on the dinning side.
I have my prints at the gate and look the line computer suggested me. It displayed the letter F. I wanted to crush the screen. but moved on. There are instructions displayed at each junction, helpers at each food wall. but we regulars rarely talk with them. What interests us most is the structure, the people, the interactions going around. Once served, the lanes take us to the Jupiter box.
A huge globe of tables. it is the most intriguing part of our daily meal. The randomness of the tables in front was always overwhelming. people occupying small cells distributed everywhere, in every possible dimension. The people above the equator were always the richer folks.
Mob men, prostitutes, bankers, politicians. Their place in the social structure had been virtually written in the DNA of the system. while down below our feet, was the hive over crowded by people like us. while we could see the boundaries of the globe above. Looking down only made you sick. There were only & only people there. Not very soon but finally I spotted a table for me. With only one person in front, it was an easy catch.
“hey wait!” I shouted and rushed to the table.
Though looking at the man in front, I gulped for once. Here was this man, dressed as if ultra rich. If he wanted he could reject me the seat but I had to take chances. I sat down and entered my ID and gave my thumb impression. Without hearing a word from him.
The table takes a few seconds before it decides based on our data which would be the suitable position for me. It depended on my data and that of the other person in front. I was sure, I would be traveling really up high today. I never been too high in the cadre. except for a few times I came with mic. My table always slides down.
The word lightening, I had read it several times. seen it too. it is kind of a rupture in the sky. that exists for less then a blink of an eye. you never want to travel that fast. because well you just cant. But I guess, i was riding lightening that day.
I had this sensation that my skin was tearing away from me, my clothes would shred to pieces. Except for the horror of the moment there was nothing left in me.
It was a moment of lightening. the next moment I remember, the man in front was all over the table. I did not have the strength to scream, I was searching for my heart beat, I was cold and I was sweating too. I felt my heart beat a moment later. a second later I heard a push from another man, hey wake up, sleep head. give some space. hey! he shook me pretty hard.
By the time I had adjusted my eyes. I realized I was still at the equator line. but my heart beat did not return, a hand smacked me at the back and I puked over my lunch box.
“Gosh! you OK man”.
can you take me to the exit corner, May be I need to see the doctor.
Yeah! sure, man, sure. I took his shoulders and he walked me to the medic.
by the time, my senses returned I was still sitting in the medic’s room. I checked my watch, it was 1:40. I got to go.
The medic gave a smile “take lot’s of water for next few hours”
My stomach was grumbling hard. Instead of the return path to globe’s office. I took a detour to Jack’s joint.
Jack Sterns, a 5 feet large rhino shouldered, jolly man, now in his forties was the only person, I tried terming as a friend. We shared a past. and we shared our horror too. Unlike me our cursed did not direct his life. He stuck with what he adored most in his life, food.
Hey Tin man, you look exhausted. jumped off a train or something?
No, just bad dreams.
He studied my face, with a serious look, something that was very rare of him. I know, what you need, you need a big Jack’o'burger and a cup of coffee.
He shouted out loud, get this men some Jack style life please and bring me a glass of pumpkin juice.
The quiet was a few minutes long. did not break until I had a few bites.
‘what happened today’
what else! I told him everything that had happened in the lunch cube.
“pretty scary, yeah!”
but hey it happens, now look there, at your back. I see a man jump from that big building, nearly everyday. I have sometimes gone there to try to talk with him. but you know how it is. They can’t hear us. I mean he is like my milkman. never misses. and the day I don’t see him jump. I feel like, my day is incomplete. Forget it, write about it and then forget it.
you are one big no help!, i said sarcastically to Jack.
hey but I give you free burgers?, yeah! and they are good too.
now that is flattery. but even that won’t get you a free second, tin man.
“it was about six pm, when mic called me in his office. you know I hate pastries from johnny bake point. you know why, because johnny doesn’t care about his clients, he talks too loud and his cakes are always half baked and he is always late in doing his order. This is a johnny cake.
which part.
-Which part, he started staring right through me, where are facts, where is reality, who is going to read it?
what’s wrong with it.
-even my boy can tell, Tim. A table that falls, breaks, it shatters and if a rich man is sitting on a table, it goes up, it doesn’t go down. it falls from top to the equator. not from the equator to the bottom. This story is silly.
-Are you going to put it up?
this week no. this form not a chance.
-Fine Mic! but you will forget me for this week.
I made my heavy feet out as fast as I could. I was angry but not furious. Mic was correct even I had noticed those discrepancies. But I knew what i saw.
I stamped out of the office, saying, -”Fine I will edit and return it tomorrow. “
“Tomorrow would be too late!”, Mic shouted from behind.
“Today? Fine but it will charge you extra. Now what’s that name again?”
-”Timothy Johnson. He works for the Cube Entire”..
cont..
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