Author: Alexander Fawn

They often saw each other, at a distance.

Today was different, because today they were only a metre or so apart. There was only a small unoccupied table between them in the café. Most times it would be a case of turning a corner and catching a glimpse of the other on the opposite side of the street, or going past on a bus, or travelling on a nearby escalator. He was usually the first one to see the other. It had been going on for a long time. He wasn’t sure just how long because the whole thinking-back thing became hazy every time he tried to remember when it had started.

For her, her face lit up whenever she spotted him. Bystanders may even have followed her gaze. Little did anyone know what went through her mind on these occasions. They just wouldn’t know that she was cursed with the creepy feeling that she was the only one who could see him!

As for him, nobody would suspect that the whole thing was made worse by the fact that he was cursed with the creepy feeling that he was the only one who could see her!

The artist was there for the gallery’s first day of displaying his work.

His main piece, a large abstract painting, dominated the room that had been given over to his work. As he entered, he immediately saw that this huge canvas had been hung upside down. He immediately checked to ensure that his several other pieces of artwork were all in order. It was only the larger canvas that was wrong. A sense of panic gripped him, knowing that to rehang it would take time and he knew that the doors were about to open. The repositioning would definitely create an unwanted disturbance. He had seen the small crowd of art lovers at the front of the building when he arrived making his way to the side entrance.

He was weighing things up in his head when he heard the first visitors making their way through. He moved away and began looking at other works, in order to mingle with the crowd. His intention being to listen in on any comments made by the viewers.

After only a few minutes, a small group had gathered around the large work. The artist found it gratifying to hear that it drew a lot of attention and remarks that indicated that it aroused real interest, despite its high price tag.

One woman said, “It says so much about the state of things, don’t you think?”

Her friend nodded.

A man turned to his partner and said, “You know, there is a wonderful sense of completeness in this work.”

Another remarked on the clever choice of colours, and yet another felt that it certainly spurred the imagination. These observations continued for some time, giving the artist reason to step aside and think.

It was about being true to himself as an artist, thus maintaining his personal professional integrity, while knowing that the sale of this one piece alone would enable him to do nothing but paint for the rest of the year!

As he reflected on the situation he realised that it all came down to a simple matter of basic morality. It would be a case of maintaining a standard of virtuous conduct by righting the painting and maintaining his self-respect as an artist or leaving it alone and taking the money.

He would really have to think about it…

Growing up, he was certainly a polite child; no harm in that, you might say.

At that time no one could imagine where this would lead. Early stages of the problem showed up during his latter school years. If a fellow schoolmate was rude or unkind to him in any way, he would thank them. Whereas the occasional teacher would witness such an event, nothing was done about it. So, it went on. Moving in to young adulthood saw the thing become more noticeable. Nobody found his appropriate politeness of thanking a bus driver as he got off or a waitress who brought him his coffee in any way remarkable, but on those infrequent occasions when somebody was just plain rude to him, eyebrows began to raise. It seemed that whenever he was slighted in any way, he always had a “many thanks”, or a “thank you so much”, or “thank you kindly”, ready to roll off his tongue.

All of this came to a head when confronted by a group of particularly nasty troublemakers when they cornered him one evening in an unlit backstreet alley. It started with jibes about what he was doing there and how this was their territory. This was naturally followed by him explaining that he thought it would be a good short cut to the bus stop and thanked them all for asking. Not seeing this as any kind of appreciation of their interest or consideration for his well-being, the five hooligans set about beating him up. Of course, with every blow he received, he managed to catch his breath and thank them. Needless to say that these expressions of gratitude, being continually offered in such an unrelenting manner, only served to bring out whatever dormant levels of psychopathy had previously not had a proper opportunity to come to the fore.

The result of this unfortunate encounter was that, after realising what they had done in their rage, they all ran off leaving him to die. And die he did.

Moments later, he found himself in a completely different place. Being that it was far more comfortable than the dark, cold, blood-soaked ground where he had been, he was content to stand patiently waiting his turn.

When his time came, the lovely, old gentleman before him took his time reading from the book of records. He eventually looked up with a gracious smile.

“Well, yours is an interesting case, I must say. Generally you have lived a good life, but at the same time you seem to have upset a great many people.” He nodded slowly, and went on. “Anyway, we’ve decided to let you in.”

The young man’s response goes without saying.

So, it won’t be said.

You could say he was alphabetically challenged.

He began typing, as follows.

The man sat in the car in his driveway for a while, just thinking. He’d drunk too much, that was for sure. He was lucky to get home without being pulled over. He sat looking at the house across the street, wondering how things had come to this. He was so tired. Another burp. Simply burping made him tired. If he lied to those people over there it would get him off the hook, but he’d lose money. He knew there was bad feeling between them all, but most of it was racial tension, and that had done nothing to help the situation.

Then it happened, the fettered writer deleted the entire paragraph and slipped into the ‘ABC’ mode, and started over…

Another belch caused dreadful exhaustion. Financial gain had inhibited just knowingly lying. Mistrusting neighbours opposite; poor quality respect starting tension. Useless vexation was xenophobia, yielding zilch.

“That’s better,” he whispered.

She had spent a lifetime being told to be careful about how she dressed.

It was true that her complexion was particularly pale, only one shade above white, it was that, and the fact that she had always had a great shock of red hair, which she liked to grow long. Most of the advice she received, since childhood, had been about what colours she could simply never wear. She’d been constantly told that green was completely out, quoting the adage that red and green should not be seen. However, whenever she put something green on and stared at herself in her bedroom mirror, she positively loved the effect it had. She found the contrast exhilarating. So, over the years she had perfected the art of deliberately contrasting colours that made her perfectly comfortable with looking intentionally startling.

The results of this choice of allowing her personal pleasure in her bizarre apparel to outweigh any form of consideration for the feelings of others was twofold. It limited the number of friends that were willing to be seen in her company and it kept her relationships with men to an absolute minimum. That was the case until the man from the newspaper who created their daily crosswords met her on the bus. They hit it off straight away and began dating regularly. It was obvious to each of them that they had found the loves of their lives.

He was colour-blind.

The bold signage identified it as the Quiet Corner of the library.

More than a dozen library users, mainly students, were taking advantage of the spot. It was located as far away from the entrance and the front desk as possible. There was a reasonable hush throughout the library, but far more so in this special corner. Heads were bowed over books, laptops and papers. Nobody knew that the thing was among them. But it was there. It was present. Only one woman, reading intently, had any suspicion. This was only the merest inkling of something biding its time. It had been lying in wait for some time and seemed to be content with not showing itself before it was ready.

For the woman, the distraction of becoming aware that something was coming was put aside, giving preference to the content of the book she was reading and the extent of her written notes. However, this was never going to last. She quickly looked around, unhappily considering the fact that none of them had any idea it was coming.

When she finally sneezed, everybody knew!

The man in the expensive suit entered the book shop; one of the best in the city.

Having just left the office for the day he was keen to spend time perusing its shelves for what he wanted. He was an Interior Designer and he was looking for something in particular. There were so many books to choose from, but this only served to make his search especially hard. Nevertheless, after studying book spines for several minutes he found just what he was looking for. It had a burgundy leather cover with the title embossed with a gold script. It was exactly what he was looking for and was happy to buy it, despite it being so expensive.

The book was very pleased that someone as important looking as this young man had bought him.

Back at his apartment he stood looking at his ceiling-high bookcase for a while before moving items around. Then, after carefully unwrapping his newfound treasure, he pushed it gently into the slot he had created. He stood for a long time admiring what he saw.

Later that evening, just before going to bed, he returned to his study to look once again at his latest addition. With a satisfied smile, he switched off the light and closed the door.

After a few minutes, a low murmuring went around the darkened room. The newly purchased book muttered, “Well. I must say, I’m most disappointed.”

The book of wise sayings that stood next to him, said, “You seem surprised.”

“Of course, I am. I can’t understand it; my subject is so interesting. I mean, he didn’t even open me up; just made a space and pushed me up here next to you!”

The other scoffed. “Well, it’s like I said, you seem surprised.”

“Surprised?” said the newcomer, in an angry tone, “I’m completely flabbergasted!”

At this point, a flurry of giggling suddenly echoed along the shelves.

Her folks had been separated for well over a year.

If nothing else, it was amicable. She would go between the two of them. Two weeks with mum at their original house; two weeks with dad in his flat. It had all been arranged that way at the time of the divorce. Her school sat somewhere between the two homes. The short walk to school was much the same from either home. She had her own bedroom in each. Being in her early teens meant that she understood what was going on. Seeing that her parents were perfectly happy with the way things turned out made it easy for her to settle into a new routine. Within no time she found that being shared came naturally.

It was one of those times when they all got together for an evening. She looked forward to those occasions because for that short time they were a family again. She loved them both and she found these simple outings reassuring. This time they all met up at the local pizza place. They sat with their drinks for a while before ordering. It was then that her father brought the subject up, and she could see by her mother’s smile and occasional nods that they’d already talked about their proposal. He said that although they were happy with the current arrangement they felt that they should at least offer her the idea that she now just live with one of them. This, they both made clear, would be entirely dependent on her choice.

A little surprised at the idea, she being level-headed beyond her years, suggested she think about it for a few minutes. They both agreed that she could take weeks or months even, to think it over, there was no hurry. They only wanted what was best for her. She pointed out that a few minutes was all she needed. That being settled, they picked up the menus and began discussing options.

Her father always went for the spicy stuff with pepperoni his favourite. Her mother didn’t like the hot topping and regularly chose pineapple.

Having chosen their pizzas, they asked what she would like.

“I’ve thought about it very carefully,” she said with a smile, “I’m going for a pepperoni and pineapple topping.”

The junior officer was in the building on his own, working overtime.

It was a regular practice. He didn’t mind doing it and the pay was good. The place was a secure facility for the storage of police evidence. It was getting late and the young man was tidying his desk when he heard the buzzer sound at the front door. This surprised him. Normally, when it was closed after hours, the building remained shut and fully secure. He walked through and checked the image on the screen on the wall. It showed a man in a police uniform waving up at the camera. He was opening the door slowly to get a better look at the visitor when it burst in almost knocking him over. The intruder pulled a flick-knife and snapped it open. He waved it around and gestured for the officer to lead the way back down the hall.

As they went, the intruder said, “You won’t get hurt, if you cooperate. Just take me to the evidence room.” The officer did as he was told and they both came to the door. It was protected with a keypad set into the wall. It had the usual grid of numbers and characters.

“It’s locked,” said the officer.

The man sneered. “Of course it’s locked. Now, I need you to open it.”

“I can’t. It needs a combination.”

The man took hold of him, bringing the knife up under his chin.

“Before you tell me that you don’t know the combination, I’ll explain something. I’m here to collect one small item from this room. It could be months before it’s needed. It could be months before it’s missed. When it is, it could be put down to human error. So, you see, do as you’re told and tonight never happened?”

He moved the blade to between the other’s shoulder blades.

“Now, like I said, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will, if that’s what it takes to get this door open. I we clear on this?”

The officer nodded and spoke for the first time. “OK. I need to think. There are ten numbers, and I have to get them right.”

“Go ahead and take your time.”

Slowly the keys were pressed, one at a time, finishing with a hash. A small red light began flashing along with a series of sharp beeps.

The intruder, realising that a duress code had been entered, said, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

The officer turned to face the man. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you take evidence while I’m on my watch. You have around ten minutes before police arrive. I suggest you get going.”

The man shook his head. “I’ve been sent here to do a job and I intend to do it. I know about these systems. In less than three minutes I need to persuade you to key in the retraction code to cancel the alarm.

“I can’t do that. I wouldn’t know how.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The man pulled a hand gun from the back of his waist band, and repeated, “Are you sure?”

“OK. Yes, I can do it! I can do it. It’s a number and a phrase I have to use. They’re on my phone.”

“Get on with it, then.”

He took out his phone and entered the numbers carefully. He stood, listening. When a voice came on he brought up the wording on his screen and said, “This is 128 Principal Avenue, sweet and sour pork for one, please. Thanks.” He clicked off and looked up at the blinking light.

The other watched it too. “OK. You’d better hope that it worked. How long does it take to cancel?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’ve never done any of this before.”

They both stood watching the light and hearing the beeps for several long minutes. The man with the gun grew more and more agitated. Finally, the door buzzer sounded and the man jumped.

“It’s OK,” said the officer. “That’ll be my girlfriend, she’s come to pick me up. I’ll get rid of her. I’ll say that I have more to do and I’ll get a taxi.”

The intruder said, “Make sure you do. Remember, I’ve got a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“OK. I won’t risk getting her hurt. Just stay out of sight and I’ll handle it.”

The officer made his way to the door, checking the screen as he went. He quickly set the keypad to lock the door from the inside before opening it.

He greeted the delivery boy with a smile as he closed the door behind him.

“Just in time,” he said, as he took the bag. “On my tab, OK?”

“No problem,” said the other and climbed back onto his scooter and gave a wave.

He watched the delivery guy shoot off on his scooter, then turned to look back at the door. Considering the fact that the building had no duress code system in place, and knowing that the red light over the security door only flashes as a warning when someone enters a wrong number and can be cancelled by simply pressing the asterisk key, and knowing that he had only read about code phrases that would allow the duress alarm to be cancelled, considering all this, along with the fact that because he was a regular customer and a good tipper, he knew how quickly the guy on his scooter always delivered, he felt that he had done rather well.

Predicting that the events of the evening would be good for his future in the police force, he walked across to his car and got in. He sat in the passenger’s seat with his Chinese meal on his lap. He phoned the police station and had an urgent call put through to the police chief. After explaining that he had a criminal locked up in the building, he rang off and checked the time.

He had just enough time to eat before the cavalry arrived.

The virus that the woman had wasn’t properly understood.

Professional opinions had differed about that. The tests didn’t seem to be helping. It was getting her down. All that could be said with certainty was that it was new. It had not been seen before, and because it had been in her system, undetected for some time, the thing was changing. It was mutating. It was travelling to different parts. This transformation seemed to allow it to modify itself to some degree. This would worry those who studied it because it was not something any of the experts had so far encountered. Over a period it seemed to take on the ability to communicate with its surroundings. That way it could adapt to any changing conditions. It became unstoppable.

Finally, she came to the conclusion that her pc’s antivirus software was just not up to the job of protecting her personal computer.

She would have to bite the bullet and buy new software.