When Desperation Meets Opportunity Chapter 9 — A #NaNoWriMo 2015 Story
By: Josh Gauthier
Tags: Fiction, NaNoWriMo, Short Story

Chapter 9 — Jim

Already lunch on Wednesday, and I can’t stop looking over my shoulder. Whether it is the fact that I illegally manipulated our accounting software, or that I’m hiding something that Mr. Man clearly didn’t want anyone to see, I haven’t felt safe yet this week. Sleep has been impossible the past two nights. The list of little mistakes and transposition errors has been slowly piling up this week. If I’m not careful, I may be attracting unwanted attention. I somehow have to focus.

The day to day is simply having trouble holding my attention. My brain has never been so overloaded in my life. The past two nights spent trying to piece together the information I was able to download. Questions floating through my mind. Did I execute the command correctly? Is it even the right data? How do I know he didn’t see me do it? Actually, that makes me think. If he hasn’t contacted me about that yet, it means he doesn’t know that I have the archived files from the database. If he doesn’t know that, that means he isn’t so much watching me as listening in to me. But where could he be doing that? Is my apartment bugged?

Then, it occurred to me. He knew that I spoke to Carl on the way to the park on Friday. Carl might have been in on it, some how. I still haven’t seen him. In addition, Mr. Man must have somebody in the city, at least one person, doing his bidding. After all, the money I had earned was waiting back at my apartment right after I had finished dinner with Carl. Considering all of what I know has happened so far, I can only think of one way that he’d be listening in to everything I’ve said — my phone.

I’m not sure how, and I’m not sure why, but Mr. Man must have hacked my phone in some way to keep the microphone always on. He’s always listening. That realization, even if I had somehow known he was observing me all along, makes my hair stand on end. My pocket is on fire. Every fiber of my being wants me to take the phone and chuck it right in the trash compactor.

So, I now have a second problem to solve. Knowing this information should allow me to strategically place my phone in different places so I can have private conversations. I don’t want to dump my phone, otherwise that would lead to what I’m sure would be some pretty bad consequences. My hands are mostly tied until I can learn more about who he is. Not to mention the fact that I really really like the money.

After I finished work on Monday, I returned to my apartment to see another envelope, this time with the promised fifty thousand dollars inside of it. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the money. The moral, good-boy side of me is fighting it, but to have made sixty thousand dollars in less than a week is incredible. I just hope I can survive all of this to enjoy it.

All of this thoughts have my head buzzing. It would be impossible to concentrate on my work at this point. I have to get out of here and take the rest of the day off. I need to try and sleep and think.

Nick is in his office on the far end of our floor, so I stand up and make my way down there. He is currently on the phone, and it doesn’t sound good.

“Yes, I get that. But you said you’d give us the quarter.”

“That is hardly solace for my workers.”

“You do what you need to do. If you want the gone, you come down here and tell them yourself!”

I try and stay hidden around the other side of the wall as I listen to this one side of the conversation. It would appear that my worst fears about this job are coming true. The end could be near for all of us here. Today, however, I would consider my other issues a bit larger. I need to get out of here.

Listening closely, it sounds like the conversation is over. Nick appears to make some heavy sighs, and then I hear a loud thump as his forehead connects with the desk. His devastation is obvious. For a moment, I consider walking back to my desk. But, if things are truly over soon, then really, what is the point?

I spin around and knock on his door. He picks his head up, fixes his short but carefully styled hair, and motions me in. He is trying to conjure up a smile.

“What can I do you for, Jim?”

“I’m going to level with you Nick. I’ve been having a tough week. Not sure if it is stress, or maybe some illness I don’t know about, but I haven’t slept since Sunday nght. I just have to get out of here, man. I can’t stop making stupid little mistakes. Focus is all but impossible. Is it okay if I just take the rest of the day to try and recover?”

I can tell he is thinking of what to say. It could be something about it not being a big deal because we’ll all be unemployed soon anyway. Or, he could feel his hands are tied and needs me to stay on because we are imminently done. After a few seconds, he speaks.

“WeIll, Jim, you know how important health and personal wellness is around here. Please, take the rest of the day. You’ve seemed really stressed, and I’d hate for that to continue affecting your work. We need you to be sharp, especially now. Corporate is already seeing some really bad signs from us already, and we’ve only begun the quarter. We can’t afford to let mistakes make the picture seem worse than it is.”

“I completely understand. Thank you, Nick.”

He reveals a small smile. “No problem. Rest up, and we’ll see you back here tomorrow.”

With that, I head back to my desk, pack up my things, and head out of the office and down to the street below. As has been customary since Friday, I do a quick check at street level to see if Carl is around. Still no sign of him. I’m genuinely worried that he could be hurt, or worse. Maybe Mr. Man took him out. Or, in the craziest of all possible scenarios, he wasn’t even a homeless guy, just some kind of plant by Mr. Man to see if I’d follow his instructions.

I begin my walk down Monroe towards Wabash when I notice my phone buzzing. For a moment, I panic, because the last thing I want to do is carry out another task right now. Fortunately for me, the phone call is not from him. Weirdly enough, it is from Jake at work. I debate whether or not I want to talk with anyone for a while, but then decide to answer.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

His voice scares me. “I know what you did man. You need to tell me what’s going on or I’m talking to Nick.” I’m hoping this is some kind of joke.

“Haha. Very funny Jake. Have to be honest though. I have no idea what you are talking about.” My tone hardly convinces myself I’m innocent of anything.

“Cut it Jim. We need to talk. I tried to stop by and talk to you person to person, but you had already left. You better come straight with me, or I’m going to Nick about this.” Crap. He must have been suspicious after running into me on Friday, and somehow monitored my activity. This isn’t good. The last thing I needed in all of this was a loose end. If Jake truly knows what I did, then my only option is to try and convince him to be on my side about this.

“Alright. I think this is all just a big misunderstanding, but if you come over tonight, around six or seven, after I’ve had some time to rest up, we can talk.”

“I’ll be there. I sure hope you have a good explanation. You are a good friend Jim, and I’d had to lose my faith in you over this.”

To think that my actions and my involvement in this weird game would go completely unnoticed was naive of me. As I had up Wabash Street, I try and clear my head and come up with a game plan. Knowing what I know now, maybe this isn’t a bad thing. Maybe having Jake in the fold is just what I need to figure out the mystery behind Mr. Man.