The Wired Man

3

Personal Entry: The Wired Man

Knowing that my neighbor would soon be back soon to pack up his stuff, I decided to brave it to the break room to try and avoid confrontation. Aggression in most of its forms led to point drops, like we were dogs to be trained. No biting, no fighting, and above all, no upsetting the normalcy everyone seemed to value so highly.

I had made it almost to the break room when I saw one of the black-clad security guards pop around the corner directly in front of me. He had contempt in his eyes, probably from all the crying babies he had been ordered to usher out the building today, and I could tell that if I got anywhere near him it was going to lead straight to the interrogation line. I picked up my pace and managed to duck inside the break room in time to avoid him. He broke off and continued on his rounds. Guards were zealous but not to the point of detaining a potentially innocent person in front of others in an already volatile situation.

The place was barren except for a coworker of mine who was filling a mug with water. I smiled and opened the cabinet above the sink to grab a snack from the bin of granola bars the company kept stocked there.

"It's a shame," he said.

"What's that?"

"There's going to be a lot of broken families tonight."

I twirled my finger in the air and laughed. My co-worker stepped back, his face twisted with confusion. "You don't feel the least bit sorry for these people?"

"The best find a way to keep above water; the rest sink."

"You probably don't even know half their names." His tone was indignant, as if I had done society some injustice by not socializing with these people.

"Don't have to. They have no one to blame but themselves. Why should I care what their names are?"

The man limply threw his hand at me and walked out. He was spooked, but I would be, too, if I knew someday that was going to be me.

I made my way back to my desk, and, as I approached, I heard the sound of items being stuffed into a cardboard box. Immediately I knew what was going on and felt satisfaction. My cube neighbor had finally made it to the front of the line and was on his way out the door. Sure enough, when I came within view of my workstation, there were two large security guards posted next door. I feigned an incoming link to avoid having to make any contact and ducked in.

When I passed by, the sounds stopped. I smirked and pretended to respond to the imaginary person on the other end of my call. The packing continued.

"I'll be lucky if I can convince my wife to stay, let alone find an open spot in the Lowers," he said.

I couldn't tell if he was talking to himself or trying to prompt a response from me, but I knew anything I said would probably be accompanied by a negative score hit, so I kept my mouth shut and hooked into my computer.

He started smashing things into the box. "You think you are so smart, don't you?"

The loud bangs continued until I assume he ran out of stuff.

He laughed. "Nobody, not a single person," he said. "All I wanted was to be able to do my damn job. Now look at me, my wife already thinks I'm worthless."

I could hear him choke up and smack what I hoped was his forehead on the wall.

"My relatives avoid me, my friends are nonexistent, and for what? Some stupid number."

Yes, some stupid number that reflects every mistake and poor decision you ever made. Some stupid number that signals to the world what a monumental screw up you are. I wanted to tell him that it was his own damn fault, and that he brought it all on himself, but the risk outweighed the reward. He wasn't worth it anyway and listening to his swan song was satisfying enough.