The Wired Man

5

Personal Entry: The Wired Man

The rest of the day had crawled by without much incident. Carissa had messaged me to meet her at The Maroon, a swanky throwback restaurant downtown, and after three meetings, four hours of bug fixing, and the all the crap that goes along with massive layoffs, I was looking forward to it. The last score jump, I was rewarded with a sleek black dress and thin-strapped high heels. Her long, smooth legs poked out the bottom and the neckline plunged enough to delay my gaze on the way up her body. The skintight fit, the way her hips swayed as she walked, the almost effortless way she held the little purse on her shoulder. I felt an excited shiver of anticipation work its way down my midsection and had to crack my neck to refocus.

Once the clock read five, I began packing up for the day and was about to disengage from the work server when I received a system alert in my communication log.

Your social score has been temporarily suspended due to an investigation. Your score will be frozen at 900 until further notice.

The Social Protection Agency

What? I stopped breathing and my muscles locked. I read it again. Your score will be frozen at 900 until further notice.

After a few blank seconds, I sank back into my seat. There had to be a mistake, I wasn't part of any investigation. I started to feel lightheaded and my lungs scrambled for air. I brought up my news feed to see if I could find any information on what the hell was going on.

The body of a woman in her mid-30s was recovered from the bay late last night. A group of local college students reported the body after a late-night party. She died from an apparent gunshot wound to the temple. Investigators believe the woman to be Shawna Stills, the wife of Terrence Stills, Senior Marketing Director for fresh fruit giant, Indin Industries. Mr. Stills was detained at his home at 1:15 AM this morning. Indin could not be reached for comment.

My brother... a murderer?

I scanned the article again.

"What did you do Terry?" I whispered.

The feed had recorded it at 9:15 AM, fifteen minutes after I got to work. I had gone all day without realizing a thing.

I bolted through the office and into the men's bathroom, locked myself in the back stall, and sat down on the toilet. This couldn't be happening. My leg bounced, and I gripped my temples. Sunspots invaded my vision.

"What the fuck?"

I got up and paced in the stall. The tendons under my sternum made a popping noise as I tried to inhale. Anxiety burrowed its way down into my stomach, and I hunched over. Nausea set in and saliva filled my mouth. I swiveled toward the toilet, and, right before I was about to throw up, my forearm buzzed with an incoming link. Carissa.

"Hey, honey," I said.

"Don't try that boyfriend crap on me," she said. "I damn near lost my job today. I got a call from the owner, and he told me that I was three points below the line. The reason he didn't fire me on the spot is because I promised him I'd get them by tomorrow."

I knew exactly how she would get those points. Breakups weren't like normal interactions. The moment she cut the cord, she would have at least half the points she lost back and by the end of the month she would be back to where she was. She had no choice.

"I don't know what happened," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Great. Just great. Do you know how long it will take me to climb out of this?"

"You act like I did it on purpose."

"It doesn't matter."

"I can fix this."

She gripped the tiny cross on the necklace she was wearing. "I can't afford to take that chance."

A strange heat filled my chest and I started to spout out anything I could think of. "A couple of days. Yeah, give me a couple of days. I can- I can fix this. I can fix-."

Carissa's eyes welled up and she dropped the crucifix to breastbone. "I'm sorry."

The feed went dark. I kneed the toilet paper holder, knocking the roll onto the floor. There was no way to fix this, and there was no way I would ever see Carissa again. I snatched up the roll and ripped off a long strip. With one last act of terror, I turned around and planted my fist straight into the stall door. My knuckles crunched under the full weight of my body, and searing pain shot up my arm. My entire life wasted in a single day.

Somewhere among the subsequent teardrops and panic attacks, security had slipped into the bathroom. A knock on the front stall door, accompanied by two pairs of black military boots, was enough to bring me crashing back to reality. "Sir, please step out of the stall."

I ignored them and continued to cry. Why me? All I was left with was bloody knuckles and sore tear ducts. My job, my girlfriend, and all my friends... gone.

The security guard knocked again on the door. "Sir, we're not going to ask you again."

I opened the stall door and sat back down.

"You are to accompany us to the vice president's office."

"Screw you."

One of the guards leaned in and latched onto my forearm. They had put up with enough crap from all the other whiners today, so there wasn't going to be any sympathy here. The guard pulled me to my feet and pushed me out the bathroom door.

Blood flowed from my knuckles onto the office carpet, leaving a breadcrumb trail behind me as I was guided to the vice president's office. Each drop marked another step towards the pathetic existence that awaited me.

Eventually we came to a large glass door, and the same asshole who pulled me out of the stall gave me another push.

"Would you knock it off?"

"Just get in the damn room."

I put my hand on the stainless steel handle. It was cold and dead. Just like me.

I pulled open the door and felt a rush of air spill out. The room was dark, with various cheap motivational pictures hanging from the walls. A picture of a generic mountain climbing scene with the word Dedication in bold underneath, an action shot of someone on a boat with the word Perseverance. I always hated those posters; they made it seem like anything was possible when in reality nothing was, at least not anymore. There was a glass desk in front of me, and a man rambled on to other unknown parties across a conference call link. I took a small step forward toward the large leather chair nearby, and without ending his current conversation, he disconnected and turned his attention toward me. He pointed to the chair.

"Sir-"

"Have a seat."

I sat down and tried to discreetly wipe the tears from my eyes.

"Judging by your appearance you know why you're here, so I'll cut right to the chase. Due to your score suspension, you're a liability. We realize that it may be temporary, but..."

I hunched forward and tried to talk, but he put his hand up and continued. "You could've done great things and I understand it's not your fault, but the company cannot take that risk. We already lost .1 in the ratings and it will get worse the longer you're here. You were good; that's why we're not going to terminate you as of yet, but you will be placed on indefinite suspension pending the outcome of your brother's trial."

This couldn't be happening.

The man behind the desk waved to the security personnel waiting outside, and I felt a strong grip on the back of my arm.

"I'm sorry," the man said.