Alex's paces swallowed the darkening street, yard after yard. He still didn't know why he'd left the reception, but the urgency inside him was undeniable. He just had to think, and a long walk was the best way to do it.
Strange feelings were still clutching at him, a dream-like sense that something was off in how his friends were acting, an inexplicable uncertainty about Ari, and behind it all, the vast looming sense of space.
What do you do when you can do anything you want? he wondered. Crazy images flicked through his mind. He saw himself traveling the world, wandering through Rome, the Australian outback, the Himalayas, Tokyo, surrounded by new sights and foreign people. Or becoming a hobo, riding the rails, seeing small-town America, working as a day-laborer or living on the kindness of strangers. Or he could write a book. As the idea occurred to him, his mind automatically went into the calculations. With nothing else to do, say a couple thousand words a day, he could write a whole book in months, maybe less.
A patch of white caught his eye, and he realized it was one of Zen's ninja fliers on a telephone pole. He smiled.
Maybe that was the key. Stop over-thinking it and just do whatever silly thing popped into his head. Admittedly, silly things didn't pop into his head they way they seemed to with Zen.
A sudden longing grew in him for familiar routines. Even CafeNow had had a certain habitual security to it, despite all the long hours and obnoxious management. Thinking back, he realized that a part of him had actually enjoyed the early mornings of systematically preparing the store, the days spent developing his team into excellent workers, the constant challenge to give customers the best experience possible.
Glancing at another one of Zen's signs as it passed by, Alex reminded himself forcefully of why he'd quit. He didn't want that life, not forever. It was one thing to be a grunt manager for a couple years after college, but it would be a pretty soul-sucking career.
Or would it? After all, it was something he was good at, apparently something a part of him enjoyed. And the sudden freedom of his quirky new life wasn't exactly making everything calm and easy. Maybe the answer was to develop the part of him that had enjoyed his real job. Who says you can't find middle management fulfilling? he asked himself. Maybe in trying to escape the establishment he'd just succumbed to a much deeper, subtler propaganda.
He passed another sign, this time one of the unicorn-and-shark variety. Zen had certainly been thorough. Looking around, he started to see little flutters of white all around him in the chilly dusk. Every telephone pole, some shop windows, even the occasional fire hydrant. Alex's eyes widened. And he'd thought Zen didn't know anything about marketing. This was a block from the St. Karl campus. If Zen had hit the campus even half as thoroughly as this, it was sure to start some kind of buzz. It remained to be seen if anyone would actually come, but at least everyone would know about it.
Looking closer, he realized someone had scribbled onto one of the stickman signs. After the "PS—There will be cookies! Lots of cookies!" it now read "And free beer!"
An electric jolt shot through Alex.
He ran to the next telephone pole. It had a ninja flier: "Good try but he is at our house eating cookies. And beer. And flirting with hot chicks." Nearby one of the unicorn-and-shark fliers read, "Differences will be resolved. Cookies Free beer! will be consumed. Good times will be had by all." Another had been more creatively modified: "...Good times will be had by all. Kegs will be tapped in great numbers. The hook-ups will be numerous and intense."
Alex dashed from flier to flier. Every one had some change made to it. Someone's idea of a joke, no doubt. Worst of all, the handwritten modifications fit neatly into the sketchy, silly, hand-written style of the fliers. Nobody would be able to tell they were a joke. And they'd already been up, what, a few hours?
He flipped open his phone and pressed speed-dial 3. The phone rang a few times before he was greeted with a cheery, "Hey Alex!"
"Zen," he sighed. "Ithink we have a problem."