From: hurh@fnal.fnal.gov (Patrick Hurh)
Subject: STORY: the CLERK's revenge
Followup-To: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Date: 11 May 1994 06:14:00 GMT
BugOne sidled up to the edge of a smudged wine glass sitting on the
Chatsubo bartop. Laying an antennae upon the stem, it grazed off of the
high harmonics echoing through the crystal and decoded the stale bandwidth.
Its lower legs scraped together as its forerunner of 'spiderware' (tm)
brain continued to send motion signals regardless of the low gain feedback
pulse riding slowly within the exoskeleton. BugOne waited for his mate (or
dinner) for the evening, BugTwo.
BugTwo, black wings in stow under chitnatenous back plates, downloaded the
aural transforms from BugOne. It retracted an ancillary antennae from
BugOne's jacking sphincter and massaged a tattered front mandible. "What's
the middle part again?"
BugOne scuttled around, its legs dancing an intricate chain step, and
careened into Bug Two. "Spray's high today," it explained. "Crowd of
juicy flesh is in heat over revenge, narrative, and killing ro..."
BugTwo plowed a foreleg into several dozen facets of BugOne's right eye.
"Wait a sec. What was that middle part again?"
BugOne arched its thorax, masticating a pungeant expectorant, and said,
"Narrative? What you know about writing? There's humans here who have
written _novels_..."
"I've written a novel!"
"Pshaw," said while tapping a hind leg.
"Well, part of a short story anyways. And it may even tie into the first
bit."
BugOne spewed a bit of acidic bile upon the edge of the wine glass and
admired the way it puddled and smoked the semi-amorphous structure. "OK,
stick it in me and I will broadcast."
BugOne dragged a long, spoked hind leg up the side of the glass stem and
then bent its thorax to reveal a soft, glistening layer of skin between
points of hard shell. BugTwo crept forward, all legs bent in reverence and
began to puff up in preparation of spore exhaltation. Within the folds of
BugOne's mid-section, a small orifice appeared. It grew in size and in
folds until it pulsated in a sphincter like fashion, pink and hot. BugTwo,
not being able to contain itself, blew a mist of octagonal spores into the
dark ring of flesh. BugOne sighed and its leg began to scrape the crystal
wine goblet with the semblance of a fast fourier transform:
_____________________________
the CLERK's revenge by P. Hurh (copyright
1994)
_____________________________
*Picture yourself in a cube in an office,
With plasticene thumbtacks and looking glass eyes...*
Eldritch sat back down in the hard plastic chair as the Floor Whip left his
office. The whip had left a paltry stack of carbon copies on the corner of
his plastic desk. Eldritch scooted his chair closer to this new work,
bumping thigh against mold release edges, and shoved the light desk one or
two inches forward. He slapped his palms down, holding the table firm with
the sticky sweat of his hands, and scooted forward once again.
*<flash>
*<flash>
*<flash>
*<etc.>
*
*
*
Eldritch eyed the stack suspiciously. It was piled thin and scant. His
hands were drawn to it with a protestant magnetism. He almost gave in.
The stack stared back at him.
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
He decided to at least touch it, he was trying,unsuccessfully, to be
subtle. The hum of the flash strobe above the film strip recorder stopped
his eager, grabbing hands. It wound up with a rising pitch, cresting at
about an 900 cycle per second buzz, then cracked its flash of light and
clicked forward its frame of film.
*
*
Eldritch looked up at it now, unsure of the timing mechanism. He drummed
his fingers hollowly on the cross-linked desk. One hand reached out
sullenly and caressed a corner of the paper pile. The index finger of that
guilty hand flicked up the first three cover pages, seemingly of its own
accord. Eldritch couldn't help but try to read (without any luck) some of
the accounting figures listed there. He snatched his hand back, suddenly
remembering the floor whip's lecture. The hum of the flash strobe began to
rise again. Eldritch decided to read the poster on the wall again.
*
--Line One-
Column One-
*
'Efficiency
Compromises
Bureaucracy
*
--Line One-
Column Two-
*
Bureaucracy
--Maintains
Employment'
*
--Line Two-
Column One-
*
'Yesterday=
Today/Today
= Tomorrow'
*
--Line Two-
Column Two-
*
'Start it--
TodayFinish
it Tomorrow
*
*
Eldritch looked up at the three-handed clock above the office door. Its
spinning dials strobed out a moire splat of a hypnotic pattern. Eldritch
was content for at least five more frames of film, no more. The pile of
work was too tempting. He closed his eyes and began to repeat the creed of
the gainfully employed.
*
*
*
*
When he was done he knew there was naught to do except center the hand
bound ledger of carbon copies on his plastic desk and peel back its pages
one by one. Eldritch grabbed the book between strobe flashes and balanced
it before him. The first page had his name on it as usual. The boys in
Job Referral obviously doing too good of a job again. He turned to his
terminal, switched it on, and sat by to let it warm up.
*
*
*
*
The CRT flickered on and shone its kilo-dot per inch resolution into
Eldritch's eyes. He calmly swung the demagnifier lens into place so he
could make out the tight 9 point font lettering. After signing on,
Eldritch wrote a note to Job Referral reprimanding their fine efficiency in
always sending him the correct documents on schedule. He also sent a copy
of this memo to the Punish and Rectify file. Eldritch felt relieved. He
had fulfilled his Narc-Duty of the day and still had at least three months
good work ahead of him... Four if he was lucky. He turned back to the
ledger that the Floor Whip had placed there.
*
Eldritch read Cover Page Number One, 'Deceased Accountables 18915-naught-2'
*
Eldritch read Cover Page Number Two, 'Punched by Operator Elvin Palmer 986'
*
Eldritch read Cover Page Number Three, 'To be recorded in Accounting by
sub-
date seventeenth of May of the
year-
Two thousand and thirty-nine A.
D.-'
*
Eldritch stared at the date for less than a second and then quickly peered
at the calender hung on the wall to his right. Under the Cadillac Cowgirl
of the month, he traced the sloping fin of a dermalloy fender to the year's
signifier. It read: 2037...
Shit, Eldritch thought. Four months work to last almost two years. God
damn that Leo Busteila! I've worked slower than anyone else in this
department for eighteen years now, keeping god knows how many citizens
employed, and he has the kahunas to assign me to a two year stint of 50 K
dittoes! If I was the Whip... Eldritch looked up at the film recorder
just as it snapped.... Life goes on he thought.
*
*
*
He turned the fourth page of the ledger. It was blank. He waited a pause,
took a deep breath and turned the next page. It was crisp and clean, but
also, it was blank. Eldritch licked his finger and, hand shaking, stuck it
to the top right corner of the right page and pulled his finger in with a
snap. Blank. Not caring now about the film recorder, Eldritch creaked
forward in his plastic chair and flailed through the remaining pages,
searching for a smudge of black carbon deposit upon the thick leaves. Not
a one. Eldritch was furious. The last page was marked in the lower corner
with an innocuous 'end of file', the typed letters doubly superimposed
giving the words an offset, unfocussed look.
Eldritch threw the ledger from his desk. The two dozen pages flew in a
travesty of the flurry that Eldritch had desired. He leaned back in his
chair, two hundred and ten pounds twisting the yellow plastic white at the
gussets. Fuck Leo, he thought. That little snide newcomer. He's always
so busy, assigning us old timers work that doesn't amount to jack shit!
The skinny twerp, laying his high voice with its impish accents on me... I
bet he works enough hours to feed a family of twelve!
Suddenly the hum of the strobe light winding up for another flash was
interrupted by screaming siren. A low blue light filled Eldritch's cubicle
and with it a sense of complacency and a loss of dread. Eldritch stared at
the blank papers scattered on the floor before him. They picked up the
glow of the apathy lights and seared themselves into blurs of white on his
retinas. I'm not going to forget this feeling, Eldritch said to himself.
Leo is not going to forget my fucking feeling.
Eldritch closed his eyes and plugged his ears. He sat in his plastic chair
in back of his plastic desk inside of his plastic cube and waited for the
Floor Whip to burst into his glowing office.
*
*
*
*end of file*
?--perhaps--?
Article: 2709 of alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
From: hurh@fnal.fnal.gov (Patrick Hurh)
Subject: STORY: the CLERK's revenge ii
Followup-To: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Date: 16 May 1994 23:56:15 GMT
Organization: fnal
Lines: 185
Distribution: world
Message-ID: <hurh-160594185654@phurh.fnal.gov>
NNTP-Posting-Host: phurh.fnal.gov
______________________
the CLERK's revenge ii by Patrick Hurh
______________________ copyright 1994
"Of course it's worth it. What else could be _more_ worth it?" Jack
Tremain stood next to the upended sarcophagus cover, trying to balance it
with both hands. "I mean, what else have you got in this life, anyway?"
Love and death, Eldritch said to himself. He leaned over to steady
Jack's unsure grip on the stone block. The cover slid into a more stable
position on the mouth of the grave. Eldritch looked up into Jack's haggard
face. "Love and death."
Jack guttered out a sharp laugh. "Death to be sure, Eldritch. But
love, love is the same as death." Jack gave the stone a final shove and it
tipped slowly until a large dark opening was uncovered. "No, Eldritch,
you're wrong. Love and death are synonymous these days. There's the love
of death and the death of love, but otherwise..." he turned his hands palms
up in the darkness, "...same thing."
Eldritch studied Jack's face, then his palms. "Why do you keep on
going then? Why not just end it?"
"End it? End what, Eldritch?" Jack smiled again.
"Well... Your life, I imagine."
"My life." He raised a finger next to his face. "My life. Now
you've got the idea. That's what you forgot... Love, death... and life.
All of our lives are defined by choices made, our convictions in our minds
are just paltry thoughts, our lives are the convictions acted out, made
flesh... made real." Jack stepped forward conspiratorially. "What do we
have left in this life, my friend? We have our actions! With which, if
not performed, our lives have never been lived..."
Eldritch rolled his eyes dramatically. "Come on, Tremain. Leave your
verse for the cafe. Seems to me like you're always talking people into
committing crimes against the Company."
"Ahh... Perhaps that is _my_ course in life."
"To send friends to the High Castle?"
"No!" Jack shook his head emphatically. "To urge them into acting
their lives to the fullest!"
"Alright Jack, you've got me here and if you urge me into actually
climbing into this hole in the ground, I'll give you that point."
"Point accepted."
Jack wheeled around quickly and grabbed the oil lantern from the
ground. With it, he peered into the grave's opening. "Yes, it is still
here. There, you can see the steps." Eldritch leaned over to see. Jack
continued, "My sources claim that this tunnel leads right into the High
Castle, an old escape route from the monarchy days after the war. From
there you have to find the files on your own."
Eldritch straightened and looked up at the silhouette of the Castle
over the crumbling wall of the graveyard. The buzz of electric lights
flickered in several of the distant windows. Jack lifted the lantern next
to Eldritch's face and said, "It takes great courage to do what you are
about to do. Make no mistake. This choice you make must truly be your
choice, your life's path."
Eldritch, his face pudgy and drenched with sweat from the grave
opening efforts, looked into Jack's deep set eyes then into the lantern's
dull orange flame. He knew Jack was right. If he made this choice, it
would become the entire definition of his life. Was it a worthy cause, he
said to himself. He thought back to the Floor Whip's insults and lectures.
He visualized the tiny man, with his thin greasy hair as he flopped about
in his office that morning. And Eldritch had bowed down to him, agreed
with him, folded like an oil-soaked rag in the blue apathy lights...
"Mr. Mann, you do realize the importance of your job don't you?" Leo
Busceila paced back and forth in front of Eldritch's desk, his arms folded.
As he walked his spectacles, attached to his scrawny neck with a leather
leash, flopped over them, Eldritch couldn't take his eyes off of them.
"Well... yes, Mr. Whip. I have to assess and approve employee medical
claims and applications so that..."
"Not that!" Leo yelled. He stopped walking now and stared at
Eldritch. Eldritch thought he looked like a rodent. In fact he looked so
much like a rodent to Eldritch that Eldritch forgot he was being spoken to.
"What is the importance of any Clerk's job, Mr. Mann." Leo twitched
his nose, frustratedly.
Eldritch, soothed into tranquillity by the swelling and receding blue
glow of the room, tried to remember the Clerk's code, but just couldn't
keep his mind on it. Why didn't the blue lights affect Leo this way, he
asked himself. His kind must be immune. He and all his rat friends.
Eldritch looked at the small crowd of Whippers looking in through the
doorway. Two were taking notes on small metal clipboards. One was waving
his hand eagerly.
"Mr. Whip?" the hand waver blurted out. "I know what the importance
of a..."
"Shut up, Mr. Crowley. I know _you_ know why a Clerk's role is
important. You're a Whipper! I want to know if this _Clerk_ knows!" He
leaned over Eldritch's desk.
Eldritch flinched his jowels unconsciously. "I, uh... assess and
review employee medical..."
"That is what you _do_, Mr. Mann. I want to know _why_ you do it!"
Eldritch just sat there. The apathy lights were fading now. His
mouth felt suddenly dry, contrasting harshly with the sweat beads he felt
rolling off his naked chin.
"You do it, Mr. Mann, because it is your job..."
"Because it's his job! That's what I was going to say!" the young,
eager Whipper yelled out.
Without turning around, Leo said calmly, "Mr. Crowley, go back to the
end of the Whipper line." He waited a few moments until he heard the
shuffle of papers and white starched collars. "It is your job. And
hundreds of _other_ people's jobs depend on you doing yours with maximum
inefficiency. How else do you think the Company got where it is today?
The Company feeds, clothes and cares for over fourteen million people. We
all rely on each other to keep everyone employed, don't we, Mr. Eldritch
Fat Mann?"
Eldritch turned red at the sniggers that erupted from the Whippers
behind Leo. "Yes, we do, Mr. Whip," he managed with a hesitant nod. Then
his face brightened. "But that's what I was doing, Mr. Whip. I knocked
the ledger off of my desk for maximum inefficiency! I was going to call
the janitorial staff next, but you came in too soon. You were too...
efficient."
A stunned hush came over the Whippers.
"Mr. Mann," Leo said, his nose twitching with ever increasing
frequency. "My job is to keep closet-workers like you from whipping
through your work like some sort of immoral beaver. Your petty attempts at
inefficiency do not hold up in the long term. A janitorial crew of two
would have been hard pressed to clean up that little mess of yours in over
three hours. After eighteen years here, I would have thought you could
have been more creative in your inefficiency. Ms. Stool across the hall
has only worked here three years and she hasn't even required a new account
to review yet! She has been able to keep Accounts Receivable, Employee
Procurement, and Office Supplies busy for over a year! So don't go telling
me that you were just trying to maximise your inefficiency!" A small
smattering of applause issued from the Whippers in the doorway.
Leo pulled on the lapels of his black uniform tautly and prepared to
leave. Then he arched an eyebrow and peered closer at Eldritch, who was
visibly shaken.
"Maybe you _are_ with the underground, Mr. Mann. I'd watch my back if
I were you. You could end up at the High Castle. Of course, if I were
you, I'd probably kill myself and let someone worthy take the job."
Leo turned and left, the Whippers jostling out of his way. He
disappeared among them and soon they were gone too. They had left
Eldritch's office door open.
Eldritch sighed and stood up. "Well it all pays the same, I guess,"
he whispered and then plodded around the desk to close the door. No it
doesn't, he thought then, his hand on the knob of the door. It doesn't all
pay the same. In terms of money, maybe. But not in terms of respect.
Eldritch stood there visualizing Busceila's rodent face. He imagined his
hands wrapping around that scrawny neck. Then, suddenly, the door across
the hall opened a hand's breadth.
Ms. Stool's odd but petite face was there. Her face looked like she
had been crying. She looked at Eldritch and whispered softly, "I'm
sorry..." She closed the door as suddenly as she had opened it.
Eldritch looked down at his fist on the door knob. The knuckles were
white and the skin was puffy and red. He violently released the handle and
slammed the door shut with his other hand.
The hum of the film-recorder flash began its cycle.
It's a worthy cause, Eldritch thought to himself.
"Jack, believe it or not, I think your right."
Jack's jaw dropped. "Well, all right, brother worker!" he exclaimed
and then helped Eldritch climb into the sarcaphogus. "Here, take the
lantern."
"Well I should hope so," muttered Eldritch and he took the lamp. He
stepped around in the dank pit, lantern at arms length, and found the first
step. He looked up at Jack for a moment and then started down the rock
stairway.
Jack began to push the sarcohogus lid bck. "Hey," yelled Eldritch.
"What are you doing?"
"I've got to close it up, so the patrol doesn't notice."
"How will I get back out?"
"Just push on it Eldritch. I'm sure you can get it off if you have
to!" Jack shoved the lid into place with a groan. He smiled then and
patted the stone cover, shaking his head.
Down below, Eldritch took a few more steps. He was cold now and the
sweat clung cold to his body, holding his clothes tight to his skin in the
armpits and the crotch. He sighed and then waddled down the stairs.
*
*
*
*end of file*
--just in case you didn't notice. I've stolen most of the ideas,
concepts and even some plot elements from several similar sources (Kafka,
PK Dick, and the movie _Brazil_). _the CLERK's revenge_ is something I'm
writing just for the hell of it... just something that happened. If you
have any comments at all, please e-mail to hurh@fnal.fnal.gov--
thanks,
--patrick.
ps _the CLERK's revenge_ should conclude in one or two more short
episodes...
pps _CM 2.7_ should be out by the weekend...
Article: 2723 of alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
From: hurh@fnal.fnal.gov (Patrick Hurh)
Subject: STORY: the CLERK's revenge iii
Followup-To: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Date: 18 May 1994 22:54:03 GMT
Organization: fnal
Lines: 115
Distribution: world
Message-ID: <hurh-180594175702@phurh.fnal.gov>
NNTP-Posting-Host: phurh.fnal.gov
________________________
the CLERK's revenge iii by Patrick Hurh
________________________ copyright 1994
A security drone clanked noisily along its aluminum overhead track outside
the frosted glass door. Eldritch didn't even bother to duck or try to hide
his shadow. After his previous three trips to the High Castle he had
gotten used the rattle and was fairly sure that it did not pose a threat,
at least as long as he was behind the closed door. He reached for the next
ledger. It was another heavy one and he grinned with delight.
It had taken him over two hours on that first trip to locate this file
storage room. It probably would have taken him longer except that
Eldritch, after having worked in Medical Records for eighteen years, was
quick to recognize the labyrinth of bureaucracy that had laid out the
dungeons of the High Castle. He opened the ledger and began to fill out
blank applications from a stack piled three feet high next to his leather
chair.
Eldritch paused at the bottom of one of the forms. He felt tempted to sign
his own name there in the approved column; he felt like he should earn some
credit or notoriety from his criminal acts of hard work. But then his plan
wouldn't work. Eldritch pressed down hard with his stylus to penetrate the
six layers of carbon paper and wrote, "Leonard Busceila." He studied the
forgery for a moment and then back dated the document a couple of months
for good measure. Eldritch turned the ledger page and began to run through
the next prospective patient's list of medical emergencies. Wouldn't this
particular employee be surprised when he actually got that cataract removed
before it completely destroyed his vision, Eldritch chuckled.
So far there was no sign at the offices of Eldritch's manipulation of the
ledgers. Probably work like this wouldn't show up on the Floor for another
year or so. Eldritch decided suddenly to start sending the applications,
completed and approved, to the Hospital directly. This way would get Leo
in trouble faster. He rolled up the completed applications, snapped a
green elastic band around them, and shoved them into the pneumatic mail
tube router. The tube wheezed and coughed as Eldritch's hand closed its
hatchway and finally the documents were snorted up the clear plastic tube
and into the plastered ceiling overhead.
Eldritch reached for another ledger in front of him. He touched its hard
cover for a moment with his pudgy hand and then changed his mind. It was
time for a break. He redirected his hand to the small electric lamp on the
table and dimmed its bulb with a twist. In the darker room, the bright
light from the hallway shone through the frosted glass pane and illuminated
the cramped closet of a room with an eerie off white glow, the high wooden
shelves laden with neat and ordered ledgers seeming to lean over Eldritch
with their long shadows.
Eldritch pulled a half loaf of bread and a small jar of pickled onions from
his knap sack. After laying down a handkerchief on the worn table, he
commenced to eat noisily.
He rather liked the place actually. It seemed easier and easier to get to
each time he came here. The security drones weren't a problem; they were
few and far between. And there were a lot of niches and side rooms to duck
into whenever he heard their far off rattles.
The High Castle dungeons were a strange sort of place, all high ceilings
and tiled floors. The wood trim around all of the doors looked old, but in
good shape. And there wasn't a light fixture that didn't hold a brightly
shining bulb. Eldritch thought about that for a moment. Think of all the
coal miners that the Company kept working just to meet the power needs. He
sighed. All in all, the High Castle reminded him of the Hospital on the
other side of the plant grounds. As he stole through the bright halls
here, his shoes rang on the white tiles with a sort of industrial
eloquence.
Eldritch was even feeling better at work. The exciting work he did at
night made up for the boredom at work. He even smiled at Ms. Stool this
morning. And she smiled back! Eldritch broke into a youthful grin as he
thought of this. Maybe he would have to see what she was doing for the
mid-day break tomorrow. He folded away his makeshift place setting and
stuffed it back into his knapsack.
Feeling invigorated now, Eldritch got up from his seat and decided to grab
some of the more recent ledgers that had been stored in this filing room.
He pulled them off their low shelf and placed them on his table. Squinting
in the darkness, he rubbed his hand over the engraving on the top ledger.
With the other hand he turned up the electric light. The ledger read,
"Eileen Anne Stool, Medical Records Clerk, 9103-74-A."
Eldritch sat down in the leather chair, bringing the ledger with him into
his lap. He opened it and began to read about the operation her young son
Timothy would need to save his life. It was called an appendectomy.
After Eldritch read the file and reviewed the application dates versus the
doctor's 'critical window' of operation, he realized that unless he were to
interfere, young Timothy would not have a chance. By the time this ledger
went through the emergency medical approval procedure, Timothy's appendix
would have catastrophically ruptured. Timothy Stool probably would be in
the ground for months by the time this operation was approved. Even if
Eldritch interfered as he had with the other files, it would not be soon
enough.
Eldritch thought about Ms. Stool's sad face from the week earlier. He
thought about what Jack Tremain had said about living life. And he thought
about Leo Busceila's flinching rat-face. Eldritch knew what he had to do.
He had to bring the Stool documents to his office in the morning and use
the approval stamp in his desk there to get the surgery request to the
Hospital as soon as possible.
Packing up his things in a hurry, Eldritch paused to think about how he
would get the documents into the building. I can probably just stuff the
entire ledger in the back of my shirt. No one will notice, he thought.
Afterall, if I can sneak in here night after night, I can easily get these
papers in to work. It's really amazing with all this bureaucracy that there
are so many holes to hide in and tunnels to burrow through. Maybe there
really is an Underground. Maybe the Underground is all made up of people
like me.
Eldritch couldn't help but think of himself as a hero as he snuck out of
the office and into the bright hallway. Somewhere far off a security drone
rattled.
*end of file*
--just in case you didn't notice. I've stolen most of the ideas,
concepts and even some plot elements from several similar sources (Kafka,
PK Dick, and the movie _Brazil_). _the CLERK's revenge_ is something I'm
writing just for the hell of it... just something that happened. If you
have any comments at all, please e-mail to hurh@fnal.fnal.gov--
thanks,
--patrick.
ps _the CLERK's revenge_ should conclude in one more short episode...
pps _CM 2.7_ should be out by Sunday at the earliest...
Article: 2739 of alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
From: hurh@fnal.fnal.gov (Patrick Hurh)
Subject: STORY: the CLERK's revenge iv
Followup-To: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Date: 21 May 1994 20:16:41 GMT
Organization: FNAL
Lines: 312
Distribution: world
Message-ID: <hurh-210594151925@phurh.fnal.gov>
NNTP-Posting-Host: phurh.fnal.gov
_______________________
the CLERK's revenge iv by Patrick Hurh
_______________________ copyright 1994
Eldritch tried to keep his back as straight as possible, but that
made him feel awkward and conspicuous. He caught a glimpse of his
reflection as he passed through the tall glass doors of the Ministry of
Medical Records; the outline of the Stool ledger was not overtly
noticeable, but his stiff gait was. Eldritch purposefully slouched his
shoulders and tried to resume his usual waddle.
Through the hall of portraits and up the staircase to the elevators.
Once again the third and fourth lifts were in disrepair and Eldritch had to
wait in a large huddle of Clerks and Whippers. He tried to stay on the
periphery of the group, his back facing away from any prying eyes.
"Eldritch!" A voice called from the center of the waiting crowd.
"Eldritch!" A thin man extricated himself from the mass of black suited
figures. Eldritch squinted at his face and backed away nervously.
"Eldritch! It's Harry Blackstone... from EDT training class last
year." The thin, energetic man broke free of the crowd and crossed over to
Eldritch in two steps. "How are you doing?"
"Oh... Harry. Fine, I guess." Eldritch edged around Harry toward
elevator one.
"I was just relocated over here to Medical two days ago. I was
wondering if I would run into you." Harry poked a finger into Eldritch's
mid-rif. "Still writing those funny little stories and reading 'em down at
the cafe?"
"Uh, yes... I mean, no... well, not for awhile." Harry blinked at
Eldritch. "I've been awfully busy lately, and..." The elevator bell
dinged faintly and Eldritch headed toward the thickening crowd at its
entrance.
Harry followed quickly, stepping uncomfortably close to Eldritch.
"What have you been busy with?"
"Work..." Eldritch hesitated at Harry's surprised face, "...ing out
the plot for a novel."
"Oh yeah? What's it about?" The elevator gave another ding then and
the doors began to close slowly, leaving several people stranded including
Eldritch and Harry.
"Uhmm... I can't really say yet." Eldritch leaned against the wall.
The ledger pressed up against his sweaty back and stuck there like a rigid
bandage, a splint.
Harry thought for a moment, studying Eldritch's face, then said,
"Have you seen that Jack recently? A bit of a subversive, but he sure was
a hoot down there at the cafe..."
"No, I haven't!" Eldritch said, a little bit too loudly. Harry's
face became concerned. "I, uh... Sorry, Harry, I'm not feeling well.
Perhaps another time."
"Oh, sure. I understand...."
"I've got to go..." He turned toward the other working elevator, and
shoved his girth through the Clerks and Whippers that were waiting there.
A moment later the doors opened and Eldritch pushed his way on.
Harry, puzzled, stood between the elevators and called out, "Take
care, Eldritch Mann. You don't look so good..." His hand rose in a half
wave as the doors closed.
Inside the elevator, Eldritch backed up to a side wall and said,
"Sublevel Five, please." The operator, a green uniformed man in his
mid-sixties, reached over and pushed the appropriate button. There were
two more requests from other passengers, and then the operator threw the
lift into gear. The floor jerked and dropped away from Eldritch's feet.
He sighed softly and watched the floor indicator lights.
Emerging from the elevator on Sublevel Five, Eldritch waddled quickly
to his office. Leo wasn't in his glass paneled office as usual. Probably
out making the rounds, Eldritch thought thankfully and ducked through his
office doorway. As he shut the door, he hesitated, looking across to Ms.
Stool's door. Eileen, he thought silently, remembering his dreams from the
morning. He closed the door quickly as the film recorder came to life.
Eldritch glanced up at the recorder and then away again just before
it snapped. He wondered if the thing really took any snapshots at all, or
if it was just there to irritate the Clerks into inefficiency. Either way,
he decided to play it safe and try to time all of his more subversive
actions between flashes.
Crossing to his plastic desk, Eldritch reached behind his back and
under the hem of his black jacket. His hand pulled at the ledger tucked
into his belt at the small of his back, but it wouldn't come free easily.
He cursed and sat down in the uncomfortable plastic chair, pulling his hand
out just in time for the next flash.
For the time interval of the next three flashes, Eldritch pretended
to study the blank ledger left on his desk by Leo from the week before
while the film recorder snapped its shutter at him. And in between snaps,
he worked the Stool ledger free and hid it on his lap, under the top of the
desk. He then switched on his terminal and waited for it to warm up.
*flash*
Eldritch quickly pulled open the stamp drawer from under the terminal
stand, grabbed the large red-handled and self-inking stamp, and slammed the
drawer closed, palming the stamp ineffectually in his right hand.
*flash*
The stamp had to be primed three times with the self-inker squeegee
contained in the handle. Eldritch did this, breaking out into a light
sweat, and popped the squeegee back into its niche in the handle. He set
the stamp on top of the ledger in his lap.
*flash*
Eldritch moved the stamp onto the top of the desk and tried to open
the ledger under the desk, but with his fat legs there, the ledger's hard
cover kept hitting the bottomside of the desktop. He cursed again silently
and gave up. Eldritch grabbed the stamp and hid it again under the desk.
He pretended to adjust the magnifier lens on his terminal.
*flash*
This time Eldritch removed both the stamp and the Stool ledger from
his lap and placed them on the desktop next to the blank ledger. He then
took the blank ledger and placed it on his lap under the desk. Eldritch
took the stamp in hand once again and hid it away.
*flash*
Finally, Eldritch was able to open the Stool ledger and pull out the
application form he had prepared the night before. He expertly positioned
the form and stamped it once quietly, pressing the stamp to the paper
rather than slamming it. He quickly closed the ledger again and hid the
stamp.
*flash*
Once again, Eldritch opened the ledger and stamped the form, this
time on the second page. He closed the ledger and hid the stamp. He
leaned over to his terminal and pretended to peer at its screen.
*flash*
For the third and final time, Eldritch opened the Stool ledger
quickly and stamped the application on its last page. He sighed and
started to close the ledger briskly. As he did so, one of the application
pages breezed out of the ledger and slid across the plastic desktop.
Eldritch snatched it alertly, jumping slightly from his chair while the
blank ledger on his lap fell to the floor, bouncing off his foot smartly.
He jerked and knocked over the stamp with his other arm. Suddenly he
became aware of the rising hum of the film recorder and looked up at its
shiny lens...
*flash*
Eldritch had a few moments to contemplate his situation before the
blue apathy lights began to pulse in his office. At first, he clumsily
tried to gather up the clutter of objects he had strewn about him before
the next flash came, thinking that perhaps the recorder wasn't continuously
monitored. But then he slowed, realizing that if it wasn't monitored then
it probably didn't matter how long it took him to straighten things up.
However, when the apathy lights began to glow, he just sat back in his
chair and waited for Leo to come after him. I'm lost, he thought to
himself.
Eldritch heard the scuffle of hard soled shoes outside his office and
then the door burst open. The Floor Whip and a mass of excited Whippers
marched in. Leo Busceila leaned over the plastic desk and stared into
Eldritch's eyes, scowling.
"I knew you were with the Underground, Mann." Surprised whispers at
the mention of the Underground rose from the crowd of Whippers. "You're
the one who was going behind my back and wrecking my inefficiency quotas
for the month, weren't you." Leo's rat nose twitched, waiting for a
response.
Eldritch, slightly cowed by the lights, was surprised to hear himself
answering defiantly, "Yes I was, you rat-faced coward." He pulled himself
up in the chair. "I'm the one person responsible for actually getting
something done around here..."
"Enough!" yelled Leo. "Enough of your protestant work ethic
propaganda! This is the end for you, Mann." He paused dramatically.
"You're going to the High Castle!" A quick intake of breath from the
Whippers. "...you're going to the Torture Towers..."
Leo looked down at the open ledger he was leaning on and saw the RUSH
stamp emblazoned on the application forms there. "But first," he said
sneakily and raised an eyebrow, "...what have we here?"
Eldritch also looked down at the forms and then at his right hand.
He still had the one stray and stamped copy clenched there. He looked back
up into Leo's beady eyes defiantly. Maybe there was still a chance, he
thought.
Leo followed Eldritch's gaze to the application form clutched in his
fat hand and then back to Eldritch's eyes. He sensed Eldritch's
determination and his nose flinched in disbelief.
Eldritch erupted into action. He heaved his body forward and knocked
over the flimsy plastic desk, pushing Leo over with it. He let out a roar
and watched the Whippers cower. Then he jumped for the pneumatic mail
tube, Timothy Stool's appendectomy application in hand. Eldritch tripped
over a leg of the desk and hit the floor heavily.
Behind him, Leo Busceila bounded from the floor and dove forward, his
face a rictus of anger. He grabbed hold of Eldritch's arms and attempted
to pin him to the floor.
Eldritch groaned and pulled himself from the floor in a crawl,
pulling Leo with him. He stretched out his arm to the hatchway on the mail
tube and managed to flip it open. He could hear the whistle of air as it
coursed through the clear tube.
Leo snaked his head around to look at the Whippers. "What the hell
are you waiting for?" he screeched. "Help me stop him!"
The Whippers dove in a pack onto Eldritch's back, one almost
snatching the application from his grasp. But Eldritch didn't go down. He
groaned his way forward, reaching up again to shove the paper into the
hatchway. It slid in neatly on the first try. He seemed to hear Eileen's
voice call out his name and then he slammed the hatchway closed. The paper
form was sucked with a solid whoosh up the tube.
"No!" Eldritch heard Leo cry and then he felt a sudden crack on the
back of his head. His vision began to crowd with blackness and he fell to
the glowing floor. The last sounds he heard were the disgusting voices of
the Whippers trying to tell Leo that it was useless to try to cancel the
surgery approval. By the time the canceling paperwork clears, they
explained anxiously, the operation will have been done.
Eldritch awoke with a start. Someone was shaking his shoulder and
calling his name. He opened his eyes slowly and squinted up into the face
of Eileen Stool.
"Eldritch, come on damn you. We've got to get going!"
Eldritch sat up with a groan and rubbed the back of his head.
"Eileen?" he muttered. "What... what's going on?"
Eileen pulled at his arm. "Come _on_, Eldritch. The knock-out gas
only lasts for a few minutes. We've got to get going."
Eldritch got to his feet and looked at the sleeping bodies of
Whippers that were strewn about the room. "Did you do this?" he asked of
Eileen.
She stepped close to him. Her brown eyes lightened for a moment.
"Yes, I did, Eldritch. I did it to save you..." She hugged him briefly.
"Now, come on! We don't have much time."
Eileen left the room. Eldritch started to follow, but then caught
sight of Leo curled up on the floor. He crossed over to his small, prone
body and kicked it once, hard, right in the kidneys. Eldritch smiled and
then waddled quickly after Eileen.
"Where are we going?" he called out to her. She was about twenty
feet ahead of him in the hallway, stooped over an opening in the wall.
"In here!" she called back and disappeared into the hole.
Eldritch jogged up to the hole and studied it briefly before
following. He hadn't remembered seeing it before.
"Eileen! Are you with the Underground, or what?" Eldritch panted as
he struggled to keep with her in the dank tunnel. She stopped jogging and
waited for him to catch up.
When he did, she grabbed his hand and said, "Of course I'm with the
Underground. You are too, now." She started forward again, pulling on
him. "Watch your step, Eldritch. We're at the stairs, now."
The two scrambled up some steep stone stairs and came to a dead end.
The tunnel ended with a stone covering just overhead. Eileen braced her
hands against it and started to push. "Come on, Eldritch..."
Eldritch joined her and, with surprising ease, the stone cover slid
away to reveal a blue sky with thin wisps of white clouds. They clambered
out of the stone sarcophagus and into the cemetery. Jack Tremain stood
there smiling.
"It's about time you two lovebirds appeared," he grinned. "I was
just about to give up and go down to the cafe... but, I guess now we're on
our way!"
"Jack?" Eldritch exclaimed. "Are you with the Underground also?"
Jack laughed heartily, "Eldritch. Haven't you realized? We're all
part of the Underground. Now come on, the car is waiting."
Car? Eldritch thought to himself. Now where would either of them get
a car from? "Where are we going?" he asked outloud.
Eileen pushed him after Jack. "Jack knows of a place between our
plant and the neighboring company's plant where we can be on our own." She
rubbed Eldritch's shoulders. "Think of it, Eldritch. Someplace where we
can be free, together."
Eldritch visualized himself with Eileen sitting on the porch of a
hand-built cabin in a green clearing. Jack would be in the back yard
stacking wood logs for the winter and singing out philosophical nonsense
rhymes... Then he thought of Eileen's son.
"What about Timothy?" he asked. "Is he going to join us after the
operation?"
Eileen stopped walking. "Who's Timothy?" she asked.
Eldritch turned and looked at her. She looked back at him with a
confused expression. Her face looked plastic and, before his eyes, it
began to flow and drip. Her cheeks turned white and filled out. Her brow
thickened and widened while her hair grew darker and shaggier. Eldritch
watched with despair as Eileen's face turned into that of a young
pasty-skinned man's. She wore a ridged breathing filter around her jaw.
"Who's Timothy?" the Torturer repeated.
Eldritch gazed at the gray sky that was visible above through the
open top of the immense Torture Tower. Seems like I've seen this view for
years, he thought. His forehead was strapped down tight to the stiff
headrest. The Torturer leaned his white face back over Eldritch's head.
"Who's Timothy?"
Eldritch glanced down at the Torturer's name tag. It read, 'Dr.
Timothy Stool, DTS.'
"Why you are Doctor," he giggled at the Torturer.
The Torturer sighed.
"Okay, that's it, Mr. Mann. You've lasted long enough to keep the
chair busy for almost two decades now. You've done your part, now I guess
it's time for us to do ours." The young man pulled a set of safety goggles
down over his brown eyes. He held out his hand to one side, out of
Eldritch's vision and said, "Nurse..."
When the hand returned to Eldritch's sight it carried a shiny,
pointed tool. The Torturer flicked a button on it's side and the device
buzzed into rotary motion. Eldritch closed his eyes and listened the hum
rise in pitch...
*flash*
*flash*
*flash*
*flash*
*end of file*
-well that's it for the CLERK's revenge. More steampunk than cyber,
but it was fun to write. Let me know what you think!
BTW, I used a lot of the plot and concepts of the authors, PK Dick
and F. Kafka, plus the movies (ok, films), _Brazil_ and _Kafka_. Just so
_you_ know that _I_ know that I'm rehashing old stuff.
--patrick.
ps Forgive any typos and errors... I posted each episode of this
piece right after I wrote it.
pps CM 2.7 will obviously be a little late. Probably mid-week.
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