Louse (15 page)

The skin under my left eye involuntarily twitches as I consider his question.

“He informed me that he had been relieved of his position and that I should attend to Mr. Blackwell,” I say in as steady a voice as I can muster.

“Do you recall him saying anything else?”

“He informed me that he had become one of the accused.”

“But you already knew this.”

“Yes,” I say.

Mr. Sherwood turns a page of the folder. I am not sure where this is leading, but I can feel my palms sweating and can hear a slight quaver in my voice as I speak. Mr. Sherwood removes a pen from the
inside pocket of his jacket and scribbles a few things on a piece of paper.

“Did you receive any written correspondence from Mr. Slodsky earlier on?”

“Yes, sir. I received a memo from Mr. Blackwell through Mr. Slodsky.”

“From Mr. Blackwell?”

“Yes, through Mr. Slodsky.”

Mr. Sherwood scribbles some more.

“Would you mind revealing the contents of that memo to us, Mr. Louse.”

There is a soft knock on the door. Mr. Bender steps around the desk, passes me, and opens it. Three men of approximately the same medium height and weight enter and stand behind me. Mr. Bender returns to his position beside Mr. Sherwood.

“Mr. Louse, the contents of the memo,” Mr. Sherwood repeats.

“Yes, excuse me, sir. In order to curtail my more primitive predilections, Mr. Blackwell instructed me to visit Lounge Eighteen SR-Five.”

“I see,” says Mr. Sherwood. “Was there a reason for this?” He flips back through several pages of the file, somewhere in the middle.

“Yes, sir,” I admit. “For falling asleep on the job and…” I look over my shoulder to see the profile of one of the men behind me.

“Yes, Mr. Louse?”

“For falling asleep on the job and displaying an act of free will.”

“I see,” says Mr. Sherwood. He scribbles a few more things into the folder and looks up at me as though he plans to continue writing. “You went to Lounge Eighteen SR-Five?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you returned to your quarters around…”

“I don't recall exactly,” I say, feeling nervous, knowing that he knows of the contract. “It was just after the end of the late-night shift.”

“At which time…”

“At which time I looked in on Mr. Crane.”

“Yes, and…”

“And reviewed my contract,” I lie, expecting to feel pain from my lie as I did when I defied Poppy's orders, but I don't. Perhaps because it resembles a little of the truth?

Mr. Sherwood stops writing and slowly looks up from the folder. He looks me over again, then looks up to Mr. Bender. I look back over my shoulder at the three men and then look to Mr. Godmeyer. I suddenly have a vision of myself submerged in Dr. Barnum's tank, craning my neck at a bunch of grapes and feeling the surge of electricity course through my body.

“You reviewed your contract?” Mr. Sherwood reiterates.

“Yes, sir.”

“And then what?” he asks without any hesitation, apparently without the slightest suspicion that I'm lying, that he has knowledge of the contents of the bowdlerized contract.

“And then Mr. Crane knocked on my door and I joined the others on their way to the viewing.”

“I see,” Mr. Sherwood says as he flips through several more pages of the file. He licks his thumb and flips some more. And then flips some more. “I see you had a brief conversation with Mr. Dulcimer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you know that he is now one of the accused, Mr. Louse?”

“No, sir. That is new news to me, sir,” I stammer.

“What was the nature of your conversation?”

“We talked about the accused. Ms. Berger. Mr. Moorcraft.”

“He handed you an envelope?”

“He claimed that someone he didn't know handed him an envelope to hand to me.”

“The contents of which were…?”

“Regarding orders.”

“Orders.”

“Yes, orders.”

“From Mortimer Blank?” he asks without accusation, only for the purpose of verification. He raises his brows into two arches.

“Yes, from Mortimer Blank,” I say, knowing that I can't say anything otherwise at this point, knowing that I have now been discovered and it is futile to hide anything.

“To the best of your knowledge, Mortimer Blank signed the letter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what did it say exactly?”

“It said to act counterintuitively when I entered Poppy's presence.”

“For what purpose?”

“For an unspecified purpose, sir. It simply said that this is what I should do. Or there would be unpleasant circumstances.”

“Have there been any unpleasant circumstances?”

“No, sir. I did what I was told.”

“You followed orders.”

“To the best of my ability, sir.”

“And you've followed them well, Mr. Louse,” Mr. Sherwood states emphatically. He shuts my file and then smiles. “You have followed them very well. We just wanted to be sure our surveillance checked out all right. I hope you understand, Herman.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, not entirely sure of what they know and don't know. Under the circumstances, they appear to be as happy as can be.

“In any case, Mr. Louse,” he says lifting his hand to the three men behind me, “I would like you to meet Mr. Wagner.”

The man in the middle bends forward a little. “Pleased to meet you,” he says.

“Likewise,” I say.

“And his two associates, Mr. Kendrick and Mr. Dougherty,” Mr. Sherwood continues.

“Pleased to meet you,” I say.

“Likewise,” the two men say.

“From Legal Affairs,” Mr. Sherwood adds as he begins playing with the corners of the folder again. “Now, Mr. Louse,” he continues, “the fact of the matter is that we have some very good news for you,” he says, smiling, which makes me turn my head to Mr. Bender, who is trying to cast a smile in my direction. And as Mr. Sherwood sees me looking to Mr. Bender, he too looks to Mr. Bender. “Would you like to tell him, Bender?” he says.

“Your number has come up, Mr. Louse,” Mr. Bender says.

“That's right, Herman. Your number has come up,” Mr. Sherwood confirms.

“My number?”

“Yes, your number came up on the computer tonight,” Mr. Sherwood says.

“You beat great odds,” Mr. Bender says.

“You're a very lucky man, Mr. Louse,” Mr. Sherwood says and pauses, leaving me enough room to contemplate the phrase,
Your number's come up.
“You were chosen from our list of future trustees to fill the newest trustee position,” Mr. Sherwood continues.

“Congratulations, Mr. Louse,” Mr. Bender says.

“Yes, congratulations,” Mr. Sherwood says.

I look at them, dumbfounded, wondering how, in the face of such a tense time, they could be concerned with what must be a trivial matter to them. “Thank you, sirs. I don't know what to say.”

“There really is nothing to say, Herman. Consider yourself a fortunate soul.”

“I do, sir. I most definitely do,” I say, not knowing why I should feel this way, knowing what I know.

“As you should,” Mr. Sherwood says. “Let me tell you what's going to happen, Herman. Tomorrow, you will become eligible for the Executive Lottery and your debt is going to be fixed at 16.8 percent annual interest. Considering that the current interest rates are holding steadily at 19 percent and haven't dropped below 17 percent in the past decade, I can safely say that your life is taking a turn for the better.”

“What's more, Mr. Louse,” Mr. Bender interrupts, “from now on, your time will be measured in relationship to your debt. Depending on the priority of a task, for instance, a certain amount of money will be leveraged against the amount owed. In other words, the more self-sacrifice and the greater the risk you are willing to take on behalf of the organization, the more likely you are to absolve yourself from debt.”

“You are one of the organization now, Herman,” Mr. Sherwood continues. “A trustee in relation to a future trustee is miles apart. Isn't that so, Mr. Bender?”

“To be a trustee is to be a forward thinker, Mr. Louse.”

“Trustees think forward, Herman.”

“Just think, Mr. Louse, the possibilities within a trusteeship are enormous.”

“You may one day find yourself to be in a position you never believed in a lifetime you could have ever earned.”

“If the odds are in your favor…”

“Oh, if the odds are in your favor, Mr. Louse, there is no telling what might be.”

“Think forward, Mr. Louse, and there will be good fortune.”

“When it comes time to lay the past to rest, let it lay, and we will move onward.”

“Together.”

“All right, Herman?”

“All right?”

The two men become silent, and as they do there is another explosion outside. This one is bigger than any other I have ever heard. Mr. Sherwood and Mr. Bender flinch a little, but act as though they are undisturbed.

Mr. Sherwood smiles at me.

Mr. Bender smiles at me.

“Yes, sirs,” I say after a moment of trying to decipher what has just been said.

“Mr. Wagner,” Mr. Sherwood says.

Mr. Wagner steps forward and places a briefcase on top of Mr. Sherwood's desk while Mr. Kendrick and Mr. Dougherty flank my
right and left sides. Mr. Wagner opens the briefcase and removes a three-inch-thick packet of paper.

“Mr. Louse,” Mr. Wagner says, holding up the packet. “Just to reiterate, I am Mr. Wagner from legal affairs. These are my two associates, Mr. Kendrick and Mr. Dougherty.”

“I understand,” I say as I marvel at the size of the packet in Mr. Wagner's hand.

“The document placed before you,” Mr. Wagner continues, “is your new contract for your new position as trustee. Mr. Sherwood and Mr. Bender have already explained the contents of the document before you, and I can corroborate that what's been said has been sufficient, concise, and thorough. As you already know, Mr. Louse, I am here to represent you as your advocate, to assure you that this form is sound and proper. And I am here to say this form is sound and proper. Mr. Kendrick and Mr. Dougherty are here to act as your witnesses. With that said, Mr. Louse, please sign the form at the indicated Xs and we will be on our way.”

Mr. Wagner hands me a pen and opens the document to the middle. I sign the form at the indicated Xs. He flips to the back. I sign near some more Xs.

“Very good, Mr. Louse,” Mr. Wagner says, turning the paper to Mr. Kendrick. “Mr. Kendrick.”

Mr. Kendrick signs the form and turns the paper to Mr. Dougherty.

“Mr. Dougherty,” Mr. Kendrick says.

“Mr. Kendrick,” Mr. Dougherty says as he takes the pen.

Mr. Dougherty signs.

“Thank you for your time and patience, Mr. Louse,” Mr. Wagner says.

And the three men depart Mr. Sherwood's office.

“All right, then, Mr. Louse?” Mr. Sherwood says, his arms outstretched.

“Yes, sir,” I say. “I am very pleased.”

“As I said, Mr. Louse,” Mr. Sherwood says, “it is well-deserved. You're doing a fine job.”

“Thank you, sir. I really do appreciate it.” Without even wanting to appreciate this gesture, I, for some odd reason, feel myself appreciating it.

“Good. We will be sending a copy of the documents to your quarters for your files.”

“Is that all, sir?”

“Yes,” he says conclusively.

With that, Mr. Sherwood stands up from his chair.

With that, I stand up from mine.

“And about this intruder, Mr. Louse?” Mr. Sherwood says as he steps before me. He takes my hand again. “Better off to leave well enough alone. Think of it as taken care of,” he continues, pumping my hand several times, not letting go. “Trustees think forward, Mr. Louse. Think forward and all will turn out well.”

“Yes, Mr. Sherwood. Of course,” I say.

Mr. Sherwood lets go of my hand and looks over to Mr. Bender who looks over to Mr. Godmeyer, who nods his head.

“Thank you for your time, Herman,” Mr. Sherwood says, his cheeks pinching at his eyes. “You may go now.”

“Thank you again, gentlemen,” I say as I look at each of them in the face. I then turn to leave.

The silver doors of the elevator open and I step into the empty silver interior.

I press thirty-three and ride up.

My mind is riddled with thoughts of why they would grant me this trusteeship now of all times. Especially when my job performance has declined so drastically. When I have done as much as any of the accused. I can't help but wonder what would have happened tonight if I could have just gone to bed. Perhaps I would have slept. Perhaps I would have slept through the night and not known of anyone's demands on me. Maybe I wouldn't have known the things that I have seen and I could continue to go to my quarters, to chase flies, to go to the gaming room, to play roulette, without the burdens of knowledge, of the responsibility of knowing, that has been thrown upon me this evening. I don't wish to take on more than I already have. Why should I care to be stuck in the middle of anyone's best interests; especially when my best interests are undoubtedly to stay uninvolved? I should be left in peace, allowed the liberty to appreciate the few pleasures I have. I don't wish to be like Karl Arnstedt or the Ruteledge brothers and sacrifice myself in
the name of someone else's best interests. If this means that I will continue to suffer through the daily regimen of my life as I know it, so be it. I will suffer. I will suffer for whomever wishes it, practice quality of life, adapt to new rules and regulations as they arise. I will suffer for the consequences of my actions. I will suffer and not complain. What else can a man in my position be expected to do?

The elevator doors open.