An Innocent Man

by Mark Z. Kammell

I want you to follow him and find out where he goes.

  Me? But…

  Think about it darling, you’d be perfect. I mean, he wouldn’t be looking out for you at all. And besides…

  Besides what?

  It’d give you a chance to use that invisibility cloak thingy you’ve been talking about

  Now. This was worrying. Why would she call it an invisibility cloak? How very Harry Potter. I would never stoop so low as to call it that, and that, my friend, is a microcosmic example of the difference between us. Her willingness to ascribe the most mundane words and, by extension, thought, or lack of it, to something so precise and devastatingly innovative. Before you say anything, I do recognise that I have talked about the convergence of technology and magic, and therefore why wouldn’t I be happy calling it an invisibility cloak. And to you I say this - Exactly. Nothing. I don’t have to justify myself. There was, of course, something else that was worrying about this – how did she know, although the answer was, I am afraid, pretty obvious, and was intrinsically linked to a litre of strong red wine and a bottle of tequila. Mea Culpa, I am afraid. And yet, it was actually not that bad an idea, when I thought about it. The development of the Visual Deflection Emulator (VDE – to give it its true name, one that recognises some, at least, of the scientific achievement that went into this) was, of course, subject to intense security protocols and I was bound by various legal documents that threatened me with, in no particular order, castration, incarceration and elimination. This of course only hastened my desire to put this to the test (apart from maybe the castration). After all, I was the only one who actually understood how the VDE functioned, and therefore indispensable, and so what threat was there really?

  Just think about it though; what security should you use to protect the theft of something invisible? Really? I mean, these security guys are clever but they have absolutely no common sense. Jared Marks, Head of Security, perhaps you knew him. Nice guy, actually, but too much confidence in his own abilities. Thought he was being really clever by thinking “What’s the best way of stealing the VDE? Of course. Someone will wear it and walk out of there, but I’m going to be cleverer. I’m going to install thermal imaging alarms, so that someone will be caught. I’m going to install cameras that detect the slight ripples in the air that can be detected. And so on. And so on. Piling on the technologically driven security, innovation after innovation, until the place became so secure and so automated that no guards were necessary and that the chances of fooling the system were less than one in a billion. In fact, the system was set up in a way that anyone trying to wear the VDE and walk out would find themselves behind bars of diamond hardened titanium, in an ultra-secure facility right in the middle of the Ministry building. This had all been thoroughly tested, too, although initial results had meant a change of plan when the original equipment hadn’t quite worked. That original equipment was designed to immobilise the intruder by wrapping him or her up to the neck in a plastic coating that solidified and hardened within a second, effectively creating a mummy.

  This was tested on a brave soul - Martin, I think his name was, one of the junior grunts that worked for Jared in Security. To be fair, initial results suggested that it worked very well. It stopped at the neck and therefore didn’t threaten to suffocate him, which had been the big worry, especially for Martin, judging by his expression when the test completed. All was well and Martin went home, given the rest of the day off as a reward, after having had the coating chiselled off. He didn’t return the next day, nor the next and then they went to check on him, which is when they realised that there had been some unfortunate side effects. Something to do with the constitution of plastic and contact with the skin, apparently. Went into his veins and reacted with the red blood cells, from what I understand. He woke up finding himself unable to move; plastic tentacles had crawled out of his veins and had wrapped themselves around his body, his bed, everywhere. It must have been fascinating to see, but unfortunately for Martin, probably extremely painful and definitely terminal. That security measure was quietly dropped, along with any mention of Martin ever having been on the payroll, or, if the rumours had any credence, having ever existed at all. Fortunately, he was a loner, had had no family; a quality that I think was top of the mandatory list of requirements when applying for a security guard role at our particular department in our particular agency, whose use of experimental techniques was core to their purpose and values.

  I digress, I am afraid. What Jared hadn’t thought about, to my mind, was just activating the VDE, slipping it into my bag, and leaving. The best solutions are almost always the simplest (and also potentially a mark of genius). And what could go wrong? If I was caught, I’d spend a couple of hours behind bars, and then just say I was trying to test out the system. Seriously. It was fool proof. To such an extent, in fact, that I had spent many hours at night thinking it through, then through again, just to see if there was any possible way it could go wrong. And I was absolutely certain it couldn’t. And, of course, the only real question then was whether I was brave enough to try it out. It was this particular question that I was wrestling with when Louise made her proposal to me, and naturally it seemed like fate. What was a red-blooded male to do? Probably a poor choice of phrase, but I am sure you understand my meaning. Which led me, huffing and sighing, to say yes to Louise and put my plan in action, after telling her really really clearly that she wasn’t to tell anyone, anyone, about the VDE, otherwise it was all off, otherwise everything was all off, forever, if she understood me.

  She smacked her lips and said I know, darling, don’t worry, you can trust me then walked back into the main room of her house, hips swaying. I caught a glimpse of her throwing her arms around Mark and planting a long, lingering kiss on his lips before I slipped out the back door and into their postage stamp of a garden. I lit a cigarette and took a long drag, watching the smoke drift up into the cloudless blue sky before I dropped the cigarette and stamped on it, crushing it into the ground, disgusted with myself for being so weak. Through the window into their living room I saw the last few remaining people there – Mark, preening himself in front of a mirror, running his hands through his thinning hair; Sylvia, stood behind him, watching him (I was sure) admiringly, Christ knew why; Jane and Austin (yes, I’m serious, they were a couple. Of all the people in all the world that you can choose from, why on earth would you choose someone with a name that will guarantee that even the most serious people will giggle at dinner parties. It’s not even like they were well suited; I mean, they were both tiresomely full of themselves and dull, but in incredibly different ways. No, I think they actually did this on purpose, to lift themselves up from the mundane where they doubtless belonged, and, with admirable presence of thought, decided that making themselves a literary laughing stock was a preferable route, one that guaranteed their admission to gatherings and parties that they wouldn’t have even known existed otherwise. Likewise, their hosts were willing to put up with their brand of tedium to be able to whisper to their more desirable guests things like – yes, that’s really them – yes, they’re really called that – yes – it’s Austin with an i, not an e, but it’s close enough - yes, they are incredibly boring aren’t they, but oh darling, how delightful).

  I had the misfortune of sitting next to Jane for the short time we had to be seated at the table, where Mark and Louise, true to their bourgeois pretentions, had laid name plates (clearly printed in gothic style on extremely expensive card) forcing us into small social circles; my sitting next to Jane was doubtless payback for some forgotten sleight, such was Mark’s way. He was petty, held grudges and never, ever forgot; on the other hand, he had lots of interesting stories, was very generous and an unrivalled capacity for the consumption of alcohol. I was therefore willing to overlook his little taunts, threats and tantrums, and put up with Jane’s diatribe on the failings of EastEnders by burying my steak knife into my calf and twisting repeatedly until her words became a blurry background to the pain.)
There was one other person there, a girl, or I should say a young woman, very still and quiet, yet striking in some unquantifiable way; she had jet black hair cut severely, a chiselled face and piercing black eyes that you couldn’t help looking away from. I had noticed that she had spent a long time, hours perhaps, discussing something in whispered tones with Mark, and I made a mental note to find out what. And maybe also find out a little more about her. I was a single man, after all. Sort of. And something about her intrigued me; it also gave me a strange, bewildering sense of déjà vu. But now was not the time for sexual daydreaming, now was the time for putting my plan into action, and with that thought I stepped away from the house and through the small passage to the front gate, easing myself out of it quietly so I could leave unnoticed. As I drove back towards my house, I passed the other house (you know which one) and glanced at its foreboding, beckoning shadow in the gathering dust, and wondered whether I would come to regret trading a unicorn’s horn for the threat of everlasting prison.

  Do Unicorns Exist?

  I do realise that I haven’t fully, or indeed at all, answered the last question, so please excuse this small diversion before I return to that subject.)

  I did actually find myself googling unicorns, early the next morning, after waking up alone, except for my hangover, staring into the blueness of the cold sky. I vaguely realised that I had drunk way too much to drive home, and yet that is what I had done, safe in the knowledge that I had diplomatic protection, or something similar; another perk of the job, or, more specifically, working for the particular department that I did. I took the lift down to the underground garage and checked my car for bumps or scratches, just in case. I was almost completely sure that I hadn’t done anything totally stupid, but then almost isn’t always good enough, and the one non-negotiable of my elevated status was that I reported incidents that could require support, as they so euphemistically put it, before it reached them through some other channels, such as the police. It was therefore with some relief that I saw the car looked completely fine, and to reward myself, I went straight to the artisan coffee bar that was on the ground floor of my apartment block (complementary Columbian coffee, imported that day, and cake, freshly baked on the premises, for all residents, open 24/7, a small stack of tablets always available, deliveries at a small extra cost) and I sat browsing the latest news, whilst sipping on a flat white and taking small bites from a carrot cake, very moist. Just for fun, I entered ‘Do Unicorns Exist’ into Google; I have to admit, Louise was right, a lot of rumours, many sightings, strangely no photos (although in a few instances a photo had been posted but seemingly removed). There was one site, which took not a little finding, by the way, created by someone who seemed to call himself The Avengor (sic) - how distressing - who had tried to compile the rumours into something approaching coherence – that was his stated aim – though he (or she) clearly wasn’t practiced at this, and his approach went meandering off in a myriad of different directions, some very hard to follow. Just to give you a flavour of it, partly because it amused me and also because I am sure you want a full account of what went through my mind, here’s a little taste, although I think it’s ended up more in my words than his, though I have tried to remember it as closely as I can. Of course, it’s available on the web, if you can find it.

  Unicorns are immortal. It’s really important that I state that up front, it’s the fundamental of their being, it’s what separates them from other animals and what has elevated them to the status of myth. Why? Because it changes everything. Everything we know, or believe we know about the earth and the universe, is based on our ability to fit all things into our defined framework of existence, which does not include immortality. The concept of birth, growth, ageing and death defines everything from the smallest insect to the largest star, so what would it mean to have something right in the middle of that that contradicted it all. In the early days – going back a few hundred years – it was, of course, different – our lives still revolved around the existence of God, and the presence of this creature did not challenge that reality, although I seriously doubt that the scholars of that time understood what they were dealing with. But as time moved on, and we developed mathematics into the language of the universe, and physics to define the laws of the universe, we started to believe that every question had an answer that would fit into those laws, and gradually they became our cornerstones and as a consequence made us small-minded, unable to accept anything we could not explain. Ironically, the more small-minded we became, the greater we assumed our intelligence, because we wrongly equated knowledge of something with knowledge of everything, and knowledge of everything with understanding of everything, and understanding of everything with belief in nothing. But had we paused for thought, had we looked at the evidence and realised what we were dealing with, then very possibly the unicorn would still be with us today, and the world would be a very different place. They were dying out anyway - unicorn flesh was a rare delicacy, served at the tables of kings, in the belief that eating it would give them favour in the eyes of their gods and enable them to destroy their enemies. This was ironic, as there was nothing special about unicorn flesh, in fact it was tough and bitter. (So I am told, although I have never, of course, tried it). The irony was that, once killed, the horn was discarded, although the horn is the one part of the unicorn that is truly special, indeed, if I dare say it, magical. It is its horn that gives the unicorn its power; without the horn, the unicorn will die, although those ancient hunters clearly didn’t know that, else they would have been revered in their lifetimes, if indeed they hadn’t discovered the secret to immortality, in which case they would have been with us today.

  It was only much more recently that this was discovered, quite by accident, in a research facility near Granada in southern Spain. The team, through circumstances that need to remain confidential, had obtained a sample specimen – not from a living creature, but a horn that had been recently discovered, almost certainly one that had been discarded many centuries ago. It is thought now that none of these are left, although that’s almost impossible to verify. The research team determined that, when activated in the correct way, the horn was able to create immense energy, which could be harnessed in multiple situations and of course could potentially be a solution to the earth’s current energy crisis.

  Fascinating though this is, it doesn’t resolve the question of the unicorn’s actual existence. Nor is there any way of verifying the Avengor’s claims; furthermore, his lack of ability to spell even his moniker leave a doubt as to his reliability. However. Why would Louise lie?

  Invisible Me

  I stole the suit. It was remarkably easy, although perhaps it is my genius. I didn’t go in at a special time, didn’t make any special preparations, didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. Instead, I returned to the lab with it after a standard test and instead of putting back into its development chamber, I folded it up and slipped it into my briefcase. Then I sat down and worked at my computer for a few minutes, packed up and left at my usual time, about six thirty in the evening. I drove back to my house, parked outside and carried on my day as if nothing had happened. It was a Friday, and so the disappearance wasn’t discovered until Monday at about six in the morning, when Vince, a technician who appears to need next to no sleep, discovered something was amiss.

  Yes? (this was me in a very grumpy voice, answering my phone)

  Err… Mr Jones?

  Yes?

  Err… sorry to disturb you

  What do you want – it’s … it’s six?

  Yes, I know, I’ve just got in to work

  Why?

  Well, erm, this is when I normally start? It’s just, well, Mr Jones, I think I have bad news…

  (silence on my end)

  The… the invisibility cloak…

  The what?

  The invisibility cloak… erm, sorry, I didn’t mean that, I meant the Visual Deflection Emulator

  (silence)

  Er
r… Mr Jones?

  It’s not an invisibility cloak

  Yes, I know that, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to …

  How long have you worked here?

  Err… about two years?

  What was your name again?

  Err… Vince, sir, Vincent. Vincent Markatovsky.

  Oh. Vince. Yes, I remember you.

  Well, sir…

  Sylvain, please. We don’t stand on ceremony.

  Well, Sylvain, sir, I mean, the thing is. The VDE, well, it’s gone.

  (silence) Gone?

  Well. Yes. Gone.

  Gone where?

  Well, that’s just it, sir, I mean, Sylvain. I mean it’s disappeared. It’s not in its case.

  How do you know?

  What?

  How do you know it’s not in its case? How can you tell?

  Well, erm, sir…

  No, don’t answer that, of course I know the answer, I was just kidding.

  But why were you kidding? I mean, it’s missing! It’s a crisis!

  Ah, don’t worry, Vince. Remember all the security Jared put in. There’s no way it could go missing.

  Poor Jared. He found himself looking for another job the following morning. I must admit I did secretly enjoy seeing his smug face crumple as he listened to X (that’s the head of our department, as he likes to be called. Seriously) chew him out over spending millions and millions on our security, and then allowing, it appears, someone to just walk out with it. I mean, you didn’t even have security cameras installed! Mind you, Jared’s reply - cameras are for novices at this game. Anyone can install a camera - was probably not thought through as much as it could have been; it soon became very clear that X did not think of high tech security as a game, and seemed to resent Jared’s insinuation that it was. Jared may be looking for a new job, but I think he’s also well aware that he will need to watch his back. Our department doesn’t like people to wander about into other jobs, especially not security people, when they have been privy to such sensitive information, and no number of official secrets acts will stop someone who is determined to find out what’s lurking inside your brain.

  I think, to be honest, the best Jared could have hoped for was a lobotomy and a generous pension for his family. Perhaps you think I’m being cruel? You think I knew what would happen to Jared, and yet I still went ahead and stole the VDE. To you I