No Geek Rapture for Me_I'm Old School

by Jonelle Renald

  Skip said, “What about you, Mia? Tell us about the lovely St. Christopher statue you have.”

  The question caught Mia stabbing a forkful of salad. She put the lettuce in her mouth to give herself a chance to get over the shock of being asked about something none of these people should know about. She smiled and pointed at her mouth with her fork as she chewed.

  “Oh, don’t worry, dear. We’ll wait,” Gretchen re-assured her. “We all want to hear about your statue.”

  How did they know about the statue of Jesus the Shepherd she had in her house? Since her love for that statue and what it represented wouldn’t fit in with their routine topics of conversation in any way, and since it would have made her furious if they had made fun of it, she had never talked about the Shepherd Jesus statue with Skip or anyone else in the department. In addition, no one from iCon’s Communication Department had ever visited inside her home, no one had ever gotten beyond the front porch. They shouldn’t know this statue existed. Unless someone had viewed a security video from the day she had rescued it from destruction in the atrium and then shared that information. Was that possible? How else would they know?

  As they all stared at her, waiting for her reply, her mind raced. What should she say? She decided to respond to the question precisely as asked, and see what would happen after. “St. Christopher? I don’t have a St. Christopher statue. I’m not even Catholic.”

  Skip chuckled, “Oh, haha, maybe I called it the wrong thing then. I am Catholic, by the way. That lovely statue of a man holding a little lamb in one hand and a shepherd’s crook in the other.”

  Going along with his amusement, Mia said, “Oh, my mistake! Haha, I see what you’re saying now. Haha! I had a mental picture of something on the dash of my car! I see what you mean now. You mean the Jesus the Shepherd statue. I absolutely love that statue. You’re right. This artwork does say something about me. Whenever I look at it, I see the crown of thorns and that reminds me Jesus died on the cross for me, making a sacrifice to rescue me from sin and death. The staff and the little lamb make me think of Psalm Twenty-Three — I hope other people will think of those things too.”

  Before she could be interrupted, she said, “Psalm Twenty-Three starts ‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want for any good thing’.” Mia interrupted her recitation to explain. “The King James says, ‘I shall not want,’ but having studied literature I know that the word want meant something very different back then. It doesn’t refer to things on you’d put on a Christmas list. ‘To want’ in those days meant to be cold and hungry, lacking food and water, shelter, protection from harm. You know, the basic necessities. To be in the care of the Lord, my shepherd, means getting the best of every necessity for life. So I added a reminder about it, when I pray this psalm.”

  Mia considered what to say next. Another line from Psalm Twenty-Three — “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies” was also appropriate for her situation, but Mia didn’t think it would be helpful to offer this notion to the group. So instead she selected another verse. She continued, “The psalm also says, ‘Surely goodness and mercy will follow me, all the days of my life.’ Ever since I learned what the word follow means in Hebrew, I like to add a phrase here too, making it ‘Surely goodness and mercy will follow me, all the days of my life, chasing me down to overtake me.’ Shows how persistent God’s goodness and mercy are. That’s what I think about when I look at my statue of Jesus the shepherd. So now you can think about that too, if you want.”

  Evidently the Kewl Kidz had learned too much about Mia through a better acquaintance with her artwork. Because as soon as her explanation of Psalm Twenty-Three ended, everyone picked up their tray and hurried away from the table. Seemed that everyone had meetings they had to get to ASAP. Her talk had cleared the conference room in less than thirty seconds, so she was able to finish her salad in peace, with space to think about what this conversation actually meant.

  The most obvious thing it meant — people knew too many details about what she had in her house. They knew about the statue when they shouldn’t have known. Couldn’t have known. Unless they had seen what she had in her house without ever visiting it. Unless they had cameras in her living room. Improbable as it was, there was a group of people at iCon who were spying on her in her house. More than paranoia, her suspicions weren’t imaginary, because this conversation validated her impressions. There was something wrong, something was going on. Skip had indirectly proved that something covert was happening to her. Something was twisted at iCon. And she was in the middle of it.

  As a result, MINDSET #1 was totally busted, and MINDSET #2 was the correct, more accurate worldview. Because the Kewl Kidz knew something they had no way of knowing unless they were spying on her. Mia wasn’t sure if this knowledge made her feel better or worse. It was good knowing that she wasn’t imagining things, that she could reliably trust her instincts again. But what in the world were the Kidz at iCon trying to accomplish with their invasion of her privacy? Unfortunately, she didn’t know the method they were using to spy on her — or how could she stop it. Or why was she still hanging around this horror of a job. No more waffling and wavering. She would get away from iCon, even if she couldn’t decide what she would do next. She was done. Out. ASAP.

  16 | Tear

  Two days after the exposure of the covert surveillance that had been invading her privacy, Mia was shocked again, discovering another reason to be very glad she had already started a serious hunt for another job, even something part time. Any job, any where away from iCon. The Kewl Kidz’s hive mind, their evil sense of humor mocking and ridiculing people contained a streak of cruelty that wasn’t satisfied with making people feel hurt and humiliated. Their ultimate hoped-for achievement was to accomplish the total destruction of someone’s, anyone’s spirit. Tear heart and soul into little pieces and then grind those pieces to dust — that was their most twisted high of all. Her discovery of how deep their cruelty ran started on the first Wednesday in May. Mia hadn’t been to The Airship for lunch with either Jan or Dina since some time early in April. She’d been unable to leave her desk due to one massive assignment after another. Writing biographies of visiting VIPs and board members, then doing research on company financial statistics and writing sections of iCon’s annual report, and when that was done, writing a series of news releases for some major new product launches, updating material for the company website. She just hadn’t had any time at all to leave her desk. So when Dina called at ten o’clock, Mia was glad to hear from her.

  “Hi, Mia! Hope your day is going well. I have a favor to ask. Can you make time to go to lunch today at The Airship? I need to talk to you about something. Ask you about something.”

  “I’m so glad you called, Dina! I’d love to meet you there. I was just thinking it had been too long since I’d been on a girls’ getaway excursion. See you there at eleven-thirty.”

  Mia was the first to arrive at The Midnight Airship. The downtown Barrow Heights restaurant was located at the corner of Main and Courtright in an old red brick building that housed a row of five storefronts. The Airship occupied the east end of the row (getting the benefit of windows on two sides), in the location where a bank had originally been, with its doorway cutting a diagonal off the right angle at the corner. At the top near the roofline, there was a stone marker dated “1885,” and over the door, another stone marker that read “Bank.” Owner Everett Burton always joked that this stone marker was providing advice on the best way to make your next pool shot. As always, inside the restaurant it was “Please seat yourself,” so she picked a spot at one of the tables for four along the wall under a window overlooking Courtright Street. Seated on a chair with burnt orange vinyl upholstery and black metal legs, she sat with her back to the wall, waiting for Dina. There were a few other people already eating their lunch — mostly gentlemen farmers in their seventies in khaki pants with suspenders, long slee
ved cotton shirts, and seed company caps, one grandmother in her early fifties with two grandkids eating chicken fingers and french fries. Mia could see herself in the one of the faux windows (mirrors for panes) placed opposite the real windows, all the glass and mirrors surrounded by brown cafe curtains. But the decor didn’t entirely conform to the standard small town Iowa restaurant style. Sailing across the walls there were steam punk inspired metal and wire wall hangings of motorized balloons and submarines and airships. In between, framed articles from Victorian-era newspapers detailed citizen stories about the sightings of airships sailing across the night skies of America. A genuine eight foot tall black wrought-iron city street light with functioning lamp on top was located near the cash register next to the front door. And encasing the overhead fluorescent light in the pool room in back of The Airship was a replica of a dirigible, with glowing pale blue plastic sheets held together by metal struts, rudders at the stern, and a gondola complete with propulsion system hanging amidships. Mia noticed there was no one playing pool today, so she put in two quarters to get a rack of balls, picked up a cue stick, and began taking random shots around the table.

  “There you are,” Dina said. “If you don’t mind that I’m no good at this, I’ll play a game of eight ball with you. We might actually finish one game, or if I’m shooting poorly today, we might have to leave our first and only game unfinished when it’s time to go back to work.”

  “Sounds good. Same for me,” Mia said. “Always get a lot of time on the table for each game I start. Distance, but no accuracy! Unless it’s a straight on shot. Got no bank shot — can’t do geometry in my head, I guess.” Mia gave Dina a hug. “So glad to see you! It’s been too long. Sorry I was busy and haven’t been able to make lunch with you and Jan lately.”

  “We missed you too, but we know what the challenges are. ‘Go, Team! Work overtime without extra pay!’ Have you heard anything from Jan lately?”

  “No phone calls, not in the last ten days, two weeks, I guess, now that I think about it. Saw some posts online awhile ago. Is something the matter with her?”

  “No. Yes. Maybe.” Dina laughed nervously. “Oh, I’m not sure. That’s why I wanted to ask you about her, see what you think about the situation.”

  “Sure, I’ll be happy to help, however I can. If I can.”

  “Well, you know how Jan has been acting the last month or so. Taking selfies everywhere, changing her profile picture on social media almost daily. And talking a lot about this new online friend she’s made. A male friend.”

  “Yes, I had noticed that. I was hoping it didn’t mean she was having an online affair with a married man, since she wouldn’t ever say who her new friend was. I even tried to give her a gentle reminder that an affair wasn’t a good idea, but she just laughed and said, ‘Oh, no! It’s nothing like that. Someone I have been chatting with online, a friend. Nothing at all like an affair.’ — I missed. Your turn.”

  Dina said, “Yes, I wondered about that myself. She got a new hairdo, bought lots of new clothes. Overall, she looked happier. I was hoping she had found someone special, a single someone, and wasn’t simply chatting about old times. — What is there for me to try that will go in a pocket? Everything is so far away. — So you know about that part. But what you don’t know about is this. While you were busy and not having lunch with us, Jan started talking to me about Chase Amunson, always finding a reason to mention him by name. And a couple of weeks ago, when we were walking across the lobby, we saw him at a distance, waiting near the front desk. Well, Jan gave a big sigh and said, ‘Such a tortured soul behind that stoic face.’ She gave me this, this, I don’t know, this dramatic look and added, ‘People just don’t know the demons he struggles with.’ — You’d think with this many balls on the table that I could get at least one to go into a pocket! Your turn.”

  Mia smiled in sympathy at Dina missing her shot. And then rolled her eyes at what Jan had said about Chase. In her opinion, Jan was projecting feelings onto Chase which simply couldn’t be true. Mia said, “He isn’t a tortured soul, more like a torturing soul! He is about as subtle as a bull running down a middle-aged tourist on the streets of Pamplona. Did she tell you under what circumstances she was able to discover Chase’s so-called ‘secrets’? I didn’t know that they ever had crossed paths at work. Or away from work either.”

  Frowning, Dina said, “Jan never said this, but I believe she was talking to Chase online through social media maybe. You know she’s online every night, know how much she loves posting pictures of her grandkids. — The red one, that pocket over there.”

  “Good shot!”

  “Thanks. Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in awhile.” They both laughed, then Dina continued. “Anyway, not long after that strange conversation, Jan kind of disappeared. She stopped going to lunch with me, but for awhile I’d still hear from her, had contact with her by phone and email. However, lately it’s gotten worse. She vanished totally. Hasn’t posted anything online, not at all, not for the last few days. I’ve been trying to reach her since Monday, email and online. No reply. No answer on her cell or home phone either. I found out from someone in her department that Jan’s not been to work since last week. And today when I called her work number, I got a really strange message on her voice mail. Here, listen on my cell. I’ll call her number.”

  The call went directly to voice mail without ringing, with a message that had been recorded by Clay Garvey, Jan’s supervisor. “You’ve reached the voice mail of Jan Ferris. She will not be reporting to work this week. Please call Anita White at extension —.” Dina clicked off the call.

  “See what I mean?”

  “That is odd, very, very odd. I hope it doesn’t mean her mother has taken ill or something. But you say she’s not picking up her cell or home phone?” Mia tried both on her phone, but there was no answer for her either.

  Dina said, “Your turn — Oh, no! I was going to leave Jan a message on her home page to call me. But I can’t! Her social media page has been taken down and her account terminated!”

  Mia said, “What? That’s not possible. I just posted a recipe on her page last night.” But when she checked on her phone, she saw Dina was right. Jan’s account was no longer there. “What is going on? You’re right. Something is definitely wrong. I’m getting worried now. — Nothing for me either when I call. And missed my shot.”

  Putting her pool cue back in the rack, Dina headed for a table. “Well, I’ll try emailing her one more time this afternoon, see if she will answer that. We better sit down to lunch now, or we won’t get back in time. You owe me a dollar by the way.”

  Returning her cue to the rack as well, Mia followed Dina to the table. “Wait — what? We didn’t bet on the outcome! And we didn’t finish the game, so you didn’t win.” Mia laughed. “How is it that I owe you a dollar?”

  Dina smiled and said, “Just do. Wonderful how it works out that way.”

  “Haha. For you anyway.” Mia paused, thinking about what might be happening with Jan. “If she doesn’t come back to work by Friday, let’s call Clay, her supervisor. Maybe he can tell us something about what’s going on.”

  “That sounds like a plan. What are you going to order today?”

  Two days later, at 4:30 on Friday, Mia went to Dina’s desk on the fourth floor of the HQ, who put her phone on speaker, then dialed Clay Garvey’s phone. “Hi, Clay. This is Dina Fellerston and Mia Marwitz here. We’re calling as personal friends of Jan Ferris’. We’ve noticed she’s been out for awhile now, and we haven’t been able to get in touch with her at her home. Is there anything you can tell us about what has happened? We’re very concerned about how she’s doing.”

  Clay cleared his throat. “Ehmm, I don’t think it would be right for me to provide you with details, not if Jan hasn’t told you anything. But I will tell you that Jan has been calling in sick since last week, telling me every morning that
she would not be reporting for work, but that she would return the next day. And then the next morning, she would call again and say the same thing. ‘I can’t come to iCon today, but I will be back tomorrow.’ Same thing every day. Then this morning, Jan called me to say she would never be able to return to work, that she was giving notice, effective immediately.” Dina and Mia exchanged worried looks, but didn’t interrupt.

  “I’ve boxed up Jan’s desk,” he continued. “If either of you would like to return her personal items to her, I can release them to you. But if you want more details on what has caused Jan to leave iCon, you’ll have to contact her yourselves.”

  Dina said, “Thanks for letting us know, Clay. We appreciate it. And one of us will pick up Jan’s things before 5:00 today and will return them to her. Thanks again.”

  After they hung up, Mia volunteered to bring Jan’s things to her house. “I don’t live far, it’s no trouble. Besides, you have to pick up Hannah from your mom’s in Monona. And I’d really like to talk to Jan, see what’s going on.” Then she made her way to the HR Department on the third floor to get the box from Clay.

  Carrying the box from Jan’s desk back to her cubicle in the Communications Department, Mia passed by the receptionist’s island in the iCon lobby where several of the Kewl Kidz had gathered around, talking and laughing with the receptionist, Maggie Pittman. They had their back to her, and as she approached, Mia heard Julie Wheland say, “I’m glad she quit. That woman was nuts, just plain nuts! Ten days ago, she’d stand behind me for long periods of time, checking out my computer monitor, just watching me work. Never speaking a word to me the whole time.”

  “What a dolt!” Gretchen said. “And so unattractive! That dyed blonde bouffant hair left over from her high school days, bony chicken legs, and ugly face with teeth that are too big! Did you see those selfies that she was posting online? Who did she think wanted to see that? Pfft!”