Spirit Intercom

by Sean Adami

Knowing he would want a response back, Andrew said, “I know, I know. Thanks for trusting me in this process.”

  “Of course,” his father replied. “Feel free to enjoy your feast. I’ll be out of your hair for now.” He smiled and left the room. Andrew was alone in the black room. He sighed and was honestly quite impressed with his sincerity. But he wasn’t sure if the sincerity was truthfully genuine. Door levitating, Andrew exited the room.

  Rick from outside the door grabbed Andrew by the shirt. Whispering into his ear, he said, “Better do your shit, buddy. Here’s your composition book. Start kissing those guards’ asses. Time is ticking.” Shoving the book to Andrew’s open hand, he pushed Andrew to the opposite side, pretending as if nothing happened.

  Walking down the hallway, Andrew thought, fuck these radicals. His mind clouded with more and more stress. Having past knowledge of where the cafeteria was located, he walked that direction. Someone named Rufus had previously forced him down that route. Circumnavigating his way through the hallways, he found the cafeteria entrance. Opening the red doors, he saw the usual lab researcher groups sitting at their usual tables. Realizing he held the composition book, Andrew sheathed it under his shirt. He saw Harriet waiting in line like the last time he met her. Planning his next move, he decided to wait in line. Avoiding to talk was his best bet. Half the stuff he went through in the Spirit World wouldn’t be tolerated whatsoever in Spirit Intercom. He began thinking more: why wasn’t my father mad? Why was everyone grinning so eerily? Is my father hiding something? How much time are the radical people giving me? Thinking finished, he waited in line. Second time witnessing the Chef Bots Inc. , the Chef Bot asked, “What would you like today, Andrew?”

  “So they implemented my name in the system?” He said, “That’s cool. I’ll have the pasta.”

  The robot said, “Please specify the numeric value of your designated entree and assorted—”

  “One pasta bowl and one casserole.” Andrew could anticipate their algorithmic dialogue.

  “How many carrots?” the bot asked.

  “Three.”

  The Chef Bot stood still. “Tip?”

  Andrew didn’t say a word and walked alongside the counter. The other Chef Bots began preparing his meal. Fascinated last time by their work, Andrew wasn’t this time. He only noticed the flukes in their robotical mechanisms. His food was ready and served on a tray. Andrew gave no thanks or remarks of appreciation.

  Finding Harriet, he sat at her table. She said, “That was an adventure last week, right Andrew?”

  “Yeah, it was. It was a bit chaotic though.”

  Holding up a meatball with her thumb and index finger, she said, “This is a nurtured meatball. Do you know what a nurtured meatball is?” Wary if anyone was spying on him, Andrew looked around. “Andrew?”

  “Sorry, what did you say?” he asked.

  “I’m asking if you know what a nurtured meatball is.”

  “What? No, I don’t. Look, Harriet I don’t care about that. I have other things on my mind.”

  Annoyed by his aloof attitude, she asked, “Like what?” She crossed her arms.

  “Doesn’t matter. Let me just eat my food.” He was thinking where all the security guards were. He would have to start memorizing their ID badge numbers if he wanted to call them by their names.

  “You know what, Andrew? I don’t like your attitude. Just relax for a bit. We just completed a huge project. Isn’t that something worth celebrating?”

  Andrew said, “No, and I don’t why you’re celebrating either. Do you actually think we’re absolved with all the stuff we did in the Spirit World? I feel like they’re hiding something from us.”

  She dropped her silverware. “How so?”

  “Their fake smiles, their fake positive energy, and their fake hospitality. It’s all fake.”

  She said, “They were just being welcoming.”

  “Not likely,” Andrew expressed. “They were so general in their statements. Not one of them resorted to telling a detail of our endeavour.”

  Picking her fork back up, she said, “I suppose you’re right. They sort of spoke with a mask of ignorance.” She took a bite out of her meatball. “But that shouldn’t equate to you always being so stressed. So what they were general ? They’re not threatening us—or something similar to that nature.”

  Andrew said, “Of course they’re not threatening us. I’m just a little suspicious.”

  “Andrew, I got the honor of getting to you on the endeavour, and what I’ve seen is that you’re a pretty tense guy. So if I were you, I would be less paranoid about this whole situation that you think you’re in.”

  “So you don’t trust my judgement? How could you say that?”

  Fed up with his hyper rejections, she said, “Andrew, you’re so full of yourself. You need to rethink the grand scheme of everything.” Carrying her tray, she departed from the table and sat at a different table in the opposite corner of the cafeteria.

  Andrew muffled his swears. He was angered with Harriet yet again. Putting his energy on finishing his food, he cleansed all the crumbs from his tray. He carried his tray and disposed of it at the counter. It was nice to supply his hypothalamus with something other than the IV serum. The Chef Bot asked, “Would you reconsider for a tip?”

  Andrew definitively stated, “No.” He pushed the tray firmly to the Chef Bot’s arms. Tension was building inside of him. Eyeing Harriet on his way out, he shoved the cafeteria door open. He wondered what time it was. Opening up Mindcord, he observed that it was Wednesday, and the time was 4:22 p.m. Checking his notifications, he saw five messages from Lisa, two messages from Maxwell, and one message from Kevin.

  The five messages from Lisa cohesively expressed one long message. Messages attached together, Lisa wrote, “Dad, are you there? Hello, Dad? I miss you. Why aren’t you responding? I hope you come back.”

  Hatching open Maxwell’s messages, Andrew read, “What’s taking you so long? I thought we would review over robotics this weekend. Where even are you? Kevin said that he didn’t know what you were doing. I miss you. Please come back.”

  Lastly, Andrew opened Kevin’s messages. Kevin wrote, “You’re kids have been a handful, but I’ve been managing. The media’s perspective on the world ending approaches closer each day after the other. Things have been chaotic. The President announced recently that we’ve reached anarchism and that there’s no undoing it. Stay safe out there. Considering Spirit Intercom is a governmental chain, I’d be alert for anything. Come back soon.”

  He suspected that the intensity here had widened, and he was correct, according to what Kevin wrote. He had to restrain any distractions. His main goal was to keep every scenario given to him under control. The only problem was he didn’t know where to go from here. He temporarily ticked off Harriet, and he had no clue where his family relatives were. He thought, can I return to my house? Would it be safe to leave the labs? As these questions permeated, he strolled down whichever hallway he was in. An immobile researcher spoke with another researcher in an intersection of hallways. As he reached the intersection, he ingested some of the information they spoke about. He walked slowly on purpose.

  Lab Researcher A said, “Did you hear what’s going on tomorrow?

  Lab Researcher B said, “No, what?”

  Researcher A said, “It’s rumored that the attorney general is stopping by.”

  “Really? No way!” Researcher B said. By this point Andrew was too astray to understand any more of their conversation.

  What Kevin wrote was true, and it was coming fast. Initiatives were taking place to this societal anarchism. Underlying motives were transpiring everyday. Maybe now would be a good time to reach out to the security guards by their names. Pulling out the composition book from under his shirt, he opened it. He studied each name that was associated with each security number. After a few minutes, he completely memorized each number. He had a bit of a photographic memory, so it didn’t take too long.

 
Analyzing where most guards would be, he determined they would be near the entrance or even the complex where they parked his car. Escaping out of the hallways, he found his way to the main complex. He stood right by the elevator that was encircled by the garden. Near the entrance, a lounge had small gray couches and chairs for researchers to relax on. He spotted a security guard by the lounge. Approaching near him, he saw the number 19293704 listed on his security badge. Calculating this, he concluded that the guard’s name was Morgan. Now in speaking range, Andrew said, “Good afternoon, Morgan. Great day, huh?”

  Noting his presence, Morgan realized it was the renowned son of Spirit Intercom. He appreciated the comment and said, “Sure is.” As he moved past Morgan, Andrew glanced behind. The guard appeared excited and extratified. If he kept this up, he would be one step closer to the radicals not killing him. There was another guard near Morgan, but reapproaching back to the same guard’s vicinity would erode awkwardness. Leaving the lounge area, he told himself to try it out on the guards by the entrance.

  Stepping foot on where the entrance was, Andrew witnessed a blue-suited guard. 20304815 was his number and his name was Samuel. Calling the guard by his name, Andrew said, “Thank you for your protection. Keep it up!” He raised two thumbs up.

  “Thanks, Jr. Rutano!” Samuel exemplified. Andrew felt accomplished. The question was how many guards did it take to pleasure to earn the security’s trust as a whole? Desiring to try out more names, he went to the elevator. Pressing floor 2, he scouted if any other guards would be there. He circled around the floor in search of a guard. Whistling casually, he saw a blue-suited guard nearing his presence. The number read 42526037. Percolating his mindful archives, he realized the number signified Rufus. Looking at his distinct facial features, he saw that it was Rufus. Judging from his eyebrows, Andrew noticed his suspicion.

  With a queer eye, Rufus said, “Hello, Andrew. What are you doing here?

  “Just exploring.” Andrew double-checked that the composition book was safely secured under his shirt. He shuffled his feet back subtly to indicate that he would head back to the elevator.

  “Have your living arrangements been planned?” Rufus asked. “Follow me.” He grabbed Andrew’s hand with great tenacity. Andrew slowly misguided his hand away but kept following him. Rufus went in the elevator and closed the door after Andrew came in.

  Andrew wanted to ask whether or not he could stay at his home, but he knew this could cause a rupture. Breaking the silence, Andrew said, “So where do I sleep? And how long am I expected to be here?”

  On the elevator keypad, Rufus clicked floor -1. Andrew did not understand why the underground floor wasn’t entitled as floor 0, considering that floor 1 was one floor above. Mathematically, the floor numbers didn’t appeal to him. Rufus said, “You’ll be sleeping where our scientists sleep.”

  “They live here? I didn’t know that.” Andrew studied Rufus’ facial expression. The face wasn’t stank or assuring. It was deadpan .

  As the elevator plummeted two floors down, Rufus said, “You are expected to sleep here until your father is satisfied with everything. When all well is well.” The elevator dinged electronically and artificially.

  “Since they sleep underground, doesn’t that cool down the strata temperature, thus, allowing possible health problems?” Andrew asked. He was flexing his engineering intellect.

  Rufus said, “I don’t know, man.”

  “You guys have never looked into air destratification?”

  “Look, dude. I’m not a civil engineer. I’m just a security guard. Why do you keep asking me these questions?” The stank face began to evolve.

  The elevator door opened. Andrew said, “I’ll stop.” A hallway stretched not too far across. Gray paneling covered the walls. Rufus walked to the end of the hallway with Andrew behind. The end of the hallway had a gray door with a keypad on the side of it, similar to the elevator. Except that this keypad had a touchpad of the numbers 0-9. Some RGB colors lit up for some texture, of course. “What is this?” Andrew asked.

  Rufus said, “If you put in your code, the door will open your room up. Behind this door is a gigantic disk that moves clockwise almost like a revolving door when their room is requested. There are about 100 rooms.”

  “But if the rooms are only on the circumference of the disk, what’s in the inner part of the disk?” Andrew wanted to know.

  “Empty space.”

  “Wouldn’t you say that this design is a bit flawed then?”

  Rufus said, “Personally, I felt this design was a bit extra. Spirit Intercom, who has such a high budget, had to use their money for something like this, which was a technological misfortune.”

  “Maybe you do have some inner engineer,” Andrew said. Rufus’ stank face was reassured. Rufus, placing his fingers on the keypad, entered a number. Andrew couldn’t see it though. And it was a lot of numbers, too. It was in the 10+ digits. “So what’s my number?”

  “628208420606848 is your number.” After digits were configured, a whirring noise vibrated behind the wall. The door hatched open. Glossy white tiles on the floor, the room elicited a plain white couch, white chair, and white bed. The furniture placement was quaint to Andrew’s eyes.

  “Your father’s orders,” Rufus responded. Pulling an object from his pocket, he handed a gray fountain pen to Andrew. “He also wanted you to have this.”

  “Okay. I appreciate the glamour.” Andrew still stood outside the bed. “Do you want me to enter the room though?”

  “Yes, please. Take a tour of it.” He gently pushed Andrew into the room.

  “There’s not much to see though,” Andrew said as he saw Rufus shut the door. Jiggling the doorknob, Andrew couldn't open it. “Am I stuck in here!”

  Rufus said, “Calm down! I didn’t trap you. It’s just that your father thinks you should get some rest.”

  Talking through the wall panelling, Andrew said, “How do I get out? Plus, I already got one week of sleep straight.”

  “If you look above, there’s a hatch, but I wouldn’t open it yet. Just get your rest.”

  “Bro, it’s 5:00 p.m.!”

  Rufus said, “I’m on my way out. Enjoy your rest.” His voice faded.

  Andrew asked, “If this disk rotates, won’t I feel it?”

  No response. Andrew gave up on the doorknob. He placed the fountain pen on a white desk, and he bounced his body onto the bed. Checking Mindcord, he saw it was 5:01 p.m. Time fled in this room. Andrew felt trapped. Fresh with energy still, he got off the bed and looked at the hatch above. It was similar to a submarine hatch. Wrapping his fingers around the yellow handle, he pulled. It didn’t budge. Therefore, he pushed. The hatch did budge, but it began to budge very slowly. Raising two hands above, he increased the hatch’s momentum. Before long, the hatch finally opened. As a submarine hatch usually amplified a whale’s breath of air, this hatch did not. Peeking his head out of the hatch, he saw the other hundred hatches arranged in the shape of a large circle. Strangely, the floor wasn’t white here. It was gray. He could see the open quad area in the opposite corner of the main complex. Unsure on leaving the hatch open or not, he let it be. Attracting himself back to the main area, he needed the approval of more security guards. He saw a white-suited guard near the lounge. Molding his hair back into order, he walked lightly.

  A petite young man was in the white suit. He seemed approachable. Robert’s eye was in his pocket. Seeing the man’s number, Andrew read 73062524. Andrew said, “Hi, Zachary! Great job so far!” The guard happily signaled him with a wave of his hand. Andrew thought, I don’t need no rest. The radicals, looking through his ingrained camera, were probably applauding every time he talked to a guard. Leaving the lounge, he went towards the elevator. There had to be more security guards on the upper levels to greet. Waiting for the elevator door to open up, Andrew took in some of the beauty from the small garden. He missed nature, even though the nature he perceived in the Spirit World was synthetic. As the door opened up, Andr
ew saw Rufus’ body expand symmetrically. Andrew was tripped out, and he tripped on the hoistway doors. Andrew asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Rufus said, “I’m the one who should be asking that. I think you should resume back to your rest. Your body is not sustainable for physical movement.”

  “What do you mean ‘rest’? I got plenty of it. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna explore more.”

  “It’s normal for you to be thinking like that,” Rufus explained. “Mentally, you’re not the fullest, and that is why your brain is wired for you to think like that.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  Rufus said, “Your father wants you to be as relaxed as possible.” Since Andrew was in the elevator, Rufus closed the door. Then, he pressed floor -1.

  Andrew was angered. “Come on, dude. Don’t do that.” Andrew clicked floor 1. He crossed his arms, spreading his disappointment upon Rufus.

  Rufus retaliated and clicked floor -1. As Andrew glided to the floor 1 button, Rufus tightly restrained his hand. He pulled Andrew’s hand to his own chest. Rufus softly said, “Rest.” The elevator declined. Andrew knew not to be vigilant. Submissiveness would solve things in the later run. They reached the underground level. Doors opened, the elevator saw Andrew quickly scurry past its doors. Rufus was behind.

  “Put in my damn code already,” Andrew demanded. He was sick of this same security guard hollering at him to get his rest. Rufus slowly inputted the code without saying a word. He had a stank face though. The door opened and Andrew’s room was displayed. Andrew entered the room and forcefully said, “Close the damn door.” Rufus listened.

  Andrew was bestranged by all of this. He thought, how did Rufus know I left the room? Why don’t they want me to explore? Do they know about the radicals? What are they hiding? He was bothered by all these questions. His brain processor couldn’t process them. The coordinate plane his mind was on was extraterrestrial. Maybe he did need rest. He had no other choice. Hopefully, the radicals would understand. Resting his head on the pillow, he slowly drifted off. He fell asleep. Distant dreams floated around him in his sleep, but no dreams directly entered his memory. His dreams were loose and scattered.