Terrance chuckled. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
“I just meant it doesn’t look like you’re someone who could easily overpower women.”
“Less thanks, I guess.”
She cocked her head a bit, studying Terrance. “Maybe I’ve seen you around here.”
“Well, I work around here. I’m a programmer. My name is Terrance.”
“I work around here too. I’m a CPA.” She hesitated. “Talia.” She looked back at the squirrel.
That seemed to be the end of the conversation, so Terrance went back to eating and watching the squirrel. It just sat there, sniffing the air.
“Why are we here?”
Terrance turned to the woman. “Huh?”
She was still looking ahead at the squirrel. “That was it. There was no more to the question.”
“Then, I guess my answer would be: I don’t know. Maybe there is no reason. Maybe we just are.”
She nodded. “It doesn’t feel like that, though, does it?”
“Sometimes”—Terrance thought for a second—“it feels like we’re in a dream…but every so often our mind wakes up and we realize it’s a dream.” Terrance grimaced. “I am rambling. I must seem like a weirdo.”
“Yes. Somewhat.” Talia stared at him. “Are you hitting on me?”
“No, I…have a girlfriend. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m having a weird day.”
“And what is a normal day?” Talia closed her salad container and stood up. “See you around, Terrance.” She walked away as the squirrel scampered down the tree.
Terrance made his way back to his cubicle. Before entering, he stopped to look at the cubicle walls. They were made of some sort of fabric that was held together by a frame of hard metal that was somehow made into the perfect shape. It was then lined with plastic—a moldable material that was extremely common, yet Terrance had no idea how it was made. This cubicle wall represented years—millennia—of humankind’s knowledge about manufacturing, culminating in these simple barriers that people never usually paid any notice.
“You’re being weird again,” Lance whispered, walking up behind Terrance.
“Yeah, it’s just…” Terrance went into his cubicle and sat down, trying to bring words to his thoughts. “You ever think about how amazing our existence is?”
Lance sipped his coffee. “What do you mean?”
“Just…everything. It’s like so much of the world we’re just used to and walk by without ever really looking at it, but pretty much everything around us is just amazing when you really stop and see it.” He now felt like this important idea was hanging nearby, almost in his grasp. “And there are awful things, too…things we’re used to ignoring as well…and…and…well, I don’t know. It feels like I need to do something, yet I’m just here, not doing anything.”
Lance nodded thoughtfully as he took another sip of coffee. “Are you smoking something? I never thought you were cool enough to do drugs.”
Terrance slouched in his chair. “Just having a really weird day.”
“You’re a really weird guy. But if you want my advice, don’t freak out about normal everyday stuff, because that would make you insane.”
Terrance nodded and Lance continued on his way. Terrance stared at his computer screen, trying again to put his thoughts together. Everything was normal…same as the day before and the day before that, and he had never felt like this in the past. Maybe it was the dream he’d had that morning, he thought, but most of the details of that were quite faded, and he could recall almost none of it, other than a feeling. A feeling of purpose.
Terrance went over things logically in his mind: he had a job he liked and a great girlfriend. There was no big thing missing from his life—certainly nothing he could comprehend and put into words. Whatever was happening to him today, it was just an odd feeling that would pass—he was certain of that.
He brought up the code he was working on. Once again he pored through it to try to understand the old legacy code. It was filled with cryptically named variables and unused functions—a complete mess to try to understand and debug. But diving into it certainly took his mind off things. Code all followed a certain logic—though this code seemed to be trying its best not to. Still, he knew that if he scrutinized it closely enough, it could be understood. Code could always be understood—the mystery could always be solved. It was nice that way.
Trying to follow the logic of the code, Terrance eventually found what he was almost certain was an unreachable section of the program. He wondered what it was for, but it was as indecipherable as the rest of the code. Some of the variable names almost looked like the programmer had just mashed the keyboard. It was more than a page full of complicated-looking junk, but scrolling through it, Terrance finally spotted one comment:
TODO: remember who you are.
Terrance’s right hand went to his hip, reaching for something that wasn’t there—but something that he knew should be. All the while, he kept staring at the simple bit of text on the screen, filled with a strange but absolute certainty that this message was meant for him.
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END
First off, I’d like to thank my wife, the lovely and talented SarahK, for all her support and ideas. I would get nowhere without her. I’d like to thank all the beta readers, including my sister, Sarah E. Fleming, Charlie Hodges, Steve Horth, HCG, Kevin Edwards, Seth Morris, and Mark Sizer. And thanks to all the readers of my blog, IMAO, who have encouraged and helped my writing.
Thank you to Rachel Lucas for editing the novel and for the ideas she contributed. I’d also like to thank Stephen King, as I read his book On Writing before starting on this, and while I didn’t quite follow his writing method completely, I think trying some of his approach added to the novel. And a special thanks to Adam Bellow, David Bernstein, Elena Vega, and the rest of Liberty Island for their continued support and for finally getting this novel out there to everyone.
Thank you to my parents, who have always encouraged me and helped shape who I am. Also thank you to my in-laws, who have always supported me, with a special thanks to Patrick O’Neall, who was very encouraging when he read my first novel but has sadly since passed away. I’d also like to thank my kids, even though they get in the way of my writing more than anything, but are still an inspiration.
And finally, thank you to God, who always makes sure life is a grand adventure as long as we take the time to see the world as it is.
About the Author
Frank J. Fleming is a novelist (Superego), humor columnist (New York Post and USA Today), and scriptwriter (Love Gov). Frank is a Carnegie Mellon University graduate and also works as an electrical and software engineer when he’s not writing and has been a pioneer in virtual reality video. He lives in Austin with his wife and three kids.
Learn more about new and upcoming titles at
LibertyIslandMag.com
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