The Shift of Numbers

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The Shift of Numbers Page 12

by Warrington, David


  They made their way round the back of the main house, fighting all the way with overgrown bushes and avoiding the nettles. They found the remains of an outdoor swimming pool filled almost to the top with thick putrefying liquid. “You might want to get a professional cleaning company in,” the estate agent commented.

  After some searching they found a path - or at least a path of least resistance - through a set of trees. Then Gordon saw it: potential, potential and more potential.

  Beyond the path, the ground sloped gently down to an enclosed beach flanked on either side by rocky outcrops, a miniature oasis of white sand. Beyond the beach - within swimming distance and joined by a path of large rocks - lay a small grass covered island with steep sides. A path snaked its way around the edge, corkscrewing its way to the top. Upon its flat peak, clearly visible, were 2 large stones - 1 on top of the other.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” the estate agent said, seemingly to no-one in particular. “They used to do their worshipping up there. Sacrificing goats, I think it was.”

  “I love it,” said Gordon with wonder in his eye.

  “You do?” exclaimed the estate agent suddenly, looking quickly at Gordon to see if he was joking. “You want to put in a bid?”

  “What sort of figure am I looking at?”

  “To be honest, and I really am being honest, the lowest they will accept is 1 point 4.” He looked earnestly at Gordon. “I’m under instructions you see. It’s being sold as part of a last will and testament, at the behest of some distant relative. The lowest the will allows the land to go for is 1 point 4.”

  “I’ll take it then,” said Gordon with a grin.

  “Really? Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m so sick of showing this place to people. I’m going to go to the car to make a phone call and then I’m going to come right back. Stay here, don’t move, I’ll get a pen.” He ran off excitedly towards the main gate. Gordon smiled and gazed out over his bay towards his island. The astonishing colours and reflections of light bounced off the water into his eyes. He wondered if he would ever get bored of looking at it. Probably, he thought. In the distance, atop the island, he could just make out a shadowy figure waving at him. As he squinted, the waving stopped and the figure raised a thumb from an outstretched arm.

  That same day, Gordon placed an ad, to run for 2 days, in 3 of the most popular newspapers:

  Think for a moment…

  What do we live for?

  We the latent millions with that seed of prejudice

  Who decides what is right?

  Who among us wants to destroy that seed of hatred within ourselves?

  Who wants liberation?

  Hard work and reward

  The rewards self sufficiency and natural beauty can offer

  No more lies

  No more being part of a world where someone else’s history dictates our intolerance and hatred of others.

  Want to start again?

  Want to begin a new chapter of history?

  Your chapter…

  CALL: 01658 5654 95 65

  After about a week and only 3 genuine callers - who, after a few questions, appeared to be fleeing from the law - Gordon hatched another plan and posted another advert:

  NOW CASTING

  New reality/documentary show based around the idea of a group of people starting their own community from scratch.

  The aim of the show is to prove that a micro-community can sustain itself and improve the quality of life for its occupants over a 6-month period.

  Must be able to start in 2 weeks

  CALL: 01658 5654 95 65

  After the first 40 callers, Gordon decided he was going to have to rent an office in the city to interview all his budding reality stars. It amazed him how easy everything seemed to be when you had money. 2 phone calls later, 1 to an estate agent and another to a temping agency, and he had the use of a fully-furnished office space and 3 telephonists, all starting tomorrow at 9 o’clock. He spent the rest of the day phoning around builders until he found a team that could start the following day repairing his dilapidated buildings.

  The next afternoon he was sat behind a cheap, flimsy desk adorned with a lamp, several sheets of paper and a glass of water. The room smelled fresh, like new bed linen had been flung into a blender, then boiled, distilled, bottled and sprayed into the room. He wore a suit complete with a tie. He portrayed the essence of success.

  Gordon had just dismissed the last candidate and was utterly convinced he was doing something wrong. He couldn’t, however, put his finger on what it was. Thinking about what he was doing seemed to make parts of his brain itch. He searched his fragmented memory of the previous few weeks for the motivation behind starting a TV show. All that came out of the shadows was the smiling face of Santa Claus and it filled his veins with fear and made his chest feel tight. He remembered how Mary towered above him with her self-righteousness, complete in her diagnosis of just how many people she had on her side and how small and worthless she could make him feel. He paused and wrote something on a piece of paper. It was how much he was worth and it didn’t make him react with a good feeling. All he pictured was a small weaselly man in white and black striped clothing carrying a bag of swag, face obscured with a strip of black cloth with the eyes cut out. As his mind focused on the imaginary eyes, they reflected back the smiling face of Bill. Bill seemed to grow and expand with the respect everyone who knew him gave without question or expectation. Gordon sank into his chair.

  “Next,” he shouted, without conviction.

  A youngish man with a cap entered the room, seating himself without a word and seeming to bounce or vibrate without being asked. “All right, mate? How’s it going?” He made ‘how’s’ sounds like ‘aaaahs’.

  “Erm, okay,” replied Gordon.

  “Good, good. I’m Mark. I hear you’ve got a TV show that needs some contestants?” He pulsated, scratching his cheek.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “So?”

  “So, what?”

  “What d’ya wanna know?” He bounced.

  “Erm, just tell us a bit about yourself?”

  “Course I will, mate. All you had to do was ask.” Mark burst into a high-pitched barking that Gordon assumed was either a laugh or a result of spending his formative years living with wolves. “I’m a decorator, ain’t I? Would love to be on the telly, though. Been a dream of mine since I was, well, young. Love all them reality shows. Quality, mate.”

  “Okay,” Gordon frowned. “What do you decorate?”

  Mark leaned forward in his seat, eyes wide and leaving a long pause before he replied. “What d’ya reckon? It ain’t cakes, is it?”

  “Probably not…” replied Gordon, as Mark sat back into his chair.

  “You got any questions?”

  “I can’t think of any,” Gordon replied, honestly.

  “I ain’t got it, have I?”

  “What?”

  “A place on the show.” Mark stared intently into Gordon’s eyes as he failed to elicit a response. “You’ve already judged me, ain’t ya?” He stood up and flicked his fingers in front of Gordon’s face. “Fair play. I didn’t grow up with your privilege but you shouldn’t be disrespecting.” Pulling his cap down, Mark stalked out of the room muttering words that his mother might have disagreed with and his grandma might well have been shocked by.

  Gordon sank further into his chair, even more unsure of what he was doing. “Next,” he shouted without confidence. A small middle-aged man entered with a smile. They shook hands and he introduced himself as Andrew. He seemed to be blinking rapidly behind powerful, round spectacles. Gordon shuffled the blank pieces of paper around his desk trying to think of a question. “Could you tell me a bit about yourself?”

  Andrew began speaking in a bubbly, lilting voice.

  As Gordon focused on the huge blinking eyes, something began tugging at the edges of his consciousness, a blackness creeping into his peripheral vision, like small tendrils of darkness
leaking into the veins of his left eye. “Oh, dear,” Gordon said, as a familiar aroma of damp fish wafted over his shoulder.

  “Sorry?” Andrew said, stopping mid-sentence and looking on curiously.

  “Er, nothing. Carry on. Sorry,” Gordon said, apologetically.

  “Okay. Last year, I worked in the loans department until I got promoted. I was really happy to…”

  “Aft’noon, boy. You’re struggling again, ain’t ya?” came a voice from behind him.

  Gordon didn’t want to look around. “No, just leave me alone,” he replied defiantly, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in his desk drawer.

  “What? I don’t understand.” Andrew’s eyebrows drew a quizzical expression on his face.

  “Not you. Sorry.”

  “Not me?”

  “I think we should do this another time.”

  “That’s okay,” Andrew said, standing up. “I think I’ll give it a miss.” As he edged towards the door, a deep belly-laugh erupted behind Gordon. The door slammed shut and the vagrant-looking Santa made his way round the desk and sat down, his portly frame struggling to fit in-between the arms of the small chair. He shuffled uncomfortably until he was fully wedged in.

  “Don’t drink that. It’s just fake,” he said, loudly, looking intently at the bottle on the desk.

  “Fake what?”

  “Confidence, my boy, confidence. I can give you the real deal.” He didn’t seem scary and spoke softly, like a kind old relative handing out advice.

  “How?” asked Gordon.

  “I can tell you what you really want, and why you’re doing all this.”

  *

  She sat in the corridor on one of the plastic chairs. They reminded her of the uncomfortable ones from when she was at school. They stretched all the way down the brightly-lit space. Earlier in the day, they had all been filled with hopefuls, some rehearsing their opening lines in a bid for a shot at the silver screen. As each aspirant was called through the door at the end of the hall, the remaining people had to shuffle down 1 chair. Now only 2 were left. She was checking her make-up in a tiny mirror when the door slammed. A man walked swiftly out and down the corridor to the reception area shaking his head and muttering. As she waited, nervously adjusting her skirt, she could just about make out a voice inside. She strained to hear the contents of the 1-sided conversation but it eluded her, so she readjusted her skirt and took out the tiny mirror.

  After some time, the voice grew silent and the phone in the reception let out a bright chirp. A lady strode down the corridor and into the office, re-emerging seconds later with a piece of paper. Back at her desk she began typing furiously before retrieving several sheets of paper from a noisy printer. She marched back down the corridor and handed them both a piece of paper.

  Please read before attending interview

  This is not a traditional ‘reality show’ and you will be expected to work, either on the community or in your job. You will be part of a community formed by people who are open to the idea that they can make a fulfilling life for themselves contributing in a diverse group and are open to exploring a different way of life. You will not be living in isolation and there is no spiritual, religious or political aspect to the show.

  Members of this ‘country within a country’ will have to value collective needs above the personal. Most of these societies in the past have been based on a shared interest, usually religion. The only goal here is to improve quality of life for yourselves and provide an insight for the viewer into less ‘traditional’ ways of living.

  THE RULES

  1. All money earned by an individual is placed into a central account and spent as members of the community see fit.

  2. You must be willing to work for the benefit of all in the community in a manner decided upon by the majority.

  3. All other rules will be decided upon by majority vote.

  She had read and re-read the text several times before a shout of ‘next’ forced her onto her feet and into the office. As she walked in, a young man in an expensive-looking suit greeted her, standing up and shaking her confidently by the hand.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Gordon,” he smiled.

  “Sophia. Pleased to meet you,” she smiled back.

  “Please take a seat.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Right then. I best tell you what this is all about then. The basic idea is that you will be part of a group of people working together in a microcosm of society whose only goal is to try and make a better life for themselves. It’s difficult - well some find it difficult - living in a society that they can’t make an impact upon. Imagine a group of people enclosed in a bubble, a country within a country, sharing everything and working towards a common goal, carving out a shared existence that all contained within can make better… I’ve said that a few times today,” Gordon lied, flawlessly.

  “I can tell,” she exhaled with a laugh, “but I’m still not really sure what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re not the first 1 to say that,” Gordon smiled. “Basically, you will be living in a group of 30 people, some - around 8 - will keep their full-time jobs. A similar number will continue to work part-time, and the rest will comprise people working full-time on the community and for the children.” He paused momentarily and looked up and to the left. “The selling point of the show, if you will, is that the full-time workers all enjoy the jobs they do on the outside, while those who will be working on the community do not, or have never really found an outlet for the kind of skills they feel they possess. The part-timers will, hopefully, fill up the middle ground, possessing an idea of both worlds and hopefully amalgamating the group into a cohesive working unit. The interplay created by the friction of these worlds is what this show is all about. Misconception, coupled with money, tends to split people into defined groups that become more separate over time. The longer a group socialises only within its own comfortable walls, the more its ideals solidify, becoming a specialised type of intolerance. We want to explore that and give the viewers a glimpse into how you will resolve these issues.”

  “I see,” she said, without commitment, her accent the median of all accents.

  Gordon gazed upon her, pretending he knew what he was talking about and trying not to lose her interest. He could feel it slipping away from him. “Basically, it should be a quite a lot of fun. You get to meet a group of people from a wide range of backgrounds and interests, build some things, live by a beautiful beach, learn some new skills and get to be on the TV. What do you think?”

  “Sounds good.” She smiled and Gordon decided immediately.

  “So you’re up for it?”

  “You mean?” Her smile and eyes grew wide.

  “You’re in.”

  “That’s incredible! Thank you so much! But I haven’t really told you anything about myself.”

  “That’s okay. I’m sure we’ll get to know each other on the show.”

  “You’re going to be on it?”

  “Yes. The show doesn’t really need any staff as it’s all filmed on state-of-the-art fixed cameras and in a video diary room, so I’ll be pitching in on the community.”

  “Cool. What channel’s it going to be on?” she asked happily.

  “It doesn’t quite work like that. After the show has finished, we will edit the footage and send the TV networks a draft pilot of the show which, if it’s good enough (and I’m sure it will be), they will put on the air.” Gordon glanced at his watch realising he was running very late. “I look forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks.” He smiled. “Can you send in the next person on your way out?” He stood up with a hand outstretched.

  Sophia walked around the table and gave him a brief hug. “Thank you.”

  He was still smiling as the next person walked in, a middle-aged lady with sad-looking eyes and spectacles dangling from a chain around her neck. She seemed to be bowed under some invisible weight, as if her glasses were incredibly heavy. Gordon rose to shake h
er hand.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Gordon. Sorry about the delay.”

  “Hello. I’m Joan.”

  Gordon shuffled around some paperwork. “Erm, where do you work, Joan?”

  “I work in a factory that burns money,” she replied.

  “Really!” Gordon grinned. “Perfect. Welcome to the show.” He stood again to shake her hand.

  “That’s it?” Joan said incredulously.

  “Yep. See you in 2 weeks.”

  After a number of thank-yous and a couple of tears, Joan turned to leave. As she reached the door, Gordon remembered something.

  “Do you have a family or are you coming alone?”

  “Alone,” Joan replied in a quiet voice.

  11

  "Never eat more than you can lift.”

  Miss Piggy

  DAY 1

  Gordon – 18:12

  It’s a bit weird talking to a camera that only I will probably watch but I thought I should give it a go. Everyone else seems reluctant to come in here. Erm… Goodbye me. Oh, I best stay in here for a bit. Give them the impression I have something to say…

  Sunny – 19:06

  Hi, I’m Sunny and this is all very exciting. I have officially fallen on my feet. What other student can get 6 months’ free accommodation in a stunning location with free food and booze chucked in? Not many, I can tell you that. I’ve decided to try and do as little work as possible but I’ll keep you informed of my lack of progress. Laters.

  Poppy and Tom – 19:27

  I like the beach but the pool smells funny.

  Yes, very funny.

  I’m Tom.

  And I’m Poppy … Let’s go explore more.

  Don’t pull me.

  Deborah and Howard – 21:10

  Hello.

  Hello. The kids have been in so we thought we would give it a try. Bit scary thinking so many people could watch this.

 

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