Fatal Exception

by Derek M. Dukes

  “You too.” Elliot looked around the room — duffel bags lining the walls, lighted mirrors everywhere, the smell of feet and perfume.

  “Did you get my little gift the other day?”

  Sandy took a swig from her water bottle. “Yeah, some guys came by and installed it and hooked it up and all that. One of 'em was pretty cute. I think his name was Fish or Fin or somethin'? Do you know him?”

  Elliot flinched at the sound of another man's name.

  “No, dear, I have hundreds of people who work for me.”

  “Oh yeah. Anyway, I haven't used the thing yet, but I'm going to — my nephew is gonna show me how it works this week.”

  “You know, I could . . . ”

  “Three minute warning, Sandy,” the bouncer barked from in the hall.

  “Thanks, Pete!” she called back. “My next set is coming up, so I gotta get ready.”

  “Indeed, your public awaits,” Elliot said with a facetiousness that flew right over Sandy's head. “If you have trouble with the Argos, you can always call me.” He pulled out a business card like a gunslinger drawing his shooting iron at high noon.

  “Thanks, I'll do that.” She glanced over at the now-open door, where the bouncer waited to escort Elliot out.

  “So long, Sunshine.” He blew her a kiss as he exited, but she was already turned toward the mirror refreshing her mascara.

  “Bye-eee!”

  The door closed. Sandy opened a zippered pocket on her bag and tossed in Elliot's business card, where it came to rest with dozens of other cards belonging to would-be knights in shining armor attempting to sweep her away.

  Chapter 17

  Never Trust a Monkey

  IT WAS ANOTHER LONG AFTERNOON in the call center. Phin sat with his newfound clique (Justin and Tiffany) finally feeling like part the office instead of just another cog in the call-answering machine.

  “You're pretty good at fixing problems,” Justin leaned over and said. “Now you have to start having fun with them.”

  Phin was puzzled. “What do you mean? How on earth do you have fun with a tech support call?”

  Ring ring.

  “Like this,” Justin said with a maniacal grin as he positioned his index finger like a coiled cobra over his mute button. “First: Mute Madness. The game is to use your Mute button so you can actually say all of the things you'd like to say to the customer.”

  Justin picked up the call.

  “Thank you for calling Storm Tech Support (you fucking moron), this is Justin (the guy who banged your mom last night), how may I provide you with excellent service today?”

  Phin nearly fell out of his chair trying to hold back his laughter. Tiffany looked over and just rolled her eyes.

  “Boy, you are new to this. Tech support, I mean.”

  “I'm just trying to pay the bills and get back into school, that's all.”

  Phin's phone rang. He scrambled to put on his headset and then tapped the button to connect the line.

  “Thank you for calling Storm Computer Tech Support. This is Phinnaeus, how can I help you?”

  “Yeah, hi, this is Jeff from Tier 1,” the caller said. It was one of the legions of temporary workers that had been brought in to handle low-level calls.

  “What can I do for you, Jeff?”

  “Yeah, uh, I got this guy on the phone.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “And his computer won't turn on.”

  “Okay — what did you try so far?”

  “Uh . . . he said it doesn't work.”

  “Right. And what troubleshooting steps have you taken so far?”

  “Trouble . . . what?”

  “Jeff — did you follow the scripts already?”

  “Oh, yeah, it said to send the caller to you guys.”

  “Alright, Jeff, I'll take it from here. Transfer him on over.”

  “Oh, I don't have him on transfer mode.”

  “Okay, guy. Get him on transfer mode and send him to somebody over here then.”

  “Uh, okay, thanks.”

  Phin slapped the Release button on his phone and tore off his headset.

  “Problems, Phin?” Justin leaned back in his chair with his customer on mute.

  “These temps are completely worthless. What scripts are they even using?” Phin asked as though he were questioning the gods on Olympus for cursing him.

  “Not sure, man. It's like I always say — never trust a monkey.”

  As if on cue, Steve Zook popped around the corner.

  “All you monkeys get back on the phones. Brian was a no-show again today and the queue is spiking because you're too busy yappin' away over here.”

  A Messenger window popped up on Phin's screen.

  Tiffany: That's easy for him to say, being a monkey himself.

  Phin: Cute.

  Tiffany: Why yes I am. But thank you.

  Phin: So I have to ask you a question, and don't be weird about it.

  Tiffany: Not sure I can make a promise like that.

  Phin: Are you and Justin . . . together?

  Tiffany: What? LOL

  Phin: I'll take that as a no.

  Tiffany: Take that as a hell no. Nothing against the guy, but it's just not like that, nor will it ever be.

  Phin: Oh, ok.

  Tiffany: Did he ask you to ask me?

  Phin: Nah.

  Tiffany: I see. So you were asking for your own clarification then?

  Phin: Hey, what's the keypress to reach the BIOS config on the Nimbus 180?

  Tiffany: Way to change the subject.

  Phin: I mean it. My guy is totally irate. I just managed to talk him down, and he's about to reboot, and I need to know like now.

  Tiffany: F2

  Phin: Thanks.

  Tiffany: No prob. It takes time. Every model has a different motherboard, with different shortcuts. Sometimes it's Delete, sometimes it's F2. I swear, they just get whatever parts were cheapest that week and slap 'em into these things.

  Phin: I'll tell Elliot you said that.

  Tiffany: Yeah, you just march right on up there and tell him that Tiffany in Tech Support doesn't like his motherboard purchasing practices.

  Phin: Well, I have a meeting with him in a few minutes, so maybe I will.

  Tiffany: Are you serious?

  Phin: Yep. I just got a call from his personal assistant. Guess he wants to ask questions about the on-site install I was there for last week.

  Tiffany: Sweet.

  Phin: What's he doing here on a Saturday, anyway?

  Tiffany: Dude is nuts. I think he sleeps here sometimes.

  Phin: Ok gotta run. I'll let you know what happens.

  Tiffany: K

  Phin was walking out of the call center when Zook grabbed his shoulder.

  “Are you goin' up to see Elliot Storm?”

  “Yes, I put my phone in Unavailable status. Should I log off instead?”

  Zook shook his head. “I don't care about the phone stats. That's Isaac's deal. Just come here for a second.”

  Phin was a bit weirded out, but he followed Zook into an empty conference room.

  “Listen,” Zook said in a hushed tone. “There's something up with Elliot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don't know for sure. There's just something weird going on. Like, have you noticed how he's always here?”

  “Sure.”

  “And that damn spider robot thing?”

  “Yeah, it's a little creepy.”

  “Creepy? Looks like something out of a goddamn horror movie!”

  “Is that it? You want me to watch out for the SpidR?”

  “No, that's not it. Listen, we've had a few techs disappear around here over the past few months. Not like they quit — that happens all the time. Like, they were at work one day and then just dropped off the face of the planet. Always right after they got off work.”

  “Is that why they hired the security guard?”

  “Are you kidding me? That fat fuck c
ouldn't catch a cold.”

  Phin laughed uncomfortably. Hearing his direct boss curse was a bit like hearing one's parents curse for the first time after childhood.

  “Anyway, just watch yourself. Keep your eyes open, all that.”

  “Sure thing, Zook.”

  * * *

  535445504E324D59574F524B524D00

  * * *

  WHEN HE WALKED OUT OF the elevator, Phinnaeus was greeted by the friendly synthetic voice of the SpidR, which was waiting for him in the hallway.

  “Good afternoon, Phinnaeus. Follow me this way, if you please.”

  “Sure, thanks.” Phin immediately felt stupid for saying ‘thanks’ to a mindless automaton, but it was an instinctive response. While it looked completely unnatural, the human voice lent a personality to the machine, which made it even creepier.

  The door to Elliot Storm's office opened automatically as the SpidR approached. Probably some sort of wireless triggering mechanism, Phinnaeus thought.

  “Hi there. Elliot Storm. You must be Phinnaeus.”

  “Yes sir.” Phin shook Elliot's hand firmly.

  “Take a seat, Phin — can I call you Phin?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  “Phin, I wanted to talk to you about the time you spent in the field. You went to — how many houses?”

  “Six houses.”

  “That's right, six. All of them were pilots for the new product. Essentially, their opinions of our staff and our service will have a direct impact on the future of this company.”

  “That makes sense, sir.”

  “What sort of an opinion does sexual harassment invite?”

  Phinnaeus was caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

  “I received a call from one of the pilot program participants, who said that one of my employees made a pass at her while he was in her house on company time.”

  “Sir, I can assure you that I had nothing to do . . . ”

  “That's what Mike Barton said too.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Unfortunately, I was forced to let Mike go. He is no longer with the company.”

  All the blood drained out of Phin's face and his stomach dropped.

  “Sir, I would never do . . . ”

  “I hope not. This wasn't the first complaint brought against Mr. Barton, so I had no choice but to terminate his employment with us. You, on the other hand, have a clean record.

  Phinnaeus exhaled sharply.

  “I'm inclined to believe my employees when they tell me something. I wouldn't have gotten far in this business if I hired people I couldn't trust.”

  “That makes sense, sir.”

  “On the other hand, the woman who made this allegation is a close, personal friend of mine. So I am at a crossroads.”

  “So, what happens now?”

  “Well, here's what I'd like to happen, Phin. I've heard you're a hell of a technician, so you've got that going for you. I'd like you to stay on the phones if that's alright with you.”

  “That would be great.”

  “Also, I don't want you going out on any more ride-along trips with Field Operations. I'll communicate this to your supervisor myself.”

  This seemed fair to Phinnaeus, as he hadn't wanted to go out “in the field” in the first place.

  “Will there be any sort of a write-up?”

  “No, no. Like I said, at this point, it's your word against hers. I'm not going to drag her in here for a police line-up or bring in a sketch artist or anything like that. But I will be keeping an eye on you.”

  “Alright.”

  “You got a second chance today, kid. Don't blow it.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Elliot hit a button on his desk, causing the office door to swing open. Phinnaeus walked out the door and toward the elevator, not at all sure of what had just happened.

  * * *

  4954534D415254494E4954494D4500

  * * *

  PHINNAEUS GOT OFF WORK AT seven o'clock and headed straight for Sixth Street, the central hub of Austin's infamous party district. He wasn't accustomed to drinking alone (although, technically, he wasn't alone, since he was in a bar with a couple dozen other people) — but he had no choice for a little while. Justin and Tiffany agreed to come meet him, but each of them had promised to work overtime, so they wouldn't be off work until nine.

  To kill the time and kill the pain, Phinnaeus camped out on a barstool at a tiny bar called the Boar's Head. By half past eight, he was well on his way to being shit-faced.

  Like most of the buildings on Sixth Street, the Boar's Head was just the latest stage of evolution for its small, century-old building. Two stories tall, the bar took up only a sliver of street real estate, extending back a couple hundred feet to make up for the lack of width. Each floor had its own bar, but on most weeknights, only the bottom bar had a bartender on duty.

  The air was thick and smoky, despite it still being early by Sixth Street standards, and in defiance of the expensive air filtration units stationed in the corners of both floors. The place had absorbed the psychic energy from decades' worth of parties into its very structure; a thousand years from now, someone could walk over the site where the Boar's Head once stood and get a little drunk.

  While Phin had originally planned to take it easy until Tiffany and Justin arrived, there really wasn't much to do by himself in the bar other than drink — no big screen TV tuned to ESPN, no live band, just the previously selected music of some unseen DJ, pumped through military-grade speakers — so Phin ended up pounding down $2 Lone Star longnecks.

  Phin wasn't much of a drinker under normal circumstances, but being falsely accused of sexual harassment by his boss and nearly shit-canned, Phin wasn't exactly having a normal day. By the time Tiffany and Justin arrived, Phin already had a serious buzz.

  “Hey guys, how's it going?” He leaped off the barstool and gave his two workmates a big group hug — mainly as an excuse to put his arm around Tiffany.

  “Damn, man.” Justin was surprised — he had never seen Phin in such a state. “How many have you had?”

  “I'm fine. Just a couple of beers. If by ‘a couple’ you mean ‘six or eight.’”

  “So what the hell happened with Elliot?” As usual, Tiffany cut right to the chase. “You said you wouldn't talk about it in the office.”

  “Yeah, that. See, the thing is he kind of accused me of hitting on a customer when I was at her house for a ride-along.”

  “So what?” Justin said. “I'm sure that happens all the time.”

  “Did you get fired?” Tiffany looked concerned.

  “No, but the tech I rode with apparently was.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah. And here's the thing — first, I didn't do it. Second, the way he put it, it was sexual harassment, and the girl called him directly because she's his close personal friend.”

  Tiffany looked puzzled. “Maybe there was some kind of misunderstanding?”

  “I don't think so. There's something else going on, I'm sure of it,” Phin said in a Scooby-Doo “c'mon gang, there's a mystery” kind of way.

  With an “I'll be right back,” Tiffany ran off to the ladies' room.

  “Sure, bud. Have another beer.” Justin turned to the bartender and ordered a round for the group. “Oh, and whatever you do, don't mention it to Zook.”

  Phin stopped between chugs. “Shit, I almost forgot! Zook pulled me into a conference room today and started spouting some kind of conspiracy theory bullshit about Elliot. Something about techs disappearing, and Elliot Storm always being around when it happened.”

  “Holy shit — I knew the guy was a little paranoid after what happened with his wife, but that's pretty nutty even for him.”

  “Yeah, that's what I thought at the time. But still, why would Elliot Storm make up something about me assaulting a friend of his and then nearly fire me over it?”

  “True. That part is a little weird. But it's probably best to drop the subject before Tiffa
ny gets back.”

  “Why? Something weird with her and Zook?”

  “No, with her and Storm. Apparently, he came down to the call center one night a few weeks ago when she was there late and started acting . . . strange. Like he wanted to get her to go up to his office. She split real quick.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “Nothing. Not a damn thing. She reported it to Isaac, but nothing ever came of it. In the end, it's her word against his. The president of the company versus a peon.”

  Tiffany walked up and grabbed a beer off the bar.

  “What are you guys talking about?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Justin said.

  “So what happened with you and Elliot?” Phin blurted out.

  “God damn you, Justin.” She slugged Justin hard in the shoulder and he slinked away. “Well Phin, it sounds like you already know what happened.”

  “I wouldn't worry about it now,” Phin said. “Since the call center went 24 hours, there are always at least 2 people there all the time, not counting the security guard.”

  “Yeah, that guard makes me feel real secure,” Tiffany said.

  Justin returned bearing three shot glasses containing a bright blue concoction. “Sorry about that, Tiffany. A little peace offering? The Four Horsemen await.”

  “Apology accepted,” Tiffany sneered. “Now, what should we drink to?”

  Phinnaeus raised his glass. “At least we don't have to do tech support for that goddamn spider thing.”

  The three friends touched glasses and slammed back the fiery liquid.

  “Another round? I'm buying.” Justin held up his credit card.

  “Definitely,” Phin and Tiffany said in unison, sharing a playful little smile.

  Chapter 18

  In the Right Place at the Right Time

  KYLE PHELPS'S JOB WAS A breeze. As the sole night security guard for Storm Computer Corporation's main campus, he basically just had to man a central command station, from which he could monitor every single part of the property.

  As a result, Kyle had already gained five pounds in his first week. He spent most of his time watching TV with his feet propped up. Motion sensors on the monitors would tell him if there was something he needed to see.