Black Box

by C. M. Okonkwo



  Black Box

  A Short Fiction

  Copyright 2015 C. M. Okonkwo

  Black Box

  “Let’s have one voice and work towards a common goal. Let’s adopt the support system strategy, master it and use it, until it becomes our culture,” Mr. Charles Mo-Uboh concluded on the speech on Market Knowledge he had been giving for about an hour. He waited, but no one commented or clapped. Everyone stared at him… those who were awake.

  Mr. Charles was the founder and MD/CEO of Inflygroovics Nigeria; a fast paced design services company that employed mostly young people, and it wasn’t new to him that no one clapped or commented whenever he gave speeches or organised interactive sessions. It wasn’t as if he lacked the congregation, because some of his staff members were present for the much-awaited session. Clara Orlu, the HR Manager was there; Chinelo Anigbo-Tewogbola, the Marketing Manager was present; two Technical Support Analysts, Evangeline Ottah and Eugene Isaiah Nwajesus, didn’t miss the session. Two Research Officers Nichole Oshodi and Abu Osman had come prepared with their laptops, android tablets and two smartphones each. A Technical Administrator, Otito U. Otito happened to be passing by and joined in. And then finally, there was Enoh Ernest, the Admin Officer. All the other staff members were either out of the office, on leave or in other Inflygroovics offices around Nigeria.

  Mr. Charles didn’t lack the manpower on that fateful Monday morning to receive comments and claps. His staff members in general didn’t just like voicing out their opinions or clapping. Sometimes, it felt as though they were scared, or rather, afraid; as if they were afraid of being laughed at, teased, corrected or turned down. They were afraid of appearing or sounding like idiots in front of their colleagues who actually didn’t care if they sounded like idiots or not.

  “Any comments?” Mr. Charles asked. He didn’t get an answer, either. “Are you trying to tell me that I have just been speaking with myself all this while?”

  Still no answer and Mr. Charles was getting frustrated. He decided to use another technique. “Do you have any questions?” he asked, believing that his staff members were just waiting for him to ask that question, because usually, they would either decide to talk or not, and at least someone always said something. Today wasn’t that day. They all decided not to speak.

  “Clara?” Mr. Charles called out. “What is going on?”

  Clara looked back at first, as if the glass wall that separated her office from the pool office was talking to her. She then looked at Mr. Charles and shrugged. “Please, this is an interactive session, people, and you are all expected to participate or give an opinion,” she announced.

  No one spoke.

  “It’s obvious that some people are afraid of sounding stupid,” Eugene pointed out.

  “There you go,” Clara said, looking at Mr. Charles. “An opinion.”

  “I think some people are shy,” Nichole added. She was sitting by a corner of the pool office, very close to Otito, and both of them had been giggling occasionally during the session.

  “What should they be shy of?” Abu asked, in a distinct accent. “Are we not one family?”

  “Do you know what I think?” Chinelo said. “We should have an ‘Ideas Box’ in the office where we can put in our ideas, opinions or suggestions.”

  “Yes,” everyone chorused.

  “It should also be anonymous, so that people would feel free about it,” Evangeline added.

  “Deal,” Mr. Charles said. “Clara, set up the box and decide where to put it, probably in your office. You’ll manage it… Also, organise a follow-up session on Friday. We’ll open the box and work on the ideas.” He looked at his wristwatch. “That’s all for now. Thank you all.”

  Before everyone dispersed and went about their business for the day, Enoh shared hot meat pies to them with very cold soft drinks. That was the best part of Inflygroovics’ sessions; the snacks and the drinks, and in some cases, there was proper food.

  ***

  By lunchtime, Clara had gotten a black box that had a small round hole by the top of the right side. She liked what the box looked like and thought it would be great for their ideas. She was going to be in charge of collecting all the ideas, then she would keep the box until Friday when it would be time to open it and share with the office.

  Before she went for lunch, she scribbled down one interesting idea she had, which had been inspired by the Market Knowledge session. She smiled when she was done writing it, but she didn’t put it into the black box just yet. She didn’t want to be the first person to put an idea in. What if she was the only one with an idea? What if the others thought she was a know-it-all? What if they didn’t want to move forward with the idea or they voted it down? What if, what if, what if. Clara folded the paper and put it under her desk, she was going to put it in later.

  ***

  During lunch break, Clara announced to the staff members that the black box was now available and that it was going to be placed on her table, right next to the printer. Everyone acknowledged the announcement, but she didn’t see anyone come into her office to drop an idea. She wondered why she was bothered about it and decided not to worry herself again.

  A little while later, Clara got engrossed in the work she had to do, then forgot about the box until it was getting close to 6.00pm. She shut down her computer and left the office. No one had come to drop an idea yet, and she was glad she hadn’t dropped hers, too. She was going to wait and watch before dropping it.

  ***

  Clara came to the office at about 9.00am the next day and noticed that the box had moved a few inches to the right. It meant that it had been touched, and someone, or some people, had definitely dropped their idea or maybe checked if there were ideas in it. She looked at the pool office from her glass wall and saw that no one was looking at her. So she picked up the box and shook it. She heard pieces of paper grazing the edges of the box. She was satisfied.

  She bent down slightly and felt around under her desk. She touched a folded piece of paper, took it out and was about to open it when Enoh knocked on her office door and entered.

  “Excuse me, ma,” Enoh said, holding out her phone. “Oga wants to talk to you.”

  “Me?” Clara asked, as she wondered why her boss wanted to speak with her on someone else’s phone. She quickly tucked the piece of paper she was holding into the black box, then took the phone from Enoh.

  “He said he has been trying to reach you, but you are not picking up,” Enoh added.

  Clara glanced at her phone. It was on silent, as usual, so she had no idea the phone had been ringing, and that there were ten missed calls on it. “Hello?” she said, after she placed Enoh’s phone to her ear.

  ***

  The day had gone quietly and somewhat slowly in the office, but at least people trooped in and out to drop their ideas. Clara always paid them no attention. She acted indifferent and stared into her computer whenever someone entered and looked at the box. She didn’t want them to think that she was memorising the type of paper they were using or how many pieces they were dropping in, but sometimes it sounded as though they were dropping ten pieces of different ideas at the same time. She wondered what ideas they were and why anyone would want to have that many.

  By close of business on Tuesday, Clara felt that everyone had dropped their ideas in the box as it seemed heavy, compared to a similar empty box. All she had to do now was to wait until Friday when they would open up the box, bring out the contents and brainstorm.

  ***

  It was about 9.35am when Clara got to the office on Wednesday, and barely five minutes after she settled in, Mr. Charles got to the office. His driver, Samson, parked by the entrance, then went in first, carrying Mr. Charles’s laptop bag and some books. Mr. Charles stood outside br
iefly, talking on his phone and also using the opportunity to inspect the property — the garden, the gravel on the parking lot, the security lights, the building... When he was done talking on his phone, he walked into the building and made a stop at the HR office first.

  Clara looked up when he entered. “Good morning, sir,” she said.

  “Morning, how are you?” he replied.

  “Fine, thanks, and you?”

  He tilted his head to the side. Clara wasn’t sure if it was a ‘yes,’ a ‘no,’ or a ‘maybe.’ He then looked at the box and smiled. “How’s the box doing?”

  “I believe it’s doing very well, but I can’t check for now.”

  “Right. Until Friday.”

  At that instant, Samson was passing by. He was probably going back to the car, to park in his designated parking slot, before going to sit at the reception as usual. Mr. Charles called him. “Samson, please, bring my laptop bag.”

  Samson went immediately and came back about thirty seconds later, and gave Mr. Charles the laptop bag. Mr. Charles rummaged through the bag — he had a lot of documents, pieces of paper, receipts, invoices, and what have you, in the bag. In fact, there was no laptop in it. It was more of a paper storage bag for him. His cell phone rang as he continued to go through the bag, then he picked it up and began to talk. Shortly after, he pushed what seemed to be a neatly folded and rolled up A4 paper into the hole of the box, then got up and left.

  No one else entered into Clara’s office for the rest of the morning, and she was then sure that they had all dropped their ideas.

  Just after lunch break, Clara was writing an email when a general email entered into her inbox from a Sales Analyst in Abuja, Antonia Uche. Clara hadn’t opened the email yet, but from the ‘To’ field, she could tell that it was addressed to all staff members. It was just at that moment she realised she hadn’t informed the rest of the Inflygroovics staff — the ones who had missed the session — that there was an Ideas Box. It wasn’t like Clara didn’t want to involve the rest of the office, but she thought that she should just test the new process with only those that were at the session. So she decided to send a general email the next week.

  ***

  At approximately 3.30pm, there was a knock on Clara’s office door. She usually never said “enter,” but whoever was there always entered, either way. She stayed glued to her laptop.

  “Sorry to disturb.” It was Evangeline.

  Clara didn’t look up. “How can I help you?”

  “Please, I need to retrieve my idea from the Ideas Box.”

  “What?” Clara looked up. She had actually heard, so before Evangeline could repeat what she had said, she added, “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I don’t think my idea is good enough.”

  “I think it is.” Clara resumed looking at her laptop screen.

  “You read it?”

  Clara looked up again and shut her laptop. She needed complete concentration to have the conversation. “Okay, I believe it’s good, I don’t think it is.”

  “I’m sorry to say, but what you think or what you believe isn’t the issue here.”

  Clara narrowed her eyes into a line, but her eyeballs bulged at the top. Evangeline wanted to also narrow her eyes, but they already looked narrow. It would have been pointless.

  “So?” Evangeline broke the silence that was beginning to get too long.

  “So, the door is behind you. I’m not opening the box for you to take anything. You would not even know which idea was yours.”

  “I’ll look through.”

  “And see everyone else’s own? I don’t think so.”

  “But it’s anonymous. I won’t know who wrote what.”

  “Evangeline, please. The idea can’t be that bad. And even if it’s bad, no one will know it came from you.”

  Clara had a point and Evangeline knew it. Evangeline turned around and left the office, but not before glancing at the box that still sat on one corner of Clara’s desk, beside the printer. She thought briefly of snatching the box and running to lock herself in the toilet to find her idea. Well, it wasn’t an idea per se. In fact, it wasn’t an idea at all. Evangeline had mistakenly put something else in the Ideas Box... something else that she didn’t want anyone to see.

  On Tuesday, she had searched for the ‘something else’ frantically because she knew that the office was the last place she had seen it. It wasn’t until that afternoon that she realised she had put her ‘something else’ inside the Ideas Box, because her idea was still under her desk.

  It was barely ten minutes after Evangeline left that Clara’s intercom rang. She had been so engrossed in the work she was doing on her spreadsheet that the call sounded like a fire alarm to her. It took her a few seconds to realise that it was just her intercom. She went to check the number... it was her boss calling.

  She picked up the receiver. “Sir?”

  “See me in my office.”

  “Sir, I’m compiling and analysing data for a compliance certificate. I have a deadline and I would like to meet it.”

  “I know what I said. Come right now, priority has changed.”

  “To what, if I may ask?”

  Mr. Charles was getting irritated. He hated it when someone challenged him. “Just come... And Clara, bring the Ideas Box with you.”

  “I don’t need to carry the box to your office.” Clara laughed. “When you are leaving, you can simply drop your additional idea or ideas.”

  Mr. Charles didn’t reply. He had already hung up.

  ***

  Clara had had a long debate with her boss over the Ideas Box. He had not asked for the box so that he could put in more ideas; he only wanted its contents, especially his own idea, and Clara wouldn’t have that. She didn’t know what exactly he wanted with the contents, but she wasn’t going to give them to him. If he had good intentions, he would wait until Friday when the box was officially opened.

  Mr. Charles didn’t get what he wanted, and at that instant, he hated himself for agreeing to set up the Ideas Box, and also hated Chinelo for proposing it. Just like Evangeline, he had put the wrong document in the Ideas Box, thinking it was his idea. His phone call had distracted him that morning, and he didn’t know what would happen if the whole office saw what was on the paper he had put in. He had to pray that something mysterious would happen and that the ideas session would not hold on Friday or on any other day.

  Shortly after Clara got back to her office, Eugene knocked and entered. He, too, asked to get his idea back. In fact, he didn’t want the idea, he just wanted the money in it. Apparently, he had squeezed up five thousand naira with his idea and dropped it in the box, and he wanted it back. Clara told him that she had taken note of his complaint, and that she would look out for the money on Friday.

  The next person to enter was Otito. He, too, had the same complaint. He had put something in the Ideas Box that he shouldn’t have, and he wanted to retrieve it. There was no way that the ‘something’ he had put in there could ever come out, and he was willing to do anything he could, even pay a bribe, to get it. Clara shook her head and told him to wait until Friday.

  When the office was quiet again, Clara glanced towards the pool office and saw that some people were looking fixatedly into her office. It wasn’t certain if they were staring at her or staring at the Ideas Box, so she changed the location and put it on the floor, right next to the shredder. That way people would focus on their work, and not on her desk.

  Ten minutes later, Abu entered Clara’s office, claiming that he had dropped a note in the box that had to do with the financial security of the country. Clara felt that Abu was suffering from paranoia, as he always felt that someone was out to get him, his family or his money.

  Clara knew that there was no financial threat to the country or to anyone. And like she told the others, she told him to go and come back on Friday. The country would be safe until then.

  Shortly after he left, Enoh entered and said that she had
dropped several recharge cards in the Ideas Box. Clara doubted it, but Enoh confirmed that she had bought a lot of recharge cards — the ones normally printed on paper—, and was going to sell them to her neighbours. It was her personal business and a means of making extra money.

  “What’s the value of the recharge cards?” Clara asked.

  “Ten thousand,” Enoh replied.

  “Ten thousand what?”

  “Naira.”

  “I know it’s naira, I was just being... never mind. So how would you put ten thousand naira worth of recharge cards in a box and not know all day? How many ideas did you have?”

  “Like fifteen. I wrote them on different pieces of paper, and packed them together with the same colour of rubber band I used for the recharge cards. I put the wrong pack in the box.”

  “Hmm.” Clara sighed. “Please, wait until Friday.”

  “What about my business?”

  “It would have to wait until Friday, as well.”

  Enoh grumbled and left.

  It was then Nichole’s turn to enter and ask for her idea. She had given Clara a story, but Clara didn’t listen to it. She simply told Nichole to wait until Friday. Just as Nichole was leaving the office, Chinelo was entering. She smiled at Clara and went to sit on the chair opposite her. Before she could speak, Clara interrupted.

  “If you are coming to ask about your idea and how you can retrieve it, don’t bother.”

  “But I put a phone number in there by mistake instead of my idea.” Chinelo opened a piece of paper where she had written her idea. “I just want to swap it with this one.”

  Clara shook her head. “You can swap it on Friday.”

  “It’s a phone number. I need to make a phone call today.”

  “I’m sure it can wait until Friday.”

  Chinelo stared at Clara, wondering what her problem was. It was her idea after all to set up the Ideas Box, so why wasn’t she given special treatment? She stood up and wanted to hiss as she walked out, but she didn’t... she rolled her eyes instead.