John 76359

by Frederick Zaccarini

  Although he enjoyed absolute power and authority in tower block five, he could still remember the early days. He could remember the fear. Outside of his sanctuary he somehow felt uneasy. Each time he had entered and left the City he had half expected the guards to say that there was a problem with his pass, to grab his car keys, drag him out of the car and frog march him into the office. But as usual nothing had happened. His imagination had just been working overtime. During the final leg of Max’s journey, he had driven quite slowly. He was content to enjoy the last thirty five miles to the city. Not surprisingly nothing had passed him in either direction. The road was illuminated only by the Porches’ full beam helped on by a copying moon. It had been so mild and warm that Max had opened the sun roof and driver’s side window. At thirty miles per hour the passing breeze felt perfect. It was one of those occasions when it had been good to be alive. The cigarette he had lit, was held loosely in his hand which was draped out of the open driver side window. The mixture of smoke and fresh air which had filtered through his lungs had made him feel high. Driving with the fingers of the other hand Max had felt good. The programme on the radio had featured some nutcase who was spilling his guts out on the subject of his sexual fantasies. Way in the distance, Max had seen the six sets of tower blocks which surrounded the underground city. A huge illuminated sign had shown him to take the left hand fork.

  The splat of multi-coloured birds shit on the pristine glass just above Max’s head suddenly brought him back to the present.

  “For fucks sake,” he roared in an animated voice, as he stood up and threw the satin lined pillow towards the fleeing culprit.

  “Voice link to control,” he said sharply.

  “Go ahead,” replied the computer’s voice.

  “Send up the window cleaners this morning will you?” said Max.

  “Do you want them up now sir?” enquired the voice of Brian.

  “No! No!” said Max quickly. “Give me an hour!”

  “Certainly sir. And did you check your voice mail last night?” asked Brian knowing full well that he had not.

  “No,” replied Max, “I was just about to.”

  “The chairman’s been looking for you sir!” said Brian trying to suppress the obvious pleasure in his voice.”

  “All right I’ll deal with it.” Snipped Max as he ended the transmission.

  Max took a deep breath

  “Voice mail,” he said.

  “Beep!”

  “Hello Max, Bernard here,” came the voice with the strong English accent.

  “Sorry I missed you this morning. Look, eh, something’s come up. We’d like to have a meeting with you and the other directors at your place, say, on Tuesday if it’s convenient. Well, eh, we’ll presume it’s convenient for the moment shall we. If not, perhaps you could call me back later on, eh? The entire board will be there. We’ll probably arrive around eleven thirty. My secretary will contact the other directors. We’ll be leaving around three in the afternoon, in time to get the last flight back to the capital. So, until Tuesday then.”

  “Beep!”

  “Max its Manfrid, What the fuck’s going on? Call me when you get back will you?”

  Max sat cross-legged on the bed. His thoughts racing. He stared vacantly at the bird shit, lit a cigarette and played the voice mail again. When the message finished for the second time he walked quickly to the ashtray and stubbed the out cigarette. Getting dressed, he buzzed down stairs.

  “I’m calling a senior management meeting for ten thirty sharp. Wake up the night staff. Everybody there! No excuses!”

  After getting dressed Max contacted Manfrid to say he hadn’t a clue what was going on, but whatever was going on, it was going to go on smoothly. At ten twenty eight exactly Max alighted from his private lift at the eightieth floor. On duty, the six second line managers kept their heads down and looked industrious enough, so did the eight other assistants. Two of the others, who were surplus to requirements, stood motionless in their designated areas awaiting further instructions. Max stood for some time surveying the scene.

  “Make the bastards sweat a little,” he thought.

  Once he was sure that each person felt suitably self conscious, he moved on to the meeting room without saying a word.

  As he opened the door the general rhubarb gradually faded to a deathly hush. All twelve first level managers stood up and turned to face Max.

  “Let’s not stand on ceremony gents,” said Max, who had rather surprised himself with his little pun.

  “If I could get straight to the point. Last night I received a communiqué from the chairman of the board saying that he and the other directors will be visiting here on Tuesday for a meeting with myself and with the other tower block directors. We’ll be discussing a variety of topics including the work schedules, checking on the progress of the city, that sort of thing and eh, they’ll probably want to see round the building too.”

  Brian’s eyes were fixed firmly on the writing pad in front of him. He knew full well that Max hadn’t a fucking clue why they were coming. As the meeting progressed, Max had delegated various duties to each of the three senior management teams. Although some of the instructions were of a strategic nature, most were to do with clearing out and tidying up the various unkempt areas of the building. Finishing off the thirty minute briefing, Max asked Jim to stay behind to discuss the menu for the following Tuesday.

  Jim 28993 hated being the catering manager for tower block five. He had always tried to give the men as much variety as possible but it was difficult. Often Jim would try to barter food stocks with the other tower block C.M’s. But more often than not, he failed. The consequence of which meant that he had came in for more flack than all the other managers put together.

  “Alright James,” said Max, trying to imitate Bernard’s English accent.

  “What goodies have you got in store for us down stairs in that kitchen of yours?”

  “There’s not a lot in at the moment sir, other than Soya Beef and Chickstrich!

  Although I think there should be some farmed salmon in the freezers. There’s another food delivery due in on Tuesday morning,” he said desperately trying to find a solution.

  “Right, well we can’t wait for that. Get on to your contacts, see what you can get a hold of and give me an update and menu later on in the day. Oh, and try and get a hold of some nice Port and some Wine will you? I’ll talk to you later about the table service.”

  Max returned to the pyramid. It was another warm spring morning. He lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply as he breathed in the colourful garden scents. Some of the shrubs had started to bloom, slowly recovering from the persistently cold long winter.

  “When will they ever find a cure for cancer,” he thought, as he looked at the smouldering ash at the end of his cigarette.

  “Not for a fucking long time to come, not now,” he said out loud.

  Max now hated Sundays since it had been given to all the Tower Blocks as their day off.

  “It was much better before, when they worked seven days a week. Kept the bastards busy. They’d less time to think then, less time to ponder, less time to be discontented,” he thought.

  He could not go outside the building on Sundays now. He missed his Sunday walk, round in a huge circle passed all the tower blocks and back to the beginning.

  “Just like a fucking hamster on a wheel,” he said out loud.

  He was even afraid to open the garage doors and drive out. He had often thought that the garage access to his private lift was the most vulnerable security point in the building. He had always planned to do something about it, but there was no point now. It was too late! He was imprisoned on a Sunday. For the meantime, banished to the roof top of tower block five to think his thoughts and to plan his passage through time. Max was feeling quite low. He wandered over to the snooker table. Reaching into one of the pockets he pulled out a red ball, he rolled it sharply up the table. It ricocheted off
three cushions finishing back at his hand. He sent it up once again, this time with all the force he could muster. As the ball violently crossed the table from cushion to cushion, Max walked away. Over in the business lounge he flopped onto the dark green leather couch and lit another cigarette.

  Gazing around the palatial apartment his thoughts drifted back to his time as a second line manager all those years earlier. He remembered that very first time when he had taken a late night snack up to Andy Lenard in the pyramid. Eating was one of the pastimes which Andy had really enjoyed, not that he was fat, he just had a very healthy appetite. Andy was playing chess on one of the computers, and losing. It had been a really windy night. The entire pyramid seemed to expand and contract with the varying pressure changes. Max remembered thinking how he didn’t fancy spending a night up there with all that racket going on. After laying the tray down, Andy had started chatting.

  Max had then suggested the next chess move. The rest was history! In those next few months Max had gradually become the confidant of Andy. Being asked up to play chess on a regular basis Max found that he was beginning to be resented by the other managers who were starting to mistrust him. It would not have been long before his colleagues had closed ranks to manipulate a situation which would have led to his downfall. Max had then decided to strike, and strike quickly, as there was not much time. Unfortunately there was going to be a loser, but his name was Andy. Max had spent many sleepless nights hatching a plan. What he had come up with was risky and was far from being perfect but he had travelled too far along the road to turn back now.

  During one of their ‘games’ nights Andy had divulged more than he should have about the sampler, as well as some of the other more classified information, including his secret love of photography, an innocent hobby which Max intended to exploit. Max had then decided to capitalise on a forthcoming situation. He had been told by Andy that the board of directors were to be arriving shortly for a meeting at tower block five. On the day of the board members visit, Max had kept a low profile and could not be found by several of the other first line managers who had been frantically looking for him. After the board’s departure, Max had immediately contacted Andy saying that he had to talk to him urgently.

  Andy had been waiting for Max at the pyramid lift exit. As the doors opened Max had fired a disabling spray into Andy’s face. He had instantly collapsed unconscious to the floor. These sprays were carried by all of the management team who lived in constant fear of sudden reprisal attacks from the workers. After Andy was suitably bound and gagged Max entered the video recording and transmission studio. His heart had pounded vigorously in his chest. His breathing was quick and erratic. He remembered sitting down slowly, trying to compose himself, fearing that his excitement would have given him away. He had reached into his pocket and had produced a hand written script. Taking a deep breath, he had pressed the transmutation button which had then broadcast him to the top two management floors.

  Max had spoken confidently into the microphone although to start with his voice had occasionally broken.

  “As most of you are aware,” Max had started,

  “Earlier today there was a directors’ meeting held here in T.B.5.” As Max momentarily coughed to clear his throat, the simulation seen by the managers was of Andy Lenard raising his hand to cover his mouth. Max then proceeded.

  “What you may not be aware of, however, is the fact that a selection interview also took place this morning to appoint a new tower block director.” Max paused for a second to let the enormity of the announcement sink in.

  “For some time now I have found it increasingly difficult to give one hundred percent to this demanding position. I am also aware that recently, certain criticisms have been circulating the upper floors of this building. Rumours on the subject of my suitability to cope with the pressures of the job. Rumours about my health, and it seems rumours on every conceivable subject. It would not be untrue, if I said that to some extent I partially understood some of these criticisms, after all I have been at the helm now for some eighteen years. Also I must admit my health is not what it was.”

  Again Max had paused in order to highlight the point

  “This morning I tendered my resignation to the chairman and board of directors.”

  Max was beginning to enjoy this now.

  “It is with great sadness that I find myself unable to continue in this present position. As I briefly mentioned earlier, a special selection interview also took place to appoint a new tower block director. It is time to for me to step aside and make way for a younger man. Someone who will carry the project forward at a brisk pace. Over the past few months I have been working closely with someone on a number of different projects. These initiatives will prove to be invaluable to all of us in the near future. It is with this man that we have decided to place the new mantle of responsibility. Someone who is young enough to be truly self motivated, yet mature enough to understand the priorities involved.”

  Max paused for the big one.

  “It was on my recommendation and the board’s acceptance, that Max 43437 was approved as the new director of Tower Block 5. He will assume this responsibility with immediate effect. The full name which he has now chosen is, Maximillian Shnell. I very much hope that you will all give Max your fullest support in his endeavour to play a leading role in the construction and development of this major city.”

  Switching to a more formal style of delivery, Max continued.

  “Some of you may feel that this appointment has been rushed and is somewhat premature. But let me reassure you, the decision to appoint Max was not taken lightly and was only arrived at after many long and complex discussions with the chairman and senior board of directors, and with whom he will now be in direct daily contact.”

  Altering his style yet again, Max continued.

  “I am not one for sentimental goodbyes, so may I take this opportunity to bid you all a fond farewell and wish you all every success in the future. I will be leaving by Jetcopter on Thursday morning. Until then I would appreciate some privacy, as I have no wish to discuss this matter any further. Max will be making a general announcement to the men in thirty minutes. If you require any other clarification please contact your new tower block director Maximillian Shnell.

  By the time Max had finished the announcement he had been practically trembling. His thoughts had raced as he had wondered if he had managed to convince the managers that he was Andy Lenard. As he had left the transmission studio his body had given off a pungent odour. He had remembered the fear, and the smell of nervous sweat which had clung to his clothing like a wet fart. In that following thirty minutes Max had smoked several cigarettes in quick succession. Washing his face he had then proceeded to make the second announcement, but this time as himself. By the time he had left the transmission studio for the second time he had been physically and mentally drained.

  He had stepped outside to clear his head. He remembered the damp clothing which had chilled him to the bone forcing him to retreat quickly inside again. Later on, Max had dragged Andy’s semi-unconscious body to the snooker table, and had secured him to the middle leg, before using his shower to freshen up. The evening that followed had been the longest which Max could ever remember. It had looked as if the deception had worked. He now planned to extract vital information from his captive, which he could then use against him. Andy was by now beginning to regain consciousness. Max then administered a quantity of truth serum which he had previously managed to secrete from Stewarts surgery.

  For many years it had been common practice that all patients on an overnight stay at the surgery were milked for information. This was done under the guise of providing a restful sleeping potion. Men had been regularly questioned on the various incidents which had occurred throughout the tower blocks. This procedure was an extremely efficient and accurate method of acquiring useful background data. But the biggest benefit of all, was that none of the victims ever remembered bei
ng interrogated. The task of extracting information from the drugged inmates was usually performed by the assistants on the bottom rung of the management ladder. But Max had volunteered to take over as the inquisitor on a number of occasions. He had said that he suspected that there was a subversive plot being hatched and that he was trying to get to the bottom of it.

  After administering the drug to Andy, Max had resorted to using the standard tried and tested questioning procedures. This involved using a version of regression therapy, coupled with apparitional techniques. He had hoped to find out some nice little tit-bits which he could have use against Andy, but the bombshell which Andy had unleashed was far better than Max could have ever expected.

  CHAPTER

  6

  Back in his room John quickly tidied the month’s mess which had accumulated to the point where it was starting to get on his nerves. He thought he’d better make an effort.

  “Fucking pigsty,” he said out loud, as he scrambled around on the floor stuffing the black bin liner which he had stolen from the dispensary.

  It was also the first Sunday of the month, the day for changing clothes. Four weeks had passed since the last, and the smell of stale sweat was with him constantly. He was really looking forward to getting washed and putting on some clean clothes. After making an initial effort to tidy his room, he hurried to the end of the corridor. On the way he passed piles of underwear and dark grey boiler suits which were stacked against the walls.

  “The queue’s not too bad,” he thought as he approached the showers.

  Along with the other men in the corridor John stripped and tossed the soiled garments into the line of mobile laundry bins.