How a-muse-ing.

[merlinofchaos]

5,461 words in less than 24 hours.

This one just really wanted to come out.

I'm posting it here for comments. I haven't the time to make an editing pass on it; and I don't want to do that now, anyway, it'll just make me hang up on the details when there is so much more to write...

But comments are good.


Cracks in the Window
Chapter 1, part 1

Kett Martin peered blearily at his computer screen. Today had been an exhausting day. It seems that everyday was an exhausting day. In fact, Kett couldn't remember the last time he didn't feel exhausted.

It didn't seem that Kett had much reason to be exhausted. He exercised regularly but other than that his physical workout was limited to a flight of stairs leading up to his office. He only had to work a standard eight hours per day. In the evenings he would spend time with his friends, and on the weekends he would do his shopping and take care of the little things that had to be done to keep his home clean and presentable.

He closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. There was no reason he could think of that he was always tired. It used to be that coffee served as something of a pick-me-up, but now his morning coffee was a crutch that allowed him to focus on the computer screen that contained his work. Work that he found himself increasingly unable to concentrate on.

He got up and paced his office, leather shoes making no noise on soft carpet. Kett was fortunate enough to have a corner office, overlooking the moderately busy street outside. He stopped at the window and looked out at happy, laughing people walking by carrying little plastic bags filled with little cardboard packages that they were taking home to their families. He let out a heavy sigh.

This wasn't getting him any work done. He was starting to fall behind, and his productivity was already in the toilet. His promotion last spring had been a welcome one at the time, but the job didn't really change, only the office. He looked at the phone, briefly hoping it would ring and give him some distraction from himself, but that was foolish and he knew it. He sat back down in his plush chair and looked at the computer screen again, as he'd done at least a dozen times before today.

He scrolled through numbers, reading about focus groups answering questions about how fizzy they liked their drinks, which shade of red they found more appealing on lipstick, and how they felt about the current fashion trend of men shaving their heads below the tops of the ears. He made a note here, a comment there, and tied a few statistics together. All in all he made almost no progress on the report that was due at the close of business on Monday. He looked at his watch. 4pm. He was meeting his friend Jason at 5:30 for beer and a burger at Elkin's. Only three blocks away. If he left now he felt sure he would be good and drunk by the time Jason showed up.

He sighed deeply and decided to just give up. "Computer, shut down. I'll pick this thing up on Monday." The computer's pleasant voice made sure he really meant to shut it down, and then obligingly made click-click-beep-beep noises while going through the proper sequence to save everything and then go inert until it would once again be needed.

Watching the computer run through its sequence, Kett found himself wishing he could do that. He imagined himself just laying back, one autonomous function after another going into standby mode until finally his mind was completely blank, simply being there, resting quietly, until he was needed again. He allowed himself a small smile at the thought, and realized it might have been the first time he had smiled all day.

He got up and looked around the office. On one wall his credentials: a bachelor's degree in psychology from Danforth University and a Masters in Business from Hellyer's, one of the top schools of the country. Next to it there should have been a picture of his family, he thought. All of his coworkers had photos of family next to their diplomas. But Kett had never found the right girl. Or so he so desperately wished to believe.

On the other wall were two impressionist paintings, vaguely recognizable as flowers in vases, one red and one blue. They screamed generic office art at them. He hated them just now, their indistinct images nothing more than a series of brush marks on a canvas that looked more like the painter had had an accident than designed a piece of art.

He shook his head, collected his things and left. He lingered a moment looking at his office door. "Kett Martin, Senior Market Analyst." He chuckled. That promotion had come with a twenty-percent pay raise, a corner office, and five weeks of vacation a year. And the exact same job he'd already been doing for years. He shook his head and continued on out, briefly relishing the twenty-seven steps that constituted his most engaging physical activity at work. Then they were gone and there was only the company receptionist and the glass door with the chrome handle stood between him and freedom for the weekend.

When the door opened he was immediately greeted with the sounds of inner city traffic. So many cars nobody ever bothered to count them, some new, some old, all of them driven by someone in a devilish hurry to get wherever it is they were going. Most of them stuck behind a red light that forced them to wait just thirty more seconds to get moving again.

Then there was the steady stream of people, a few of them leaving work, a few of them arriving to work, but most of them he had no idea what they were doing down here. At least one fellow in front of him was obviously delivering a package. That one in the grey uniform with silver buttons and helmet, she was a peace officer. The rest-who cares? They're just people.

He wandered down toward Elkin's. Even though it was only three blocks, he had to pass some thirty different shops and stores to get there. A cigar store selling imported smokes from Bellarius. Hand-rolled by the savages. Very expensive, they say, but you can't beat the savage's tobacco, or so Kett had always been told. The domestic stuff just doesn't compare.

Then there was the liquor store, the men's clothing store, the women's clothing store, the children's clothing store, the trendy clothing store and the conservative clothing store. Right next to that was the lingerie store, which had the obligatory poster of the very skinny woman, wearing very little, enticing the men in to buy something special. If they were really lucky this very expensive lingerie just might make the woman in his life look like the tanned, sculpted artificial woman on the poster.

He lingered at the organizer store-an entire storefront devoted to the fifteen thousand different ways to organize his to-do list and weekly appointment calendar. He decided he was quite sure the pink leather mini-binder was not for him, but he quite liked the brown one that had Saturday and Sunday together on one page, but the rest of the weekdays each had a full page devoted to it.

He looked at his watch. That only killed fifteen minutes, he still had almost an hour before Jason was going to show up. "Screw it," he said to himself, "I'll just have a drink." The clerk looked at the man talking to himself with amusement, until the bell-chimes on the door were silent again and Kett was gone.

Elkin's was typical of a chain bar and burger establishment. The center area was a square bar with seats around all four sides and a few small tables separated from the dining area by a low wall. A haze of sweet-smelling smoke clung to the air, not quite being sucked away by the ventilation system. Kett found a barstool and ordered himself a beer. The bartender poured two but only charged four credits for one. "Happy hour," he explained. "Two for one until five. Going to order anything to eat?" Kett shook his head. "Just these for now. Could you turn the sound up? I'd like to see the rest of the baseball game."

The tender shrugged. "Sure. We're losing, though, thirteen to three. Lanta hit a grand slam in the fourth and we haven't been able to do anything since. Kind of depressing, don't you think?"

Kett shrugged. "Kind of. Thanks." He tipped the bartender a couple extra credits and turned his attention to the game. The television showed an almost empty stadium-all the fans had already given up.

Kett couldn't make himself pay attention to the game. Watching the batter swing and miss repeatedly felt too much like his own life, except he had no idea what he'd been swinging at and missing. Obviously he didn't have a family, but that really didn't feel like what he had been missing. He and Jason had no problems getting dates when they hit the bars, but he rarely felt the need to really turn those into anything more serious than having fun. And, truthfully, the women he dated rarely wanted any more than that anyway.

By the second beer, he'd decided what he was missing wasn't a woman. It wasn't money, he had acceptable salary, though perhaps less than he would have had if he were truly ambitious, but it afforded him a comfortable apartment, nice furniture and all the trappings of a nice, upper middle class lifestyle. There was always the urge to have more-buy more-a nice house out in the suburbs or a condominium in a downtown high-rise, perhaps.

He heard a crack, and the TV announcer sounded excited. The home team had finally hit one up in the air...but to no avail. It bounced off the far wall and right into the glove of the center fielder who just managed to get there in time. No, there would be no come-from-behind victory in this game.

He was well into the fourth beer when he heard his buddy Jason from behind him. "Marty!" A large hand clapped solidly into his upper back, pushing Kett's hunched shoulders a little further into the bar. "Marty, you got a head start on me! Did you blow outta work early, bud?"

"Hey Jason, loud as usual. What's with the hair?" Jason's dark blond hair was short and spiked up on top, but below a straight line above the tops of his ears it had all been shaved, leaving only smooth, pale skin.

"The gal at the shop said it's all the rage these days, so I said what the hell. You know me."

"Yea, sure do, Jason. Hey, barkeep-get my buddy here a beer." He looked at his own, near the bottom. "Better get me another one."

Jason looked Kett over with bright blue eyes. "Marty, you're lit already. And not laughin'. What's got you down?"

Kett shook his head. "Beats me, man. Just feeling kinda blah, like there's something I should be doing but I dunno what it is. Don't worry about it. What's the plan for tonight anyway?"

"Give me a cheeseburger and fries. I'll have it rare. Marty, you gonna eat?"

"Oh, yea. Same thing, make it medium."

As the bartender walked away and keyed the order into the little computer, Jason told Kett the plans for the evening. "Doug and Ray are showing up at your place at 8. They're bringing beer, I'm bringing chips and you're bringing cash. My cash, this time."

Kett laughed. "Jay, my man, the day you clean me out at poker is the day the savages become civilized. It just don't happen."

"That's the spirit, Marty. C'mon man, loosen up, forget about work. We gotta get you laid or somethin."

Kett chuckled. "Sure thing." It cheered him up to have Jason around, helped him forget about the pall that had hung over his day-even his week. They always found something to chat about. The baseball game, the weather, politics, women, plans. Their burgers. Who was going to beat whom at their next game of poker, or pool or whatever game they were going to play next.

By the time they finished their burgers-and a few more beers-Kett was in a pretty good mood, even if his team had gotten embarrassed while he drank. They paid their bills, laughed at the newscaster's inane jokes, and left.

The subway stop was only two blocks down, and it was designed to show off the very best that central Cedar City had to offer. The entryway was a set of six escalators, half going down and half going up. Between each of the escalators were carefully chosen leafy plants to add atmosphere and hide odors.

At the bottom of the escalators was a large tiled room. On one side the big silver gates led through to the various tracks and the walls were filled with advertisements for the newest movies, the best stores and the most important network shopping services that could be found. In the center of this large room was a fountain, spraying cold water up toward the ceiling and giving the whole subway a pleasant, ocean-like scent.

Kett and Jason ran their identicards through the slot at the big silver gate, walking past two armored peace officers who paid them no attention. At the tracks they waited only a few moments for the gleaming silver train to show up. It stopped in front of them with only the sound of the wind, hydrolics opening the doors and the announcer letting them know that this was the G train heading toward Arboria. The announcer repeated himself before the doors closed-just in case someone had gotten on the wrong train-and then the train was off, quickly accelerating to cruising speed. Small lights on the tunnel walls left streaks that could only been seen as afterimages on the eye.

Kett's apartment was only three subway stops away, in an area that was actually newer than the downtown urban area in which he worked, but looked older due to slightly less upkeep. Kett guessed that fewer consumers meant less of a need for spit-and-polish, so things were let go for a little longer. His building was a six story building of brown stone, and his apartment was on the fourth floor. He wanted to take the stairs, but better judgement (mostly Jason's) got him into the elevator.

"Marty, I can't believe you're this drunk on only six beers."

"I had four of them before I ate. No wait, five."

"Yea and? I watched you down half a bottle of whiskey and do the alphabet backward for that cop. You remember that?"

Kett shook his head. "Nope. I don't think I do. Who cares, aren't we here to play some cards?"

Jason chuckled. "Your money is mine, bud."

"Yea right."

Kett's apartment was full of beautiful, well-matched furniture. Most of it was imported from Bellarius. Hand-crafted by the savages. The walls were carefully decorated with paintings no less empty than the ones in his office. Shelves were full of knick-knacks, little art pieces, the occasional trophy but mostly gifts from well-meaning but poor-judging friends.

A little light on the panel by the door was beeping, letting him know that he had an electronic message. "Just a minute, Jay. Probably just Doug saying he's going to be late again.

Kett disappeared into the master bedroom and sat down at his computer. It came up out of standby mode as he sat down. When he opened up his mailbox, he read the message.

From: A. Friend

To: Kett Martin, Senior Market Analyst

Subject: The Future

Are you happy with your life, Mr. Martin?

Kett read it three times, but it still didn't make sense. He had filters that were supposed to block this kind of message. But it didn't really look like an advertisement. He decided the mystery didn't much matter to him, and deleted the message.

When he got back out to his living room, Doug and Ray had already shown up. They weren't small guys, but standing next to Jason they both seemed it. Jason wasn't really that large either, though he was taller than average, broader than average. But he held himself with that self-confidence that makes him seem larger. Doug was of average height, with short, well-styled dark hair and a lopsided face that made his smiles somewhat surreal. He wore expensive clothes that tended to stand out. Ray was a smidge taller than Doug and tended to be the conservative, quiet sort. His clothes were darker and nondescript. In fact, he was nondescript in general, especially standing next to Ray and Jason.

Jason had already grabbed the deck of cards and the beer. Ray was setting up the dining table for the game, which was just barely largest for the four of them to sit around comfortably. "Doug brought a case, Marty. Think that'll be enough? I can go get some more real quick, cause you know the liquor store will be closed by the time we'll be ready for more."

"Douggie, you cheapskate. I can drink that by myself! What are the rest of you going to drink, hm?"

Ray laughed. It was a loud but pleasant sound. "What, you don't have any in the fridge?"

"Hell no, you guys drank it all last week, remember?"

Ray held his hands up. "Sorry man! I'm on it. Back in a flash. Don't give away my seat."

"If you're not back in five minutes, I'm calling Paul."

Jason called out, "Get me a pack of cigarettes while you're out, man."

"Sure sure. Anyone else need somethin'? Lottery ticket, maybe? Can of dog food? Maybe some world peace while I'm at it?" The front door closed with a loud click before anybody could answer.

Doug lit himself a cigarette, then offered one to Jason. "You think he'll be able to find his way back on his own?"

"He ain't had that much to drink yet, has he?"

"Fucked if I know. But he could get lost in a supermarket."

Kett chuckled. "I got ten creds on back in ten."

Jason grabbed at his wallet and whipped out a couple of bills. "You're on. I say he's back in five."

They both looked at Doug. "You in on fifteen or more?"

He shrugged. "Yea sure, why not." He dropped a bill on table, then walked over to the large glass door that led to the balcony. "I'll watch from out here."

The sound of beeping came from the kitchen as Kett dropped himself into a chair. The day's exhaustion and all he'd drunk earlier was starting to catch up to him, and his eyes closed for a moment. He felt as if he could just fall right to sleep, right here, surrounded by his friends in the comfort of his own home.