Monday, November 13, 2006

Sunset: Part 1

Note: This post is a work of fiction.
Do you ever wonder if you’re where you’re supposed to be in life? Would life be the same if you were somewhere else? Would there be a kink in the universe because one relatively tiny human organism on planet Earth was displaced? Are you supposed to be sitting in that chair? Were you supposed to make that right turn in the complex, never-ending path that composes the maze constituting your life? What if you’d turned left?

Two identical men composed of imaginary lines, perfect copies of the man I saw in the mirror everyday, reacted to my thoughts in the sub-physical world of my mind. One of the tall, dark-haired figures nodded while the other contorted his face in deep thought.

If my life were rewound and played again, would I choose to pick up this shot glass of whiskey? Would I choose to sit at this bar? The thing is, I’m not sure I chose the first time. So why was I here? Oh yeah, that’s right…I was waiting for something. A message to be exact. A message that would send me on my next assignment.

Like most people, I didn’t like my job. But it was all I knew. I did it and I did it well. Besides, it was my duty and The Cause was certainly worth fighting for. I guess that was good enough reason for a 78 year-old to still be doing my type of work. Well, by your standards I was closer to 30…tops. But those were minor details. Not at all important. The important thing for me was to stay alert. The messages I received weren’t in the easiest places to find and since when was any location on Sunset Boulevard less than distracting?
The woman in red sitting a couple of barstools to my right also had a shot of whiskey. She was beautiful. Apparently, everybody else thought so too. A few even had the guts to make advances, but she shut them down. Now she was looking at me through those teasing eyes. What were they saying? Hey, cutie. Why don’t you come over and talk to me? Or was it more like, I know I’m cute. I’m too good for you, but let’s see whatcha got.

Five seconds later, her body no longer rested on the barstool, her drink abandoned, she walked my way. Her eyes focused on me. They became the head of an arrow aiming for a pre-determined target.

Ol’ Jack over there doesn’t look too happy with you leaving him,” I said. She walked past me and my words. My main man. Give me a high five…oh, you left me hangin’.

Repetitive audio beeps, sounding so familiar they could’ve been the power button and I the robot automatically looking at my watch to receive the next command, demanded my attention.

My watch read: MESSAGE READY.

Where was it? You’re guess was as good as mine. I took my time. My glass was empty. A full one stood all alone just two steps away. Empty glass. Full glass.

I ignored the poisonous taste of the chemical vixen that slapped my tongue and penetrated. She felt good. You’ve heard it before – ignorance is bliss. It was so blissful, those of us seeking it stared outside its window painfully anticipating just a piece. Sometimes the more I know the sadder I become. The people here look so happy and care free. They have no idea what's out there. 

I don’t know how I got here but somehow during that last thought my body transferred to the empty barstool occupying the desolate space surrounding the full shot glass. Who cares? Bottoms up.

My eyes revealed a vision of their beholder with the aid of light and reflective glass. Truth hit me in the face. My eyes were red. Deep down I was tired. Now I could see another message the mirror displayed – not through reflection but through written words:

HAPPY WEEKEND!
THE PARTY’S NEXT DOOR, TOP FLOOR

It was time to go. My white sneakers hit the floor and I was outta there. My body entered the room with no limits and relished in the free air. My eyes greeted red and white lights. My ears welcomed the sound of cars, loud music, and futile laughter. I passed people that didn’t even give me a first glance. I guess I should’ve been happy. That was how it was supposed to be. I worked for an agency our world’s most powerful leaders didn’t know about. No one knew about us, except us. The Society, so it was called, had been in existence since at least the 1700’s. It was more than clandestine, it was invisible. They didn’t even tell us agents everything, or hardly anything.

I am Adam Cross. They call me Agent A47. I execute missions for The Society, but most importantly for The Cause. According to them, before I’d had my accident, I’d pledged my life to The Cause and had just begun training. I don’t remember any of it. Although I had been a part of the Society for 68 years, I still felt like something wasn’t right. Like I had another life before. But a part of me – that comfortable part, that scared part – didn’t want to know, didn’t want to ask questions, just wanted to accept my life as it was. So far that part was winning. As for The Cause, that’s a long story but perhaps this next assignment will give you an idea.

“Owww! Hey baby, where’s the party?” An SUV full of guys practically hanging out the windows called out to a tall woman walking towards me.
She gave me the eye. “Hey, baby.” Her voice was unusually deep, even deeper than mine...Gottcha!

I reached my destination. Another bar next door to the one I was patron to, where we met. Lots of people crowded inside trying to yell over loud music that exuded heavy vibrations I nearly mistook for a second heartbeat. I went around back.

To my advantage, there was a fire escape. Up, up, up I climbed until I reached a window of the room of interest. I activated the thermatron on my watch. It could measure body temperatures up to 30 feet away. It read 87.5 – just what I expected. A moment of reflection crept in with the slight breeze. I was here, outside a window that would be the silent witness to a struggle no human eyes were to see. I could win. I could lose. But there was no time to think. I had a job to do.

The open window invited me in. I stepped into a big square room with white walls and floors – not just white but the whitest white – sparingly furnished with a sofa placed perfectly in the middle, a coffee table, and a lamp stand. The sofa matched the pristine-white tiled floors. Even the telephone and lamp were white. The coffee table and lamp stand were transparent - they must’ve been made of glass. This room was a white cocoon safely perched in a safe haven amid the dark, wild night. It was serenity.

Footsteps sounded close behind me. The alcohol and adrenaline cocktail swimming in my veins morphed sound waves into echoes. I turned around drowning in a towering shadow. The body it emulated brought a cold stare. I felt my heart, it pumped faster. I felt my lungs, I breathed harder. But I was ready. Let the battle begin.