Greet the World by Bryan R. Dennis
Greet the World
Published by Bryan R. Dennis
Copyright © 2011 by Bryan R. Dennis
https://www.bryanrdennis.com
These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of
the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Bryan R. Dennis.
Cover Art by Bryan R. Dennis
Greet the World
(A story from The Uncanny Valley)
Taylor, alone at the conference table, couldn’t keep his eyes off the happy couple in scarves and fashionable jackets at the front of the room. They frolicked in a blown up photograph set upon an easel. The woman clung to the man’s arm, and despite the snow falling in their hair, they shared a spirited laugh. A perfect picture of happiness, or someone’s idea of it.
Taylor turned his attention to a counter running along the wall, to a coffee maker with leftovers dripping into a half-full pot, to a digital clock indicating 4 am. Beyond the closed door, footsteps drew closer, clacking against floor tiles. The footsteps stopped. He heard murmurs, punctuated by subdued laughter, and the door opened.
The employee counselor: a short, stout man with red bags under his eyes. He held a manila folder tucked beneath his arm. Pausing with his back to the door, he appraised Taylor for a moment; then he sighed, stepped forward and dropped his folder onto the table. He went to the coffee pot, filled two paper cups, returned and set the cups next to his folder. When Taylor reached for one, he stopped him.
“Not for you.” The counselor gave his head a shake. “Yellows the teeth.” He eased into a chair, took a first sip and winced. “Anyway, drink too much of this junk and before long, you’ll look like me.”
“Abbey Morgan told me you’re cute.”
The counselor’s face lit up. “She told you this? When?”
“I’m kidding.”
The counselor didn’t appear amused. He shot Taylor a disparaging glance and turned his attention to his folder. He flipped through it, licking his thumb on each page.
“How long you been with the Company?” he asked.
“All my life.”
The counselor chuckled derisively. “What’s that add up to: twenty-five years?”
“About.”
The counselor snapped the folder shut and pushed it away from him, pinching his eyes. “What is it you want exactly?”
“To resign.”
The counselor leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers across his belly, and regarded him with a grave expression.
“You told the night supervisor this?”
Taylor nodded. “She referred me to you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the counselor.”
“No. Why do you wish to resign?”
Taylor felt his heart rate accelerate. His polo shirt dampened beneath his arms.
“Because.” He stared at his hands on his lap for a beat then folded them together. “Because I feel dead inside.”
“And?”
“Trapped.”
Silence.
He continued: “Like my life has never gone anywhere and if I remain here, it never will.”
“All employees feel that way at some point in their careers.”
“You can’t reasonably call this a career. More like a sentence.”
The counselor looked injured. “Oh, come on--”
“No, really. I feel caged in, like the walls and ceiling are pressing in around me.”
“You’ve got a better view than I do. My office is here in the basement. Not a single window.”
Taylor banged the table with his fist. “But the view up there never changes. It’s always the same people, the same street, sidewalks, buildings.”
“Resignation is out of the question.”
His hopes dashed, Taylor felt the color drain from his face, and something heavy sank in his gut. “Excuse me?”
“You aren’t allowed to quit.” The counselor braved another sip from his cup. “Simple as that.”
“Not allowed? How is that possible, or even legal? What about my rights, the pursuit of happiness and all that?”
“First, you don’t have any rights. States so in the Company’s articles of employment, section B, paragraph three. And second, nothing is stopping you from pursuing happiness right here within these walls.”
Taylor threw his hands up in exasperation. “But I’m not happy here. Aren’t you listening? I can’t take it anymore. I want out.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Taylor leapt to his feet. He paced the room, rubbing his hand over his mouth. After a moment he whirled and pointed defiantly at the counselor.
“What if I told you I don’t care about the rules? What if I told you that I’ve been pushed past the limit and to hell with the consequences? What then?”
“Is that what you’re telling me?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Taylor nodded.
The counselor clucked his tongue, produced a pen from his clipboard and scratched a note. His expression soured.
“What can management do?” Taylor challenged. “Fire me?”
“They don’t fire people.”
“Well, damn it, what if I just leave? What would happen if I simply walked right out the front door and went on my merry old way?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited for a response.
After a delay the counselor set his pen down and folded his arms across his chest. “You can’t leave.”
“And why not?”
“You’d die.”
The door opened again and a middle-aged woman entered, arms laden with folders and reams of paper. Her suit appeared rumpled, her hair in disarray. A nametag on her breast pocket read: Noreen Ducker, Dept. Manager.
“Hi fellas, sorry I’m late.” She glanced at the clock and her eyes widened. “Or very early, depending on the perspective.”
She dumped her work on the table and nearly knocked over the cup of coffee poured for her.
“Careful,” the counselor warned.
“Coffee, for me? Thanks.” She slumped into the chair next to the counselor and stole a quick sip. Her face screwed tight. “Ick. No thanks.”
After a moment to compose herself, she extended a hand to Taylor. “Sorry, I’m Noreen. I’ve seen you many times, but I believe this is the first we’ve officially met.”
He took her hand, which was cold and bony. “A pleasure,” he lied.
“Okay. Now that we’re gathered here, what seems to be the problem, gentlemen?”
Taylor glanced at the counselor and frowned. “The counselor was just informing me that I’m not allowed to quit, and if I were to leave the premises, I’d drop dead.”
Noreen and the counselor exchanged glances.
“Well.” Noreen set her elbows on the table and cupped her hands around them. “We would certainly hate to lose one of our valued, long-term employees.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. “So it’s true?”
The counselor cleared his throat. “Tell her what you told me.”
“I want to leave. To escape this prison and explore the outside world.” Taylor stood and gestured with his hands, a smile forming on his face and a far-off look in his eyes. “I want to walk barefoot on a sandy beach. Climb a mountain, eat strange food, spend an entire afternoon lying in a grassy park just watching ducks float around on the water.”
Noreen opened one of
“Imagine it,” Taylor went on, pretending not to have noticed the exchange. “Imagine the whole wide world, just waiting for me to unwrap it.”
He breathed a sigh and waited with a beseeching gaze.
“Listen, Taylor,” Noreen said. “We need a moment alone to discuss this matter. Would you kindly wait for us in the employee lounge? I believe the other greeters have already assembled there and are enjoying lunch.”
“What’s on the menu?” he asked. Before she could respond he added, “I’m kidding.”
***
The counselor waited for the door to close behind Taylor. “Alone at last.” He placed his hand on Noreen’s knee; she quickly used her pencil to remove it.
“You do know what this is about, don’t you?” she asked.
Dejected, the counselor crossed his arms and shrugged. “Claustrophobia? Early midlife crisis?”
“This is about … her.”
A moment’s confusion and then comprehension dawned.
“Oh,” he said. “You mean her.”
They stared at each other for a while, both knowing that Noreen’s intuition was correct.
The counselor smoothed his hand over his hair plugs. “Then we have a problem, don’t we?”
***
The microwave buzzer sounded and Taylor removed a steaming plastic-wrapped sandwich. He added it to his tray, where it joined a carton of milk and a cube of Jell-o. A quick glance around for a table. Chattering well-groomed and well-dressed people packed the cafeteria section of the lounge.
He chose a table occupied by an old lady and two small children: one boy, one girl. Everyone knew them as Granny and the grandkids. They were always so happy-looking. He’d never seen anyone as cheerful as these three, except maybe himself before Kate left.
After he got settled, he turned to Granny, who was smiling as always. “Do you ever wonder what’s out there? Beyond these walls?”
The old woman looked perplexed.
“Not really, no. Because I already know what’s out there.”
Her grandson tugged at her sleeve. Taylor glanced down at him. In shyness, the boy sidestepped behind his grandmother’s chair and peered from around her elbow.
Granny leaned down and the boy whispered something to her.
“Sure, you can have it,” she answered.
An untouched brownie remained on her plate. But the girl grabbed it first. “I want it!” And ran off.
With a shout the boy gave chase.
“Now share, children,” Granny shouted. “Or I’ll take it back!”
Taylor picked up where their conversation left off. “Tell me what’s out there.”
She turned to him and, by the looks of it, had no clue what he was talking about.
He made a rolling motion with his hand. “You were saying you know what’s outside?”
“Oh, people, traffic, buildings, sometimes rain, sometimes snow.” She beamed at him and gave a shrug.
Taylor, at the edge of his seat for her response, leaned back and waved her explanation away. “That’s only what any of us can see through the windows. I wanted to learn what lies beyond that, past the street, past those buildings. You don’t know, do you? You haven’t been outside either.”
“Of course not, honey,” she said with a maternal smile, which he suddenly found offensive. “None of us have ever ventured outside.”
“What about Kate?”
“Sorry, dear, nobody knows what happened to her.”
Taylor gestured to a husband and wife leaning in a corner, wearing his and hers polos and headbands with white sweaters draped over the shoulders, the sleeves tied across their chests. Their smiles shone afterlife white, and their skin radiated a golden bronze.
“What about them? How do they stay so tan?” His voice rose. “Why doesn’t anyone try to leave? Why is everyone so goddamned happy?”
Several people glanced over. Then Granny’s face did something he’d never seen it do: it curled into a frown.
“I don’t think I want to sit with you.” She gathered her tray and joined her grandkids at a table on the other side of the room.
He felt so utterly alone.
***
The counselor escorted Taylor back to the conference room where Noreen sat waiting. She watched him take his seat, a sympathetic smile creasing the corners of her eyes.
“We think we know where you’re coming from,” she said.
Taylor shook his head. “How could you possibly know? You’re free to leave when your shift ends. You’ve homes waiting for you.”
The counselor was quick to pitch in. “This is your home, Taylor.”
“Home is a place you return to. Not a place you can never leave.”
The counselor opened his mouth to argue, but Noreen beat him to it. “Let’s have a discussion about Kate.”
Taylor sat straight in his seat and his face lit up. “What do you know about her? Where is she? Why did she leave?”
“Let us just say that Kate ... is in a happy place now.” She reached across the table and tenderly gathered his hand in hers.
“What do you mean? I don’t understand. We were happy here. Together. Until she abandoned me.”
“She didn’t abandon you,” the counselor cut in. “We transferred her to our Seattle location.”
“Seattle? That’s not a happy place!”
Noreen pressed on: “She was on a train, last we saw of her. And somewhere between here and Seattle, we lost her.”
“If that’s the case, then let me find her. I won’t rest. I’ll search tirelessly day and night until--”
The counselor interrupted him. “She’s gone, Taylor.”
“How can she be gone?”
A ding sounded over the intercom system followed by a voice.
“It is now fifteen minutes until six o’clock. All greeters are to return to their quarters immediately.”
The message repeated, as it did every morning right before six o’clock.
Noreen spread her hands. “Looks like our time is up. Listen, if you have any further concerns, just contact me on my cell phone. Okay?”
The feigned compassion in her tone made Taylor’s skin crawl and reinforced his commitment to getting the hell out of this place.
“Here’s my card.” She slid it across to him. “And remember, the counselor is always available to lend an ear should you have anything, anything at all, you want to get off your chest.”
The three of them rose and proceeded toward the exit.
The counselor rested his hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “Maybe next time I’ll let you have some coffee.”
“Keep your coffee and your phony concern.” Taylor shrugged his hand off. “If Kate is gone, then so am I.”
He made a break for it.
Perhaps anticipating his flight, Noreen was quick to react, and dove at him, throwing her arms around his torso. She lost her footing and fell to her knees but still managed to get a grip around his ankle. Taylor twisted her around like a towel and broke free of her grasp. On his way up the stairs he glanced back. The counselor had stooped to assist her.
“Forget me,” she snapped. “Stop him!”
But Taylor was already on the main floor and racing down the hallway. He turned a corner and followed another hallway, zipping past the employee lounge and weaving through the procession of greeters flowing out.
They regarded him with puzzled frowns.
Bursting through a pair of swinging doors, he slid out onto a marble floor. To his right, an elevator opened and discharged a pair of uniformed security guards. They pursued him up and down an escalator and through a Christmas display, which sent gift-wrapped boxes and Styrofoam snowballs flying. In the lobby, he collided with a teen greeter: a boy with a mop for hair, a brand new backpack, a skateboard. His skateboard fell clatter
“Ow!” he shouted. “What the hell, man!”
One of the guards shouted for Taylor to stop, but he’d already reached the lobby and was lunging for the exit doors. The sun had risen and the light grew brighter at his approach. He slammed through the doors. And just like that he was outside. Free. He’d made it.
Then his heart stopped.
His joints locked up, his body went rigid, and he keeled over onto the sidewalk, landing smack dab on his face. He felt himself bounce a bit and skid across the concrete, coming to rest at the curb. All feeling subsided, his vision faded, and all sounds ceased. Just before he blacked out, he recalled the counselor’s warning: that he’d die should he venture outside.
The last emotion he felt was sadness, yet it was sadness without regret.
***
Six months after Taylor’s attempted escape, the counselor received a call to his desk. Noreen’s voice greeted him on the other end of the line.
“Counselor, you won’t believe what I have to tell you. Good news.”
“You’ve decided to join me for dinner this evening?”
“Fat chance. No, you’ll never guess it, so I’ll just tell you. They’ve found Kate.”
The counselor perked up at this. “Where was she?”
“A farm in the middle of nowhere. The important thing is that she’s on her way back to us.”
“After all the trouble we’ve been through. You’re not going to transfer her away again, I hope.”
“Trust me; that will never happen.”
The counselor hung up and shook his head with a sigh.
“What a relief.”
***
When Taylor opened his eyes he was convinced that he’d died and gone to Heaven. The first thing he saw was the beautiful and caring face of his long lost lover, Kate. She held him in her arms and caressed the side of his face.
“There you are, at last,” she said.
“Kate!” Scarcely able to contain his joy he threw his arms around her and held her tight against him. Her dress looked more modern, and her hair a different color, but she was still his girl.
He had to ask it: “Are we dead?”
She laughed. “Of course not, silly. We’re back where we started.”
A quick glance around ascertained his surroundings and confirmed he was back in the company’s employee lounge. They were alone.
“We have to hurry to our quarters,” Kate said. “It’s almost time.”
“What happened to me? Where was I?”
“They brought you in from outside. As I understand it, you were kept in a storage unit on the other side of the parking lot until I returned.”