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Welcome to the Agglomeration

Finally, the finale for my first major short story is here. Please read, enjoy, and comment on the entire short story or perhaps even just the ending. Thanks for the loyal and dedicated readers who have stuck by this project no matter how terrible it became. All I hope is that it wasn't a complete waste of time.

The Transcriber Part 13

The trick was to make them think they were out for four years. It wouldn’t prove a challenge at all to manipulate any semblance of time when the very concept had not even been established in their consciousness. A minute is however long one first learns it to be, and if no one proves it otherwise, that’s fact. The scientific method. It was Number One’s job to make sure no paradigms were shifted during the operation. In fact he was the only one in on the actual aim of the Karringer case. For all the other members of the board, Karringer and Ganderton really had escaped. And that’s how it had to seem. That’s how the operations had been run in the past, but Number One realised that was the reason that the operations were still running. They had not been able to get one successful case because their approach was wrong. However, he couldn’t openly share his plan with the rest, it would be too risky. That’s why Karringer was special. He was specifically chosen as his experiment. After all, one success was all they needed. And if he was right, well everything would change.

All the instructions were given to Ganderton. He was really nothing more than an accessory, someone to guide Karringer, all pawns in his orchestrated scenario. He had always been a firm believer in determinism, and he believed that the key was setting up the right environment, the right influential factors to push Karringer into the inevitable choice. It was for this reason that he quite easily made the call to follow only him when they split up a few hours earlier. Ganderton had played his role. The endgame was near.

He poured himself a glass of his favourite cognac and looked out over the metropolis. He had always found the view to be best on the top floor of a giant corporate penthouse office, it was one of the main reasons he purchased it. It wasn’t like he did any work there. All his work was too classified and underground to be conducted in a location situated in such public domain. But he could afford luxury, and he knew he wasn’t going to live long enough for money rotting away in bank vaults to do him any good, not in his line of work. It was a miracle he’d lasted this long, in fact, so in his eyes there really was nothing to lose. Just enjoy the moment. The quiet, still eye of the storm.

His peace was interrupted by his mobile. Slightly irritated, he set down his glass on a nearby glass table and answered.

“Yes?”

The voice on the other end replied, “Sir, we have just apprehended Ganderton. “

“I thought he had disappeared.”

“That was correct. We picked up him at the Gate, sir.”

“The Gate?” A brief pause. “If he knows where the Gate is, then we have to assume that our cover is blown. They must know that this is one of our controlled environments. Kill Ganderton, and secure the Gate in case Karringer shows up.”

Number One heard a gun click behind him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Tell your man to stand down. Now!”

He turned around and looked at the man holding the gun. It was Josef Karringer.

The voice from the other phone spoke again, “Sir, we have captured Ganderton. Do we have a confirm to kill?”

Number One looked straight into the eyes of Josef. His lips curled into a small smile.

“Mikhail, stand down. Do not kill Ganderton. I repeat, do not kill Ganderton. But make sure he does not escape.”

Josef, satisfied, put down his gun. “We need to talk.”

Number One gestured toward a seat whilst he himself sat down opposite it. Josef remained standing.

“So tell me, Josef, how did you get past security?”

“I think you’d know that answer better than anyone. You knew this was going to happen. You knew I would come. In fact, I believe you know exactly what it is I want.”

Number One kept his eyes fixed on Josef. He had brought only the gun with him, nothing else.

“Where is the book, Josef?”

“The book?”

“We know that you took it with you and that Ganderton doesn’t have it. Where is it?”

“It was destroyed. There was an ambush. To get away, we had to leave it behind. But we didn’t want it to fall into anyone else’s hands, so we burnt it. I need another book. “

“There are only two of its kind, Josef. You went and recklessly destroyed one of them, but since it seems you have passed the book’s test, I suppose I can bring some leniency to our discussion of terms. We will provide you with the facilities that you occupied earlier. Things will go back exactly to the way they were. But know this – once you agree, you have sold us your soul. This life will become your livelihood. There will be no freedom. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Freedom wasn’t right for me. The world outside, I just don’t belong there.” Number One felt a hint of triumph, but contained his feelings. “I will agree to your terms if you do one thing for me. Something inside Syro wants him to be free of all this. All his life he’s felt what I’ve felt, the desire for something beyond our restrictions, and for him, it has lived up to his expectations. Let him go. Let him pass through the Gate and out into the real world.”

*

Their plan had worked. He was free. That was five days ago. Five real days in the real world. It was only now, when the initial euphoria that had flooded his consciousness finally began to subside, that he remembered the parting gift that Mikhail, the guard at the Gate had given him ‘on orders from Number One’. It was the only thing tying him to that past, to Josef, wherever he was now, and to a part of his life that he hoped to finally be able to leave behind him forever. He removed the object from his pocket. It was a small box with a ribbon tied to it. It was shaking gently with a hardly detectable but insistent hum. He could see a small trash bin in the distance, but there was something that told him that he shouldn’t just throw it away. Somehow, it felt like a part of him that he should know. Syro felt safer when he remembered that there was absolutely nothing that they could do to him now. He was finally free from their grasp. After this, he reassured himself, it would finally be over.

Syro quickly removed the ribbon from the box. Then, standing on a sidewalk of a deserted lane, he lifted the lid. Instantly he collapsed, unconscious, onto the hard stone pavement.

A voice broke the flow of Josef Karringer’s ink.

“This is impressive, Josef. Very impressive. Is there anything I can get you Josef, to make you more comfortable? This is the first day of the rest of your life, after all. Just want to make sure you settle in ok.”

“I would like a red cushion. A red cushion will help me write better.”

He wrote every day. He would write until he fell asleep. When we woke, he would start to write some more, before he felt too tired to continue. The last thing he saw each night before his eyes could stay open no longer were blue walls.

*

Number One stared at the page in front of him.

“When did you get this, Mikhail?”

“He wrote this today. For reasons as I’m sure you’re aware now, we felt that we couldn’t abide by our usual principles of inspecting and leaving his work there. This is far too important.”

“If he wrote this today, then there’s nothing we can do about it. Take this back to his room. Place it exactly as you found it. This is of no consequence to Josef now. He’s made his choice.”

Mikhail took the page and read it again as he left Number One’s office and took it back to Josef’s room.

At the same time, two policemen jumped out of their vehicle, parked hurriedly with its end sticking out as a potential obstruction to incoming traffic, and ran toward the flashing alarm in front of the shop. It housed antiques from some of the world’s greatest collections.

The glass was smashed when they reached the shop. From what they could see nothing had been stolen. Then one of the policeman beckoned his partner and pointed to the floor.

What they saw was a trail of blood leading inside the store. They followed the trail into the inner sanctum and saw a man lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. One hand was clutching his stomach, the other was trying to reach out to the massive antique in front of him.

One of the policemen asked apprehensively, ‘What’s your name?”

The man on the ground did not respond immediately, as if unsure of the answer to the question. Before he could respond he slumped to the floor. The hand reaching up toward the antique fell to the ground. On closer inspection, the policemen found that in his hand was a small bloodstained box.

They moved past the motionless corpse and box to check the antique for any contamination. Luckily the man had not spread any of his blood onto the brilliant pure white marble. They stood still for a few moments, awestruck by the gravitas of the towering marble statue before them.

Then one of them spoke. “I’ll call it in.”

*

Mikhail opened the door to Josef’s room. He placed the sheet of paper back on the table where Josef wrote, and left the room as silently as he had come. Josef Karringer had no idea in the morning that anyone had come in during the night, as usual. But for the first time ever, Josef dreamt. He dreamt that he had lost his friend Syro. But he knew that uneasiness was ill-founded. Syro was free. And he was content. He walked over to his desk to begin another day of writing. Then he saw it. A gift to him, placed on the chair he would sit on to write. Everything was perfect. He was so excited by the red cushion that he didn't even notice the small box that had been placed in the corner of his desk.

Till next time, may you agglomerate all your unpremediated contemplations.