The Nothing (8 page)

“
Is it over if I finish too quick?”

“Yeah.
Have you ever done this before? Didn’t Desmond tell you what to expect?”
Aww Mr. Mack, you are a Desmond! Are you a pimp or something?
“What if I can go again?”

“Then it is another 300 dollars.
You seem shy. It’s ok James, that’s sweet. Just relax. How about you show me your cock.”

Oh my God! Just like that? Just unzip and pull it out?
I could walk out. Maybe I should try. I have to make up my mind quick though! Dammit what do I do? I am not sure I should do this. God I hate myself. Why has it come to this? I am supposed to be tough, have the mind of a genius!

Needless to say,
James froze and needed more time to think. James looked at a clock hanging on the wall of a normal looking, non-seductive excuse of an apartment. It was 6:10 and he had wasted ten minutes. “Can I have five minutes to think about it? I have more money on me, I just need… “
Aww don’t be a pussy, you are the boss and she is here to work for you, drop the shy act and be a man!“ ...
To figure out if I want to show you such a good time.”

“Whatever.
Suite yourself honey. I will be in the bedroom getting naked. Come in when you’re ready.” Dr. Cando stood up from the couch and left without even looking at him. After one minute, James felt angry and depressed.
Do I go in there or leave?
Dammit she has my money now! If I don’t go, then I wasted my Mom’s vinyl records for nothing. I have to do this. I’ve wasted so much money in the past on bullshit. Is $300 worth the risk? I need love, to be cared about. But I don’t know if I am going to feel that way after fucking Dr. Cando.

James was in a life-changing situation.
He felt the pressure from knowing that if he goes in the bedroom, it could affect him for the rest of his life. But if he walks out the front door, then at least he doesn’t have to feel any worse than he does now. It would be a relief. Though the will to stand up and leave didn’t come easily. James had $260 dollars left in his wallet. He had given the $300 to Dr. Cando and knew he could finally feel what a woman feels like if he could just stand up and walk into the bedroom.
Then I could have something real to visualize when I masturbate. But this is going to mess with my mind as it’s doing right now. I can’t take a chance of making my life any crappier than it already is.
All right, fuck it. I am out of here
.
I wish I had seen where that Hispanic woman went, I would go knock on her door and sweep her off her feet and take her to paradise.

James went through several transformations in that short eveni
ng. Finally returning to the bad place he had been before he walked into that apartment complex. Now his regret, several of them from this evening, would make his bitterness and macho complex more difficult for others to tolerate.

***

The smell of the server room stairwell made James think of the smell from deep inside the Navy ship on display at Seawolf Park in Galveston. The smell was also similar to the one on the large ferry that transported people and their cars from Galveston Island to the Bolívar peninsula. It was a smell that he liked because he could imagine being a Navy Commander or one of those tough guys that work at the bottom those huge ships during wartime. The server room resembled an underground bunker where the government, or hackers, track the world through computer networks. Cell phones went dead once inside. It was a signal proof and bombproof place made for if, or when, there would be a devastating disaster. Phones and computers in the server room utilized one maintained fiber optic line still buried underground.

Municipalities across the country began disconnecting and digging up the lines
a few years ago with government subsidies meant to increase spending on wireless technology in schools, courts, fire and police departments. Opponents would argue that the United States was going technology crazy and just wanted to outshine the rest of the world. Technology was also supposed to be the quick fix for the sub-par American education system. In reality, most teachers found that if you put an iPad or a laptop in front of a student, they are just going to find a way to Facebook and non-educational websites.

Houston c
ity officials and the board at Transcom felt that it would be a great idea to leave a few of the fiber optic lines buried in the city as things transitioned to Wi-Fi and cell phones years ago. The older and wiser of the city felt the lines were necessary and would be needed should the shit hit the fan. When James was tasked to use the landline, it was the first time the old push-button phone would be used due to total communications breakdown. It had been used before during Hurricane Napolitano when the cell towers flooded with 911 calls, but never in such a sensitive situation as this. James knew it and he liked it.
Yeah baby! Total 007 shit up in this bitch! Yeah these motherfuckers know. They know that only I can handle this.

James walked proudly as if he was going to save the world. Excitement scoured his entire body. Calling HPD through the landline in the case of communications breakdown was something that is required knowledge of all Transcom personnel. The task of making the call falls on the person whose assigned duties aren’t as prudent and essential. But in James’ head, he assumed that someone realized that such an unprecedented event, James needed to be let loose and work his magic.
That is why they tasked me with it. They can see. They know. I’m the guy who comes out of the box when the shit hits the fan.
I’m the guy who can save the fucking day! Not some puke with a tie.

Sometimes James would daydream of terrorists or
a foreign army parachuting onto the freeways. The action would play out on one of his forty monitors in his station. In his head he would take the lead in rounding everyone up.
I’ll be the first in, the last out.
Today, he was the guy who was making the most important phone call ever made. Yet he couldn’t help but to feel that this situation was more serious than usual.

When James saw
the little tan GE phone with twelve buttons and a cord connected to the wall, fear began to fill in his stomach. Everything started to feel very real. There was the lone cop surrounded by a huge mob earlier on his screens and the fact that nothing wireless worked. Not even the satellite and cable TV. This was very new for James and it scared him. Making a call on the server room phone requires a signed order with a confirmation code from one of three deputy directors at Transcom. This phone is considered secure and unauthorized use would bring severe consequences. Once, woman named Christy who worked in James’s department at another station, though it would be funny to order a pizza with the server room landline. She dialed the local Pizza Hut. An alert is recorded and confirmed by a clerk when a call is made. Needless to say, the stunt was quickly addressed and Christy was walked out of the building jobless and in handcuffs. The server room is also an iconic part of many conspiracy theory conversations that take place at Transcom. It would be one of the last stands should there be a major nuclear attack, catastrophic flood, armed invasion, terrorist attack and anything that destroys infrastructure. There was a surreal apocalyptic feel to it.

As James entered through the thick steel door, h
ot plastic and humming electronics began to spook him. Rows of long black servers with blinking lights lined either side of the room. The tan GE phone was on a small table next to several binders at the opposite end. Picking up the phone made James feel very important, yet intimidated underneath
.
Assigned personnel are required to let the phone ring for thirty minutes straight before giving up. Then they are to immediately find a deputy director for how to proceed. And you had to see him in person and sign a statement that you addressed the call with him. If it was five minutes or thirty minutes, it didn’t matter to James. He would always drift somewhere else in his head. He remembered seeing his former college professor, Dr. Zachariah Abernathy, on some CNN news show protesting the government subsidies for people and business that allow their fiber optic landlines to be dug up for a small check. The discussion was also about the enormous dependency on wireless communication and how only five percent of modern phone calls and data transfers used old-fashioned landlines.

“We are moving from our roots of practicality, the core of our existence, and our ability to be self sustaining.
Our lives revolve around the wireless this and the wireless that! Technology is out of your control and can be taken away from you at anytime by powers above you. Isn’t that reason enough for you to be in control of your existence? Isn’t that enough for you to not rely on technology as much? Eliminate the mental toll that technology has taken and get back in touch with your family and your roots. And leave those landlines in place!”

Dr. Abernathy had been a well-known and outspoken social scientist when commissioned by the President of the United States to do a study on technology in American consumerism and l
eisure. The study’s purpose is to dissect the world’s dependence on technology for communications, social interactions, and leisure. It was going to be a groundbreaking study that might change the course of consumerism and leisure practices throughout the world. Dr. Abernathy became very outspoken over the nation’s spending practices on technology research geared toward cell phone technology and computers. Preservation of our species, environment and eradicating various forms of human suffering had all but disappeared from American thought. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much support for people like Dr. Abernathy, or others that spoke out. Often they were met with criticism and accusations of radicalism. That technology had made life better for everyone on the planet. That it was a move forward in the advancement of mankind. James was one that had many opinions on the matter but was seldom vocal.

My professor makes a lot of sense.
I mean, why not look at traveling to other planets, exploring the skies. Who cares about nano and micro technology? People are going to outgrow the planet and use up all the resources and pollute everything……………………

“HPD dispatch.”

“Hmm yes. Oh hi, sorry. T
his is Mr. Featherworth at Transcom and I need to report a comtech failure. By the way, why did it take so long for you to answer the phone?”

“Sir we are experiencing technical difficulties as well and this
line is breaking in and out. Thank you for your report. Have a nice day.” The line went silent. Then the mid-pitched sound, that older generations use to hear when the other end of the line was disconnected, blasted in James’ ear.
What the hell? That was it?

James
felt a nostalgic feeling from hearing the sound on the phone after the call was done. He hadn’t heard such a sound since he was a kid. But he couldn’t help but to feel he was in the middle of a horror movie where the world was ending. The creepiness of the server room started to get to him. James started a brisk walk back to the metal door along a long pathway of columns with blinking blue lights and a constant humming sound. He half hoped there weren’t any bad guys or secret agents waiting to jump out and kill him.

Sure is
dark in here. I hate the dark. Can’t see who the fuck is right there.

***

Mr. Jones’ office was on the seventh floor where administration was located. The marble floors were pristine and the décor expensive. Someone had to be a very important person to work on that floor. James decided to go talk directly to the top bosses. Usually someone would have to contact the administrative secretary to set an appointment, which was denied if the request wasn’t seen as important.
Since Mr. Jones came to me directly, then he would surely want me to brief him personally.
Two executive elevators were meant solely for the administration and looked built for royalty. Four others had cheap wallpaper, carpet and smelled like old houses. Against policy, James stepped into an executive elevator and pushed the number seven. It reminded him of how he felt the first time he talked on a cell phone while driving.

Back in the early times of cell phones you would
only see business types or doctors in fancy cars talking on their cell phone while driving. Faces covered in confidence and determination yelled success to all that noticed. James had always wanted to experience that feeling. When the opportunity came for him to make that inaugural phone call from the driver’s seat, James held his head high so that others on the road could see him with the phone. Even though it was his friend’s cell phone in his Mom’s car. James’s first cell phone conversation while driving was with another friend relaying the location of the restaurant they were going to eat at.

When the doors opened onto the seventh floor, James was pumped with nervous adrenaline and felt that he was at war.
The excitement had raised his blood pressure, which made his face appear flush. Outside the doors was a short hallway lined with cream-colored marble floors and stone textured walls. Strong cologne and perfume filled the nostrils of anyone who walked down that hallway. Those smells reflect the ego and indulgent nature of the administration at Houston Transcom. It was a taxpayer nightmare that the general public was unaware of. At the end was a large waiting room with a window on the far wall. A few nice paintings and soft music created an elegant mood. Art deco chairs and Middle Eastern floor cushions accented the area. James was sweating profusely and his legs were shaky as if he had run a marathon. A receptionist slid the window open, but before she could say anything, James yelled in a stern authoritative tone, “Madam I am Mr. Featherworth here to see Mr. Jones, where is his office located? This is of high importance.”