Silent rebel

realitymaterialists — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 08:18:11 +0000

We are in recession. Rumours have been floating in the air for quite some time now. The glum looking man on the small television in the corner merely made it official. The country is now officially in recession. It hardly means anything to Matthew. Matthew’s livelihood was not affected by the financial health of the economy. However, it did mean Matthew might not be able to go on that cruise that he had been looking forward to all year. Work might be picking up.
~ * ~
Entering the glass doors of a two-storey shophouse, large bold words stated the name of the company, Picket and Pane: Reinsurance. Underneath the company name, in a smaller font the motto ‘Only Death Will Stop Us’ stated itself in a considerably morbid manner. Matthew always felt awed by the huge emptiness of the interior compared to the size of the exterior shophouse.
The only people in sight were the three receptionists seated directly under the company name. Matthew nodded slightly as he made his way pass the counter. The three of them smiled but did not say anything else.
Matthew walked up to the only elevator and pressed the button. A green hue glowed from the button as Matthew heard the elevator rumble to life. A short wait and the green hue extinguished as the elevator doors slid open. Matthew entered the elevator, and the metal doors slid shut behind him.
There were no buttons to press. The elevator was almost a featureless metal box. On the right, was a square glass panel, much like the ones you find at supermarket checkout counters used to scan products. This panel preformed roughly the same function.
Pulling out a small device from his pocket, he tapped the device against the square panel and the elevator rumbled to life again. In a mechanical, cold voice the elevator greeted Matthew, “Good morning, Agent 11.”
~ * ~
The elevator doors slid open once more, opening up to an office area that seem to go on forever. Outside, it may have been quiet, it might have been only nine in the morning, but inside, the office area was bustling. The office had no windows, no clocks. There was no indication of the outside world. Here, it seems that nothing outside mattered. The only light came form the florescent tubes that lined the ceiling.
Matthew exited the elevator and strode towards the East Wing. Down a long corridor of familiar smiling faces and mechanical greetings, Matthew reached a door that stated his name on it: Agent 11. On his table, eleven Manila envelopes were neatly arranged.
~ * ~
The papers splashed yet another headline that reeks of death. Braden could smell it. As he walked past the newspaper stand during the morning rush hour, well-dressed men were seen frantically digging for coins in their pockets while at the same time trying their best to make sure the cup of coffee in the other hand did not spill. When one of them picked up a copy of the day’s papers, Braden stole a glance at the front page headline.
“FIVE deaths since recession” The words stood out starkly in bold red letters. And it hasn’t even been a week since recession set in. Braden wondered if it would come to him soon enough. After all, he had been feeling suicidal since his company folded three days ago. The only thing stopping him was courage. He didn’t have the guts to do it.
Walking along this path was a routine for Braden and it had since become a habit. Unlike the days prior to the recession, Braden wasn’t heading anywhere today. He just thought going for a walk might make him feel better. But it didn’t. The occasional brushes against the shoulders of executives heading for work only reminded him further that he is jobless.
~ * ~
The business district was dead quiet by nine-thirty in the morning. It felt as if Braden had been sent to another dimension. It was a sight he never got to witness for the past decade or so. He could only remember the sounds of phones ringing, copier machines churning out paper after paper, smells of burnt carbon emitting from them, the mad rush of his colleagues holding stacks of files and the muffled sounds of heels hitting against the dark blue carpet. It was a different sight altogether.
As Braden moved towards the building he used to work at, he spotted an eatery he never noticed. Braden grabbed a seat by the glass panel near the exit and stared out.
~ * ~
“Beep!” A slit opened by the wall beside the door. A transparent tray slid in, sending together with it, another envelope. Matthew stepped towards it and picked up the delivery.
“Latest assignment,” he thought to himself. Things were really getting busy. Although Matthew knew that he had to clear all of the eleven envelopes on his desk before embarking on this one, curiousity got the better of him as he unstrung the string attached to the back of the envelope and pulled out the stack of papers in it.
“B. Sammers” the top sheet of paper read. Matthew hates it when he doesn’t get the first name. It’s like playing a guessing game and the probability of getting it is slimmer than winning a 24-state lottery.
“Oh well, at least I still have some cases to go before I get to this one.” Matthew thought to himself as he slid the papers back into the envelope.
~ * ~
The phone had been ringing diligently since the morning. Matthew accorded himself the rights to exercise selective deafness and he refrained from picking up any calls. He could see the people calling him. Lucas Wong from the SAF surveillance team had wanted to catch Matthew several times after the recent miscellaneous mysterious deaths. It was regarding the strike force that he was taking charge of and to reiterate the standard of procedures to dispatch the teams if the need arises. Of course, not forgetting the contingency plan. And, the very fact that Matthew isn’t picking up any of his calls has caused the blood pressure of Mr Lucas Wong to shoot up a notch higher and he is certainly not pleased with the status quo.
And it was not only Wong that was after Matthew. Suzanne Koh had been chasing after Matthew for the reports regarding the murder cases. She is born a shrink and has a knack for handling ambiguous patients in denial. In her perspective there is no doubt that Matthew falls indefinitely into her list. Although a very strong willed and egoistical Matthew will beg to differ that he suffers from any neurological or psychological deficiencies, he usually bows down to how Suzanne is able to make a fMRI scan out of his mind. For this, it gave him one more reason to stay away from her. His denial made sense to him as he sees it as a form of justification for him to shield himself from the intrusive and invasive Suzanne.
” Matthew Sim, You had better pick up the call after you finish your damn cold sandwich. I can’t understand why a person generating a 5 digit income like you would resort to a sandwich everyday and is not even aware that there is a new Japanese cuisine restaurant just opened right opposite your office building. I need to round up the analysis for the murder cases and need the information of the victim’s families. Get back to me as soon as you finish up your sandwich. You got that?” *Beep*
Matthew was finishing his last mouth of his cold sandwich, which was made colder and blander by the comments made by Suzanne Koh. He can’t help but break into a smile when he repeated in his mind the message the she had left for him. The next moment, the workaholic in Matthew is tinkering within him and he was behind his desk searching for the essential information for his witty and semi-amicable partner.
~ * ~
“Braden Lim!” someone shouted from behind him. It startled Braden. When he turned to look, he saw that it was Sherry, the woman who used to sit opposite his office cubicle.
“Hey, how’s things been going for ya?” Braden said with a slight American accent. Having moved here for over a decade, Braden has acquired the local flavour of English yet he would occasionally slip into his native accent that never fails to intimidate prospective employees during interview sessions.
“Wow, you look like you haven’t shaved in years,” said Sherry, as insensitive as always.
“Well, what do you expect? It was good that you got headhunted and left our firm before it folded. You were the few lucky ones,” Braden struggled to smile. “So, what are you doing here?”
“I’m here for lunch. Mind if I join you?”
“Oh gosh! It’s 12 already?” Braden hadn’t realised he had sat at the same spot staring blank for the past two to three hours. “Well, I guess I’d better make a move. I’ll catch you for lunch some other time.”
“Sure. Call me anytime.”
As Braden tried to muster strength to stand up from his seat, he could feel pins and needles pricking madly on the sole of his feet. “I could’ve died from this!” Braden thought.
“BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA~” a loud horn sounded from across the street. Before Braden could turn his head the full way around to the direction of the horn, a huge bang followed. People scrambled to the scene and the perpetrator sped off in a white BMW.
“A hit-and-run!” someone from amongst the crowd shouted.
“Quick! Call an ambulance!” another shout rang out as most of the crowd were stunned by the sudden rush of events. A few others were watching the parade from a distance away gasping and chattering among themselves while updating new audience of the accident.
When Braden regained from his shock and tried to catch a glimpse of the plate number, the vehicle was already a significant distance away and he could not make out any numbers. “Wha?” Braden was surprised. Where the car plate was supposed to be, it was a glaring white. Was there no car plate? Or was age catching up with Braden. Afterall, at 66 years old, he was a rare jewel in the banking industry when most of his colleagues retired at 65.
“Dang!” Braden mumbled under his breath, half cursing the driver, half reprimanding himself for not having a better eyesight.
The victim was an old man, looking a little over 60. With that kind of impact, it was unlikely that he would survive. “Another statistic,” Braden let out a sigh. “I guess I’ll be reading about you tomorrow.”

~*~

“Horror Six” The headlines was stark and bold. Unsurprisingly. “When will this horror cease?” The sub headlines screamed out loudly to everyone on the streets holding on to their morning updates. The sub-headlines, if anything it did, certainly escalated the fears and gloominess within the atmosphere. Everyone had no idea what was happening and was wondering who’s next?

~*~

Matthew broke into a wryly smile when he heard the message Suzanne left for him. He was certainly impressed with her aura and her capability of peering through peoples’ minds like how a wine connoisseur peers through his very wine glass. That explains clearly his refusal to pick up the call even after he has satiated his hunger. “She’s dangerous.”, he thought, “Women” He let out a sarcastic hmpf.

It’s time for him to focus his attention upon the envelopes that are left unopened.

“There are more important things for you to do. Focus.” He thought to himself.

~*~

By now, the envelopes has been strewn all over Matthew’s desk and his laptop was his faithful working partner spared from the disastrous avalanche of mess in his office. There were reports flying around, the coffee cup stained mug looked dangerous at the edge of his desk and with his tie lonesomely laying on the back of his chair. Matthew thrived well in this environment. This is a secret nobody knows about. Apparently, Matthew is prim and proper when it comes to his dressings. Who in the world would have expected him to work like a hedgehog buried under piles of paper and seemingly embracing and enjoying every moment of his poor working conditions. In fact, he worked extremely effectively and efficiently.

~*~

“Another mysterious death: Father of two found dead at Mac Ritchie reservoir”. Recently, the journalists had never taken a slight breather. They are thrown into a whirlpool of investigative demands and superiors are placing high level of expectations for them to live up to. Not only the journalists, the whole nation was brought into a silent emergency. Clouds of uncertainties and melancholy hung in the air and no one seemed to be able to escape from this dreadful weather of doubt and fear.

The war is declared on the people. But the masses don’t know who their enemies are.

The Book Project: Realities Imagined

Silent rebel