Quantum Poppers, page 12
Everyone sat perched on desks or crossed legged on the floor, ties astray and beer cans or wine glasses clasped loosely in hand, all hoping for it to end soon. Next year, the decision to hold this event on a Thursday would have to be addressed. People were beginning to accept the knowledge that they had to be back in work first thing in the morning to strive for the goal of Most Present (the only award based on fact) at next year’s ceremony.
John drank from his can of Kronenberg and smiled at Kerry from across the office as she faked a yawn and glanced at her watch.
‘And the winner of most likely to get promoted this year is: David White.’
It could have been very easy to fall asleep now. The glass walls had faded to black as night took over, the random lights of London flickering on sporadically around them as they loomed nine stories above the nearest buildings. The interior lights had been dimmed and John had no doubt that some people would end up staying the night. There was one sofa in the staff room which most would fight over but some would gladly fall asleep at their desks to avoid the hangover-fueled journey to work the next morning.
‘Ok,’ said Louise, ‘only two awards to go. Employee of the year as sponsored by Mr. Kelly and Mr. Holmes but first, the biggie. The one we’ve all been waiting for. The one where we get to air the gossip and let out a few home truths for us all to voyeur over. That’s right, the year’s hottest couple.’
It was almost over, this award allowed Louise to pick at random (it was common knowledge that votes were not correlated officially) two individuals and attempt to make out they were secretly having a sordid affair right under the company’s nose. The annual ritual would then see the lucky couple get locked in the stock room for ten minutes in the hope alcohol would fuel action that could be discussed over early morning coffee the next day. The results were often hilarious as a nineteen-year-old work experience junior would be drawn against a fifty-seven-year-old marketer. Hilarity would ensue as they were jostled, often not entirely against their will, into the stockroom. It was probably quite nice to get a bit of peace and quiet away from the growing legion of drunk co-workers outside.
‘Wow,’ said Louise, as she opened the envelope. ‘It’s a bit of a surprise. The winners of this year’s hottest couple, and inhabitants of the stockroom for the next, however long it takes’ - she winked – ‘are, Kerry Santine and John Johnson.’
John shook his head and glanced up to Kerry. She gave a look as if to say, what a surprise, and shrugged. She was his secretary after all which pretty much guaranteed jovial ribbing about sordid affairs, and to be honest, it would be quite nice to have a quiet chat with Kerry. John had mostly been accosted by Fredrick the whole evening regarding the Philips account which was due to be closed next week.
‘I think you’ll find that’s the happily married John Johnson,’ he said to rambunctious applause and further sarcastic whoops.
‘The results are the results,’ said Louise. ‘You know the rules, the votes don’t lie. The lucky couple will now spend ten minutes in the stockroom to consummate their award.’
Most years the couple would be forcibly dragged in, the girl in particular embarrassed about the consequences which would befall the next day but John quite fancied the solitude. It would be nice to get away from all this for a moment, and to be honest, he could think of a lot worse people to be trapped in a stockroom with than Kerry Santine. As they approached Louise and the lone door that stood central in the office, he finally noticed the shortness of Kerry’s skirt and the tanned legs he swore were getting longer. The low cut dress was also receding further - but perhaps that was just the three Kronenburgs, two glasses of wine and a whisky playing tricks on him. They converged by the door on a wave of cheering and lude comments. Both John and Kerry shrugged again, Kerry in particular now looking embarrassed. John was mostly just tired.
‘Ok,’ said Louise, ‘here we go, the happy couple have ten minutes. Let’s leave them alone to enjoy their deserved victory together.’ She opened the door and the two ‘victors’ walked in of their own accord.
‘They could have put the light on first,’ said John. As the door closed behind him the room fell dark and the noise outside drained away to a gentle murmur. The only light was a sheen that crept under the door illuminating the shelves of A4 pads, a vacuum cleaner and bucket, and boxes of leaflets that John could never guess what they contained. He glanced around for the light switch.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Kerry, ‘it’s outside. I think Louise likes to set the tone for the rendezvous.’
‘I see.’ He glanced around the cramped conditions. Up above was a lone bulb which hung like electric mistletoe, tempting them.
‘Wonder why she chose us?’ She sounded as though she didn’t really care for the reason, just needed to make conversation to pass the time.
‘Senior manager, assistant half his age. Tongues wag. Conclusions are made.’
‘Half your age? Don't be stupid. I can only be five years younger than you.’
‘Really, I’m forty. You really in your thirties?’
‘Well, not quite. Thanks for the compliment.’
‘My pleasure.’ The alcohol was beginning to weigh on him as any amount of liquid would. He wasn’t particularly tipsy, he just wanted to get out, go to the toilet and go home.
‘You think they’re out there listening in?’ said Kerry.
‘I’m sure half have already forgotten we're in here. The other half probably assume we’re up to no good.’
‘You’re right. We could do whatever we want in here. Half the people wouldn’t care, half would assume it anyway.’
John looked at her and really took her in. Was she suggesting something? They’d always got on well with each other but the thought of anything remotely romantic happening had never crossed his mind. But now, looking at her in this dimly lit room, the two of them heading towards drunkenness and placed in a scenario where shenanigans were expected, he realised she had never looked so hot. The main reason for this was that she wasn’t restrained by her job. She wasn’t his assistant, she was a woman he had been locked in a cupboard with for the titillation of Louise. No one but the two of them would know the truth as to what would happen in here. And if Caroline found out they had been locked away, she would surely laugh it off in the knowledge nothing had happened within.
Kerry took a step forward, staggering slightly in her high heels, out of which grew tanned legs, into which turned toned hips, an impressive chest, and a cheeky, almost crazed glint in her eyes that stared right into John.
They kissed, nothing more, for the entire seven minute duration that remained. Louise knocked on the door to indicate thirty seconds remaining at which time they drew apart, straightened shirts and dresses, palmed down hair and took calming breaths. When Louise finally opened the door they walked out to more muted and sarcastic cheers and the acceptance that nothing like that would ever happen again. Although John secretly thanked god it had happened at all.
And now, on his return, the building loomed over John much more menacingly than it ever had before. Maybe it was because this was the location of the scene that had started all this craziness: his abduction, and the sighting of the man who somehow was himself. John had played over this in his head for the past couple of days whilst formulating his next step. He had been replaced. He had seen someone in the moment of his abduction who until now he had been trying to pass off as a misread or trick of the light. He had looked similar but could be no more. Now, according to Caroline, his doppelganger had taken his place these last twelve months before he too had disappeared about a week ago. The thought sickened him. The idea that this person had crept into his life, stepped in unknown to his wife and kids, and to have taken over as if nothing had happened was disgusting. He had kissed his kids, touched his wife, and gone on living the life John had been expelled from. And yet he could still see no reason why. Bartley had never mentioned, not even intimated that something like this had gone on. Trust me, they do not think you are dead. These words echoed through John’s mind as he stared up at the large white clad building. It was true, his family didn’t think he was dead. As far as they were concerned John had come home from work that day a year ago and continued life as if nothing had happened. Did Bartley have something to do with his replacement’s apparent disappearance? Probably, thought John, but this was yet another question he forced to one side. It was time for answers, but at each step all he was bombarded with were more questions.
He would go home to see his wife and children, but first he needed to return here. Where it had all started. It was a Monday afternoon and although John apparently hadn’t been home it was possible he was still at work. And failing that, perhaps Kerry, the only other person he had any sort of relationship with these past few years, could shed some light on his recent situation. It was one of the many perilous truths of work that you ended up spending more time with those you were stuck within the stucco offices walls with than your only family. Returning at 8pm from work each night, getting up at 7am the following morning to do it again; it sickened John to think that virtually 80% of the time he would then spend with his loved ones he would be asleep. It had never occurred to him before, at least not troubled him. There were times he got home from work, perhaps after a drink or two, when Jennifer and Jessica had already been put to bed. This had been a relief. He could spend a relaxing evening, TV on, no overly energetic kids, and then bed. This thought now sickened him. Spending time with his kids should have been his highest priority, it would be now.
He approached the building which stood detached from any other, a solitary white tomb sticking forty stories into the air like a Lego block. Black outlines throughout gave the impression it was waiting to be coloured in and a thin plume of steam rose from the roof. John, as well as many of the other workers inside had no idea what this could be. It was clearly some sort of ventilation system but word got around that down in the depths the bosses were up to something no good. Either burning the retired or burning paper work they did not want the taxman to see. It wouldn't have surprised John either way.
He slowed his pace as he neared. He could recall the conversation he had had with Alan the doorman the day of his capture. He could almost see himself being thrust head first into a waiting car which must have appeared as he re-entered the building after some heated debate about under-eights footballing practices. The first doubts as to what he was doing sprang to mind. Was this an obvious place for him to return to? Probably, but he couldn’t hide forever in a dingy hotel room without taking action. He was going to go home. He just needed to take this opportunity to face whoever might be up there sitting in his office right now.
Before checking out that morning from the hotel, making sure to fill his pockets with the complementary coffees, sugars and milks that had been on offer, he had dressed in a suit. If he was right, then he hadn’t been missed. He would walk in dressed as if for work, walk into his office and let be what may. A charity shop was all it took to find a shirt, tie and trousers; and black shoes were found for a tenner in the shoe shop next door. They would no doubt fall apart by the end of the week but he had no intention of wearing them again after this visit. The illusion should have been completed by a jacket but small luxuries like that could be ignored. If seen by security, then he could say how he had just popped out for a smoke without his jacket. It was a sunny day, nothing suspicious there. He was now simply heading back upstairs, half dreading and half excited as to what, or who, he may bump into.
The automatic doors opened and a rush of cold re-conditioned air blasted him as if fired from a weapon. To his chagrin, things had changed. The lifts, flanked either side by escalators, were across the beige marbled floor, but where once sat Alan and a cobbled together desk complete with telephone and newspaper, stood a professional looking counter with room for two. The building had come far in the intervening year. To his left hung a large glass plaque engraved upon which were the companies housed within the building. There was a wave of relief as John saw Alfred and Sons accountants atop it which struck home the reality that he had returned, and how he, mostly, belonged there. He glanced at the new counters which housed a young girl, barely out of college who had apparently replaced Alan. John contemplated what Alan could be up to now, and to whom he would be discussing children’s football tactics with. But he brushed this aside and concentrated solely on the one thing that mattered: getting into that lift.
He looked at it as it opened for two suited men to get out. They crossed the lobby and out into the street. John’s gaze flicked from them, to the girl at reception, and then to the lift doors. The girl had yet to make any indication that she had actually seen him. Her eyes were on her monitor and she keyed in data with a cordless phone clamped under her chin. A large clock behind rolled over to 14.30. With his eyes fixed on the lift, he purposefully headed forward.
He was going to make it. It was so simple. No one was here to stop him, there was nothing odd about this. He worked here, this was his domain. Circumstances may not have been strictly normal but he was John Johnson, Alfred and Sons employee, returning from an afternoon smoke. His jacket was upstairs, his shoes needed a shine but so what? He was going back to the work to continue with this afternoon's assignments. There would be a few choice questions for Kerry and the possibility that a mirror image of himself was waiting for him up there, but these were trivialities. He just had to pass the counter and get in the lift.
‘Excuse me.’
She has some mail for me, or a message, that's all, he thought. Without speaking he turned to the girl and smiled, forcing himself to look calm, as if he belonged there, and that it was her who had to answer to him, not the other way around.
‘I’m sorry, but you can’t go straight up there. Do you have an appointment?’
John let out a defeated breath and moved towards the counter.
‘Hi, I don’t remember you,’ he said.
She appeared unsure how to respond to this but smiled polity in a professional manner and repeated, ‘do you have an appointment?’
‘You don’t remember me?’
‘I’m sorry, should I?’
She doesn’t recognise me. Did that mean he no longer worked there? That he, or whatever monstrosity was posing as him had left the company after the actual John had been taken and before this receptionist had arrived? A new tact was needed.
‘No it’s fine. I’m here to see John, John Johnson? On the 34th floor?’ He could not help the questioning intonation in his voice.
‘Ok, if you take a seat I will call him.’
‘No, it’s ok. I’d rather surprise him. If I could just go up...’
‘I’m afraid I’ll have to notify him and he would have to come and collect you. I’ll call him now.’
‘Wait. Did you honestly mean it? When you said you didn’t recognise me? I used to work here.’
‘Sorry, I don’t recall. But it’s a large building; so many people come and go throughout the day.’
‘So, I could still work here?’
‘You don’t know whether you work here or not?’ John could see her professional demeanour waver as she began to question the sanity of the man before her.
‘Does everyone who works here still have those security cards for swiping in?’
‘Yes, every employee is issued with one,’ she said with hesitation.
‘Ok, could you please check on your system to see if a John Johnson still works here.’
‘So is that the guy you’re here to see?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I’m sorry, but if you’re not here to see someone specific, I can’t help you.’
‘Please, does a John Johnson work here? You were about to call him down to me.’
‘That was when I assumed he was a definite employee you were here to see. I can’t simply search our records for all the people whom you are unsure of work here in the first place. That information is confidential.’
‘Confidential? It’s me. You can’t tell me whether or not I am on your system.’
‘I’m sorry, so you’re John Johnson? Who are you here to see?’
‘Look, please, just tell me, yes or no and I promise I will leave. I’ll walk out that door. John Johnson, does one work here?’
The promise of a swift end to all this seemed to revive her. She glanced around the lobby for any sign of help and accepting nothing could be done she began to type. John himself began looking around the lobby. Another group of people left one of the lifts and headed outside, whilst another entered. He didn’t recognise any of them, but as the receptionist had said, it was a large building, and the John Johnson he was himself hadn’t been there for a year. Change was inevitable.
‘John, John,’ she muttered to herself. ‘No, I’m afraid, let me double check, yes, there was a John Johnson, but he left six months ago.’
John spun back to her. ‘I...he left. Does it say where to?’
‘No. We had his security card halted six months ago; we keep no record of where employees move on to.’
‘Ok,’ he said, followed by thanks. The receptionist smiled and remained frozen as if she couldn’t relax until he had gone. He took one more look at the lift and turned to leave unsure of what to do now. He had to go home and see his family and needed to see John. Without a word he headed to the exit.
A group of people were approaching from outside. Once again he recognised none of them as they began entering the lobby. He stood back to make way as they poured in, a couple acknowledged him with thanks. He then stepped forward to squeeze out when, ‘John? John?’ was called to him by someone at the back of the group. He glanced up, and saw Kerry enter the lobby. For a second they just stared at each other. She gave a look he couldn’t read. The note in her voice meant she was pleased to see him but she looked unsure exactly how to react to him being here. Perhaps she was just reacting to the gaping look on John's own face as he stepped back. Through the confusion and anguish he managed a smile.
