Civilization, part 2 - R. Scott Robison

[Continued from part 1]

It happened that Joe decided to move. While most change dwellings with a particular reason of practicality or aesthetics in mind, Joe’s decision came at the peak of a mounting feeling of personal worth perhaps seeded by his perceived victory over the Verizon Company.

Joe was not a picky apartment hunter and quickly settled on a nice one-bedroom described as “cozy” in the listing. It had an all-new kitchen. Blithely handing over $50 for the credit check, Joe told the landlord he was ready to move in immediately. Two days later, the landlord told Joe he would not be moving in at all.

Explanations, threats, and lies had no effect on the landlord’s decision; as he explained, quite reasonably, Joe’s credit score was below 600. Joe asserted that 600 was in fact a large number, but the landlord was able to come up with one bigger.

Although he had no close friends, Joe was able to talk his way into staying with an acquaintance from work. Instead of searching for another apartment, however, Joe focused his faculties on locating the phone number of the Credit Bureau.

Such proved difficult, and after speaking with a lisping Indian who knew nothing about his credit score for the fifth time, Joe turned to the television for solace. A commercial advertisement featuring lanky bandmates lamenting their failure to get a free credit report was playing.

Joe was still unaware of the need to read the sentences in small font and so, without the slightest inkling, enrolled in Triple Advantage. As tensions were mounting between Joe and his work acquaintance, Joe supplied the website with his former apartment’s address.

This raised a dim notion in Joe’s brain. Although he varied the order this time (lies, explanations, then threats), Joe’s former landlord refused to evict the new tenant of Joe’s old apartment. The new tenant did not overhear Joe’s performance and so had no reason to throw away the bills that arrived from Triple Advantage in Joe’s name. However, being a lazy sort, the new tenant remained ignorant of the niceties of forwarding mail to previous tenants, and so the bills gathered dust until they were discarded one drunken and stormy night. Joe’s credit score slid quietly lower.

Joe might certainly have received emails prompting him to supply payment for his Triple Advantage protection program; however, his work acquaintance had changed the locks and his manager had fired him for sleeping at the office. Thus he had no access to the Internet, no home, and – fairly soon – he was even un-enrolled from Triple Advantage.

Joe watched the free credit report commercial through the window of an electronics store with no sense of irony. Passing a Verizon store on his way to the park, Joe felt a tingle in his neurons, but it was not until he was asleep that night on a bench beneath an oak tree that Joe had the following dream:

His beautiful wife was waiting for him upstairs. Candles were lit; soft music was playing. Joe shifted uncomfortably on the green slats. Joe ascended the stairs. His lover, who was beautiful and blonde, beckoned. Her dress slipped to the floor as she turned and disappeared into the dark room beyond.

A crack at the window! Shadowy mercenaries dressed as ninjas flew through the opening, landing nimbly on the floor in front of him. Brandishing anachronistic weapons, they scuttled into the darkened room after his lover, leaving one to hold Joe at bay. Joe eschewed explanations, lies, and threats and went straight into action. Eyes riveted on his opponent, Joe feinted left, but was puzzled by a feeling of recognition. Between the strips of jet fabric concealing his opponent’s crown and jaw – those dark eyes…

Joe jabbed at the mercenary, who dodged and yanked Joe to the floor. The candles flared higher, like torches. His opponent stared for a moment, then whipped off his headgear.

It was the Verizon Guy.

Helpless, Joe reverted to explanations. The shadows lengthened, and despite Joe’s cries of protest, the Verizon Guy vanished into the gloaming, glowing white as he disappeared.

Joe thrashed on the park bench. A flashlight was trained on him. A pair of gruff policemen exhorted Joe to move along. But Joe had a catharsis.

“The Verizon Wireless Company rules the world!” Joe exclaimed.

The policemen rolled their eyes at each other.

“It’s true! They prevented me from getting an apartment, they cost me my job, and I’ve even lost my only true work acquaintance.”

The policemen expressed interest only in Joe’s departure from the park grounds. Joe was shimmering, however.

“And they did it all with a little number. A number I’ve never seen! A number you have to talk to Indians to discover – more difficult to find than seven-digit prime numbers!”

Joe paused and stared ferociously at the men in blue before darting away, yelling. To one officer, it sounded like “And now they’re after my wife”; to the other, it sounded like they were after Joe’s life – in either case, satisfied that the park was safe for the time being, they continued their rounds.

[Continued in part 3]