Adapt (3 page)

Staring up at the vastness of the night sky Daniel took in the splendour above him, something greater than himself and his small world. He felt insignificant, one reality of many. Six billion people on the planet, each with their own reality, his one as miraculous as any other, and as pointless in the great scheme. He admired the encompassing structure through the centre of the sky, likening it to a jewel thief’s trail, losing diamonds on the escape from a heist. His breath filled the air until the particles dispersed.

Let’s go and pay in, it’s been a long day
. He made his way over to the single storey unit. As he walked across the yard he heard ignition and an engine roared. He looked behind him with his arm shielding his face. I can’t see a thing, he thought as the lights dazzled him. His eyelids defending the pupil from the beam. A driver was preparing the bus for service.
I’m glad I’m not doing the late shift on this freezing night.

He entered the unit; there was a number of fellow drivers in the mess room that doubled up as a paying-in room. It had bare essentials – a few tables and chairs in the centre, a machine that was deceivingly called a coffee machine that insisted on giving a tasteless watery drink. There was a fridge on the back wall and a paying-in machine by the entrance. The place was wallpapered with rules and regulations. The banter ensued as soon as he entered.

“Here he is, look,” a voice shouted from the back.

“Ian,” Daniel acknowledged him with a salute. “You got no work to do? You’re always in here.”

“At least I’m here,” said Ian. “I was here yesterday as well, covering for someone who went sick.”

“Makes a change from finishing early all the time,” joked Daniel.

“Ha,” Ian responded, “I’m not the one skiving off down to London to see prostitutes.”

Where on earth did he hear that? I’ve told no one at work
. “Where did you get that from?” asked Daniel.

“It’s all over Life’s Journal,” said Ian. “You should have a look, there’s more than just that,” he said as he left the room.

Life’s Journal, the social networking site where people upload their every movement. I’m the only person left on the planet that’s not using it. Maybe I should embrace the social revolution, but I’m too bloody lazy. It’s one of the largest companies in the world but it’s always seemed like a way to snoop on everyone. But how the hell is there information about me on there? Let’s pay in, go home and worry later.

Daniel began to pay in his takings. Listening to the harmonic sound of coins sorting he leaned on the machine, his head supported by his palm.

“Who the fuck,” shouted Dean, the controller. He was a man that cared little for pleasantries and minced his words for few. Daniel surmised that he was on his lunch break, given the fact he was considering the content of the fridge.

“I put a sandwich in here when I started,” said Dean. “Because some joker thought they would eat it for me, I left a note on it this morning saying: I’ve spat in this.” The room chuckled, including Daniel. “Now someone’s added to my note. It now says: so have I, your move.” The angered tone was the same approach Dean had to any subject matter.

“Sometimes in life we find ourselves in a game of chess,” said Daniel, “although it helps to know you’re in a chess match before you find yourself in checkmate.”

Dean looked as though he wanted to retort, had something on the tip of his tongue, but he expressed nothing as he was preoccupied with devouring the sandwich.
He’s obviously not that put off by it, then.

“Who’s going golfing this weekend, then?” a fellow driver called out to all that would listen.

“Not me,” Dean replied, “it’s an expensive hobby.”

“Yeah,” another driver joined in. “It’s an expensive hobby,” he said whilst staring at Daniel. The whole room seemed to be glaring at him. Two drivers huddled around a mobile phone watching something of interest. They looked at Daniel and then back at the screen.

“What are you guys looking at?” asked Daniel. The driver hid the screen to his chest.

“Nothing,” he replied.

This is getting weird, there is definitely something going on. I’m going home.

The country lanes on the way home were desolate. The road was a winding array of disguised bends and open straights. The road was drawn to him as his eyes grew heavy, like magnetism the road ahead kept coming.
Eleven hours watching the road.
Daniel’s eyes opened and closed in slow motion.
Keep your eyes on the road.

Daniel reached his home, a quaint cottage surrounded by fields. It was too dark to appreciate it but in the day it was picturesque.
Homemade lamb curry
. Daniel knew what was in the oven before he passed the porch. He threw his keys onto the white marble island unit in the kitchen and began his daily coffee ritual. He would class it as his first real coffee of the day. Hopping up onto the stool he would think the same words he did every night.
I’m wide awake now
. The final hours of the working day were a struggle yet when he found himself with the option to go and rest his mind he would miraculously feel alert and fresh.

“How was work?” said the soft voice behind him.

“Hi, Mum. Work was fine.”

“That’s good,” she said as she prepared two cups by the kettle.

“Everything okay, Daniel?” He looked over his shoulder to see his father entering the kitchen.

“Yep, everything is good. How are you two?”

“Fine, still working hard,” said his father. “How was your trip to London? Court case interesting?”

“It was good. Very informative. I should be getting some notes on the progress of the case sent to me, then I can tell you more about it.”

“I look forward to that,” said his father.

“We were expecting you home earlier yesterday,” said his mother. “Were the trains running okay? We had heavy snow here by the coast.”

“The snow got quite heavy in London as well. I stayed for a drink with another investor; he’s rather clued up on the finer details of the case.”

“That’s nice,” she said, “I bet the Christmas lights looked good.” His mother had always loved Christmas, all aspects of the festive season were relished every year when it came around.

“You would like it. There were no lights up by the courts but most places had them on.”

“Your dinner is in the oven,” said his mother. Daniel glanced over at the black double cooker along the back wall. The dish was illuminated through the tinted door, and the scent of spices lingered in the air. His mouth was watering at the prospect.

“Will it be okay for when I get back?” asked Daniel.

“Where are you going?” his father queried.

“For a run.”

“Tonight? There are no street lights, it’s freezing and you will probably end up on your backside before you even start,” said his father.

“I won’t be long, I feel wide awake now, so a half hour jog won’t hurt. The lanes are well gritted and there is no snow on the roads.”

“Rather you than me,” said his father. “Have you got work tomorrow?”

“Yes, one more week and then I’m off for Christmas,” said Daniel whilst rubbing his hands.

“Have you done all of your Christmas shopping?” asked his mother.

“I have, actually.” Daniel paused to think whether he had.
That’s a first
, he thought. Every year he would need to dash out on Christmas Eve to get most of the presents for his family.
The same time every year but it still seems to creep up on me.

“So you don’t want me to pick anything up for you in town tomorrow?”

“Nope, I’m organised this year.”

“Well then, you’re doing better than me this year. I’ve got lots
to get,” his mother replied. From the expression on his father’s face Daniel could read his mind.
You have a long Saturday ahead of you tomorrow, Dad, and you know it.

Daniel finished his coffee, appreciative of the taste – a distinctively different drink from that out of work’s machine. He changed into clothes more suitable for the task at hand. Whilst he was stretching at the front door his mother gave him some advice.

“Be careful, it’s slippery out there,” she warned. Daniel laughed off her concern.

“It’s not that bad,” he said, “maybe on the pavements but that’s about it.”

“How are you going to see?” Daniel pulled his hood down to reveal a beanie hat with a head torch strapped to it.

“Like I always do in the night,” he said pointing to the head torch. “I would never want to be without this on a night run.” He turned the torch on and off, nearly blinding his mother, who was staring straight at the halogen bulb.

“Okay, don’t be long otherwise your food will be ruined.”

In the shower Daniel massaged his calf.
I feel like I’ve torn it.
Whilst digging his thumb into the base of the muscle he circulated his digit round one way, and back the other.
I won’t be admitting how bloody slippery it was out there.
The strain to his lower leg was a result of fighting ice and gravity. He managed to stay bipedal throughout but not without cost. The hot droplets of the shower filled the bathroom with steam. The small space became a sauna and the lethargic feeling returned. His head rested against the white tiles and he thought of her. The woman, the working girl. Him just her client, a few hours of fantasy, as it should stay. Susana shouldn’t be on his mind and he knew it. He imagined her touch once more, he could feel her soft fingers caress his cheek, that moment imprinted in his mind and encapsulated by his senses.
Come on, man, snap out of it
. The self-help sentence worked like a slap, enough to remind him he had a curry to take on before going to bed.

Daniel got out of the shower, dressed and walked to the kitchen. He sat at the same stool he had perched on earlier in the evening, with the dish before him.

“Is it still okay?” his mother asked.

“It’s perfect.”

“Did I see you limping a minute ago?”

“No,” he replied.

“Okay then, I’m off to bed. Goodnight,” she said.

“Goodnight. Try not to wear Dad out tomorrow,” he called. His mother laughed as she left the kitchen.

Daniel savoured the spice of each mouthful. It was hotter than he was expecting. The glass of water was depleted quickly. He lifted the fork to his mouth and froze for a moment. The final mouthful of rice, varied spices and a succulent piece of lamb suspended in front of his lips. He breathed in deep, the spicy aroma tingled his nostrils. He could sense a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Another escaping down his cheek. His throat was radiating heat. He triumphed, and pushed the plate away.

He sat looking around the kitchen whilst his core temperature cooled. He admired the oak cupboards crafted by his father, the meticulous detail in the embossed floral pattern of each door. He noticed a strange arrangement on the marble surface at the back of the kitchen.
What’s going on with that?
Daniel walked over to the point of interest. On closer inspection he could make out what it was, but not why anyone would do it.

“Hey, man.” Daniel jumped; his younger brother startled him. He was so engrossed in the ridiculousness of what he was looking at he didn’t hear Matt enter.

“Hi, Matt.”

“It’s just a little experiment,” he said whilst laughing. He clearly was not serious.

His brother was four years the younger. He was always making something, taking something apart, or finding weird ideas and implementing them in some way. He was a natural artist, keen musician and fond of popular science and silly experiments.

“Here’s my forensic take on events,” said Daniel. “Franken veg was alive and well. You killed him in the kitchen. Method: stabbing. Weapon: nail. Motive: you never had a reason to kill.”

“It’s a potato clock,” said Matt. “You may look at me like that, it is a waste of time, but I was bored.”

“A potato clock.”

“I’m afraid so. A potato, a few nails, copper wires and crocodile clips. An LED display and it does work,” said Matt.

“Next time just ask me for a couple of batteries, I’ve got spares,” said Daniel.

“It’s only ten minutes of my life wasted,” said Matt.

“Don’t forget the poor potato you have wasted,” said Daniel. “You have made a lot of cool things over the years. I’m sorry to say this isn’t one of them.” The pair laughed. “I’m off to bed, see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” said Matt.