Dyscountopia (28 page)

“I know,” said Albert, drooling blood.
 
It seemed like the right answer.

He haltingly took her by the wrist.
 
It had been a long time since he’d touched another human being; she was warm and alive in contrast to all the dead things around him.
 
He could feel the slight pulsing of her artery, keeping time with the throbbing of his own skull.
 
He looked into her eyes, at the tormented soul that lay behind them, and was ashamed for each day that he’d stood beside her at his front door and never turned to see her.

The throbbing escalated.
 
His ears were filled with a soft hum.
 
The hum grew louder, and the Sergeant glanced distractedly at the wall behind him.
 
The next thing Albert knew he was airborne.
 

He landed on the other side of the room, wheezing uncontrollably as he fought to suck air back into his collapsed lungs.
 
He wobbled to his feet like a newborn giraffe, confused and frightened.
 
The room around him was filled with debris.
 
A green floor shuttle lay embedded in the wall next to him, crushed like a soda can, blocking the exit.
 
There was a gaping hole in the opposite wall.

In the corner, Sergeant Alexander lay crumpled in the fetal position, a peaceful expression on her face in sharp contrast to the chaos around her.
 
Albert approached her and reached down as if to touch her hand, then pulled back at the last second.
 
He considered the gun beside her.

Slowly, he picked it up, then vanished through the hole in the wall.

“
You’ve reached your destination
,” the broken shuttle announced triumphantly, in its final throes of death.
 
“
One hundred and
seventy-five dollars will be deducted from your account.
 
Have a nice day.”

 

****

 

Mr. Edd scratched the inside of his ear quizzically, staring down at the open page on his desk.
 
With a hint of prideful reluctance, he reached out and tapped the red button on his phone.
 
The button lit up.

“Susan, what’s a ten letter word from the Greek meaning ‘cave dweller’?”

He scratched his ear some more, waiting for the reply, silently wishing he’d gone with an easier puzzle.
 
This was only the first clue, and fifty more to go.
 
They just weren’t any fun when they got this hard.
 
He crossed his legs, leaned back in his chair, and touched the tips of his fingers together.
 
The intercom would buzz any minute, the button would light up, and Susan would give him the answer.
 
Susan was very reliable.

But the intercom didn’t buzz.
 
The button didn’t light up.

There came a knock at the door.

Mr. Edd tilted his head to the side in a fascinated way.
 
Every since he’d been working there, in that office, the door had never been ‘knocked at’.
 
Susan would never allow it, not without buzzing him first.

Mr. Edd considered various things to say to the door.
 
He made a decision.

“Yes?”

The door came slowly open, and when Mr. Edd saw the man standing behind it, it was all he could do not to suck in his breath.
 
But he didn’t suck it in.
 
He was proud of that.

“Oh, hello, Albert.
 
I was wondering when you’d get here.”

Albert Zim’s reanimated corpse stood waiting in the doorway – barefoot, tattooed, unwashed, covered in bruises and glue, his purple coveralls hanging in tatters with flowery pieces of upholstery still fused to them.
 
Mr. Edd’s nostrils detected the unpleasant odor of shit and watermelon surrounding him.
 

“Susan didn’t announce you.
 
She’s usually very reliable.”

“I glued her to her chair.”

Mr. Edd nodded slightly, and his eyes drifted down to the gun in Albert’s hand. Albert cradled the gun awkwardly, as if he suspected he was holding it backwards.
 
He wasn’t, Mr. Edd noticed.

“Are you feeling alright, Albert?
 
I asked the Sergeant not to hit you in the face.”

Albert grunted, and blood spilled from his mouth.
 
“She must not have heard you.”

Mr. Edd treated him to a smile so big and so warm that armies of harbor seals might have lined up on a beach to bask in its glow.
 
“It’s been a long time, Albert.
 
How’s the wife and kids?”
 

“My wife’s a bitch,” Albert answered, glaring.
 
“And we don’t have any kids.”

 
Mr. Edd raised his eyebrows.
 
“Albert, are you mad at me?”

“You fired me into space.”

 
“I
never
fired you into space,” Mr. Edd protested, placing his hand over his heart.
 
“Our
lawyers
fired you into space, Albert.
 
And Susan – she’s the one that pushed the button.”

Albert shrugged.

Mr. Edd intensified his smile, bullying Albert with his relentless likeability. “Come on, Albert.”
 
He gestured to a chair.
 
“Sit down and let’s talk.”

Cautiously, Albert eased himself into the small pleather chair, settling the glue gun in his lap.
 
He couldn’t help but groan from the pain of his broken ribs as he sat down.

“I must say, Albert.”
 
Mr. Edd leaned forward and made a tent with is fingers.
 
“I’m surprised to see you back in this condition.”
 
His eyes drifted to Albert’s forehead.
 
“What is that,
Helvetica
?”

The question had scarcely escaped his lips before a great thumping of boots rose up from the lobby.
 
The door of the office shivered on its hinges – once, twice – then sprang wide with a crash, ricocheting from the wall.

Sergeant Alexander glided over the threshold and in two steps was upon Albert Zim, clutching him by the collar with both hands, her face contorted into a grimace of pure self-conscious rage, her eyes clouded with hate.
 
Albert shrank back into the pleather like a turtle retreating into its shell, forgetting the gun on his lap.

Mr. Edd cleared his throat softly.
 
“Hello Sergeant.”

The Sergeant ignored him.
 
She stared at Albert, pouring hot molten hate into his skull through his eye sockets.
 
Albert searched her face for the lonely young women he had seen in the interrogation room, hoping for a rescue.
 
She moved her gloved hands to his throat, and Albert felt his windpipe being slowly constricted.

Two massive fists came to Albert’s rescue, circling Alexander’s tiny wrists.
 
Though she struggled, the Sergeant was no match for Officer Travis’ superior strength.
 
Travis shook his head, slowly forcing her hands from Albert’s throat.
 
For the moment, the flow of the Sergeant’s hatred was redirected into Travis and Albert was able to breath.

Mr. Edd cleared his throat again, louder.
 
“Thanks for stopping by, Sergeant.
 
Great work.
 
I’ll take care of things from here.”
 

“Mr. Edd,” Alexander hissed between her teeth, shaking free of Travis’ grip.
 
“Albert Zim is a dangerous criminal.
 
I’ll need to take him into custody.”

Mr. Edd beamed at her.
 
“My congratulations on always getting your man, Sergeant.
 
Really.
 
But I wouldn’t want to keep you here any longer.
 
There’re lots of bad guys out there for you to catch, I’m sure.”

“But, sir --.”

Mr. Edd held up his hands, speaking very firmly and clearly.
 
“Really, Sergeant, I simply couldn’t forgive myself if you stayed even one more single second in this room.
 
Even one single second.”
 
He leveled his unblinking gaze at her, his face a grinning brick wall.

The Sergeant’s cheeks flushed.
 
She opened her mouth and, for a moment, Albert thought she was going to plead with him, but all that came out was a low, restrained growl.
 
She glowered at Travis as she turned to leave, but saved her most bitter glare for Albert.
 
Searching her eyes, Albert expected to find disappointment, betrayal, hurt feelings -- but saw only rage.
 
Perhaps he had only dreamed of ever seeing anything else there.
 

She marched out of the office and slammed the door behind her.
 
Mr. Edd’s twinkling eyes followed her out of the room, then fell upon Officer Travis.
 

“Thanks for stopping by, Officer.
 
Would you mind ungluing my receptionist on the way out?”

Travis nodded, then quietly showed himself out, leaving the two men alone again.

.
 
“Now, tell me, Albert,” said Mr. Edd, easing himself back in his chair.
 
“What have you been doing in your spare time, apart from committing felonies?”

Albert sat quietly thinking for a moment, his eyes cast downward.
 
Then he looked up from the floor and smiled.
 
He smiled defiantly, as big as he could, a smile to challenge that horrible, beautiful, brilliant white rictus that covered Mr. Edd’s face.

“I’ve returned with a message,” he said.
 
“A message for the people of Omega-Mart.”
 

Mr. Edd raised his eyebrows.
 
“Really?” he asked.
 
“What is it?”

Albert locked eyes with the other man, pausing to let the gravity of the moment sink in.
 
“Things don’t have to be this way,” he told him at last.
 
“Things can be different.”

This was Albert’s message, complete and unabridged – that perfect, urgent message he’d carried halfway across a universe.
 
Had Dr. Zayus been lying in a proper grave, rather than rotting in a heap in the sewer, he would surely have been spinning in it.
 

Mr. Edd sat silently for several seconds, waiting for Albert to elaborate.
 
He spread out his hands.
 
“That’s it?”

Albert nodded serenely.

Mr. Edd leaned forward.
 
“How?”

How?
 
The question struck Albert like a ball-peen hammer to the skull.
 
It was not a question he’d been prepared to answer, not one that he’d ever stopped to consider.
 

Mr. Edd smiled back at him, motionless, waiting.

 
“We don’t have to keep on building and consuming,” Albert began, like a skater testing the ice.
 
“We can stop competing.
 
We can forget about profits and promotions and Guest Speakers and Fun Fridays – we don’t need any of it any more.”
 
Hearing his muddled thoughts transformed to words, Albert grew more confident.
 
“Don’t you see?
 
There’s no reason for it anymore.
 
There’s plenty of everything for everybody.
 
We’re playing a game that we don’t have to play.
 
We’ve already won.”