INTERFERENCE. Part One: Chapter Five.

Chapter five

Fritz checked with his landlady. She could not remember having heard him scream. He apologised for upsetting her, and she resumed her work. What still upset Fritz, however, was that his computer would not load. He also noticed that his phone was still missing.

Several hours later, Fritz was at a Starbucks trying to piece everything together. He ordered a Caramel Macchiato. He loved Starbucks because it was everywhere. He drank a Macchiato every time he visited. He would even drink Macchiatos in his homeless days. All Starbucks coffee tasted alike to him, but he always ordered this one.

His laptop in front of him, he was trying to piece together the events of the morning. His schematics were always proficient.

1. I awoke from the dream when I realised that I could fly (in the dream).

2. I saw the figure.

3. My phone was missing.

4. Claudia answered (first time).

5. She closed the door. I HEARD NO LOCK.

6. The curtains were closed.

7. I tried to turn on the computer. I waited for five minutes for it to load. I left the monitor turned on.

8. I gathered my belongings.

9. I tried to open the door, but it was locked.

10. I screamed.

11. Claudia opened the door (second time). She turned into a demoness. I ran for it.

12. I was falling through the sky.

13. I awoke again. (For real [?])

He had begun by thinking that this puzzle would only occupy a few seconds of his time. The next thing he knew, it had taken up several hours. He didn't care. He examined the paper upon which he had scrawled the events as he waited for the bus to take him to this Starbucks, far from his home. He still had all of his belongings with him. He compared it to his notes. He could not find any lapse in sequence.

Although Fritz was liberal in his points of view regarding his fellow man, preferring to keep an open mind, he could not efface a sense that people at the Starbucks were staring at him. One traveling bum with what looked like the content of a carpet store draped over him but what were really his clothes ambled in, looking intent upon some unknown goal. Fritz noted the wool hat and red scarf and then promptly looked away. That man couldn't have stolen his phone or damaged his computer. But at what time had these events occurred?

3 and 7. Those were the events. In between, Claudia had answered the door (event 4) and closed it again after a brief conversation (event 5). I then noticed that the curtains were closed (event 6). Had the curtains been closed when he awoke at event 13? Fritz still regretted that he had not checked before leaving home.

In the solace of a restroom, Fritz felt himself sufficiently removed from the hustle and bustle of the outside world to gather his thoughts. The spatial cubicle of the locked restroom mirrored his thoughts adequately. He was disappointed, however, when he heard a knock on the door outside. He opened it. A  young Mexican man who seemed too experienced in his profession and in life itself to be reckoned with told him, “Hey, man. I can't have you be in the bathroom if you got your backpack and everything. We don't know if you got a gun, you know?” Fritz apologised, hiding his anger, and ambled out. “Thanks, bro,” the employee said.

When Fritz emerged again into the general patronage of the coffee shop, he could not bear to set eyes on anyone. Anyone with whom he met eyes seemed to encroach upon his thoughts. Scorning the alcoholic smell of the hitchhiker as he passed, Fritz left the restaurant. He had work within thirty minutes.

In the safety of his cubicle, he contemplated if, should something happen to his apartment, he could live in the comfort of the workplace. A brief moment of novelty seemed shed on the cubicle as though it had emanated from a window. He recalled visiting a cubicle akin to one of these with his father when he was very young. For a brief moment, he regretted that he and his father did not speak anymore.

The warm, invisible light seemed to fade as though blown out of the room by the purring ventilator. Fritz became focused on turning on his desktop.

The computer would not load. It began to load, but the same, haunting load screen stared at him for a solid five minutes. During these five minutes, he stared straight back at it. It continued to stare at him as he looked away from it. It continued to stare at him as he pulled his laptop from his briefcase. It continued to stare at him as his supervisor came by and asked why he wasn't using his desktop. He looked back and saw it, still loading ominously, as his supervisor ushered him out of the cubicle and towards the manager's office.

Dm.A.A.