The Humanity Equation – Part 2

I forget who it was that shouted something about a “gas leak”, but the next thing I knew the fire alarm was ringing and I was being shuffled out the building by a herd of stampeding accountants. As I was flushed out of the building, I noticed several people staring intently at their phones. They all looked angry. One young woman actually shouted with frustration.

They’re trying to call the police, but they don’t know how.

I realized that I didn’t know how either. This concerned me enough to make me stop running, until an elbow connected with my ribs and pain washed up my right side. The guy next to me gave me a half hearted “sorry” and continued hustling out the building. I decided to stop blocking the corridor and, rubbing my ribcage, jogged outside.

The air was crisp and there was a light breeze blowing. It was just past noon in the middle of April and the skies were a vibrant blue, dotted with a few clouds. I could see other buildings emptying onto their respective lawns and parking lots, and caught glimpses of worried looking faces in every direction.

Fulton & Co., the accounting firm I worked for, didn’t have a front lawn for us to gather on, but it did have a large parking lot behind the building. Employees were being funneled out the front doors and directed to the back of the building, as if this were a regular fire drill. By the time I reached the back, more people were staring at their phones in confusion.

Some people were fiddling with the numbers on their phone’s lock screens. Most could unlock their phones through pure muscle memory, but some of the older crowd were having trouble. An old lady I’d passed by in the hallway a few times was a few feet to my left, breathing very heavily and struggling with her phone’s touch screen. She was breathing heavily; I think she was trying not to cry.

Ed Fulton, the owner of Fulton & Co., finally emerged from the building. He raised his hands in a useless plaintive gesture as over 80 people began shouting questions. I tried my best to make out what he was saying but all I could hear was something about fire crew being “on their way”, and arriving “any moment now”.

I was tired of being pushed by crowds and shoved around, so I started wandering towards the edge of the parking lot. I took out my phone and gave myself a mental pat on the back for putting a non-numerical password on it. I didn’t take much pleasure in it.

I lucked out. I could have been any one of those people behind me, but I lucked out.

I unlocked my phone and took a look at social media, and my worst fears were confirmed: everyone I know was ranting about the numbers. Some people were calling it “numbergate”, other people were blaming the government, and my uncle Jay was calling it a “reptilian conspiracy”. One of my college friends just posted series of numbers to Facebook. I imagined him mashing the keys senselessly, not understanding, and it depressed me. I locked the phone, and walked back over to the building.

No one was asking questions anymore. There were a lot of people sitting on the asphalt, or leaning on their car. Ed Fulton was nowhere to be seen; probably, he had scampered off to some panic room in his mansion. I didn’t know whether he had a mansion or not, I just liked to imagine him locked behind metal and concrete and hiding in a corner.

“So, you think this is it, Dan?” Bryan’s voice shook that mental image out of my head.

“Think, what? Huh? Sorry, wasn’t paying attention.”

“The end of the world! Bible shit, revelations, and all that!”

I pulled a wry smile. “Hell no, Bry. And I know for a fact you don’t believe it either. You’re the most militant atheist I’ve ever met.”

He grinned and gave a single laugh that sounded more like a cough. A few moments went by and the smiles faded from our faces.

“So, if it’s not some biblical thing, what do you think it is?” I asked.

“Fuck if I know. Maybe some kind of secret Chinese mind ray that messes with our heads. Maybe aliens.” He scrunched up his face and thought for a few more moments.

“Fuck.” he declared.

“Fuck.” I agreed.

It was at that moment that Ed Fulton showed up again.

“Everybody,” he shouted with his hands cupped to his mouth, “listen up. Everybody gets the day off, fully paid. I’m sure we’ll be up and running at full strength tomorrow! So, just go home. We’re just going to go home.”

I couldn’t help but notice the lack of confidence in his voice, or the way his head slouched forward after he was done talking. Not that Ed was a confident guy to begin with; his indecision had been running the company into the ground since his father died – long before I was ever signed on. Ed quietly stepped back into the building and closed the doors behind him. Some people followed, going to grab their laptops or phones or whatever else they might have left on their desk. All I ever brought to work was my phone, so I waved to Bryan and headed for my car. I thought about it – a day without work didn’t sound bad. Maybe this whole thing would blow over, and tomorrow everyone would wake up fresh and chipper, ready to… to what? Do math? Calculate? I didn’t know.

Just don’t think about it. Ed’s right, this will blow over real soon.

Failing to convince myself, I started the engine and pulled out into the street. It wasn’t until I hit the freeway when I realized how much trouble I was in.