two

All that came after that was some name and an especially official seal stamped just beneath. Kyle flipped the paper over in his hands but there was nothing else. He decided that he should act as if he had no life and pulled the cell phone from his pocket and tapped the number onto the screen.

All automated. That’s what he had to deal with. Some simulated voice that offered multiple languages and all sorts of assistance since you can’t argue with it or call it a stupid piece of s**t.

“You have reached the Department of Internal Credit Monitoring and we do appreciate your call and look forward to assisting you in whatever way we can. For English press one.”

Kyle didn’t wait for the thing to start speaking Spanish of French or whatever other languages they can patronize him with and tapped the digital one on his phone screen, muttering, “Yeah yeah yeah.”

“Please enter the file number for the claim you are calling in regards to.” The sickly sweet synthetic voice said.

“What f*****g file number? I don’t have one you b***h.” He muttered around the crushed filter.

“I you do not have a file number please wait for a representative to come on the line.”

“Fine. That’s just fine. I guess I’ll have to wait.”

Then the phone started to play some atrocious new age jazz hold music that faded in and out over a static filled connection. Kyle was hoping that something different would come on after the five minuet song was finished assaulting his brain but the f*****g thing just started over at the end. He dropped his head against the wall between his living room and kitchen hard enough to vibrate the pictures on the wall.

Finally a female voice cleared her throat and introduced herself as Ms. Height giving some meaning less employee number and sounding bored as hell. “What seems to be this issue today and how can I help you resolve it?” she said with an obviously forced tone of interest.

“You sent me this letter, and I don’t know why. It says something about a discrepancy in my credit info and I still don’t know why. So what’s going on?”

She then proceeded to ask him for his full name his address and his identification numbers. Then he was placed on hold with no warning. After another three performances of the horrid song she returned and said, “The only way for us to resolve the issue is for a representative to come and interview you. It appears that your income doesn’t match your living standards. We will be conducting a polygraph to establish what is factual and what is incorrect. If you cooperate completely and have nothing to hide then we may be able to establish what has happened.”

Then the doorbell rang.

Jack dropped the phone and wandered to his window. He lived in a second floor apartment and a beautiful view of the street and the black panel van that was parked at the foot of the sidewalk that led to the main entrance of the building. Kyle leaned to the far edge of the window so he could see the main door but there was no one there.

Someone must have let them in he thought. The doorbell rang again followed by a harsh knock on his door. Kyle stood and stared at the white washed entry wondering if he should even bother to look out the peephole.

As he took a step closer he heard a strange sound. It sounded like it was a small drill of some sort running in the hallway. Then there was a grinding sound accompanied with the noise and he realized that they were drilling the lock to his apartment. Kyle ran to the door and swung it open.

Standing in the hallway was a man in an expensive suit that had a briefcase set at his feet and was holding what looked like a small screwdriver in his right hand. Kyle noticed that the Ethiopian taxi driver that lived across the hall was peering through his cracked door in a state of curiosity.

The bald man in the suit looked up and shot a winning smile at Kyle. He then slipped the device into the left inner pocket of his coat, and picked up the brief case off the floor. He shot a look over his shoulder at the dark face watching the interaction. The door slammed shut and the deadbolt slid into place. Then the chain could be heard sliding into place as well.

“That was very kind of you to open the door for me Mr. Zygote. I was sent by the DICM to conduct an interview and begin an investigation.” He said as he shoved his way past Kyle and into the apartment.

“I never invited you in.” Kyle replied with a dead tone in his voice.

The man wandered around the living room taking in the scenery. He picked up a picture of Kyle’s parents then set it down.

“Is this your family?” He asked.

“What the f**k do you care?”

“Well since you don’t seem to be in the mood for small talk why don’t you get me a glass of water and we can start to get this all fixed.”

Author's Note

01/01/13 - 01/02/13 0636

Reviews

[Mockingbird]

this is starting to get weird. like living in a police state you have people just breaking into your house to conduct investigations that are unwarranted. the cheerful guy in the expensive suit just shows up without warning or having setting up an appointment and brazenly trying to break in with a drill. this sounds like it's coming from the future. just the way this company operates and treats Zygote.

[.]

The unraveling of the plot continues to be riveting. There were many surprises. The description of the experience of calling that number was describe extremely well. One could sense his irritation at being put on hold and at that music. The man who arrived and the way he tried to break in was suitably scary. Excellent work, my friend.