Snake Eyes

He decided to probe Shuckman for clues. As he knocked on his superior’s private office door, he had the intuition he was making a mistake but Shuckman had already recognised the knock and yelled for him to come in.

“How’s it going, Robert? Got another problem for me?”

“Not exactly, Bill.”

“Well what are you wasting my time for?”

Johnson almost shuffled his feet in embarrassment. He wanted to leave. Coming in here was stupid.

Shuckman registered his discomfort and toned down the office machismo. He liked Johnson’s dogged approach to work, his determination to finish every job properly. He liked his honesty, too. He could read the man like a comic strip. He saw the tiredness around Johnson’s eyes, the pulled up tension in his shoulders, the unusual lack of care taken over his clothes.

“What’s the problem, Robert? I’ve got five minutes for you and you can tell me anything. If I can fix it, I will. Davies giving you heat again?”

“No. It’s uh...it’s kind of personal.”

“You mean Angie?”

“Oh, God, no. Nothing like that, Bill. It’s more like a stupid health problem or something.”

“Drippy dick?”

“Jesus, Bill, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

“Take it easy, Robert, I’m kidding. But there are millions of penises out there using your surname.”

It was Shuckman’s oldest and favourite joke where Johnson was concerned and for the first time, Johnson actually laughed. He laughed because he needed the outlet, not because he was amused, but Bill took it as a compliment and it bought him some more of the man’s time.

“So, spill it.”

Johnson put his toe in the water.

“Ever get those twitches?”

“What twitches?”

“You know, the ones that make your head move.”

Bill thought about it.

“Can’t say that I do. Why? You get ‘em?”

“Kind of.”

“It’s probably a muscle spasm, Robert. I mean, look how tense you are. You’ve got all that frustration and internalised bullshit pulling your shoulders up around your ears, for Christ’s sake. It’s no wonder your head’s jerking.”

“I didn’t say it jerked.”

“Twitches. Whatever, Robert.”

“You never had it happen?”

“Never. But the muscles around my left eye twitch like a son of a bitch sometimes, though. Always seems to be when I’m in a bar talking to a young lady. I don’t want them to think I’m crazy like that guy in those Pink Panther films—what was his name?”

“I don’t remember.”

“His face used to get all kind of–”

“I remember the films, Bill, just not the guy’s name.”

“Sure, sure. Look, you’re really worried about this?”

“I guess I am.”

“I can get you some tranquillisers. The ones that help to relax your muscles.”

“Will I be able to work all right?”

“Uh...They can make you a little drowsy.”

“I can’t take risk falling asleep at my desk, Bill. I’ve got to get that promotion.”

“You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you’re overworked, just like almost everyone in this place. Take some time off.”

“I can’t.”

“I’ll put in a good word. Say you’ve earned it.”

“Thanks but no.”

“Well, you’ve got one other option.”

“Yeah?”

“Go to the doctor.”

“Shit, Bill.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I just never thought of it.”

Johnson laughed. Maybe the doctor was the answer. He turned to let himself out.

“Hey, Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Any time, Robert. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but you’re one of the people that keeps this company afloat.”

“Thanks.”

Back in his cubicle, Johnson felt a whole lot better. An hour later, the twitching began again.

Chapter 6

One afternoon at work, a rough yank on the tube jerked Johnson’s head back hard. He’d been bent over some figures on paper, tinkering with a pencil in the columns. The unexpectedness of the movement and the fierceness of it, the almost pointed maliciousness, had caused his heart to skip a beat. With a vulnerable, fluttering sensation deep in the left side of his chest and a sweat breaking on his forehead, he locked himself in one of the cubicles of the male restroom. He put the lid down and sat on it. As he considered his next move, he wondered if there were hidden security cameras in use.

He had often thought about touching the tube but had discovered within himself his own taboos regarding it. He felt his sanity depended on the possibility that the tube was an illusion. If he discovered something else to be the case, if the thing was material and tangible, he didn’t know how he would cope. So far, he believed he’d done well keeping his reactions under control but feeling it with the skin of his hand, knowing for certain it was real and attached to him...