Controlled

The keys of a hundred keyboards click-click-clicked in succession as the workers stared at their blue screens. The sound became an unnerving song stuck in Josh’s mind. He kept waiting for a rhythm, but a few too many clicks here and there threw it off beat. It was enough to make a person go mad. On top of it, the clock also ticked away. At the twelve o’clock tick the people stood, tucked in their chairs, and walked silently to the door for their lunch hour. Josh lingered, watching them all leave. “Robots,” he whispered to himself. A woman’s voice came on the loudspeaker. “Worker 107 please exit the computer lab and report to the cafeteria for your meal. I repeat, worker 107 please exit the computer lab promptly and report to the cafeteria for your meal.”

The hallway was empty, and Josh’s shoes made an echoing sound on the white marbled floors. He wasn’t hungry, especially for the food he would be eating. It was Tuesday, and that meant dried-out chicken, peas, and a stale slice of sour dough bread with margarine on it. He longed for real food like his mama used to make back on the islands. His taste-buds craved the spices of the Caribbean meals; the cinnamon spice of her pepperpot, the coconut milk and kidney beans, and the oily crunch of the saltfish fritters. His mouth was watering while he collected his tray of the bland food. He found his chair marked 107 and plunked down beside his coworkers. Closing his eyes, Josh pretended the food was that of his mama’s home cooking. The hard crust of the bread was making his jaw ache, which didn’t help his headache. Still, he chewed on, gulping water in between to soften the bread. The others stood first with their empty trays and one by one handed them to the janitor who stood at the waste bin. Her meticulous motion of collecting each tray, separating the dish and cutlery, and giving a slight bow to the worker was eerie. No chatter in a room full of people, and yet still Josh’s head pounded. He tried to conjure up the rhythms of his home to break the silence of the sterile room. As he stood, he recalled a song they used to play at weddings and began bobbing his head and smiling at the image of his mama swaying her hips and pulling at the edges of her paisley flowing skirt. He imagined his brothers and sisters bending low with their knees jutting out to the beat while their heads swayed back and forth. His eyes met the janitors. His headache increased and he grabbed at his temples. He swore he saw the janitor give a nod to someone in the upper level’s mirrored windows.

Back in the lab after lunch, Josh continued his monotonous work. The hours ticked by as his mind repeated, “control c, scroll, click, control v,” and so on. It became a meditation, soothing in it’s own mindless way, and strangely his headaches disappeared. Two hours into the same motion, Josh’s finger slipped and clicked control; led in error. A new window popped up. Immediately the words quarantine, telepathy, and camps all stood out. Seeing the words, a memory flashed in Josh’s mind of his Mama laying in the street, of faceless soldiers in black helmets descending from a helicopter, and the struggle he’d endured while trying to run. His headache returned with a vengeance. On either side his coworkers, oblivious, kept typing away. Control c, scroll, click, control v. He knew he didn’t have much time before his computer would alert the authorities of the error. Thinking quickly, he began repeating the command quietly, “Control; led, control; led, control; led.” Both coworkers on either side started to chant, and one by one others picked it up. Josh could see the new window popping up on their screens. They clutched at their temples, moaning in agony. An alarm rang out and the light in the room turned red. The people began to stand, waking up to their memories and breaking free of the trance. Josh ran to the door and pulled but it was locked. He could see down the hallway that men in grey suits were walking briskly towards the computer lab. A high-pitched beeping sound blared out over the loudspeaker, further trying to force them into submission. They shoved the computer desks against the door as the men approached from the other side. The men’s faces were pale, their eyes black holes. They pushed at the door staring into the room as more desks were piling up. Josh turned to the window on the far side of the room. Below it was a vacuum cleaner the janitor had left behind. The men had managed to push the door open slightly, the blaring noise not seeming to bother them at all. The others clutched their ears and rushed towards the window. Josh picked up the vacuum cleaner and heaved it at the window. It cracked. He threw it again, cracking more. The door was opening now, the wall of desks tumbling into the room. One last throw of the vacuum cleaner and the window smashed, glass falling to the manicured lawn below. Without hesitation the people moved as one and jumped. Once on the grass they scattered in all directions. Josh ran towards a forested area. He managed to pass through the tree-lined edge and into the darkened woods as gunshots rang out behind him. Through the wooded area there was a reddish glow coming from the horizon. As he neared the edge, his eyes widened, and stomach dropped. There at the edge of the woods was a glass barrier. They were living within a dome. On the other side was a dusty sky, red sand, and nothing but desolation for miles. The men grabbed him, and all he could do was try to remember control; led to wake himself up.