The Sad Account of Edmund Solfege Sinclair

Edmund Solfege Sinclair was born in New York and grew up living in the stairwell of a local apartment complex. When he was 26 years old and tired of being an accountant, mindlessly crunching numbers all day, he decided to change career paths. What field he was going to go into he didn’t know, so first he thought he’d see the world. He sold his apartment, broke up with his girlfriend, and bought a one way plane ticket to Venice. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going, and he didn’t know what he hoped to find. Whatever it was he was looking for it wasn't in his one bedroom New York apartment, and it wasn't with the safe girl he'd been seeing for a few years.

He was a thin man with narrow features and a crooked nose. He was known for his wispy hair, his horn rimmed glasses, and the suit he could never keep completely neat. When he had been an accountant he'd carried a briefcase and stuck a pencil or two behind his ear, often forgetting the first one was there. He'd wear his top button undone and his tie loose around his neck not because he was a cool dude, but because he was anxious and sensitive to touch. If he wore his tie tight around his throat he'd swear it felt constrictive. All of that was behind him, he thought as he leaned back into his, ironically, business class seat, undoing his tie entirely. The two ends hung like a valedictorian's scarf around his neck, the hold it had had on his life all but over with. Edmund Solfege Sinclair was free.

Walking in Venice with only a ratty suit and a small briefcase of belongings Edmund became aware he didn't have much money, and the money he did have was all American. How was he supposed to pay for anything? A bad interaction with a loud street vendor soon made him realize he also didn't speak the language, and he was too overwhelmed to try and find someone who spoke English. Edmund found a quiet corner of a back street, devoid of foot traffic, and sat on the steps of a run down home to cry. His tears were interrupted by the appearance of a buxom woman behind him, offering her shoulder for him to cry on. He followed her inside and she gave him some food and some drink and listened to his story in her broken English. She would tell him he was a very brave man for coming here, and that Venice was full of opportunity for people like him who were willing to take it. That night was the most passionate of Edmund's life, and he thought this was indeed the proof he'd made the right decision in coming here.

Edmund awakened with a ratty sack over his head, being jostled in the back of an old pickup truck. His voice was muffled by a rag stuck in his mouth and his hands were tied behind his back. Trying to call for help didn’t get past the gag and finally he resigned himself to his fate, and waited for his inevitable demise. Now, fortunately for Edmund his kidnappers had no intentions of ending his life, as he found out when the truck came to a lurching halt. The only thing he was aware of was the smell of fish and the sea, and soon he was carried and set on the ground with extreme care. The sack was pulled off his head and he found himself seated in a chair in an old warehouse, surrounded by rough looking men with tattoos and guns. Edmund swallowed hard; this was not his crowd.

“So you’re da guy, huh?”

Edmund’s attention was drawn to the short muscular man with a stately belly and wisps of dark hair slicked over to hide a growing bald spot. The obvious boss was seated ten feet across from him.

“Don’t bother answering.” The man continued in a ridiculous New York/Italian accent. “Point is, we’s got a job. You need a job, guy?” Edmund glanced around at the unfriendly faces and found himself nodding dumbly. “Perfect. Look, it’s an easy job, very lucrative— in more ways than one, if you catch my meaning.” He said, shimmying his shoulders with what the man thought was a suggestive expression as he clarified. Edmund’s face was extremely expressive, but the man continued. “There is a certain amount of… upfront commitment… but, you'll be compensated. All yous gots to do is carry stuff from one place to the other. You’ll wait at my sister’s place— who I trust you’ve already met, eh?” A chuckle passed around the room amongst the other men. The boss gave his men a foul look and they turned sour and stone faced again. “At my sister’s place you’ll recieve your packages and be told your route. From there you just deliver the stuff. Sound good?" Edmund nodded again. "Good. There's one more piece of business we's got to deal with which I don't have the stomach for--" another chuckle rippled through the men, though this time Edmund failed to see the humor. "So I'll be leaving you with my very capable personal physician Doctor Vague. Doc, put him to work, eh?" The boss walked out and a tall skinny man with a lab coat and a surgical mask took his place.

"Gentlemen," he said, holding up a small capsule to the light. "Hold him still, please." Two of the muscular Italians took Edmund's arms and held him in the chair. "Please hold still, sir, this will only hurt for a moment, if even that. I just need you to swallow this." Edmund's eyes grew wider than they'd ever grown as the Doctor forced him to open wide and swallow the pill. It was cold, and metal, and Edmund could only guess what it was for. "Just a little incentive, Mr. Courier. Nothing to worry about so long as you keep the family's best interests at heart. There," he said as Edmund finally swallowed the capsule. "All better, yes?" Edmund stood slowly from the chair, wondering if he'd notice any side effects from the strange metal capsule. Everything still felt normal as he was led out to the car waiting outside the riverside warehouse. They didn't put a bag over his head this time, Edmund realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach. To be fair it could've been whatever was in the pill. He could almost hear Doctor Vague laughing maniacally as the driver opened his door for him, but it was all in his head.

Within the week, his jetlag subsided, a small brown box wrapped in brown paper arrived at the house with directions pinned to the top. Edmund took to memorizing them and promptly ate the directions paper. Keeping the family’s best interests at heart were within Edmund’s best interests.