DING!
The bell sounded and the doors began to fold closed; the noise had made my decision for me. I watched, a little helplessly as the tram pulled away from my stop. Katie and Clark diminishing in size as the distance between us grew.
Katie would be disappointed; Clark would be pissed.
I turned back to the old man sitting next to the doors. He just sat there, smiling like the damn Cheshire Cat, the empty coke placed neatly on his left thigh, balancing despite the rocking tram. I took a second to size up this new distraction.
The man sat with a relaxed posture, as if he knew exactly where he was headed, but didn’t care how long his journey took. His brown suit looked well-worn and comfortable, the creases in the white shirt underneath matched the weathered lines in his dark skin. His outfit looked like it was meant for hotter climates and it looked worn more out of habit than a desire to be well dressed – although I suspect that in his mind they weren’t mutually exclusive. Suddenly the doors flung open again, indicating that the tram had arrived at the next stop.
I flinched.
Why am I so jumpy?
I had been staring at this stranger for far too long, something about him made me feel uneasy. Yet I had made my choice to stay and question this old man, so I was going to make it worth it. I moved forward and sat in my previous seat. The old man continued to smile, unperturbed by my actions, though he removed a broad brimmed straw hat and placed it next to the can of coke, revealing a short crop of salt-and-pepper hair. A gesture of courtesy perhaps?
Now that I was closer to him, I noticed the man smelled of tobacco. Not the coarse stench of commercial cigarettes, but something more exotic, with hints of pepper and vanilla. I struggled to think of how to open the conversation, I didn’t really understand his explanation of the betting game before. This oddity combined with everything that had happened during the lecture was quickly adding up to one of the strangest days I had ever experienced. But the man seemed knowledgeable, something told me my decision to stay on the tram would either throw light onto the strange events of the morning, or just make me more confused.
“So what will it be, are you playing or not?”
Well I guess that solves that riddle.
I hesitated, still trying to formulate a worthy response in my mind. The old man laughed, his face still creased by that pleasant and distant smile.
“So I see you’ve made your choice.”
For some reason that comment made me uncomfortable. Today was already too surreal for my liking, and my choice to stay on the tram discussing the insane ramblings of a very likely senile old man, was not making it any better. The man continued on with his discussion, clearly taking my company as a sign of interest.
“You see, Waltes was supposed to be a sort of ritual, played at weddings or special days; times with a strong connection to the spirit world. That’s why it’s so important, choosing to play and in turn choosing to cheat, would result in…consequences.” He paused and looked into my eyes.
“Far better not to play at all”.
This guy would be right at home in my neuro-psych lecture…maybe he and the lecturer were friends? Now that would be weird.
The thought of the lecture brought up the memory of my embarrassment, making my face feel hot. My brain was tired and it was only lunchtime. There was too much to process, too much to try and wrap my head around. I should have stayed in bed.
The man now sat, looking to me expectantly. I struggled to think of a response, when it occurred to me that he had repeated himself.
“But what’s the point of choosing not to play? Surely it defeats the purpose of the game if you don’t play at all.” My answer sounded significantly less abrupt in my head, but I was getting irritated at how cryptic this conversation was becoming.
The man seemed to accept this answer and continued “but what if you don’t know you are playing? Even more so, what if you didn’t know you were playing against a bad sport?”
I felt I had to reply with a worthy answer. Not really knowing where the words came from, I answered his question. “You can choose to face an honest opponent, but what if that guy had had a bad day and felt he needed to win? You could choose to face a dishonest man, but what if a sudden crisis of conscience occurred that morning and turned his life around? Choosing an opponent makes no difference in my opinion.”
The man sat forward, clearly excited: “Exactly! You may think you can choose your opponents but you can’t choose how they will play!”
My phone rang again, the ringtone sounding anticlimactic.
“Shit”
It was Katie again. I reluctantly click ‘answer’ on my phone’s screen and put the device to my ear.
“Hey Katie, I…”
Clark’s voice angrily cut in. “Dude where are you? We thought we saw you on a tram that just went by, if you missed the fucking stop, we are eating without you!”
Why did he keep using Katie’s phone?
Before I could respond there was a shuffling on the other end and Katie’s voice appeared, calm and lovely, in stark contrast to Clark’s. “Steve, is everything ok? We saw you go by on a tram, but you just stood at the door, like a zombie….why didn’t you get off?”
Clark’s voice reacted angrily to this, but I couldn’t hear what he had said. I had been dreading this moment since the old man had begun to talk to me. What could I say that would make it better? There was nothing, I could say that would relieve me of that special guilt felt when bailing on plans with friends, especially when you can’t even kid yourself that it’s a valid reason. I glanced next to me out of desperation, the old man seemed very amused by my struggle.
“Uh…hey Katie, Yeh I ran into an old…..friend after the lecture and kinda got caught up…” my voice trailed off as I feebly said “I don’t think I’ll make it to lunch.” There seemed to be more shuffling on the phone as Katie said “Sorry, what was that? Hey Steve, I’ll have to call you back, Clark saw Greedo coming and we had to hide!” and with that she hung up, quick to escape the grievance from our school days.
I looked up from my phone’s empty screen and suddenly became aware of the silence surrounding me. The tram still made its usual noises, bustling along its predetermined tracks; yet, the interior was quiet. The silence was intimidating, no one spoke, the music heard from headphones too loud had drained away, even the simple shuffling of feet and general bodily discord had diminished to all but silence.
The man in the suit who had questioned my Myki’s validation now stood stock still, his grey suit silhouetted against the tram’s windows, giving him a slightly ethereal presence. His smartphone hung loosely by his side an unfinished email waiting patiently. The woman next to him, wearing a red dress, stared out the window vacantly, registering nothing around her. And as I looked around the tram I realized all the passengers were the same, all of them, stuck in the same trance.
I was scared now, my confusion at the old man’s conversation and irritation at potentially ditching my friends for nothing was forgotten.
“What’s happened to them? Why aren’t they moving?” my question was meant with silence, yet movement behind me made me turn. The old man cackled, putting his hat. “Something special has happened today, something special happens every day.” I was not sharing his glee.
“What do you mean?
The tram rolled to a stop and the doors flung open with determination “Maybe choosing to play was as easy as getting out bed this morning”. The man tipped his hat as a goodbye and stepped off the tram, wooden cane clicking with each step.
“Are you going to stand there all day?”
What? I looked down and saw a short old lady trying to push past me, obviously not sharing my astonishment. I quickly looked around the tram and saw that everyone had returned to normal, the corporate man resumed typing his email, the woman in the red dress began reading a novel and the faint music from someone’s head phones had resumed playing. Not wasting any time investigating this phenomenon I grabbed my bag from beneath the seat and leapt off the tram searching for my erstwhile companion.
But I could not see him amongst the crowd. Damnit! He had a cane, how far could he have gotten! With a frustrated sigh I shouldered my bag and headed off in the direction I had come, I was thoroughly finished with strange coincidences and cryptic conversations. Perhaps I could still catch Katie and Clark now that they had to evade being see by Greedo.
I pulled my phone out as I walked, struggling to think up a good excuse to tell my friends when I noticed a message from an unknown number.
Your die has been cast, please go to 134A Linlithgow Lane to make your next move.
This day was quickly becoming my least favourite. But I was now faced with two more decisions and seemingly limitless consequences.
Do I try and catch my friends? Or do I investigate the mysterious message?
I took my time. This was my moment to bask in everyone’s attention, Katie’s attention and boy was I going to make a big deal about it. “I’ll go in with Gre-.. Callan” I announce proudly to the group.
“shhhhhhhhhhhhh” Katie whispered nervously looking around.
“Alright” says Greedo “As long as that’s the last time tonight that you yell out your plans to the whole of the campus. I mean we are literally 2 feet away, you baboon. ”
I look over at Clark expecting to exchange looks of bewilderment but I could see his genuine amusement. “If anyone comes into the building, we will text you right away capt’n” he whispers loudly, firing off a quick salute. As Greedo was hoisting me away, I saw Katie nudge him in the ribs. His wince told me that it must have hurt.
Once Greedo got us into the building, using his afterhours lab access, he threw one of his large salami arms over my shoulders and I could feel the dampness of his armpit on my shoulder. “Welcome to my kingdom” he chortles “We must climb the magic tower, to the top of the world and there you must go through the portal and open the gate for me, so that we can change history. “
I shove him off, enough was enough. “Look mate, I’m happy to work with you on this but you need to tone down the WOW element here, or I’m bailing. Either start talking sense or just lead the way. ”
Greedo malevolently grins and continues walking into the darkness and I am able to walk along quite happily, a few meters behind. More importantly I am able to escape some of his stench. His wheezing grows louder as I realise that we have come to a staircase, where we climb up four flights of stairs. With never before seen grace he opens a small window at the top of the staircase and manoeuvres his hand around the outside to open the door to the roof.
“Genius” I exclaim, probably extending my sentence to two more weeks of friendship.
“You see, Steven, OHS requirements state that all doors that access a roof must be able to be opened from the outside. It’s like they are begging us to break in or to be more precise out!”
Greedo walks out onto the roof, scoffing to himself, and quickening his pace. I follow along on the thin metal pathways over the roof, grasping onto a metal railings either side of me. The cool night air is freezing with the sweat on my face, which I hadn’t even noticed it until this point. The wheezing stopping ahead, informs me that we must have reached the restricted area of the building.
I look around and we are nicely sheltered from the pathways below. On one side, the roof ramps down to us and on the other side there are some glass panes. Peering through them I can only make out some dark rooms, with only a few shapes.
All I hear is my breathing and the heavy breathing of my companion. I feel like I should be able to hear some cars still leaving the university, the bustle of a tram or even a bat screeching. For the first time the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turn to Greedo to voice my fears, but find his face centimetres from my own.
“Here‘s where you earn those sleep-ins that you desire, Steven. I need you to climb up through these windows.”
“No problem and I do hate to correct you, but these are solid panes. They weren’t made to open and even more shockingly don’t open” I answered, tapping the window.
“Steven, you are correct! Attention to detail like that is what must have brought you to this situation. I think you will find that you can climb up through that” he says pointing up above our heads. I follow his finger to the small window which is about half a meter above my head.
The window was only open a gap of about 50 centimetres and climbing through that would be quite a challenge. Is this the only reason why Greedo brought me along? Come to think of it I had spied Greedo and Wesley the weasel, hanging out a lot at university last semester. I never had thought of them as being friends at school because, lets face it, Greedo ‘homo’ Homes had no friends. Did he just use Wesley to climb in this window for grades? Had Wesley got cold feet and needed to be ‘taken care of’? Or even worse was I just a Weasel back up?
Again I had a choice ahead of me, either I bail now before I get in too deep or I keep going and climb through the window. Before I could decide, I began hurtling towards the window. Greedo had grabbed me firmly beneath the knees and thrust me upwards. My arms brace my upwards momentum against the window frame, stopping my head from crashing into it.
“Easy you tub of lard” I snap at Greedo below, as I regain my balance.
“Hurry up; you are not as light as you used to be in gym. Looks like those toasties aren’t as kind to your figure as they are to Katie’s.”
At school, I always thought that Greedo was the worst. However, seeing him tonight with this purpose and confidence, I am convinced that now he is the worst.
After about 30 seconds of wriggling I am finally able to squeeze my shoulders through the narrow opening. It is only once I squeeze my torso through the frame that I realise the desk below is still one meter below me. This dilemma is quickly solved by Greedo pushing me through with one last shove. I tumble forwards, sending a tower of papers and books crashing to the floor.
“Go round to the other side of the room and open the door, I’ll meet you there” Greedo instructs.
I reach into my pocket and thankfully my torch is still intact, I pull it out and start to stumble across through the cloud of newly disturbed dust and the piles of archaic artefacts which build up in your typical university storeroom. I flick the lock on the inside of the door and open it, just as Greedo lumbers up to it.
I turn around get my first look around the room; it has shelves of old books covering one half off the room. Every surface is covered by boxes filled with essays and lab reports that the university wanted to keep for their records. The carpet in our half of the room had been torn up and on the concrete floor was a dark red stain that looked like a small pool of blood.
“Don’t worry, it’s dry.” Greedo says following my gaze. He waddles over to the final corner of the room which contains a clean desk, with a brand new computer and a noticeboard above it.
“This is where we change history,” Greedo boasts, as he types in “NewtonBeta” as the username and then the password. The familiar sound of Bill Gates making millions rings across the room second later.
“What’s the magic word then?” I ask.
“Password!”
“Really? How many guesses did that take?”
Greedo answers by taping a sticky note above his head on the noticeboard. Sure enough there on the note it says “username: NewtonBeta, password: password.”
“I had the department head as a lecturer for ‘cognitive rational thinking: how to think like a pro’ last semester. For some reason he would always do his contact hours in here and that’s when I noticed sticky note. “He explains. “This shouldn’t take me too long, make yourself at home.”
I look through the nearest set of boxes to see if I can score any lecture notes that the university usually makes you fork out for.
“100% for you and me.”
I spy an old dilapidated box which looks like it has been there longer than I have been alive. The tests inside are handwritten and photocopied, but something about them is familiar.
“100% for the ravishing Miss Katie”
Then it hits me the questions are the same as the multiple choice test that I did a few weeks ago, unchanged since the 80’s. I look further into the box and there are essay and short answer questions. Even one titled “Research assignment for the extra 15%”. The class never changes.
“100% for the rubber man”
“It’s all here!” I exclaim to Greedo. “Everything we need to cruise through this unit, we won’t even need to come back again if we take these with us. I’ll gather all we need and see if I can dig up any other units, you finish up over there. Errr…actually maybe change Clark’s score to 90%, we don’t want to make it too obvious.”
Looking through the boxes in perfect order are all our subjects one after the other, like they had been waiting for us. I just found the last one of Kate’s subjects when Greedo walks over to me with his pudgy hand outstretched. I hand over a handful of the subjects, keeping mine held tightly in my hand.
Then a creaking sound starts from the dark corner of the room, hidden by shelves of books. A look of fear comes over Greedo’s face, like one of a first year wandering into the union building on student election week. He hurtles through a book case or two and into the dark corner, sending a pile of old microscopes flying.
Thud.
I raise my torch, looking into the corner and see Greedo pushing with all his force against the door. Even with all his weight, the door was still ajar; whoever was on the other side must have been strong to hold against him. Greedo turns his head and gestures for me to barricade the door with the largest bookcase.
“Who's in my room?”
It is the unmistakeably familiar sound of my lecturer from just this morning. If he sees me I am done for.
Do you barricade the door with Greedo or do you leave him, going back the way you came?
“I’ll come in,” Clark interjects.
You don’t always get to make a choice, I consciously think to myself.
“Callan, are there any other ways in?” I half-whisper, trying to sound as calm as he does in a conscious attempt to impress Katie.
“Nah, we only need to make sure that no one sees us climbing in or out,” he replies.
“Cover each corner and text Clark if there’s no one around. Make sure your phone’s on silent. We’ll text you again when we’re on our way down so you can make sure no one’s around. Shouldn’t be more than 15 minutes.”
Greedo had found a window in a lab on the ground floor that stayed unlocked all night. He said he remembered the latch was broken from a class he had there in first year. I couldn’t help but feel I’d never be able to make a mental connection like that if I needed to.
Katie & I wordlessly parted ways and walked to our respective corners. I’m a little taken aback by Clark’s decision; I know how much he hates Callan. Was he doing this to allow Katie and I time together? Despite his occasional tendency to cock-block, Clark was generally a pretty good guy.
I stick my head around the corner. No one. I knew from a bit of previous late-night revelry on South Lawn that Melbourne Uni has a bit of security floating around the grounds at night, but it was irregular and not super alert. I text Clark and watch the two silhouettes pry the window open and clamber in and out of sight.
I’m immediately flooded by a wave of self-consciousness as I realise that I’m alone with Katie. I see her walking back towards the window and walk toward her, self-consciously trying to ensure that my dark outline looked suave and relaxed.
Wordlessly we sit on the brick path, propped up against the wall under the window into which our two accomplices just disappeared. It’s dark but there’s still enough blue light to reveal Katie’s face and we exchange an awkward smile. It’s hard not to feel excited and afraid by the espionage we’re party to and I can see that in Katie’s beautiful brown eyes.
Immediately an awkward silence sets in. I don’t know what to say; how does anyone in this situation ever know what the fuck to say? How do you be interesting and cool and friendly yet be strong and attractive?
“How weird is this?” Katie asks, breaking the silence for me.
“Umm yeah haha,” I reply, forcing out a fake laugh, “this is not where I expected to be tonight. It’s very ‘Tomorrow When the War Began’,” I continue, the whole conversation being conducted in a whisper. “Did you ever read those books?’ I ask trying desperately to ensure the conversation continues. I know she must be thinking about my comment at lunch today and I’m just praying that she doesn’t bring it up.
“Yeah, I had to read the first one for school. I never bothered with the others,” She replied “… but I really enjoyed it,” she added, perhaps sensing my disappointment.
“In this situation tonight does that, like, make me Ellie haha?” she adds with a fake laugh of her own but hers is ditzy and coquettish.
“Sure,” I reply unenthusiastically. Perhaps Katie’s only unattractive trait is that she feels the need to play the ditz card sometimes. I assume it’s because it’s been successful for her in her first 20 years of life, which is hardly her fault, so I try my hardest to let it go.
Katie keeps talking: “Who were the enemy in those books anyway? In the movie they were Asian…” The word ‘enemy’ triggers something in my memory: “A surplus of distraction – of choice – is the enemy of efficiency.” My lecturer had said that today. How did he know my name? And he walked in JUST after I walked in – was he waiting for me? And those times he said what I’d just thought, what was that? On their own it could simply be coincidence but together…
Katie has begun casting the rest of us but I’m barely listening ‘…and I guess Callan is Chris, you can be Homer. I think Maddie would make a great Robyn…’. Did the lecturer get rid of the 15% lecture attendance to punish me? Does even considering that this could somehow be about me, one of hundreds in the class, make me the most egotistical idiot on earth?
‘Steven!’ That same call, distant & directionless rips me back to the present moment. “Were you even listening to me haha?” Katie asks, putting her hand on my leg, her laugh more friendly and genuine this time. I chide myself: alone with Katie, a situation I’d planned in my head numerous times, and I can only oscillate between being too nervous to speak and lost in my own thoughts & not listening.
“How do you think they’re going?” she asks.
“I’m sure they’re going fine. Callan’s done this a bunch of times”.
“I feel like he didn’t need the rest of us – if he wanted to change our grades he easily could have done it himself,” the conversation is coming easier now.
“Yeah, he just wants the friendship. I’m sorry I brought him to lunch, by the way, he saw me at the Grattan St lights after our lecture and didn’t let me say no.”
“Don’t be,” Katie says authoritatively and with a smile, “we wouldn’t be here otherwise”.
A whole new wave of panic comes over me – is she hitting on me? Or is she just referring to our potentially degree-ending subterfuge & espionage? Her hand is still on my leg and she’s looking at me with her head cocked against the bricks, eyes wide open and smiling. But she’s never shown any interest in me before, even though I feel like I’ve strongly hinted at my interest in the past.
“How long have they been gone?” Katie asks. I pull out my phone: “it’s been 12 minutes since I texted Clark”. Is she asking because she’s worried about Clark or is she asking because she wants me to kiss her before I run out of time?
“They should be down soon”, she leans in and whispers, simultaneously moving her hand up my leg.
I’m looking directly at her now, both of our heads against the bricks only centimetres apart. Ok, she clearly wants this. Surely. But then again, maybe not.
I hate that society places the onus on the guy to make the move in these situations. In this moment I’d happily give up the pay gap, take on the burden of childbirth and the hassle of menstruation, just so the onus is on Katie to lean in and open her mouth and not on me.
But we’re here staring at each other and if I don’t make a move soon the moment will pass. I remember my lecturer telling me about how brains have made decisions 3 seconds before the subjects make them so I begin to countdown in my head: 3…2…1… and I lean in to kiss her…
…And amazingly she doesn’t pull away! After nervously kissing a couple of times our tongues meet and the hand on my leg grabs harder. I can’t believe it! I can’t fucking believe it! We’re actually making out! I move my outside hand onto her hips and after lingering for a few moments I move my hand under her black tank top and slide it up her waist.
Momentarily I reflect on what a weird, weird day I’ve had: I’ve gone from snooze-button contemplator to hammock-owner, espionage hero and ladies man – I’ll definitely think twice before hitting that snooze button from now on. Feeling encouraged by my swelling sense of achievement for the day I slide my hand up onto Katie’s bra. She responds by moving her hand from my leg to under my t-shirt – this seems like a good sign.
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I assume it must be Clark and keep kissing Katie; I can afford another 30 seconds, maybe 2 minutes.
It vibrates again at a familiar interval. Fuck. A phone call. My mood instantly changes.
Has something gone wrong? I guess there’s a small chance that it’s someone other than Clark but that seems unlikely. Now that I’ve finally kissed Katie and I’ve got my hand under her top I hardly want to stop but if something bad happens then maybe I’ll never get another opportunity.
Should I answer it or ignore it?
