The Eye of the Storm

After I got home, sleep proved to be impossible. So, I put the news on.

The fake plastic abomination was giving a repeat of my performance. Not too shabby.

Another commercial for Millipede Megaquake ran. I’m not influenced by marketing. Then I went to the fridge and poured myself a nice tall glass of it. Mmmm! I should gain sponsorship for it.

I flicked over. A panel show had begun on another channel, and the pundits were discussing the “speech for ages, a speech full of Kazikawa’s legacy”. Pompous claptrap.

A phone-in began. A rebellious smile broke out on my face. Why not? If you don’t have fun, how can anyone else? It might take my mind off someone...

I punched in the number, speaking to the young operative who wasn’t entirely sure if I was telling the truth, but in a world where people didn’t generally lie it was easy to convince her.

I held the line while I was being connected. I could see on my screen the producer scurrying over to the main anchor, handing him a digital cue. The presenter, a serious-looking bulky guy probably in his mid-30s, looked straight into the camera. “We have – an interesting development. Hello Adem.”

“Hello…is it Ronald? Hi Ronald, sorry, I’m not a regular viewer. Kind of been in hospital for a while, and all that.”

“A – Adem sir, pleasure to speak with you.”

“And yourself. I was flicking through the channels, watching the news, wondering if my behind looked big in my trousers and all that, when I came across your panel show, so I thought – why not give you a call? I must say, I do apologise for giving your lovely staff member a heart attack when I said who I was.”

“Well, apology accepted. And I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

“Thanks. So.”

“Did you have a question for us? We certainly have questions for you.”

“Okay. Put yourself in my shoes. What would you be feeling and thinking? What would you do?”

A woman called Janet, who was chief editor of a very prominent news magazine, spoke first.

“Well, hi Adem…honestly? I think I’d shut myself away for a long time, maybe forever. I agree about what you said concerning The Sect. But I worry for you. And I have to ask – why did you seek that publicity?”

“I get what you say about shutting myself away, but I’ve been doing that for many years, haven’t I. I went to a quiet night at a social club this evening – disguised – as I wanted to interact, to be around people. And to learn more about the world I have entered. My unmasking was accidental, and if I had walked off without saying a word – that would have been an insult to those who have thought and prayed about me over the years. I’ve a great debt to repay.”

I don’t know how those words came so easily to me, perhaps because I felt totally free to say them. They’ll inevitably feel let down by me, it’s just a question of how soon.

More questions came from the other panelists.

“If you were not seeking publicity tonight, why are you phoning us?”

“Well, hello there. You get to talk about me, so don’t I have a right of reply? And I’m a bit lonely. I’ve met some great people, but I need to interact, to learn. I am so clueless about everything. I bounce between being brave and scared stupid.”

“I’m Gavin Green, New City Life Publication. What’s motivating you, going forward?”

“Curiosity. And you. All of you, what you want from me, what I can do to help this wonderful paradise world that you have created between you not revert to the world of yesteryear.”

Ronald cut back in.

“What you said about the Sect has attracted controversy, to say the least. Can you elaborate on that?”

“I’ll try, but there’s not much more I can add at this stage. I realise that my knowledge about them is limited, and I don’t want to make detailed statements because of this. I repeat – I want to listen to what they say first. But listening doesn’t involve tolerating violent protests, threats or anti-social shows of frustration. They may well be annoyed, but I am sincere in my concern for them, as much as my concern for everyone in the four zones.”

A balding, rugged man called Stephen, went next:

“Adem, would you accept that you have a God complex?”

“Good question. Would you accept in turn that it seems I am being cast in that sort of role: a role in which I never would willingly want or audition for? Is this not the filter that some, maybe most people see me through? Think about how you all got your jobs – you were sort of cast in those roles, too. I’ll say again – I’m the least amongst you.”

“Okay, but you can choose, you can just get on with your own life.”

“Is that remotely possible right now? Look at what happened tonight. If there’s a job I’ve been given, then I’ll do it to the best of my ability, even if reluctantly at times. Maybe people will want me to disappear. Fine, whatever I can do to help.”

“Sheila here – you sound incredibly polished. Like you’ve worked in government or media before.”

“The only polish I ever got was for my school shoes – for a school I never graduated from – and from listening to my father.” They laughed at that.

Back to Janet. “What are your plans?”

“To get some plans! I am open to doing what’s best. I want to find out more about this beautiful place I’m in, use that holomask more carefully, take stock of the entire situation, and come back on your show if you’ll have me? I’m going to listen to feedback and people who can give me good advice.”

“Does that include the Sect?”

“I’ve nothing more to add on that matter. It’s a sensitive subject. I wish them well, no matter what they say about me. I just hope they don’t hurt others. Are we done, guys?”

Ronald replied, “Well, we could talk to you all night, but –”

“– I couldn’t. Honestly, I’m super boring, you’ll all be nodding off soon!”

“That definitely isn’t the case! But – Adem, the legend that you are, thanks for joining us.”

I was returned to the operative. “Oh – thank you for that! I must say, I’m a great believer in you –”

“– Don’t give me that. I’m a great believer in you! Tell me about you instead, I’m honestly just so tired of droning on about me.”

She nervously giggled and shared quite a bit. I need to learn to be honest and open like these people are.

Eventually, I got her contact details. Her name was Stephanie. Maybe I could do with a press officer or something. The way things were going I’d need people I could trust. I said goodbye and ended the call.

Back on social media, the interview was everywhere.

My head was soup. Enough of this. ‘Telly off,’ I said.

Then, my holophone went. It was Dr Fisher, in bed, wearing rather psychedelic pyjamas.

“Dr –”

“– That was some performance. Well played. To the manor born, I’d say.”

What was he on about? “Umm…thanks, Dr Fisher.”

“We’re past that phase now. Call me Frank.”

“Okay...”

“So, now you see what I was trying to warn you about. You are a big deal. The only person that finds that a shock – is you. And the Sect.”

“It sounds like I could join the Sect!”

“Beautiful irony, but no, don’t do that. Remember the special mission I had in mind for you? It looks like it’s found you, first. I’m here if you want to talk about it in a couple of days' time, maybe wait for longer if you need to. Of course, only if you’re interested, as you may have your own ideas.”

“I’ll see how I go and get back to you.”

He changed the subject. “Bobbi isn’t home yet.”

“Ah – she’s probably busy hating my fake plastic guts.”

“I know something else has happened tonight. She sends me devil emojis when her fuse is lit. They creep me out when they come out of the holophone. I know she was at that club tonight, so I’m presuming it’s something to do with you.”

“Wish her my best, tell her no more notes. No more bad matchmaking.”

“Ah…okay. And well done. I’m proud of you. I think you made a choice tonight –”

“– Honestly? Wasn’t that the whole point of the Phoenix Project, right from the start –”

He cracked. “Adem. Certainly not for me – never for me – and please don’t ever think that.” Clearly it was for some people, then.

I sighed. Always the lab rat.

“Okay, Frank. I won’t. Goodnight, speak soon.”

And that was that. I switched my holophone off.

Breathe. Breathe.

Breathe the air at the eye of the storm.