A Quiet Exit

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Albert stared at the ad plastered on the cafe window. “That’s the millionth one I’ve seen this week.”

His friend Liam replied, “Do you know what the program even is?”

Albert immediately shook his head and answered, “Doesn’t ring a bell whatsoever.”

“It’s probably another dud we’ll never see again. Like the spy-fish one.”

“Just like the spy-fish one,” Albert said.

The bus rolled into the stop, its arrival signaling the end of their conversation. The headsign read: NEXT: McCormick Ave.

They entered the bus to find it packed to the brim with businessmen. This was a regular occurrence for them, as this bus was one of the first ones to operate in the mornings.

Albert asked, “So, how's Colette doing?”

“She’s okay. Me on the other hand? I've had to do most of the work lately.” Liam sighed and continued, “I haven't built the cradle yet...”

“No wonder you look like a ghost. You can take a few days off, y’know.”

“I'm trying to save my PTO for after the baby's born.”

“I guess you're right.”

They stood there in silence for a few minutes. Liam began to fall asleep when the bus suddenly halted.

The intercom blared: “McCormick Avenue, McCormick Avenue.”

Albert patted Liam on the back. “Are you free to grab a bite after work?”

“If I’m not exhausted.”

“Got it.”

Albert, along with most of the businessmen, got off and dispersed into the street like ants.

* * *

Albert entered a building that read Epsilon Propulsions above the doorway.

“Good morning, Albert,” the receptionist said. “How are you today?”

“Feeling great, considering the proposal’s almost complete.” Albert handed him his ID.

“So, can you tell me what it’s about?”

“That's classified.”

“You can’t even tell me one thing?” The receptionist scanned the card and gave it back.

“Not even a thing.”

“It was worth a shot.” A buzzer blared and two steel doors opened. “Anyways, you’re free to go.”

“Thanks a lot.” Albert entered, the doors shutting behind him with a loud blare and bang.

“Good morning, sir!” an employee hollered.

Albert responded, “Good morning, Sam. How far are we on the testing for the Peregrine Project?”

Her voice quickly quieted into more of a whisper. “Well, an issue has come up,” she meekly replied.

Albert sighed, saying, “Are they—”

“Yep.”

“And are they—”

“They’ve been called to your office, yes.”

* * *

Albert was vigorously rubbing his eyebrows. “What part of cooperation do your departments not understand?”

Guy #1 said, “I-It’s Fabrication’s fault. We told them to change something based on our statistical analyses but they aren’t listening.”

Guy #2 rebutted, “You guys in Analytics are modifying the original schematic and messing us up. Remanufacturing precision parts is a nightmare. You didn’t even get permission.”

“We tried, but no one acknowledged our emails.”

Albert asked, “Well, who'd you send the email to?”

Guy #1 said, “I think his name was... Gary?”

Albert facepalmed and muttered, “Gary left us for F&K. It was in the email.”

The two men stared at Albert with a small level of surprise, their jaws slightly hanging out.

Guy #2 said, “The weekly one?”

“Yes,” Albert said in an annoyed tone, “the weekly one.”

Guys #1 and #2 said in unison, “Nobody reads the weekly ones.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Guy #2 replied. “Anyways, do you know Gary left?”

Guy #1 said, “We can't keep up with their salary offers, that's why. Speaking of F&K, I heard a conspiracy on the street this morning that they are the reason behind the recent disappearances.”

Albert raised his hand, quickly ending the conversation. “Let’s circle back to the issue at hand,” he said.

“Sorry...”

“Here’s the verdict: the schematic will not be revised. One more thing for you two: if there is any issue, contact, email, or even walk up to me personally. Got it?”

“Got it,” they replied, both looking dejected. They both stood up and left the office.

As soon as the door shut, Albert slumped down in his chair and exhaled in exhaustion. “At this rate,” he muttered, “we’ll miss the submission deadline by a whole month.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he said weakly.

The door opened slightly. A woman asked, “Is this a good time for you?”

“Not really, Sam.”

“Well, I’m just reminding you to prepare for tomorrow's meeting.”

“Ugh. Thanks for the heads-up. Also, could you—”

“Get a cup of coffee? Already on it.”

“—and clear my schedule for the rest of the day?”

“You got it, boss.”

* * *

Albert left Epsilon Propulsions and began to walk to the bus stop.

He passed a storefront with a grid of televisions behind the window. It was playing a popular soap opera. Suddenly, the screen flipped to a man behind a desk.

“Good evening to you all. We are live from Ashbourne with breaking news: Parliament has just imposed multiple tariffs on Anwar. Many experts believe this is in retaliation to the recent sinking of a Republic cargo ship in the Khatir Sea. Some politicians are even calling for military intervention.

"Here with us for another perspective on this situation is Maria Bautista, the head of the Department of Political Sciences at Ashbourne University.”

The screen switched to a woman in a suit. “Thanks for having me.”

The reporter asked, “So what are your thoughts on this situation?”

“Overall, this is an ill-advised move by Parliament.

“Baaqir, which is west of Anwar and closer to the Southern Sea, is responsible for the sinkings. In addition, the Southern Region poses little threat to us.”

The man was shocked. “Your last statement is—”

“In direct opposition to Senator Hoffman, yes.”

“Is there any reason why he would claim the Southern Region is a threat?”

“Right now, I can only think of one: raw materials. Around 40% of the known world's raw metals—iron, copper, zinc, nickel, etc.—are found in the Southern Region. They would be extremely beneficial in areas like infrastructure, the automotive industry, and especially the military.”

“40% of the Southern Region; that’s a lot. Well, let's hope this situation does not escalate.” The man looked back at the camera. “Thanks for tuning in to our special report. ABN will continue with its regularly scheduled program. Have a good night.”

The screens turned black for a moment, then switched back to the soap opera.

“A war?” someone asked. “Please don't say that’ll actually happen.”

“There won't be a war.” A man replied. “If anything, we're the ones playing defense. The countries in the Southern Region are the aggressors.”

“You're right.”

“This will all blow over in a week.”

Albert muttered, “I hope so.”

***

The workday was over and the sun had already set, but the employees at Epsilon Propulsions were conversing among themselves quietly. Some of them were summoned for an emergency meeting.

Albert walked into the room and said, “Everyone, listen up. I have an announcement.”

“Are we being laid off?” someone queried.

“No, it's actually related to what Parliament passed two days ago.”

An employee’s face dropped and he asked, “Are we going—”

“I don't know. But I do know this: around noon, we received an order from the military. It is a multi-year contract for EPR-72 Sagitta missiles.”

Another person questioned, “But what about the Peregrine Project?”

“They are accepting most of the proposals, including ours.”

A wave of satisfaction swept through the room. Some cheers and sighs could be heard.

“My next statement goes without saying: do not, under any circumstances, tell anyone about this. We do not want to cause mass hysteria.”

Most of the people nodded in agreement.

“Alright, the meeting's over. Get home safe everyone.”

Everyone quickly shuffled out of the room, giving Albert the job of turning off all the lights. He closed up the building and started walking down the street.

“Welcome to the ABN Evening News With Karl Kirby. This just in: Anwar has stopped its exports of iron and zinc to Lux Aeterna and its allies. Anwar says that the exports will return once the 20% tariff is dropped. Senator Hoffman and the Foreign Relations Committee are condemning this move and are planning to take retaliatory measures.

“In other news, a man has gone missing in Augusta...”

Albert continued walking. He was keeping his head down when he felt someone grab his shoulder. He turned around and said, “Hey, get off of me—” Suddenly, he felt a prick in the back of his neck as if a needle was stabbed into him.

He swung his other arm haphazardly. He quickly lost his balance, fell down face-first, and passed out.

“...this is the tenth disappearance in the last two months. The DDD claims that this is not a coincidence and will continue to investigate.”