Free Quantum Poppers by Matthew Reeve Page B

Don’t think they’ll be calling back. I just
wish I knew what I was supposed to do.’
    ‘For a job?’
    ‘In general. I
have a feeling that working in water-pipe retail isn’t the way forward. Not
what I was destined to do.’
    ‘You could
become a professional job seeker?’
    ‘If only it
paid well. I certainly have the experience.’
    They were
heading back to Tony's. He continued to gaze at almost everyone he passed. The
music almost seemed to be calming, as if it were a physical barrier blocking
out all the things he didn’t want to see. Perhaps a more calming form of music
would have relaxed him into seeing something; whatever was playing now most
definitely could not put you in a hypnotic state.
    ‘Fancy a
cuppa?’
    ‘No time,’ said
Emma. ‘Popping round Trevor’s before work for a quickie.’
    ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘A quick cuppa.
I’m a lady; I don’t undertake the acts going on in your mind right now.’
    ‘The two of you
having a cuppa was all I had in my mind.’
    ‘I’m sure. So
how was the other night down the pub? Simon and Andy still...Simon and
Andy-like?’
    ‘Same as ever,
I think that’s a good thing. I know you’re not their biggest fans.’
    ‘Andy’s ok,
Simon just - does he still do that spitting in the pint glass thing?’
    ‘I’m afraid so.
After all the alcohol-pops he was drinking it became some kind of multicoloured
slop. There was one weird thing about last night though.’
    Emma nodded and
even turned down the music slightly.
    ‘Simon didn’t
go into one of his stories that ended up with him having sex.’
    ‘I am amazed,’
she said, and cranked the music up again. ‘So, did you get any action in a pub
full of old men?’
    ‘It’s not just
old men that frequent The Cheeky Half, although the lack of TV and free jukebox
is admittedly scaring off most of our generation. Saying that, there was one
girl who stood out.’
    ‘You're making
me jealous now.’
    ‘That’s not the
plan I assure you. No she...stood out.’
    ‘Details.’
    ‘That’s it
really. Just making it clear that not only old men visit that pub. It’s a
classy place.’
    Tony pulled out
a pack of CDs from the glove compartment. Its black fabric casing fell open to
unveil a fan of copied discs, each labeled in thick black marker pen. Every one
abbreviated to a language he assumed only Emma could decipher: MOS 1, GAR 2, TT
4, smeared and scrawled along the surfaces. None tempted him enough to put one
on, if of course Emma was willing. He placed the CD folder onto the dashboard
of the car.
    As they pulled
up outside Tony’s flat, rain began to hit the windscreen. Emma turned the music
down to a bearable level; it seemed she cared more for Tony’s neighbours than
for his ears.
    ‘Hallelujah, I
can hear,’ he said as the car came to a halt and Emma flicked on the windscreen
wipers. His ears actually had a dull ringing in them. He owed it to them to
rest for the remainder of the day. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you to that cuppa?’
    ‘Thanks but,
places to be and people to see. Definitely soon.’ They hugged over the top of
the handbrake as Tony patted her gently on the back. A near awkward gesture he
always felt obliged to undertake.
    The rain
gradually began to fall heavier. He exited the car and with one final muttered
goodbye, slammed the door. As it closed he could see Emma saying something but
with the door shut, rain falling, and the beats slowly rising within, he
couldn’t make it out. It clearly wasn’t important as she waved and drove off
into the oncoming storm.
     
    ‘The reason I
am doing this is to highlight that we do have a little humanity. We’re not the
bad guys. There are no bad guys.’
    John stood
staring at a blank grey door. It was locked with visible bolts, stoppers and
additional sensors in order to stop any unwanted entrants - or exits. He
listened as Bartley spoke of the reasoning behind this gesture and whilst he
knew he should be listening, from the brief snatches he