Welcome to my Christmas Story: Blue Friday: A play 1n 3 acts.
Charlie Heart’s computer shows that he has clocked off from work on the last Friday before the Christmas Holidays.
But has he?
And why has Mr Brittle & Mr Stone been dispatched to his office?
Last time:
TAP TAP TAP
‘Computer standby,’ said Charlie and sank back into his chair. The screen in front of him shimmered and disappeared.
TAP TAP TAP
Act 2
The handle turned with a squeak; the door swung open. Two large men dressed in black suits walked into his office.
‘No, please, I was just getting my coat,’ said Charlie.
The two men stood silent in the darkness. The sound of Charlie’s words glanced off their stiff, angular frames and dropped onto the carpet to join the biscuit crumbs. The streetlights outside bled through the slits of the blind and painted white stripes across their faces.
‘Look I’m not doing any harm,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s just a bit of harmless-’
His lips dried up, unable to mention the word. One of the men lowered his sunglasses, ‘So this is the right office Mr Stone?’
‘Yes Mr Brittle.’
‘There are no Christmas decorations Mr Stone?’
‘No, Mr Brittle.’
‘Will I get into trouble?’ said Charlie. ‘I really need this job.’
The two men turned and looked at each other.
‘We will enjoy this Mr Brittle.’
‘Indeed we will Mr Stone.’
Mr Brittle stepped forward. A clicking noise accompanied the movement. Mr Brittle placed his briefcase onto the desk with a thud. Charlie looked at it. Charlie’s computer came back on-line, ‘How do you feel about what is happening to you Leviticus?’
‘Shhh,’ said Charlie.
Mr Stone pushed his cold, grey face through the virtual wash of computer blue. ‘Yes Mr Heart,’ said Mr Stone. ‘How do you feel right now?’
‘You will come now,’ said Mr Brittle.
‘Can I just finish-’
‘Turn it all off Mr Heart,’ said Mr Brittle.
Charlie faked a smile; his teeth clenched behind the veil.
‘Of course, very good,’ he said. ‘Just give me a moment.’
‘Time for a Christmas drink then Mr Brittle?’ said Mr Stone.
‘Time for a tipple Mr Stone.’
Mr Stone reached into the refreshment station and took out a small glass. Sherry swilled up to the lip of the cut crystal as he raised it to his lips. Charlie slipped a blue pill into his mouth and swallowed.
Mr Brittle motioned to the computer screen.
‘Time up. Turn it off.’
‘Please,’ said Charlie, ‘I can’t just suddenly turn it off. I need a controlled withdraw.’
Mr Brittle interlocked his fingers and flexed them producing several loud clicks. Mr Stone walked to the window, placed his finger on one of the slats of the blind, pushed down and opened a letterbox view of the world outside.
‘Do you want me to open this Mr Heart?’ said Mr Brittle tapping the briefcase.
Mr Stone turned from the window.
‘I think he does Mr Brittle.’
Charlie looked at the briefcase. The tick of the clock on the wall cut in and out of the silence. Drops of sweat bled out of his forehead and trickled down his wrinkled brow.
‘No, please. Damn it, you must give me more time, now I’m here I can’t just pull out and leave all this to the mercy of blind commerce.’
Mr Brittle slammed his hand down in front of Charlie.
‘You should have thought about that before you came in here.’
‘Shall we Mr Brittle?’ said Mr Stone.
‘O yes we will Mr Stone,’ said Mr Brittle.
Mr Brittle smiled. Reaching down, he unplugged Charlie’s electronic umbilical chord feeding the blue power grid.
‘I am shutting down Leviticus,’ said the computer. ‘How do you feel about-’
The computer screen disappeared. Without its blue glow the room became black. Charlie glanced at the picture of his family and tried to control himself, but his work ethos overwhelmed him, ‘Get off me you bastards.’
Mr Stone grabbed his arms and held him tight. Charlie kicked his legs against the table and tried to push Mr Stone back towards the slatted window. Mr Brittle clicked open the briefcase.
‘Hold him firm Mr Stone,’ said Mr Brittle.
‘Yes indeed Mr Brittle.’
Mr Brittle picked out a syringe and a small vial from the case. He pushed the needle into the red liquid and drew the fluid up into the syringe.
‘My favourite part Mr Stone.’
‘Our Christmas present Mr Brittle.’
Charlie’s eyes grew wide; the urge to run pumped his muscles, which bulged as if in the grip of an entertainer twisting a balloon. He spat into Mr Brittle’s face.
Mr Brittle plunged the syringe into the side of Charlie’s neck. Charlie grimaced as the fluid surged into his bloodstream. Mr Brittle blurred into the corners of the room, then sank down into the carpet as Charlie’s eyes rolled backwards.
5.16: A thud and it was over.
Mr Stone pulled Charlie from the grey plastic chair. Mr Brittle walked around the desk and grabbed Charlie’s limp legs. Wheezing they carried him out through the door and down the long corridor towards the white glow of the lift. As they drew closer, the distant hum filling the corridor grew louder. They stopped at the end in a pool of light. Mr Stone jabbed the down arrow of the lift with his elbow. The doors opened. The two men shifted sideways and side stepped inside. Charlie’s boots pressed up against Mr Brittle’s chest.
‘Lift him up a bit Mr Stone, he’s crushing my ribs.’
‘Doing it Mr Brittle.’
The door started to close.
‘Hold it.’
A hand clasped the side of the door. A young face appeared and looked at the body strung out between them. Mr Brittle and Mr Stone looked at his badge. It read:
Lieutenant Trent
Family Protection Squad
‘Trouble Mr Stone,’ said Mr Brittle.
‘Indeed Mr Brittle,’ said Mr Stone.
Trent squeezed into the lift and jabbed at the ground floor button.
‘No need to delay you gentlemen. This is just a random check. Won’t take long, I will frisk him as we go down.’
Mr Stone looked at Mr Brittle. Mr Brittle shook his head.
‘Do you have a family Lieutenant?’ said Mr Stone.
‘What? … no.’
‘He doesn’t have a family Mr Brittle.’
‘No family Mr Stone.’
‘So we could?’
‘No Mr Stone. We left the case in the office.’
‘Yes we did Mr Brittle.’
Trent took his detector out of his jacket pocket. He hummed as a blue stream rose up from the ring of electric blue on the floor and washed over the device. Red lights flickered into life along its sides; with a flourish Trent raised it into the air then brought it down across Charlie’s chest.
BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP
‘Ah ha!’ cried Trent. He reached into Charlie’s pocket and withdrew a company pen.
Mr Brittle and Mr Stone looked at it.
‘Do you have to report this Lieutenant?’ asked Mr Stone.
‘Of course,’ said Trent. ‘This is a serious infringement of the Protection of Families Act, I could have your licences revoked for this.’
‘Yes,’ said Mr Brittle, ‘but it’s just a pen Lieutenant. Take it and let us do our job.’
‘No, no, no,’ said Trent. ‘Just a pen? Just a pen! Have you any idea what a man can do with just a pen?’
‘Calm down,’ said Mr Brittle.
‘Shall I calm him down Mr Brittle?’ said Mr Stone.
Trent looked at Mr Stone and withdrew his sidearm from its holster.
Mr Stone looked down the barrel of the gun, then stuck his finger in the end of it.
Trent took a step back. His elbow pressed the … Press if you need help button.
‘Hello,’ said the lift in response. ‘Happy Holidays, would you like me to play a Slade Christmas song?
‘No,’ said Trent.
Slade’s ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ floated around their heads.
Trent looked at Mr Brittle and Mr Stone.
‘Are we going to do this then gentlemen?’
‘No Mr Stone,’ said Mr Brittle after a pause, ‘we will let him be.’
‘Yes we will let you be Lieutenant,’ added Mr Stone.
Trent slipped the pen into his pocket. He kept the gun pointing at Mr Stone.
‘It would just take a second gentleman,’ said Trent, ‘for this man to regress into a fully working state at the sight of this pen. I mean what the hell were you thinking? What if he had used it on the train? We could have had an outbreak. Half the city could have been contaminated.’
‘Indeed,’ said Mr Stone.
‘I trust you remember Black Marker Monday?’ said Trent.
Mr Stone looked at Mr Brittle for help. Mr Brittle shrugged.
‘No,’ said Mr Stone.
Trent sighed, ‘In twenty fifteen a man called George Winston smuggled a black marker pen out of his office by ingesting it. After visiting the toilet on his fast train home he used it to conduct a brainstorming exercise using a large window as a make shift white board.’
Trent’s words penetrated Mr Brittle and Mr Stone in little snippets as their brains cut down the meaning into digestible sound bites.
‘How interesting,’ said Mr Brittle.
‘That incident gentlemen shut down the whole train network for thirty-six hours. The Family Time lost was estimated in the region of two million hours. In the end the riot police had to storm the carriage. Ten people where shot when they refused to leave the train to return to their families. We never found Winston. His wife and children were distraught. We believe he married again and had a child to take on a credible new identity. Many say he still operates illegally under the alias of Leviticus. He has become somewhat of a legend within the overtime underground network.’
‘Tragic Lieutenant, you’re breaking my heart,’ said Mr Brittle.
‘You see Lieutenant,’ explained Mr Stone nodding at Mr Brittle. ‘We’re Enforcement Agents, we don’t concern ourselves with details like lost FT.’
‘No,’ said Mr Brittle, ‘we just like throwing people out, don’t we Mr Stone?’
‘And hurting people Mr Brittle,’ added Mr Stone.
Mr Brittle and Mr Stone gave Trent a hard stare.
TING
The lift reached the ground floor. The doors swished open. Trent glared at Mr Brittle and Mr Stone in contempt and stepped out backwards.
‘Goodbye gentleman.’
Replacing his gun, he disappeared into the maze of the ground floor.
‘And a Happy Christmas to you,’ said Mr Brittle.
‘Happy Holidays.’
‘What?’
‘You can’t call it Christmas Mr Brittle.’
‘O.’
‘Did you understand him Mr Brittle?’ said Mr Stone.
‘Something about shitting on the train, Mr Stone.’
To be continued on Friday.
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