Appleby College - Argus Yearbook (Oakville, Ontario Canada)

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tf. gray drabness gave him a feeling of depression, as he noticed, once again, how miserably the huge stone pillars failed at their at- tempted grandeur. Without giving it another thought, Lemeric trudged slowly up the steps. Entering his office without having to suffer through any falsely-cheerful good mornings from the office flunkies, he sat down heavily behind his small wooden desk. His office was cramped and dreary. A small portrait of a past manager hung on one wall, yellow and decrepit with age. A coat rack and a filing cabinet stood awkwardly, jutting out from the other wall, stopping the door from opening fully. A window behind his desk overlooked a narrow, grimy courtyard, while, Lemeric knew, the executives had a pleasant view of the city. Next to the Mfindow was a dirty calendar A knock on the door didn ' t send Lemeric scrambling to look busy, as with the other workers. vnih the previous month still in place. He must remember to change it. Lemeric sat back, surveying the dismal room in which he spent six and a half hours every day. A knock on the door didn ' t send Lemeric scrambling to look busy, as it did so many other office workers. Come in, Lemeric said, with his fingers interlaced behind his head. The door opened to reveal a petite, cute blonde. With an air of complete efficiency she walked over to his desk, then held out a piece of paper. He recognized it as an inter-office memo. Since when did the office use these? It was so much easier just to tell the person the message. Thank you. She turned briskly and walked or rather glided from the room, aware of Lemeric ' s eyes resting on her rear. Unfolding the memo, he went through it quickly, his eyes scanning, rather than actually reading. His old training. The message said that a call had come in for him that morning, but since he was late, the manager had taken it. Lemeric was to see him about it. Slightly curious, but mainly annoyed that the only reason the memo was sent was to emphasize that the old bastard was still checking on times of arrivals at work, he decided to let him wait. He busied himself vdth the masses of menial paperwork ujitil the morning coffee break. It was his custom never to go down to the office coffee room, but to go across the street, to a small pub. The coffee was more expensive but the solitude was well worth it. It wasn ' t that he particularly despised the other office workers, but he found their conversation so extremely dull. Last night ' s drunk and the stories stemming from this, held not the slightest bit of excitement for him. The other office workers, Lemeric knew, resented this apparent snobbery, and indeed they often made dealings with him difficult to show it. Lemeric didn ' t mind this, and in fact it helped him gain the solitude he had always seemed to have. Glancing at his watch, Lemeric left the pub and decided that it was about time to drop in on the manager. Without knocking he opened the door quickly to catch the fellow scrambling for papers. Walking confidently in, Lemeric stood looking through the window, once again glad to see that it overlooked the same courtyard as his own. The manager didn ' t look up right away, proving either that his present task was too mentally demanding or that he could be as rude as the next person. At length, the manager recognized Lemeric ' s presence in the room and leaned back in his tilter-chair - one of the luxuries of the job. Lemeric. Good of you to come. But before he could continue in this manner, Lemeric cut him off. The manager beamed. It was not often he had a chance to grill Lemeric. Was there a call for me this morning? he said flatly. Yes, but unfortunately you weren ' t here, so I took the message for you. The manager was taking full advantage of the situation. It was a man asking for you. Lemeric reahzed that he was going to have to drag every last detail out of the close-mouthed bastard. What did he want? Lemeric asked resignedly. The manager beamed. It was not often he had a chance to grill Lemeric. He wouldn ' t leave a name, but instead he g ave me phone number. Now where did I put it? Lemeric watched the artificial scene v«th detached amusement. Whenever he had to deal directly with the manager, certain an- noying situations always arose - a lost message, or a short memory. He found the incidents very petty, but realized that it was better to ride with the waves and let the old

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Jim Lemeric sat at the small table in the kitchen of his West End flat. The early morning sum streamed in through the gritty window onto his face, warming him. Odd utensils and bits of food that had been used and left over in the preparation of his meagre breakfast lay scattered about the kitchen. He was not reading, nor did anything else occupy his at- tention. Staring, he sat motionless, pondering his situation. Where was he going? What remained for him? He had no idea. Yet, in the back of his mind, he knew that he mus t release himself from the agonizing boredom which dominated his life. Sunk deep in his chair, legs sprawled before him, he realized that he was only nearing forty, but fen years older. Graying at the temples, his once thick head of hair was now becoming thin and wispy. However, he prided himself on being very basic and down-to-earth, without any sort of vanity: thus it was he made no effort to conceal his baldness. Even in his present state of bhssfulness, there was a certain vitality to the drawn, ex- pressionless face. Eyes still puffy from a bad night ' s sleep, he had not yet shaved or washed, and his ruddy features were trenched with dark lines. Lemeric was a big man. When he was young and in active service, he had a good physique, but lately he had noticed that his once high-riding chest muscles were slipping down to his stomach, turning to fat. Sadly, the start of a paimch had left him unmoved. -« . Lifting his eyes from the floor, he heaved himself from the chair with more emphasis than was needed. What was wrrong vwth him, dammit? He was in a frame of mind that was making him act hke a man years older. Was it self-pity? It had been so long since he had done anything worthwhile. Was he really pitying himself because he had lost his drive and initiative? God dammit! Snap out of it, man! he said aloud. With this he went over to the sink and dashed some ice-cold water on his face. Picking up his tie and jacket, he glanced at his watch and saw that his morning ' s melancholy might cost him £in hour ' s wages if he didn ' t catch the bus. Twenty minutes later he arrived at his office building. Its

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man have his moment of victory. At last he seemed to have found it. Ah, this is it! Handing the paper to Lemeric, he dismissed him with the air of a man already totally engrossed in his work. It wasn ' t imtil Lemeric had safely left the room that the manager sat back and sighed. He didn ' t look again, but instead tore it into tiny bits and dropped tliem in tlie garbage. Back in his own office, Lemeric sat on the corner of his desk, and looked at the paper. At the first glance he froze: 374-0565-R. Lemeric knew the nimiber well. In fact, anything he made a point of remembering, he never forgot. He didn ' t look again, but instead tore it into tiny bits and dropped them into the garbage. Turn the number around, subract one from each digit, and that was it. His mind raced, yet, uncannily, his face was calm and ex- pressionless. What did they want? Lemeric stopped the stream of inevitable questions quickly in his head. He would eventually find out what it was all about. In time. Lemeric had the great ad- vantage of a so-called photographic memory, plus a well-trained and disciplined mind. He put the incident from his mind until he could call for it later. He spent the rest of the day sifting through the meaningless paperwork that was never- ending. The five o ' clock bell rang off in the distance somewhere and he stood up wearily, leaving everything where it was. He stood idly staring out the window as if the narrow courtyard held some sort of intrigue for him. Fifteen minutes later he left his office, well after the mad rush was over. Outside, the cool evening air refreshed his senses. His senses now told him that there was someone following him. Was it the glimpse of a seemingly uninterested person at the newsstand, who started to walk behind him, or was it simply his tired, befogged mind? Trained instinct did not allow Lemeric to think the latter. He quickened his pace ever so slightly and turned the corner without glancing behind. He caught sight of the same dark blurred figure in the reflection of a passing bus vdndow. His heart started to quicken its beat as he paused to look into a shop window and the dark figure also stopped. A frightening empassiveness came across Lemeric ' s face as he plarmed his eventual victory over HI his follower. A victory of what Lemeric did not know, but a victory nonetheless. Lemeric started to walk again. Soon he entered the commercial section of the West End, filled with its ar- chways and alleys. This was where he wanted his adversary. Turning into an archway of a deserted office building, he stood motionless beside a large sup- porting pillar. Several thoughts ran through his head, broken and fragmented - viilnerable parts, kidneys, throat, groin - It was at this precise moment that a burly, blond-haired man clad in a dark overcoat walked aroimd the pillar. Lemeric caught him v dth a vicious blow to the throat vn h the edge of his hand. Eyes staring incredulously ahead, the man was staggering back when Lemeric hit him again, this time with a swift kick to the groin. The man slumped moaning to the ground, semi-conscious. Still writh the same impassive face Lemeric wrenched the man ' s head back by his hair, pulling him into con- sciousness. Why were you follovdng me? The man ' s throat was so puffy and red he could only gurgle, blood spilling down his chin. Who do you work for? The man just moaned. Leaving him lying there, Lemeric stepped onto the street, made sure nobody had witnessed the scene, and walked quickly back the way he had come. As he walked he re-created the event in his mind. It never oc- curred to Lemeric that the man was innocent. But he did wonder why he had hit him so hard and so viciously. In the back of his mind he knew that it was the months of idleness that had built up an incredible pressure inside him. Lemeric also knew that he had a sadistic streak, and in actual fact As he wall(ed lie re- created the incident in his mind. It never even oc- cured to Lemeric that the man was innocent. he enjoyed the thrill of a good fight. Especially if he won. When he reached his flat, his hand had started to swell and his toe felt as if it were broken. He was really out of shape. Feeling more tired than hungry, Lemeric lay on top of his bed. A certain afterglow flowed warmly through him as he began to think again of the incident that had just taken place. His mind soon became foggy and he fell asleep. (This is the first section of a 15,000 word story .J