Slide - Kyle Beachy [90]
The park ranger welcomed another group off the elevator. People filed into the elevators for their return to solid ground, six hundred thirty feet below. Eggs and eggs of people, coming and going in an endless mechanical ovulation.
“I've made some mistakes, Pop.”
“Let me tell you about the things I know, son. I love you and I love your mother. What else do I know. I love my work and I love this city I have always believed that this would be enough. We cannot account for surprise. It comes out of nowhere, by its very nature. I wonder now whether I should have made adjustments. But who can say? No one can say. And what options remain? Do you run away to some tree in the woods? You've read Walden; let's not pretend that's upbeat stuff. Plus he walked into town twice a week to buy eggs and flour. You stay and you try to make things better. That's what you do. You do not give up like a twerp. You do not walk away. You work, Potter. You work at the commitment you've made. Otherwise, what's the value of commitment.”
I couldn't say it. Help.
Back in the elevator, I leaned forward on the edge of my plastic so my elbows rested on my thighs. As promised, the descent went faster than the climb.
It was all fraud. Once the day's deliveries were complete, I stood in the warehouse among the great racks of bottles. I moved slowly down the aisles, passing from the walls of turquoise caps into a corridor of red-capped Purifieds. I turned a corner and was flanked by walls of deep-blue caps, the Premiums. The nature of the business all but guaranteed fraud. Water, but not just water. This was special water, wink nudge wink, trust us.
I left the racks and moved to the bottling machine. The conveyors were still, the whole thing silent and charged with potential. At the end of the belt were three boxes, each open, containing rubberized caps. I sunk my hand into the red caps and heard the voices of drivers in the break room, grumbling over paperwork.
A big part of this enterprise was psychological. The sweaty man at the door with a bottle on his shoulder. The service, the acts, delivery and removal, the peace of mind. The extra charge for Premium over Natural Spring, the mollifying of some basic yearning to have the best. The Summer Special, three bottles of your choice. Choice.
I opened the door to the break room and stood against the wall. Various sorts of bullshit flew about the room, equal parts blame and excuse. As soon as Dennis noticed me he began ignoring me, laughing at something, then topping it with his own tale or joke.
“It's all the same water.”
A few of them turned to look at me, but only for the splittest of seconds. Dennis glanced in my direction and I took a couple steps toward him, though I'm not sure what I had in mind.
“Right?”
I hadn't planned on yelling. More heads turned. Fine. The problem here wasn't about the water lie but that we all pretended it wasn't a lie. Why not just admit the whole thing? Instead of lying to them, lying to ourselves; meanwhile, Freddy watching everything, spotting my lies from above. I saw Dennis get up from his chair. My voice came out loud and shrill.
“No reason to pretend, is there? I'm not wearing a wire. I'm one of you. But let's just toss it onto the table and look at it. The truth, I mean. The water's all the same.”
“Alright. You're done,” Dennis said, standing.
His hand latched on to my arm and dragged me from the break room into the main office, which by now was deserted. I realized for the first time that I could be in some danger. He kept pushing until we were at the office door, which