Alan’s Arm
One day Alan went to work as he did on
everyday except Sunday. When he got there he saw that
the renovations where he worked were continuing. The workers had their tools
and cloths spread helter skelter through the
labyrinth of hallways that lead deep into the companies
headquarters.
It always gave Alan a certain amount of
pride to take that walk, for he remembered when he started working at the
company, then he had worked at the front of the
building like the rest of the new employees. However as he worked his way
through more important jobs, earning promotion after promotion, his offices too
moved deeper into the vast building. Now the long walk was a sign of his
accomplishments. Alan remembered himself as a young man, and was amazed the he
had shown the will to make so much of himself. He had always been a shy young
man, left too long in the shadows of older men in his family that had succeeded
far beyond their peers. But he had found the sacrifices necessary easy to make,
having never had an exciting life to lead his job had filled the vacumn. Now that long walk was part of his reward. As he
moved along smiling and greeting people he met he felt fine, none of these
people had done what he had done. Any number of them could be where he was but
so few had shown the determination.
When Alan got to his office he put his
jacket on the hook inside the door, he moved over to his desk and turned on his
terminal. He felt so comfortable here with his few personal items scattered
about, a crude drawing a niece had given him, a
picture of his parents his mother looking prim and proper his father looking
distant and preoccupied. The folders and files also comforted him, he knew them all so well. As he sat before his terminal
his hands were like restless animals eager to perform, perfectly in tune with
will. Inside his laid out all he needed to do. He brought up the file he was
working on in the back of his mind dreaming of coffee. Over on a table sat his
small coffee maker, but he decided to pass on it for now, happy to just glance
over at the machine. So many of the other employees had to
get their beverages from the employee lounge.
The Boss entered Alan’s office and
closed the door behind him. He seemed relaxed and happy, Alan was very glad to
see that. Part of what had allowed Alan to get ahead so quickly was his ability
to make life easier for his superiors. They knew well enough that Alan always tried
his hardest, and that in the rare circumstance when he did make a mistake no
one felt worse about it than
Alan
himself.
“Alan, how’s my boy?”
“Well, Sir, and
yourself?”
“Never better.
It looks like the spring shipments are moving without a hitch. See? And you
were so worried.”
Alan smiled and gave a little nod. “I
guess we did it, but I still think we make things smoother next year.”
“Still that’s next year. For now, Alan,
I have something that I want you to do. These files that you are working on,
we’ll shift them over to Joyce.” The Boss gestured towards Alan’s terminal and
gave a passing glance at the small coffee maker sitting empty. Alan’s ears were
alert for what was to come next, ready to take on this new job whole heartedly.
Hopefully his obvious enthusiasm would make up for his grave error, not having
made coffee so that he might have some to offer the Boss.
“We finally have some recommendations
from the firm we hired to put together a reorganization plan for us.” The Boss
squinted slightly, inscrutably. “I want you to personally review the report,
Alan. I would like to see what you think of their plan, and what changes, if
any, you would make. When you’re done we’ll both look the whole thing over and
see what direction we should go in, Corporate will be very interested in the
progress we make.”
Alan couldn’t help blushing, never
before had so much responsibility been given to him. The idea that the Boss was
willing to put him alongside in an issue that was important to Corporate was
amazing.
“It sounds great! I am looking forward
to seeing what they’ve come up with, and I think it makes sense to do a reality
check with people inside the company. It’ll be fun.”
The Boss started to say something else
but Alan continued on. “I know I can handle it. You know I wont
let you down.”
“Fine, I’ll have it sent right over. In
the meantime Joyce knows what’s up so why do you take some hard copies of what
you’re working on now over to her?”
“Yes, Sir.”
By
mid-morning Alan had prepared himself and received his new job. The scope of it
astounded him. The Boss had said that he should take his time, so he knew he had
to have his presentation carefully crafted. Still, the task seemed so huge that
it could take him months to get done properly. The pages of figures and
projections would have to be checked against various other scenarios.
Alternative strategies mapped out. Alan wondered if the Boss had even looked at
the report, it was hard to imagine that he expected one person to tackle it.
Alan decided that his best approach would be to review the data briefly, digest
it somewhat, then once he had a grasp of the big
picture he could start into the smaller details. He started reviewing the
reading through the information in a superficial way.
Lunch came and went. In his mind Alan
knew that this was his big chance. This was what years had lead to, and he felt
an enormous sense of determination. He could picture those who passed his
office on the way into the very heart of the company. The fine suits, the
smiles, the sense of ease and ability, soon he might be part of the inner
circle. He imagined himself included in even more
important
decisions, going to the health club with department heads, invited to senior
vice presidents estates for weekend parties.
Evening came and through the serpentine
passages of the building he could hear the offices emptying, people laughing,
heading out into the sun. Alan felt the length of those halls,
they were a winding road leading into the center of Corporate. He felt his
place on that road, what had once seemed a spot so near the all important
center, now seemed to him to be a very tiny place, flung
far out on the sphere of importance. But now he had his chance, sitting right
before him, he could find
where those
halls lead, he could meet the people who were there, he might become their
equal. Still it was just a flash, and he turned back to his work. Just a bit
longer tonight, he thought.
Alan’s
coffee maker had worked hard, the cleaning crew had
come and gone. The only sounds around him were the soft musings, clicks and
murmurs, of electronic animals hidden around him and the sigh of the ventilation
system. When Alan looked at his watch he saw that it was near
The
next day Alan came into work in a fog. He had drunk a pot of coffee before
leaving home, but all it had done was give him a
throbbing headache. When he sat as his terminal he felt a little better, here
was his environment. The work was still enormous but he had faith in himself.
Putting his hands on the keyboard he felt that all he had to do was apply himself and everything would be fine. He saw the picture of
his parents, wouldn’t they be proud, his fathers stony presence when he learned
of Alan’s accomplishment would be sign of the strength that men of stature
attain. He was like those in Corporate, those who even surpassed the Boss in
their ability to get ahead.
The day passed. Once
Alan jerked upright, having fallen asleep at his desk. He got up and
paced his office.
This just wouldn’t do, anyone else, not
even the lowest workers in the company, would falter like this. He glanced at
the doorway, out into the hall. Had anyone seen? Just the knowledge that he was
dozing at work could be enough to undo whatever he had achieved thus far along
with any good work we would do on this project. He didn’t think anyone had seen
him. Fine. If he was going to spend his nights tossing
and turning over this project he might as just spend his nights in his office. There
was everything he needed there, food in the lounge, even razors in the men’s
room. Surely no one else had shown themselves to be that dedicated. Then if he felt
the need to take a nap he could do so without regret, and spend his attentive
hours getting the job done. If he slept the knowledge that he did this would be
offset by the fact the earliest of the early arriving saw him already there
when they came in, and the latest leaving saw him still hard at work when they
left. Then finally when his work was done he would be able to show the Boss
that he was worth the trust placed in him, and corporate would recognize Alan.
Alan was able to work through the rest
of the day without interruption, or weakness. When night came he was exhausted,
but felt that he must have made good progress at last. Tonight he would go home
after all, the option of staying at the office was always there, then he decided,
looking stony faced at the monitor and stifling a small yawn, that maybe he
would work a bit longer.
By the time he could no longer continue
it was
When he got to work he found that his
mind was completely blank, hadn’t the last couple days accomplished anything?
He could hear the construction workers. It seemed that they were right on the
other side of his wall, their tools snapping and buzzing, though their voices
sounded far away and indistinct. It seemed he never saw anyone anymore once he
reached his office. Where were the innumerable workers that peopled the endless
halls? Where was the sun? Coming to work so early, and leaving so late had deprived
him off it for a long time, so funny to think of it now. It seemed he had a
knot in his forehead, and before he realized it tears were welling in his eyes.
He thought about telling the Boss he couldn’t do the review, it must have been
a mistake on the Boss’s part to assume that any one person could do what he had
asked. All the important work Alan had done before had involved working other people,
groups going over what other groups had done. This was the first time in his
years at the company that he had been required to come up with something all on
his own. Maybe he just couldn’t do it. He shook his head, madness, he had to do
it. He brought up the file where he had left off and looked at the screen, his
eager fingers tapping nervously. The figures seemed incomprehensible to him. He
thought of starting over again from scratch, but what good what that do? What
if the Boss came in? He needed an excuse, something that could account for his
slowness. If he had such an excuse then he could go as slowly as he liked. Just
a little time was all that he needed. Surely the Boss would understand. He had
a cramp in his arm and looked at it. That would do it,
if he had a problem with one of his arms he could take his time and still the
project done with a minimum of theatrics. He remembered how bedridden people developed
problems with their limbs if they didn’t use them, atrophying was what they
called it. He could say that he couldn’t use because of some mysterious pains and
in the process develop the physical signs that something was really wrong. Alan
felt delight with his plan.
His
work slowed that day, not only from the fact that he was only using one arm,
but it also took surprising concentration to keep from moving his other arm, it
was as though it wished to work whether he did or not. He decided that he
needed a sling to keep it immobile. Once the Boss passed his office and glanced
in. Alan pretended he hadn’t noticed, and grimaced and rubbed his arm as if in
pain. However, toward evening Alan started to feel a little anxious, he would
certainly have to show he was working as hard as ever on the project even if he
had a medical condition.
That
night when Alan got home he felt more discouraged than ever, and he felt that
pursuing his plan was still his best option for dealing with his problem. He decided
that he would need something to keep his arm from moving while he slept if his
plan was to work. Searching through his small apartment, tearing through cupboards
and closets with the one arm he was using Alan became frantic at his inability
to find anything that would suit his purpose. At last the only thing he could find
that would work at all was his broom. He pulled the shoelaces from an old pair
of sneakers to tie his arm to the broom and set about binding it. The work was
slow and difficult, holding one end of the shoelace with his teeth trying to get
the knots tied with the one hand he was using, also trying to get the length of
his arm tied to the stiff broom handle. At last he succeeded. He fell back on
his bed emotionally and physically spent. Tomorrow he would get his sling, then
he could feel relieved of the burden of the Project without it seeming to be a
failure on his part.
When Alan showed up the next morning
wearing his sling only a couple people asked about his arm on his way back to
his office. That wasn’t too surprising since he only had superficial
relationships with everyone else at the company. He hadn’t the time for
developing serious friendships. Everyone had been left behind, behind in their
tiny cramped spaces with their loads of menial work. Still here and there some
of them did have a window, windows upon whose ledges were perched sad little
plants leaning hopefully toward the outside world separated from the air outside
by just a thin sheet of glass. With hardly a glance and a word, Alan walked deeper.
That morning the Boss arrived in Alan’s
office. During his brief visit he showed great concern for Alan’s arm, but Alan
assured him all was well. He was just experiencing some shooting pains of some kind,
certainly not carpal tunnel syndrome. He wasn’t sure what the cause was, but if
it got worse he would see a doctor.
Then the Boss said, “Well, Alan, as you
know we’ll be working together on this when you get done with your side, so
perhaps it’s just as well that the workers are going to start working on your
office. That will give us a chance to move your terminal and things into my
office. Maybe you can make us some of that coffee that always smells so good.”
“Yes, sir, even though this arm is
giving me some trouble everything seems to be going just fine. I’ve looked over
the report and am ready to start tearing it apart piece by piece.”
“Good. I am looking forward to moving
ahead with this.” The boss said. “By the way what do you think about having the
company doctor take a look at your arm? I don’t know if you’ve had the chance
to meet him, but he’s a fine man, done some good work for us.”
Alan felt flustered, he hadn’t
anticipated this turn of events. If his plan became known before his arm had a chance
to atrophy it would surely ruin his whole career. Even worse than that, what
would the Boss think?
“Of course if you’d rather see your own
doctor-“
“No, no, to tell you the truth I don’t even
have a regular doctor. Generally cursed with good health I guess. Alan said
mustering a laugh.
“Fine! He isn’t
here every day but I do believe he’s here today. Why don’t you stop in and see
him this afternoon, I’ll be sure to let him know you are coming. We can’t
afford to lose our best employee after all.” The Boss put his hand on Alan’s
shoulder and Alan grimaced. Maybe he was really beginning to feel some actual
discomfort. The Boss smiled, but his eyes creased with concern. “Well, take care.
Tomorrow just come to my office, and we’ll get everything set up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alan said displaying what he hoped would be taken as a brave loyal smile.
Alan worked the afternoon in despair.
Whenever he thought about going to see the doctor a cold sweat broke out all
over him. Over and over he practiced his story. How a few days earlier he had
noticed shooting pains in his arm that stopped only when he rested his arm. He
practiced a pained expression, his office door closed, and imagined holding out
his worthless limb for the doctor to examine. Well, he thought, after a while, there’s
only one thing to do, and that’s get it over with. He managed to bring up the
determination he used when he approached his work. He stood and started through
the building to the doctor’s office. He felt that if he could make a good show
of it then working in the Boss’s office would be a blessing. The Boss could see
how much pain he was in, and, soon, he would be free.
In
the doctor’s office there was only one other patient. Alan did his best to fit
in with the medical atmosphere that pervaded the place, sitting quietly, acting
as though he was sorry for the great inconvenience his infirmity caused.
“Alan, the doctor will see you now.”
Alan looked up and followed a nurse back
into the examination room. It was a small dingy place,
the plastic covering on the examining table was cracked and had holes in it.
Though the Boss had spoken highly of this person it was clear that the doctor’s
quarters, if indeed that was what he was, were a sorry place. The examining room
looked like an old storage locker which had been converted for this purpose, on
the walls were hung outdated medical posters dealing with safety at work.
The nurse took his temperature and blood
pressure, his blood pressure turned out to be quite high. Alan knew he had to
relax or he would never be able to cross this critical hurdle in his plan. He
wondered if high blood pressure could result in arm problems. The doctor at
last appeared. He ran through a long series of questions while examining Alan’s
arm with a thorough air of disregard. It was plain to see he thought Alan was
trying to find an excuse to file some sort of claim against the company. The
interview was peppered with personal questions, what sort of sports he might be
involved in, previous injuries, et cetera. Alan felt worse and worse. What if
this sort of thing had been tried before? Perhaps he was one of hundreds of
people the doctor saw every year, trying to skip out on their duties and steal
money from the company. It was obvious to Alan that he had to make clear how
serious his problem was. He wasn’t a slacker! If the Boss were to get wind of
his plan he would be furious. Alan moaned plaintively and once almost swooned
as the doctor began bending his arm at the elbow, he let his hand hang limp,
unresponsive. Finally the doctor began to show some concern.
“Alan, there is something I want to try.
It is possible that you may have some nerve damage. I want you to close your
eyes and I am going to test the feeling in your fingertips with this needle.
Tell me when you feel something.”
Alan nodded weakly. He had worked
himself into such a state that he felt he might through up at any moment. He
closed his eyes, swaying, and tried to decide what to do. He either had to feel
nothing or feel the pricks with hyper sensitivity. What might be indicative of
a real problem he wasn’t sure. The needle pressed into the flesh of his middle
finger, sweat breaking out all over him. Alan felt the probe press through his
skin and into the flesh. The arm longed to jerk away, but Alan let in lie,
slack and unmoving.
“Feel anything?”
“No.”
Over and over the probe was pressed on
him, after a few times he felt his discipline increasing. He felt as though he
were floating outside of his body, as though the sounds around him were distant
white noise.
“O.k. Alan.”
Alan opened his eyes, the room seemed exceptionally
bright and foreign. “I think we should make you an appointment with a
specialist. I am going to guess they will recommend a MRI, have you ever had
one before?”
“No.” Alan said looking distractedly at
his arm. It seemed like something he had never seen before, he was aware of
each hair standing out distinctly from the skin.
“It will be fine. Nothing
to worry about.” The doctor scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed
it to Alan. Go to this office tomorrow morning and they will take care of
everything. I’ll let your Boss know what is happening.”
“Yes. Yes. Of course.”
Alan slid of the examining table. “By
the way I wouldn’t recommend using that sling too much, you could develop some
real problems if you don’t use that arm at least a little. Be sure to take it
out and try to use it as much as you can. If the pain becomes too intense you can
take a over the counter pain killer.”
Alan left the office in relief, the
words ‘real problems’ ringing in his ears. Of course his plan would work, why
shouldn’t it? His arm did have real problems, and that would soon become clear
to everyone.
The next morning when Alan awoke he
untied his arm, setting aside the shoelaces so he could be sure he wouldn’t
loose them. Before breakfast he was careful not to move his arm. He was
sleeping better now, or seemed to be, still waking with a head that seemed strangely
empty. This was despite the fact that he had to lay with his arm tied to the
broom handle. He gently put his arm in its sling.
The specialist’s office wasn’t far from
the company, adjoining a large local hospital. When he got there he had a short
wait and was then ushered into a large clean office where he was greeted by the
specialist. The impression Alan got was of reserved professionalism. The specialist
performed a short examination, asking a few short and to the point questions,
occasionally making notations in Alan’s file. Through the tone of his questioning
Alan was able to gather that the specialist felt that his problem might have
some sort of mental or neurological origin. Alan felt that no amount of
theatrics might fool this doctor and his machines. Still he wondered how much
theater was required now. The arm did have some latent pain in it, the skin
turning cool and toneless. Soon, the mystery illness would cause his arm to
wither away and he would be free of the pressure of those expectations that
haunted him.
Once the questioning was complete Alan
was sent over to the hospital for the MRI, which turned out to be much more
complicated than he had anticipated. The specialist had told him that it would
take a couple days to go over the results of the test, and that there was no reason
he couldn’t return to work for the time being. He would send the results to
Alan’s doctor when he was done with them.
Driving back to the company, Alan felt
increasing dread. He had no doctor, so the specialist must have meant that he
would be sending the test results to the company doctor. Alan didn’t feel that
the company doctor could be trusted and regretted that his plan might be
hampered by him. The weather was cold and drizzly, perhaps
that was what made him feel so apprehensive. It always seemed to be nasty
whenever he had a little time to himself. Alan glanced up through his
windshield, somewhere up there the sun burned, behind the clouds, and out here
Alan still felt closer to it even though it couldn’t be seen.
When he got back to work he went back to
his office, having forgotten about the construction there. In his confusion he
questioned the workers sharply and was stung with embarrassment when one of the
workers reminded him that his things had been moved to the Boss’s office. He
looked about, so those that had moved his things hadn’t forgotten anything. He
wondered where the photograph of his parents could be,
he wondered if the Boss had looked at it, had seen the hard capable stock from
which Alan had come.
When Alan left and headed through the
seemingly endless halls deeper into the building’s interior his head buzzed
with a not unpleasant emptiness. Things seemed to be going well enough, just a
couple more hurdles to cross and he would be free of the impossible task which had
been laid before him. If only the Boss knew how overcome Alan was he might
understand, silly thought, why should he? No he never would. He certainly couldn’t
bring the subject up, it would only show a weakness in
himself that the Boss would never forget. So instead of talking about it he
would just have to be smart. That way no one would see that he had reached the
limit of his potential. Then suddenly, as he turned a corner, he ran into the
company doctor.
“Alan! Thank Goodness, I was just
looking for you. We have some results from the specialists
office.” The doctor glanced up and down the hall, seeing if anyone might
overhear them. Alan followed his gaze and saw no one, still he was aware that
any door might have an ear pressed to it, or around any corner there might be someone
standing. “I was going to ask you to my office, but we seem to be alone here, I
hope you don’t mind.” The doctor seemed friendly enough, not nearly as suspicious
as his during his examination so he Alan nodded his consent.
“The test results were negative, so to
speak, but the specialist would like to run some more tests to see if the problem
might not lie in another area. He can explain to you better than I, I am sure,
but he instructed me to tell you that another appointment with him should be
made as soon as possible.”
Alan felt some regret, surely the
company was paying for all this treatment and Alan was sure there would be some
hard feelings over the expenses he was running up. When the Boss or, god
forbid, corporate learned of the whole matter the balance of his value would be
seriously diminished. If only his arm would atrophy quickly, then all this
conjecture could be over with.
“Oh, Alan, there is one other thing,”
the doctor lowered his gaze looking up thoughtfully, distantly, at Alan, “the
MRI did show some unusual imaging of your brain. I wouldn’t take this too
seriously, but it seems that there are some patterns consistent with what we
see in some patients who have a history of mental disturbances.”
Alan looked at the doctor in panic.
“Now don’t worry, no one is saying your
insane or anything. But all of us have problems once in awhile and sometimes
these problems can be manifested in physical ways. Don’t worry,
when I spoke to your Boss I kept your situation in utmost confidence. Still, I
know of a very good psychologist. You might consider talking to him. In the
meantime go and take the additional tests the specialist requested, and we’ll
see what happens.”
Alan nodded dumbly. He could hardly
believe what he had just been hearing. As he moved past the doctor he heard him
say, “and let me know if you want the name of that
psychologist.”
In haste Alan made his way down the
hall. He saw a restroom, went in, found a stall, and sat down. Tears of frustration
welled in his eyes. How could the doctor have done that? Now even when his arm
did atrophy they would consider it a sign of his mental illness, not a real medical
problem. Perhaps they might even lock him away. He beat his thigh softly
between his sobbings.
Then he
finally calmed down and caught his breath. Of course, maybe it was true. The
MRI was a machine, not a human, so how could it be wrong? That must be it. He was
insane. What had seemed to be a brilliant plan to escape the unreasonable
demands placed upon him was in fact just a sign of some hidden defect or
illness within him. No wonder he couldn’t do the project the Boss had assigned
to him, when he had completed every other task that had been given to him, no
matter how big. He was ill. He looked at the door of the stall, hope draining
from him. There was nothing to be done. He was doomed.
Alan headed out of the restroom toward
the Boss’s office, his feet shuffling, his gaze empty.
The arm hung limply in its sling. Here at this point in the building the doors
were wider, the carpet newer, an occasional plant stood
thriving under the artificial light. Alan turned a corner and saw the Boss’s
office at the end of the hall. The door stood open, outside at a desk sat the receptionist.
He passed her with a glance, no words said between them. Inside the Boss’s
office Alan saw his superior working hard at his desk. A quick glance of the office
showed that his things were nowhere to be seen, apparently
they hadn’t been brought here after all. The Boss looked up,
moving away from his desk and, walking over to Alan, reached out to shake his
hand. However the hand he reached for was Alan’s lame hand, a look of annoyance
passed quickly over his face as he corrected himself.
“Alan, good to see
you. I just spoke to the doctor a short bit ago. A good man, we’re lucky
to have him here.”
Alan decided to strike a thoughtful pose
and lifted his good hand to his chin. He thought it might also help to display
his good hand, show the Boss that he still had a hand that was able and ready
to work. As he touched his chin he was shocked to fee a thick crop of stubble growing
there. In confusion he sought to remember the last time he had shaved.
“Well he has informed me that the
specialist feels that some more tests are called for on that arm of yours. In
the meantime he seems to think that some much needed rest is in order for you.
I checked with personnel and they tell me you have quite a bit of sick time accumulated,
why don’t you take next week and relax a little? Go ahead and finish up
whatever it was you were working on with the Project. Next week we’ll have someone
else take over finishing up the review. Then when your arm is better we’ll get
you in an area where you’ll be more comfortable.”
“My things.”
“Yes, we’ve had them moved to the
purchasing department. Unfortunately not everything would fit, from what I
hear, so we had the rest boxed up. But everything is there.”
“Yes, Sir. I’ll
go there now.” Alan headed for the door, he felt limp and beaten. He thought he
might cry again, but he knew he couldn’t, not where the Boss might see him.
“And, Alan, remember the doctor is very
good. I would strongly recommend that you follow any advice he might offer
you.”
Alan walked out,
the receptionist looked his way, but through him, as though he wasn’t there.
Alan’s
new office in the purchasing department was a long walk back toward the front
of the building, in probably the worst area of the company to work. Here the
pace was as pressed and the pressure as intense as the lowest echelons of the
company, but for many this was the first real step up,
so the offices were removed from the very front of the building. This was where
those with ambition fought each other over promotions and either soon moved
ahead or quit. No one stayed long in the purchasing department. Alan’s office
was cramped, hardly the size of the closet in his old office. His things, packed
in boxes, stood precariously stacked in the corner, threatening to topple at
any moment and damage his terminal.
After arriving at his new office, Alan
did little but sit there, stunned. What could he do
now, start over from scratch? Try to convince the Boss that what had occurred
was some sort of awful joke or mistake? There was no doubt that he was ruined
forever. Could he even hope to find another job now? It was all the fault of
that
horrible doctor.
And what of the test
results? Was it true he was insane? Surely he looked it with his growth
of stubble. His suit, he now noticed, was wrinkled, the sling his arm lay in
dirty. Then again how could he have thought his scheme was sane to start with,
tying his arm to a broom at night? He tried to understand, in his despair, what
he had come to.
Alan decided finally that despite his
condition he would spend his remaining time here doing the best job he could on
the Project. Then at least on his week off, he could try to pull himself
together, knowing that he had left the Project in as good of shape as he was
able. Perhaps then he could make some sense of what was happening to him. He
turned on his terminal, and brought up the file he needed. As he looked over
the files a wave of nausea and exhaustion came over him. The idea of a renewed
effort suddenly seemed like some sort of wild dream.
Alan noticed a pronounced burning
sensation starting to ripple through the arm in the sling. He pulled it out
alarmed and looked at it. Already it seems the muscle tone had gone away, the
limb seemed flaccid, but nowhere could he discern a reason for the sudden burning
that ran up and down it. The feeling seemed to be becoming worse by the minute,
he tried rubbing the arm, but it didn’t help at all. The fingers started to twitch.
Nervous energy, he thought. No point in continuing the charade now, maybe by
using the arm the burning would lessen. He leaned toward his keyboard, placing
his fingertips on the keys.
A new file was opened, headers inserted.
Alan almost laughed, the start seemed effortless. The burning in his arm did
indeed lessen now. The typing came rapidly. His arm which had
been in the sling seemed to be fairly pounding at the keys. The fingers
ranged wide, he moved his other hand off the keyboard, and the hand danced over
the keyboard, he looked in shock at it. Then he looked
up at his monitor, the words were continuing to spill out, perfectly. He felt
he was reading the text more than writing it. In shock and by great force of
will he pulled back his hand. The fingers convulsed like some sort of exotic
spider, and the burning instantly reappeared, more intense than ever.
Alan stopped resisting the effort to
replace his hand on the keyboard, and again, the burning stopped as his arm
jerked, and his fingers flung themselves over the keys. The writing was
flawless, but where it was coming from Alan had no idea. He wanted to cry out
for help, but all he could think of was ruffians hauling him away to some
madhouse in front of hordes of his scolding co-workers, his Boss seeing it all,
the doctor whispering in his ear.
Day turned to night, and the arm typed
on relentlessly. Alan stared at the monitor, hunched over, hoping for the
madness to end and hoping that anyone who saw him would assume that nothing was
wrong. He prayed no one would enter his cubicle to talk to him. His eyes burned
from staring at the monitor reading the Project. What was being typed was
amazing. If it’s origin was within him it was some of
the best work he had ever produced, the best work.
When everyone was gone Alan felt safe
running to the bathroom, his arm twitching uncontrollably. Still he had to run
back as quickly as possible tripping over cords and boxes in the hall, as the
burning sensation had become so intense. When he got back knowing he was alone
he could no longer keep his emotions from spilling forth, staring at the
glowing screen of his monitor, he loudly cursed his fate.
The night wore on, once or twice,
despite his anxiety, Alan found himself falling asleep. When it happened the
arm would pound the table fiercely, waking him. He was compelled to keep his
attention on the screen. Watching his arm turn the rough rambling outline he
had started on into something brilliant. It had to be a sign of his madness,
his affliction. Alan could imagine running through the building to the doctor, throwing
himself at his feet, begging for mercy.
At last as dawn approached and the
ambitious started to trickle in his arm was miraculously nearing the end of its
work. What Alan had thought would take months had
taken his one arm a single night. The Project, completed, had not gotten bogged
down in small details, it covered everything, but
simply and clearly. The last few lines were typed in and the arm opened the company
mail system, putting in the Boss’s email address. Alan exhausted and numb from
the experience slumped forward on his desk. The burning sensation was gone. Alan’s
breathe echoed weakly in his head, a defeated whisper. A shiver ran through
him.
Then, slowly, methodically, the arm
moved over, and the hand typed a few more words into the file. Alan was tired,
but afraid that the ordeal of the night was continuing,
looked up. The hand had finished typing and was under his control again. The
glowing last words on the monitor read, “Please, please, know that Alan is a good
boy.” And kissing his arm in gratitude, Alan sent the Project to the Boss. He
walked from the building tears of joy running down his face, out into the
bright morning sun.
END