Back in the concrete rotunda. Another can of Pop-A-Fizz in hand. I’m actually slightly early this time because I knew where I was going. I notice that none of the others are the ones I worked with last time. Before the meeting proper, as we’re all lounging around and chatting, Hermes fist bumps me casually. Weird, but okay. At the time, I figured he was just out of character when he was off the pedestal.
“Good to see you again. Not many people come through here twice. You’re in a selective group.” he tells me.
I nod graciously, and pivot, “Hey, I wanted to say something about last weeks instructions-”
“Shushushushshshshh. I can’t hear it.”
“No, it’s not about the content, it’s-”
Hermes puts his hand in my face and shakes his head. “No. Knowledge is liability.”
I want to press more, but I recognize this guy won't hear it. So I shrug and look away.
Same as last time he gives the spiel about Maximum Thought and we get the disks. I plug in.
April/11/2022, 4:21pm: At a table outside of of o foff the Patty Franks FffFFfF ranKKKKssks near 6th ave,,,,, . , .. play Solitaiiiiireeee solitaire soliTaire until you Win… Finish/Ginish/fdhja[pwa,dn C’/a,:dsmcf E fnkl\
Wonderful. We love to see it. Fuck me, right?
“Hermes.” I pull him aside as everyone’s leaving. “Something is wrong."
“No. The job got done last time fine. I don’t want to hear it.”
I start to say something, but Hermes shakes his head.
I remember that after that, he looked at me in this pitying way. Said, “I don’t know what you think is wrong and I don’t want to know. MATH is always right. Always. It’ll get you your money if you give it your time- not much- but some. We all have our doubts sometimes. But it’s good to us. It’s good to us when we’re good to it.”
“This feels like the same shit I’ve been doing since high school.”
He shrugs at me. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing? Maybe that’s why it likes you so much.”
“It should know that that highschool routine got me in prison.”
“But it’s still working, no? You like it, or else you’d do something else. It sounds to me like you’re getting away with something.”
That thought swirls in my head a second. Getting away with something. I’m some remora on the belly of a shark, feeding on its scraps, doing none of the work by some clerical error. Again, it reminds me of high school. Bleh.
Then I’m staring off, thinking of the Chrysler Building. 11 perfect months. Sometimes you’ve gotta wonder if your 11 months weren’t up 8 years ago. Or if maybe the right moment hadn’t yet come to bow out. There was still work to do, still easy money to be made.
“You agree with each other, you and MATH.” Hermes pats me on the shoulder. “Don’t fuck it up.”
He and I leave the tenement.
Forget the glitching. I didn’t even know how to play solitaire.