Top Secret Project

Living in a city has it’s benefits. I live here with my husband and baby girl in a 2-bedroom apartment. Being able to walk to most places, rather than having to drive is one of the benefits of city life.

So, I was walking to the nearby supermarket to pick up a few things early on a Saturday morning, probably around 8am. Being the weekend, my husband, Mark, is taking care of little Abby, so I can get some things done. As I’m walking, I see a plain white van pulled over a few car lengths in front of me. I thought nothing of the van at first. It was just a vehicle that was double parked like any other, which was a common sight in the city. Probably there to move some furniture or something. The van had a few patches of silver spray paint, probably covering up old logos or whatnot from the van’s previous owner.

As I continued down the sidewalk towards the van, expecting to simply pass it without a thought, the driver gets out and comes over to the sidewalk, and looks right at me. Now, etiquette in the city, as any city-dweller knows, is that you NEVER look someone in the eye, especially if they’re looking right at you. It means they want something… Whether they’re a beggar or religious fanatic, or whatever else, they want something you’ve got.

So, naturally, by my instinct, I adjusted my stride to walk around him and looked at the numbers on the nearby building. Suddenly, right in my face is a silver shiny piece of metal. I don’t get a good look at it, the suddenness of seeing it a bit bewildering, but I look at the guy as he puts it away. The case it was in looks an awful lot like what a cop might use to hold his badge.

“Wha?” I say, bewildered at what’s going on.

“We need someone like you for a top secret project.”

“I- Um- I’m a very busy woman. Can’t you pick someone else?”

“Participating in this project would make you more efficient. Imagine all you could get done if, for example, you didn’t need to sleep. Also, participating would provide you with a rather large tax break. It will only take a few hours.”

“What sort of project is it?”

“I am not authorized to elaborate unless you agree to participate.”

I stood there for a minute. I thought about all the sleepless nights when little Abby would cry and wake me up. I thought of all the running around I had to do to take care of her. I’ve been drinking more and more coffee just to keep up. Then there were all the expenses: diapers, bottles, toys, little childproof plastic plugs. I had wracked up a nice chunk of debt on my credit cards. The tax break would certainly be welcome. This guy is obviously from the government, since he had a badge, though I didn’t get a good enough look to see what division. He must be telling the truth. I don’t want to leave Mark and Abby waiting, but this will be worth it.

“Alright. Let’s go,” I reply, as I get into the passenger seat of the van and he gets into the driver’s seat.

He passes me the documents I need to sign to agree to participate. I read them a bit. If I sign, I agree not to talk about it to anyone, I agree that they’re not at fault if anything goes wrong, and I can no longer choose not to participate. I sign the documents and hand them back to him.

He drives a few blocks to a construction site. The first few floors of the site are complete. I pass by this building a lot, and haven’t seen anyone working on it in a few months. I assumed they were undergoing some sort of renegotiation with some contract or something. This sort of thing happens a lot with construction sites.

He drives into a garage on the site. We get out of the car and he walks over to the open garage door and pulls it shut. I can’t see anything in the complete darkness. Then he flips a switch, and the lights come on. Cheap fluorescent lights. I squint briefly as he walks over to a door on the side, near me. “This way”, he motions with his head.

He steps into the room, flips the lights on, and holds the door for me as I enter, shutting off the garage lights, and shutting the door to it behind me.