A Ticket to the Spectacle
FIRST RELEVANT JOURNAL ENTRY
A man stopped by my office today seeking my services for a research opportunity he would like me to embark upon concerning the inexplicable behavior of the residents from the tourist Town known as “The Greatest Place on Earth.” Apparently, the residents have recently taken to exhibiting odd sociological and psychological behaviors that defy clear understanding. Some of the behaviors he mentioned were as follows:
· Randomly assembling and reassembling roadside attractions
· Worshipping a giant man-made shoe they call “The Sole of Truth”
· Mindlessly rambling on about impending dooms about to befall upon them
· Engaging in blatantly pathological public demonstrations
· Offering genuinely contradictory explanations for said exhibitions
· Consistently disregarding their own previous convictions
· Routinely stressing the fact that “Everything is just grand”
(Again, this is only a partial list of the examples he provided me with)
When I asked the man why he was asking me to serve in this capacity instead of one of my colleagues, he responded, “You come highly recommended. In fact, by all accounts, you are perhaps the most esteemed person in your field.” Now, I certainly appreciated the compliment, but I also found his response highly suspect (one should never trust flattery from a stranger), yet still, the sincerity and conviction in his voice were unmistakable.
So then, after a brief discussion, he said he would return “the following day” (his exact words) to hear my answer. In the meantime, he asked that I consider an appropriate budget for my “expedition”, as he took to calling it. And that I understand that The Bureau (which was all he would tell me regarding his, and my potential, employer) would provide me with an assistant.
A Side Note: The man wore an expensive suit, an elaborate tie, and had a unique coiffure.
So I decided to at least consider this request (although, at this time, I will refrain from telling Ginny and the kids about it. I don’t want to involve them with this until there is a need to).
SECOND RELEVANT JOURNAL ENTRY
While discussing Hegel’s theory of madness (the alienation complex, more specifically) with one of my first-year graduate students, the man from yesterday showed up again.
This is my recollection of our conversation—
“Have you considered my opportunity?” the man asked, leaning against my bookcase (once my student left, to clarify), the man donning the same outfit from yesterday only this time wearing an enormous black top hat.
“I have,” I replied, sitting up in my chair. “And I have some questions and concerns.”
“Yes, yes, I expected as much. So what are they?”
“Alright then,” I said, looking over at the man. “First, why do you even care about this Town?”
“I don’t,” the man answered, leafing through several of my books concerning dementia. “Not in the least, quite honestly. But The Bureau insists that I have this situation investigated. Hence, my inquiry regarding your services.”
“Okay,” I replied, hesitating slightly, while realizing I needed to re-word my question. “But why does The Bureau care about this matter then?”
“I’m not sure,” the man answered, looking at me, his eyes disconcertedly fixed on me. “Some of the board members say it has to do with their values, they are worried about The Town, while others say it has to do with the legitimacy of their proprietorship, they are the benefactors of The Town, you know, while others contend it has to do with reinforcing their narrative. But regardless, I don’t know.”
“Reinforcing their narrative?” I repeated, opening up my notebook in order to write down some of my thoughts in real time.
“Yes,” the man said, turning again to examining several of my books.
And then he told me this: The Town makes its money on selling its story. It is “The Greatest Place on Earth,” you know. People come far and wide to experience this Town. However, the current behavior apparently questions that narrative. In fact, The Bureau’s even concerned about the long-term viability of The Town. Hence, again, my inquiry regarding your services.
“So,” I said, looking over at him, his top hat partially obscuring his face from me. “They want me to explain why this is occurring?”
“In a sense,” the man answered, picking up Combe’s book on phrenology. “But it would seem more accurate to me to say that they want to know about the residents. Should they be worried about them or not?”
“About their behavior, you mean?”
“Yes well, to the degree that it threatens theirs,” the man answered, putting down the book. “To the degree that it threatens theirs.”
“Their wellbeing then?” I asked.
“Their stability,” he answered, turning and glaring at me, his face suddenly blanketed by an obviously forced smile.
My First Real-Time Thought: This man is rather oblique.
“And how long do you expect my services to be needed for?” I then asked.
My Second Real-Time Thought: And disturbing.
“As long as your expedition requires,” he answered, before turning and looking out the window of my office, the morning sunshine slightly muted by a thin layer of cirrus clouds, and then he added, “Although, I’m sure you would want to finish up your work as soon as possible.”
“I do have a wife and two children to be concerned about,” I added.
“We both do,” he replied, pushing his top hat up slightly further over his forehead, better revealing his lightly greying greasy hair and his bushy eyebrows. “Which is why I’m hoping we can get on with this. So what other questions do you have?”
And then, to focus things to the main particulars, my questions went like this—
How do you want me to do this?
Answer: Like any field research assignment, embed yourself with the “indigenous population” (his specific term), study their behavior, formulate your hypotheses, test your theories, and provide us with your conclusions.
Will the townspeople know I’ve been asked to conduct this research?
Answer: Some of them, perhaps. But I’m not sure. However, either way, feel free to conduct yourself as you see fit since what we want is a true verdict on their behavior.
And why me again?
Answer: Because your character is unassailable. Or at least, The Bureau makes that claim.
A Second Side Note: This man is clearly keeping something from me.
And their behavior has not been seen as overly dangerous or alarming?
Answer: No, it has. (He then laughed for several seconds, in a genuinely disconcerting fashion, to specify, before continuing.) But that is not our concern.
And how do you want me to update you on my findings?
Answer: Through frequent dispatches regarding your work. Also, if need be, various Bureau Operators will contact you. In fact, you should expect that.
And I can have a staff?
Answer: You will be provided with an assistant upon your arrival. But all those details will be worked out upon your acceptance of this offer.
And I will be compensated appropriately.
Answer: Money is no object. But much more importantly, you have the opportunity to be involved with one of the most significant research studies ever conducted. In fact, if you are able to accomplish this task, your name will most certainly go down in the annals of history.
So I will be able to publish my results?
Answer: Yes, well, that has not been decided yet. Not at all.
A Third Real-Time Thought: That is unfortunate.
And what do you expect from my dispatches?
A Fourth Real-Time Thought: And he is clearly hiding something from me.
Answer: As much information as you can provide—notes, drawings, pictures, anecdotal evidence, secondary ruminations, anything and everything that will help support and explain your conclusions.
And have any other researchers been asked to do this?
Answer: Yes, several, in fact. But they have all quit on us, or more accurately, perhaps, disappeared on us, although we did fire several people and we even lost someone. But that is no worry, no worry at all. And you will have their work to build off of, of course.
A Fifth Real-Time Thought: That is also distressing.
And when do you want me to start this?
Answer: Yesterday, of course.
“Alright,” I then said. “I am interested. But I need to talk this over with my family first. It is not easy for me to leave them at this time.”
“Good,” he replied, again adjusting his top hat on his head. “And of course. Talk with your family.”
“They are my primary concern. However, thankfully, the university will clearly support my research if I should choose to embark upon this opportunity. That should not be a concern. Dean Littlefield’s always looking for breakthroughs in our work to sell to the alumni.”
“Of course. And when you have made your decision, please stop by my office. I will be expecting you shortly.”
He then handed me this card—
The Bureau Clerk
Office 4114RU12
111 Carnival Street
A Personal Note: I don’t know why I am considering this. I don’t trust this man. I don’t know what to make of this Bureau. I’ve only heard questionable things about this Town. And it’s a terrible time to leave my family—and to some little two-buck hickville place too. But still, there is something intriguing about this opportunity. Why would this Town effectively be going nuts?
“Fine. I will stop by your office and tell you either way first thing tomorrow morning. You have my word.”
A Second Personal Note: And the extra money would be nice.
“Good. We await your response.”
THIRD RELEVANT JOURNAL ENTRY
“But dad, you said you were going to take me to visit some colleges this summer. And I still need you to help me with my admissions essay,” Aaron whined, half-heartedly dropping his fork onto his plate, his thin face nearly covered in acne and his brown hair slicked back with gel.
“I know,” I responded, cutting into my piece of meatloaf with my knife and fork, while considering one of the many images the man from that morning left me with from our conversation—
The Distracted Talkers
They
Transmit
In Gibberish
Quite frequently,
Like a disjointed wire,
No less
He stressed.
“And you were going to spend more time with me this summer dad,” Evelyn added, before I could even respond to Aaron. “You promised me that you were going to do that. You’ve been gone such much lately. Isn’t that what you said?”
“I know. But this is a really good opportunity for me. And I still should be able to get you that internship with Professor Dolton,” I said to Evelyn, the ceiling light shrouding the dining room in a soft yellowish-white hue, while I slid my piece of meatloaf through the brown gravy on the side of my plate. “I will contact him again for you. And we can still work on your designs together later this summer. I don’t think it will take that long. It really shouldn’t.”
“Let’s be supportive of your dad kids. I know this is going to be tough on us, but this sounds like a good opportunity for him,” Ginny interrupted, her shoulder-length brown hair, slightly greying, pulled back into a bun, fully revealing her attractive face, and suddenly reminding me of when we first met my junior year of college.
“I’m Robert,” I had said, sitting down next to her in the cafeteria at our Mount Prospect College, my dorm mates Charles and Arnie staring over at me from the other table.
“I know,” she answered, looking up at me, her face almost glowing in the large hall. “You’re in my Intro to Ethics class. And I’m Ginny.”
“And you’re going to marry me someday,” I said, only half in jest.
“It really is,” I added, looking at Ginny, before scooping up a forkful of peas and carrots from my plate. “But I don’t want to go if you don’t support it.”
“None of us like you being away for so long, especially not now. And right after that last research trip you were just on. But what do you say kids?” Ginny asked, looking over at Aaron and Evelyn, the thought of the two of them sitting in the same seats that they’d been sitting in since they were little suddenly reminding me of another image from earlier that morning.
The Bigger People
They
Seem
To
GROW,
The man had said.
“Fine,” Evelyn replied. “And now I’m thinking after high school I want to go college somewhere on the east coast because you know that have the best engineering schools.”
“And you Aaron?” Ginny added, looking over at Aaron. “Can we do this for your dad?”
“If that’s what you want mom,” Aaron answered, his voice an odd mixture of a metallic baritone and a raspy shudder.
A Side Note: Why am I doing this exactly?
“It’s settled then,” I said, looking at Ginny, while stabbing my fork into my mound of mashed potatoes. “I will tell the man tomorrow.”
“It sounds like an opportunity you just can’t pass up,” Ginny continued.
A Personal Confession: Part of me is looking forward to being away from Ginny right now.
“I know,” I replied, suddenly smiling, before setting my forkful of mashed potatoes on the edge of my plate. “The research possibilities seem quite intriguing. But it’s going to be real tough to be away from all of you again.”
FOURTH RELEVANT JOURNAL ENTRY
Given the fact that the man’s room was located on the far side of the city, I decided to hail a driver for the ride over there. And on the way in the carriage, I had one of the more disconcerting conversations I’d had in a while.
A Personal Note: I still don’t know why I am doing this.
START OF TRIP SYNOPSIS
Driver (turning onto Rodham Avenue from Donner Street): Did you hear about them Russians?
No, I responded. I’ve been so busy with my work lately I haven’t paid much attention to the news. And I’ve been out of the country for a little while too.
Driver: Yeah well, they’re trying to take over everything.
They are? I said.
Driver: Yeah, just like everyone else.
Is that so? I replied, not sure what this man was talking about.
Driver: That sure is. And I tell you, this whole world’s going to hell in a handbasket.
Right, I said, seeing the man from The Bureau’s building come into view at the end of the street. And it truly was one of the odder sights I’d seen in a while.
Driver: And you can take that to the bank.
END OF TRIP SYNOPSIS
And then I paid the man, got out of the carriage, and walked up the stairs, which seemed more like a warehouse passageway, to be more accurate about it, before finding the man sitting at a desk at the end of the corridor, clearly waiting for me.
“Ahh,” the man said, now wearing a bright red jacket, “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Yes,” I answered, looking around the corridor, the walls covered in various billboards and sign advertisements for lemonade and peanuts, while wondering if I should ask where exactly we were, before adding, “I had to attend to a few things first this morning.”
“Of course, of course,” the man replied, “But no matter. We’ve been expecting you.”
“We?” I said, looking over the man’s shoulder to see if I could see anyone else around.
“We, no me,” he immediately stammered, smiling at me. “Sorry. I have a tendency to do that. I just meant me. That is all.”
Another Side Note: I really don’t trust this man.
“Okay.”
“But sit, sit,” the man said, gesturing with his hand for me for sit down at the chair in front of his desk. “I want to hear your decision. I’ve been hoping for some pleasant news. We all have actually.”
“Thanks,” I replied, pulling out the chair, the corridor barely illuminated by a single light bulb dangling precariously overhead. “And yes, I’ve agreed to your offer. But I still have some concerns.”
“Wonderful, wonderful,” the man said, suddenly opening his drawer and pulling out a huge file of paperwork. “That’s wonderful news. We are most excited to hear that.”
“But I want to be able to terminate my services at any time,” I added, sitting down in the chair, the corridor faintly smelling of roasted corn and cotton candy.
“Here,” the man simply replied, sliding the huge file of paperwork over towards me. “This will answer all your questions. And that is truly wonderful news.”
“And if I ever have any cause for concern, I will simply leave,” I continued, repositioning myself on my chair.
“Of course, of course, whatever you say,” the man said, glancing over at me, his eyes simply shining like an iridescent ball. “But where can we go, you see? Isn’t that the question?”
“I don’t know. But those are my concerns,” I answered, flipping open the file cover and seeing this written across the first page—
--WARNING--
TOP SECRET
Yet Another Side Note: What have I gotten myself into?
“No matter. No matter at all,” the man said, suddenly getting up and starting to walk through the door behind him, before pausing for a moment, looking back at me, and adding, “It is all in your file.”
And then the door clanked shut.
FIFTH RELEVANT JOURNAL ENTRY
“And you need to leave right now?” Ginny asked again, looking at me from the doorway, her reading glasses dangling over the front of her white blouse, her blue eyes glaring at me. “But it’s Saturday? And that station you mentioned’s on the other side of the city.”
“I know, but my train ticket’s for this afternoon,” I answered, stuffing the last of my supplies into my bag. “They want me to get started as soon as possible. And I’ve worked everything out with Dean Littlefield already. Professor Weinstein will cover my classes.”
“But the kids are out too. Don’t you want to say goodbye to them?”
“I spoke with them this morning,” I replied, shoving my file into my bag (the thing nearly two inches thick). “They’ll be fine. And I will write.”
My morning conversations—
Aaron: I’ll be fine dad. It’s not like you haven’t been away before.
Me: But I need you to keep an eye on things while I’m gone.
Aaron: I know. Don’t worry. I always do.
***
Evelyn: I’m fine dad. Like you said, we can work on my designs when you get back.
Me: We will. And I’ll look into that internship for you too. Promise. But I feel bad.
Evelyn: Don’t. I know how important your work is. And I can do it on my own too.
“But I’m going to miss you,” Ginny said, leaning against the doorway. “And I was hoping we could work on things. You know we said that that’s what we were going to do now that you were back. I wanted to start this weekend too. We really need to do that Bob.”
A Personal Note: I know she’s right.
“We will,” I replied, zipping my bag shut, before stopping for a moment, and seeing my reflection in our bedroom wall mirror—my slightly thin build, pale white skin, oversized ears, brown eyes, chrome wire eyeglasses, brown mustache, short greyish brown hair, white dress shirt, black tie, black suit jacket, black dress pants, and my five foot eleven stature suiting my forty-nine-year-old disposition—before parting my hair again with my pocket comb, and then walking over to Ginny. “Trust me. We will,” I then said, putting my hand against her check, her skin soft like a warm sheet of silk. “I know we need to.”
“I hope so,” Ginny said, kissing my hand, her brown hair bobbing against her shoulders. “It’s just that everything’s been unraveling lately.”
“You know what I said,” I responded, looking at her, her face suddenly belying her age. “It’ll be alright. And I care about you Ginny. More than I can even say. And you know that I love you.”
“I love you too,” Ginny replied. “But sometimes that isn’t enough.”
“Sure it is,” I said, before walking back over and picking up my bag. “And I’ll write frequently. We can work on things that way.”
A Second Note: Perhaps I can earn another award for this.
“Be safe,” Ginny then said, stepping over to our dresser, the hustle and bustle from the city street below our window suddenly filling our room. “Okay. Because I’ll worry about you.”
“And look under your pillow,” I added, starting to walk down the stairs, before stopping for a moment and kissing her.
A Brief Reflection: And what did that man mean by “we even lost one”?
“And take this,” Ginny said, handing me the silver framed picture of our family from our dresser—the kids twelve and fifteen at the time, standing in their Sunday best, and Ginny and me standing next to them outside the Lincoln Cathedral, smiling proudly.
“I left you something,” I continued, taking the picture frame from her and putting it in my bag.
A COPY OF MY FIRST LETTER
Dear Ginny:
I know I haven’t been perfect lately. I’ve been so busy with my work. And that’s been a real strain on us. And you’ve been wanting more out of life too, like going back to graduate school and getting a better job. And I know that’s probably what lead to what you did. At least I think that’s what lead to what you did. But I just need some time to work things out. We have built so much together. I need to know what we should do.
Love, Bob
And then I took off down the stairs, enthusiastically.
