Walk Away

Every nerve ending in his body burned with rage and flared red. The last warning sign for him to take a moment and get away from this situation. Like the ‘tank empty’ light blinking on in the car, only so much was left in the reserve tank of calmness before he was in trouble.

“Hey Jim, I’m gonna step out for a second… you got this?” Dan Cebra called out. He attempted to hide the wavering of his voice from an impending anxiety attack and pointing down to his leg where a small black and white panda cub was latched.

With his other hand, he brushed the sandy blonde hair from his eyes while swiftly dodging his glasses from being knocked off in the same motion. Something he’d done often in moments of pre panic and quickly learned how to navigate after this many times.

The panda cub was deftly pulled off by Jim Owens, Dan’s understanding and seemingly telepathic co-worker. Jim had seen Dan have anxiety attacks outside of work and did his best to keep any eruptions from costing them their cushy jobs with the Central Park Zoo, something they both fought their way through the ranks from different parts of the country to achieve.

Being caretakers for the panda exhibit was for keepers who’d been around long enough to have seen enough, while having their pound of flesh given to various nips and bites along the way from many animals in the vast kingdom they were keepers of.

Dan stepped out into the sunny afternoon, immediately shielding his eyes with a pair of aviator flash glasses. He slipped quickly across the street, without going the additional twenty feet to the crosswalk and dipped into the familiar bodega around the corner.

A regular at this stop, they knew him, and he knew them, but pleasantries were kept to the weather exclusively if any talking was going to happen. If Dan was stopping buying a pack of smokes, he was in no mood to chit chat.

Aside from the health risks, the way everyone on the street looked at him, or the way it made him stink – Dan used his breaks to smoke and feverishly walk around the various city blocks to soothe his jittery nature.

While he loved his job and worked hard to get it, Dan was always aware in the back of his mind of the wrong way animals had been treated in zoos. They were props for an ever-growing admittance fee to an overpriced park with expensive microwaved food and cheaply made toys, gravitationally pulling children and frustrated parents while having to account for the mouth-breathing type that feels the need to provoke already spirit-ridden animals for their own sick pleasure.

This was never why he went into zoology in the first place. Growing up, he adored animals and wanted to be a caretaker in any way he could. To him, they were magical creatures of all shapes and sizes. But as time continued, and reality set in, he found himself in between his dream job and the problems that haunted him along with it. The fact that the same animals that he’d fallen in love with and wanted to work with now irritated him beyond belief.

Instead of quitting in protest, he decidedly came to terms with what he was able to do. Care for caged animals.

He put out all his anger and frustration on the pavement of Manhattan and the pressure on his lungs. Each puff was a reminder of the frailty and shortness of life, like his ever-shortening breath with each mile, each crossed street, each block behind him.

Mindlessly crossing streets impatiently and not waiting for lights or going to crosswalks; Dan stormed through life with his headphones in, sometimes playing music, sometimes not. The ear buds were just used to ward off any potential attention thieves.

It didn’t matter if it was cloudy or not, his glasses were replaced by sunglasses to avoid any and all eye contact. The smoke walks were a world of his own creation. A form of control in an uncontrollable world.

A world where bills were stacking up, debts were knocking louder, and no one in his life thought of Dan Cebra as anything other than a ticking time bomb of anger and disappointment.

Years passed of this day in and day out behavior. Wake up, go to work, take several smoke and walk breaks throughout the day, offending all the passersby on the way, go home, rinse, repeat. All the while dealing with the skin-crawling anxiety creeping over and around him on an hourly basis.

±±±

“Code 19-19-5, immediate infraction against ID number TP-442444. That’s a combined total of one hundred ninety-five violations. Begin sequencing for notification and payment obligations.”

The camera whirred, following another victim of the CC247, the latest crime watch technology unknown to any country or tech company in the world. Exclusively built and implemented by a small surveillance company, employed by only one government under a strict NDA and an airtight contract. A secret semi-legal document guaranteeing the creator of the product gets compensation, and in return the government uses it against its people.

Tale as old as time.

‡‡‡

“How was your break, you feeling alright?” Jim asked as he casually sipped a soda as they sat at the table in the tiny breakroom next to the Panda exhibit. He placed the condensation-dripping can away from on his already sweaty hat sitting next to him on the table.

Dan smiled at the irony of his thought process and looked down. His cheeks got red and his face hot with embarrassment at how he’d acted earlier. Apparently, thankfully, it was only Jim noticed.

The stench of the smoke emanating from his forest green polo fluttered up into his nose, aware that both him and Jim were taking in Dan’s bad habits.

“Yea, it was good. Thanks for covering.”

“That one cub is a bit of a stage five clinger, I get it.” Jim smiled. He employed his usual way of moving Dan past the guilt of an uncontrollable panic attack with a lame joke before getting sincere, bringing up too intense of a topic.

“For real, I know what happened with Julie was messed up, but…”

Dan stood up abruptly from the table, almost knocking over the empty soda cans before quickly grabbing them, smiling at Jim and walking them over to the trash.

“She can go wherever she feels she needs to go,” he said, letting the thought linger. ‘It’s just who she chooses to go with that’s the problem.’ Dan thought to himself, leaving that part out. He didn’t need any more pity than was already being doled out to him.

He turned, clapped his hands together, as if clearing away imaginary dust, and motioned to the exit of the break room, changing the subject with a renewed sense of energy. “Anyway, ready to go?”

±±±

“Another four violations for TP-442444.” A cold, robotic voice echoed throughout the halls of the empty municipal building. A building that once teemed with life, decorations of each upcoming holiday, and adorned with pictures of loved ones at each assigned desk. Now it was drab, empty, and unfeeling. It would have been a mausoleum for the hustle and bustle that filled up the walls, but the robots came in and cleared away anything personal to continue its own unfeeling work.

The tabulation continued adding. It began calculating interest and tallying up a bill, like a cobra, lulling its prey in a hypnotic state before the inevitable death blow.

‡‡‡

The next morning, after another restless sleep, Dan came into work with an oddly renewed sense of hope and optimism. With what little sleep he did get, he dreamt of a new day. A better day.

A day full of freedom and choices of his own making, not something he was confined to.

With a pep in his step and a whistle on his lips, Dan walked by coworkers that normally shied away from him but now seemed drawn to his renewed spirit.

Jim especially could feel the lightning of his long-suffering friend.

“Well, good morning to you, good sir.” Jim offered to a smiling Dan. “What’s got into you?”

Dan, breaking character completely, burst into laughter and held up a crinkled small piece of paper with a series of numbers on it.

“This isn’t last nights, is it?” Jim asked, in astonishment and sincere hope for his friend.

“It is,” Dan smiled, with tears streaking down his eyes. “It’s the winning ticket; I bought it on a stupid whim and man…here it is.”

Jim stood flabbergasted that someone like Dan had the audacity to not just buy a ticket but win on his first shot. “How much did you win?”

Dan smiled somehow larger and simply unclipped his nametag, placed it in Jim’s disbelieving hand, and walked out.

The last thing Jim could hear was the echo of the door shutting, but not before hearing a faint yell of excitement, “One million bucks!”

And then the door shut.

±±±

“TP-442444 has accrued 200 violations. Deploy ticket immediately. Delivery to his apartment mailbox before he arrives.”

‡‡‡

Dan didn’t walk home, he floated. Puffs of smoke filtered around him like Pigpen from Peanuts. He didn’t care who looked, gawked, or fake coughed to signify their shaming of his choices.

None of it mattered as he smoked one right after the other, blindly walking around Manhattan without a care in the world. He knew he’d have to find work again one day, but for now, he had money to do whatever he wanted.

To get away from the life that had burdened him for so long.

To be truly free and exist, pursue whatever he wanted. To forget his painful past.

The front door of his rundown apartment clicked open as he glided in, seamlessly, dancing with excitement at the prospect of his new life ahead of him.

No work.

No animals.

No breakdowns.

Sorry, but no Jim.

A way to finally find peace under his own choices and decisions.

One Million Dollars!

Dan gleefully leafed through his mail he’d grabbed, ready to pay any “Last Notices” that could be sitting there as a way to stave off some pest before being able to really celebrate.

He cracked open the last beer in an empty fridge, one of celebration instead of desperation.

Dan skimmed the various bills and overdue notices and found one green envelope with an odd symbol of a lion roaring on it. He put down his already half-drunk beer and opened the thick envelope carefully.

±±±

The ticket that would be distributed to a one Daniel Cebra would read accordingly:

“In accordance with law CC247, our monitoring of your habits across the city has found you in violation of Code 19-19-5. You have been jaywalking and ticketed over 200 times. Racking up a total, with all applicable taxes, fees, and interest, of $1,000,000.00. Please deposit within 24 days to avoid any and all late fees and additional violations.

Thank you for your patronage.

Have a nice day.