The man at the center of the universe

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THE MAN AT THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE

(a story in which it is obvious the author
never went inside a casino)

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*SLAM*

The pile of paper, as the onomotapeia implies, slammed on
Robert's desk. Of course, it didn't imply that there was a desk
in the first place, nor that its owner was an accountant for
a "desktop solutions" company called DeskSolve. What the name
DeskSolve doesn't imply is that what the company only did
was manufacturing paper. What, however, "Robert" and
"accountant" do imply, is that he was a very dull guy.

"You were hired to work", said a woman that was equally
gorgeous as prententious. But everyone who wanted Robert
to work was pretentious to Robert.

-What does it matter to you, Sarah ? Can't you see the heat is killing me ? ,
he asked with the tone of someone who was not so obviously dying.
You were hired because the boss likes your sweets cheeks. Not to mention
the rest.
-I'll ignore that remark for now. But it's in our common interest that you
validate and register those paychecks in that little box of yours. You do
know that we can't pay our suppliers without your kind participation, right ?
-That little box of mine is a computer. And the heat is killing it.

Robert remembered something that seemed to interest him.

-And why would that be in my interest anyway ? Do you know what the job
is about ? I take those funny invoices and input them in the database.
-Sounds easy...
-Except if I don't count the zeros right, I pay the difference, take the blame,
and get sent to jail.
-It's still easy. And as I was implying, we both need the coffee.
-The what ?
-The coffee machine is empty. And we both are hooked on it. This is why it is
in our common interested, she said, leaving.

As the conversation implied. Robert had a dull job, with dull workmates.
And his addiction was on tea. Plainly, his whole life sucked. No, not
his life, his whole universe.

* *
*

The guy that refills Coffee Machines left. Each week, he comes
and goes thirty minutes later. This left Robert rather intrigued.
Each week, Robert watched in bewilderement, giving him a 30 minutes
improvised break, before failing to return to work.

So there is a guy whose job is to refill coffee machines, who
does it all day long, and who has probably done that for years ?
And why does it take him 30 minutes to do such a simple task, in
the days of modern computing ?

Still running OS/2 Warp on his office's computer, Robert realized.
There are people whose lives are as dull as his. Robert added a new
post-it to its underbooked brain "Make friend with guy who refills
coffee machines.". Checking the machine, Robert noticed it still didn't
dispense tea. Robert added another post-it.

At this very moment, in an a company where everyone was sweating to
make DeskSolve the #1 paper company in the town, Robert's brain was
in complete upheaval. No, not only because of the post-its. His whole
life was under analysis and went through comparisons to everyone he knew.
What if the coffee guy had, besides work, super-exciting activities, such
as being a top musician, or even, what if he was the most known coffee
machine refilling guy of the country ? People who did interesting stuff
only reasons to exist was to annoy him and make him feel more insignificant
he thought. He glanced at Sarah, she was watering the plant. This made
him feel a little better. Someone who devotes so much attention to vegetals
must have a life that's as equally boring as him. She's pretty, but it's
just a façade ! Robert was sometimes extremely proud of his thinking achievements.

* *
*

The day was over, and the elevator gates were about to close, when suddenly a hand appeared and
blocked them, and the person the hand belonged to went in. This would
be terribly cliché, except the hand was male, and so was the unthrilled-about
-this Robert.

What was especially unthrilling about the hand, is that it belonged to Clovis.
Clovis had a very cool sounding name, and he would probably take over
when the current CEO leaves. This made Clovis the "guy with the most
exciting life in the company". Lots of times, Clovis would discuss
how he manages his life and his job.

-It's all about planning, and carefully making choices.

Robert would never have thought so. They had barely went down 2 floors and he
was already talking macroeconomics. 3 more floors to go.

-I'm quite sure there are stock-options in for me if I succeed this transaction.

Two floors left. Robert felt like he was piercing each time in a new layer of
hell.

-I can't believe how much room for expansion there is in the clipboard
sector.

Final floor.

-Oh, it's still okay for you to come for dinner tonight, right ?
-I'm not married, thanks for reminding me. Yes, it is okay.

One thing Robert was good at was sarcasm. Of course, he didn't like
to be reminded about his marital condition. But he also hoped Clovis
wouldn't remember about tonight. It was like double-sarcasm. Robert
was proud, but also annoyed. It is, he thought, foolish to expect
people to forget things that annoy you.


* *
*

*RING*

The doorbell rang, as it is once more implied. Cathy opened the door.
She was as beautiful and charming than when Robert last saw her, back
in college.

-Your wife didn't come with you ?
-I'm not married, Cathy.
-My, you're 40, what are you waiting for ? she said jokingly.

Robert chuckled politely. As he went inside the living room he couldn't
help thinking that Clovis already had the CEO living life and wondered
what such a position would bring to him. That position should be offered
to someone who needs it. Like him. There was a huge LCD screen, the sofa
almost shined, and worst of all : everything was perfectly clean. Too
clean. Robert thought he had walked in a hollywood movie. His wife
probably is very kind, smart, loving, and Clovis is likely to have a
very good time making love to her. Robert tried to remember how that
felt like.

The dinner was nothing to write about for a whole paragraph. The food
was good. Cathy's cooking was so wonderful and perfect it also tasted
like Hollywood. Robert actually enjoyed the evening. Until Clovis
started talking about his passion about thriller movies.

"What's so interesting about them is that it's not a passive experiment :
you try to guess who did it"

Robert would never have thought so. To his astonishment, Cathy nodded
in agreement. And she did it seriously. Robert knew what was next.
They would watch a movie. And so they did. Robert found it predictable,
then went home.

Robert thought a lot. This whole day had been predictable. The job, the
coffee filling, Sarah's angry slamming, Clovis' stupid rambling, Cathy's
happy smiling, and the thriller's scary killings. Robert thought some more.
This whole universe seemed predictable to him. Maybe that was why he
was so bitter about life. Tomorrow would be another day. Or the same
day.

* *
*

Robert shaved, the morning after, while listening to the radio.
He was trying to remember a song, it went... it went like "I love you baby".
Yes. But what was the rest like ? He was puzzled, it could have been
any R&B song. But he knew it wasn't.

"And now, after this tragic piece of news, a song to cheer you up :
"Can't take my eyes off you", Frankie Valli, on OldFM-Radio "

This was it. This was the one. Wait.

"I love you, baby,
And if it's quite alright,
I need you, baby...
To warm a lonely night..."

Coincidences do happen. Sometimes, you just think of something and it happens.
it happens to everyone thought Robert. Those kind of random things happen
a few times every life, right ? It's like Bernouilli's law of big numbers :
considering the number of times things happen in a life, strange things
are bound to happen. Except it happened a lot to Robert, lately.
The last time was with that movie. It was obvious to him that the guy
was framed by his hidden twin brother. It was not a very good movie. But
it was obvious. But something also made it seem obvious that this song
would have been played right now, except he didn't know what. What was
the reason for thinking about that song anyway ?

He shrugged and went to work. What was that disaster about anyway,
and how many people died ? A part of him was sadistically happy each
time those kind of things happen. Sadistically happy to have been alive
at the time and to keep on live. Sadistically happy to know that there'll
be something exciting on the news tonight.
Driving, he listened to the radio. It was an earthquake in Iran, which
wiped out an entire village, killing probably in the hundreds, or even
thousands. This was indeed tragic, as the last host said.

Except Robert remembered not hearing anything about a disaster. Just
something "tragic". This was starting to become scary.

* *
*

-Here's the pile for today.
-Pile of what ?
-Of invoices you need to record, of course.

Robert wasn't sure if Clovis was deliberately annoying, or if it
was just his job that was like that. It looked like another boring
day, but at least he had a lot to keep himself busy. He would take
care of this slowly, page by page, admire Sarah's pretty face,
feel more frustration, and if anyone would complain, he'd blame
it on IBM.

He wondered if many other of these "odd occurences" would happen
in the next days or even hours. This would make his life interesting.
It'd make Robert peculiar and he could be a center of attraction.
People would come to him, seeking for advice about anything. He could
make a living out of it. He'd have his own office and would enter
"Wiseman" as a job on the tax application Internet form. But he'd
work only for fun, since, being the prophet is, he would have won
billions at the lottery before. Robert was a daydreamer.
Bills, however, were more down to earth. So he started doing
what he was currently paid for. But not for long. Robert knew.

Robert launched the accounting software. It crashed. Must have been
the heat. He restarted the computer. It crashed again. This appears
to be more serious. Robert was no computer wizard, so he called the
company's technician/administration/whatever's the name for it.

There he came.

-You need to do something my good sir, you know I can't work without that, he
said, thinking he should now nickname himself "The Sarcasm God".
-Got that. Let me take a look it.

The technician inspected the machine. It crashed. He did something (as it was said
before, Robert didn't know much), but it still crashed. Finally he sighed.

-I'm afraid I'll have to take it to the lab and do a reinstall. Looks like
your operating system went nuts. Not your fault, not mine, not anyone's.
You can always blame IBM though.

That was it. One time is random. Two times is coincidential. Three times...
Three times is enemy's action, Robert remembered from his time reading
stuff he shouldn't read on the Internet (and certainly not on the job).
Robert wondered how he could have screwed up the machine browsing military
litterature where all his office mates (including Sarah) were regularly
surfing porn. Then, he came back to reality, finally accepted his new
magic gift, and decided to do something about it. But before, he needed
to be sure. One last time, his intuitions should prove him correct.

He took a piece of paper, scribbled the number "800" on it. Why ? No
reason. It felt like the most logical thing to write at the time.


* *
*

Robert left the office, for what he thought was the last time. His
decision was taken for good at lunchtime.

Sitting in the cafetaria, valliantly eating his daily sandwich (with
his dose of daily chicken), Sarah and him were placing bets on what would be
the death toll at the time. He won. He won his first 5$ in his new life
as a medium. There were 803 of the poor bastards.

He could see them : the dead bodies. He could see it : a golen plaque on the
door of his new flat "Robert, medium extraordinaire". He had always been
fascinated with french, and easy money. Life was about to change, to get
exciting, for once. Unfortunately, his "third eye" couldn't foresee "anything"
happening in the near future with Sarah.

"Luck, don't push it.", he thought.

This is why he didn't invite her for dinner tonight, although he had no
better plan. Maybe that's why he didn't... Okay, he was just looking
for an excuse for chickening out. Them being his job, Robert was good
with numbers. He KNEW she had 36D. Or maybe that was his intution once
again. Who cares. Robert wasn't good at talking.

Real men make their own plans.

After tonight, he could get all the girls he wanted. Cause he knew what
they were actually all after.


* *
*


Clovis was going to get annoyed. Very annoyed. That would be Robert's
first own personal satisfaction inside the company. He couldn't
stand succesful people. He just felt something was wrong with them,
as if they were stealing some people's share of happiness.

"We'll see who's going too to be single at 40."

He got off the car. He was almost casually dressed, except for the new
pair of shoes and the ironed shirt, but the night was so warm he'd
probably be allowed. He walked slowly and anxiously toward the gate.

"Do you want me to park your car, sir ?"

He looked at the Casino porter, it looked like he'd need to change a
few of his habits once he's a billionaire. He decided to start right
ahead, and ignored him.

He'd never been in a casino. But he knew a few games. Like roulette.
Or Slot machines. Things you don't actually need to try to understand.
He also knew Poker, but that's because it came pre-installed on
his OS/2 machines. May it rest in peace. It and the girls inside
the game.

He walked around, looking lost. Everyone here was rich and beautiful,
just like in Hollywood. And probably not single too, or looking for
someone for tonight (like in Hollywood). But this was not his reason
to be here tonight. He was here to honour a gift from the gods
, and here for revenge against the heirarchy.

He sat on the poker table as soon as there was room. The guy in
a suit looked at him as if he had been challenged in a game of chess.
He thinks he's smart, Robert Thought, but this game is 90% about
luck.

"And I know quite a bit about proportions." he mentally added, thinking
about his accountancy, and about Sarah.

Croupier dealt the cards. Mr Sucessful picked them up with a smile.
Robert, with a straight face. And you should keep a straight when all
you get is a series of 3 cards, of different colour.

The bet was somehow 800$. This was his lucky number of today. But there
was more. Even before entering the casino, he had the numbers 1 4 7 9 10
stuck in his head for no reason. He kept seeing them on license plates
on his way here, and he KNEW it related to Poker for some reason.

His opponent switched cards a few times. "He's panicking", Robert thought.
Since it was all about luck, RObert decided it was not worth it to change
your cards, and that all poker players who did weren't using any kind
of strategy, despite their own claims.

There was a sigh, and a "1 4 7 9 10" series of card on the table.
The colours were awful. For him. Robert won 800$ right then. Which was
a nice way to start the evening. But this was from being enough, far
from being over.

The slots machines section had a few of these free, while the roulette
was overcrowded. But his instinct, his new inner voice that had been
whistling to him in a subtle manner since this early morning, told
him that Roulette was the way to go.

"Some people hear god's holy word, they become priest and take care
of the needy. I play casino." he maliciously said to himself.
He sneaked inside the crowd. He felt miserable with his pink
shirt and sweaty armpits in the middle of all these gentlemen
and frustratingly good-looking ladies. But they'd see. They'd just
see.

Robert waited. And watched. There were lucky people, who came out with
barely less money than when they joined the game. There were other
people that came out of the game with tears. One was a CEO of an
obscure company, he overheard, and by his bet he had put himself
and all his employees in jeopardy. Robert couldn't help thinking
of Clovis. He smiled.

There came his turn. But he was worried. He knew he had to play,
but he didn't know what. And there was no way this roulette would
give him a 800.

"Play 7 Red."

Robert didn't even bother to look back, or find someone whose voice
it could be. He knew it was coming from him. It was Mr InnerVoice,
Mr Friendly, Mr ThankYou....

"I'm placing all I have on 7 Red, Mr Croupier."

There was a gasp in the crowd, and both amused and terrified looks
towards Robert, as if they were watching a monkey playing with a gun.
Robert didn't look at them. The voice knew, so he knew.
The roulette spinned. The ball bounced. Robert closed his eyes,
there was no need to look, he knew : it was going to be 7 red.

There were cheers. It had worked. He heard the words "bottle of champagne",
and "can't believe this lucky bastard" among the crowd. Then he heard
again...

"Play 7 Red".

And so it happened again. The excitement ? Robert felt none. This
was the natural course of event. You don't feel excited when you're
watching reruns of the superbowl. So it was pretty natural he
didn't feel like this. He heard the words "lucky CHEATING bastard",
and this even didn't make him feel any comfort. He was feeling
somewhat miserable to not be jumping in joy at the current moment,
for even if he didn't count, he was now probably a millionaire.

But that wouldn't be enough. He was here to annoy Clovis, he wanted
to buy the company, and to sell it into tiny pieces to see the efforts
of whom he worked with wasted. Dividing the company into smaller ones
would multiply the numbers of coffee machines, and of guys who would
come every weeks to refill it. He'd bring revenge to the people low
on the social ladder, while himself being on top and delightfully
spitting on them.

"Play.... Play 6 red."

This was a bit different. But the voice was as clear as usual.
And it led him right each time. He was one roulette spin away
from his revenge against his universe.

"Croupier, you're going to think I'm insane, but I'm feeling
lucky tonight." There were more gasps. There were "ungrateful
bastard" whispered in the crowd. "Place all my wins on 6 red."

"Why the change ?" yelled an unidentifiable (though female and charming)
voice in the crowd.
"Intuition."

The wheel spinned. This time Robert could feel the excitement. He saw
himself entering Clovis' office tomorrow morning. No, not tomorrow
morning. He'd still be on the hangover of the champagne party and
would probably need to satisfy a few easy and cheap (or expensive) women
after waking up from an exhausting but short night.

The roulette stopped spinning. 7 red.

"Whoops." said the inner voice.

* *
*

-This is serious, right ?
-Oh it could be worse...
-Like how ?

Rise and fall. From glory to depression. A few seconds millionaire (he didn't
ask for details after the "incident"), now lying on a sofa belonging to Dr Kapulov,
the cheapest shrink in the state.

-You lost all your winnings and a few hundreds dollards of your initial bet,
if I get your story right. You didn't much of your hard saved money and you
still have your job right ?

Robert had forgotten about this little detail. His computer had to be fixed,
by now. And he didn't resign from his job. He just left yesterday with the
intention of not showing up ever again. So he still had something. But
was that lucky, really ?

-You're making it sound like if it was a good thing.
-For people in your condition, having something to do on a daily basis...
-Or to not do, sarcasmed Robert.
-... helps in living a normal life, on ignoring these little problems. If you
were out of a job in a time like this, you might develop full-fledged schizophrenia.
-What, out of boredom ?
-Yes out of boredom. Are you bored, Robert ? Kapulov asked. Robert could feel he was
not the only who can sarcasm.

-What do I look like ?
-You look like what you sound.
-Oh, there's no hiding it then.
-Not all bored people hear voices, Dr Shrink, nor do they develop super instinctive
powers like I did.
-Has it ever occured to you that luck comes and go ?
-What are you implying ? You talk to me as if I were stupid.
-Bored people tend to think too much and to get distracted by trivial matters,
Kapulov explained. From what you told me last week, you spend your days in
your office staring at your colleagues, watching coffee machines being refilled,
nourishing reflexions about the universe and how it works...
-Now, you're making it sound like a bad thing.
-There is one problem with you, Robert. It's called ego. And I'm not saying that like
if it were a bad thing. You are a smart man, and you feel your universe is stupid.
It is possible that you grew a good understanding of it, of its reaction. It
is possible that knowing how the universe works, how to decode society and
human faces expressions, you learnt on how to anticipate.
-Anticiwhat ?!

Robert went from lying down to all up and standing. And yelling too.

-Listen, Kapulov. I'm starting to understand how come you're so cheap because,
frankly, you're showing lack of professionalism. You're just trying to cover
what "superpower" means with smart words. How a good understanding of the
world might have helped guessed 2 times in a row the roulette, my opponent's
cards, and number of people dying in an earthquake ?
-I don't know.
-Aha !
-Some would call it luck.
-But you don't. Face it doctor, you're about as lost as I am.
-... yes. But you still need to do something about this voice of yours.
-Do something ? But what if it comes back ? What if I miss another opportunity ?
-Whatever that voice is, let us even admit it's God or whatelse, it is not your friend.
-I pissed off God ?

* *
*

Robert was sitting in front of his desk, next to a fan, and in front of a brand new Windows
95 machine. No invoices, no bills, no work, so he had to pretend he was busy.
If people found out 90% of his job was also about being injustified, he'd be
out in the hour.

He was on medication right now. Nothing serious. Anxiolytics. He'd move to something
stronger if the voice came back.

This was all a joke. Kupalov got nothing of it. The only money he had lost and
wasted was in his office. Not to mention time. He'd probably need to see someone
else again, but this time, for anger management.

He looked on the right, Sarah was watering the plant while talking make-up
on the phone. He looked on the left, there was nothing interesting. He
looked right in front of himself, through the hall, through the transparent
windowed glass. He saw Clovis in the office of the CEO, probably talking
about something called "transition".

"Someone is having a bad sense of humor, and it's making fun of my life.". He
was now looking up.

* *
*


The universe was now looking down. It was giggling in the way only universes
know how to giggle. It had fun.

This universe was a playful one. It took only a couple of whispers and it made
its day, although days do not make much sense in the cosmic meaning.

It was now wondering what to do. It had toyed with Robert long enough, and it
was time to move on to something, or someone else. Its last jokes, a tsunami
in Indonesia and an earthquake in Iran had been greatly misunderstood.
It didn't understand why everyone said it had a sick sense of humour.
It's probably because they were only sick in the head. The universe liked
to think of itself as a master of sarcasm.
It was watching daily, amazed at people whose lives were about filling coffee
machines and who YET didn't get the joke. Why were people so slow to understand
it was all about humour ? Come on... OS/2 !

The universe was very bored.

It sighed. Maybe it really had an over-inflated ego after all.