Microstory 1976: Nuts or Chips

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Leonard: Did anyone follow you?

Ophelia: Yes. The Mississippian Militia is right behind me, as are all of this guy’s friends, and my sixth grade math teacher.

Leonard: Okay, good.

Ophelia: I know how to lose a tail...which I didn’t have. Nobody is looking for us.

Leonard: Yeah, I’m not seeing anything on the news, but I don’t know enough about this territory to say if that’s typical. This feels a bit like a police state.

Ophelia: Not really. It’s just that, as far as anyone is concerned, nothing happened in that apartment hallway yesterday. There’s a hole in the brick, but I doubt anyone’s gonna notice. Our team may have even literally covered it up by now.

Leonard: We have to get the hell out of this place, and back to the U.S.

Vogel: I can get us all someplace safe, and smuggle us out of the city.

Leonard and Ophelia: *simultaneously* Shut up.

Vogel: Look, you’re gonna have to trust me at some point. I know Mississippi, and I know Memphis. You both are obviously highly capable, but still untrained. Let me help.

Leonard: We can’t trust you. We weren’t in that hallway accidentally. We’ve been looking for you for over a week.

Vogel: I’m not surprised, but you haven’t asked me any questions, except for who shot at us, and why, so whatever you think I did, you’re obviously not certain I’m guilty.

Leonard: We’re certain enough. *to Ophelia* What did you get?

Ophelia: Mostly nuts and chips. There wasn’t a great selection at the inconvenience store. All of the sandwiches looked bad.

Leonard: *tosses Vogel a bag* I prefer nuts. Eat your chips in the bathtub. Turn on the sink faucet. My partner and I need to have a private conversation.

Vogel: *reluctantly heads for the bathroom*

Ophelia: The window?

Leonard: Doesn’t exist. *turns on the TV, and raises the volume*

Ophelia: What the hell are we gonna do?

Leonard: I may have an idea, but it’s risky. I can find us a guy.

Ophelia: You know someone? Aren’t you from, like, another planet, or something?

Leonard: Agent Altimari has contacts here. *points to the bathroom* She found him when the rest of us couldn’t, which made Reese suspicious, so she had to explain where she got the information. I have the name of her supplier here. It’s no guarantee. The last we heard, he was trying to get out of the state himself, so he may already be gone.

Ophelia: Worth a shot, I guess. We don’t have a lot of options. Who is this supplier, and do you have his phone number, or something?

Leonard: I have a dead drop location. Someone is gonna have to stay with our detainee while the other goes out. You got the burner phones too, right?

Ophelia: *tosses him one of them* You sure we can’t reach out to anyone else on the team? Not even Agent Parsons?

Leonard: It’s not that we can’t trust him. We can’t be sure he hasn’t been compromised in some other way, like a tapped phone. Now, how do you work this thing?

Microstory 1334: Unwanted

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Therapist: My receptionist reported that you sounded a little upset on the phone when she was confirming your appointment. Is everything okay?

Journalism Student: Oh, it’s not a big deal. I don’t even know why I was crying about it.

Therapist: You were crying?

Journalism Student: Just a little. Again, it’s not a big deal; barely worth mentioning.

Therapist: Barely worth it, but not not worth it at all?

Journalism Student: Forget it, it’s stupid.

Therapist: The other day, a client of mine came in bawling because he had just seen an ad on his phone in the waiting room for hummus. Apparently, he and his late wife met at a mutual friend’s party when another friend turned out to be allergic to peanuts, and they both volunteered to rush to the store to pick up alternatives. His feelings were not stupid, and neither are yours.

Journalism Student: It’s just this thing that happened to me two days ago. I was interviewing this guy who dropped out of my high school. He’s starting a drone courier service for the city. They don’t sell supplies or anything; they just carry items from other companies to people who work from home. I thought it was an interesting concept, and I thought it was cool that someone I once took Spanish with was making a name for himself, even though he didn’t graduate. Well, he remembered me from that one class, and evidently thought I had some sort of crush on him, so he started making the interview personal.

Therapist: He made you uncomfortable?

Journalism Student: Yes. He didn’t touch me, or anything. I mean, he didn’t even really say anything inappropriate. I probably would have shrugged the whole thing off, except it’s not the first time this kind of thing has happened.

Therapist: Yes, I remember the swim team captain who wanted you to interview him in the boy’s locker room.

Journalism Student: Yeah, he acted like it was because that’s how they do it in the major leagues, but I don’t think that was his reason. I don’t think he was planning on us, like, doing something together, but I bet he figured I might start getting ideas if I saw him like that, in that environment.

Therapist: Yes, that could be what he was thinking. Remember, though, we talked about presuming other people’s feelings, positions, and intentions. He might have genuinely wanted to pretend he was a pro athlete.

Journalism Student: Yeah, I understand.

Therapist: Did you talk with this drone guy about it?

Journalism Student: Oh no, I just rejected him politely, and ended the interview. It was awkward, though, and I may have asked him a few follow-up questions if he hadn’t taken the conversation to that place.

Therapist: Well, was it awkward for him too, or just you?

Journalism Student: How am I meant to know?

Therapist: Did it seem like he was upset too? Or did he act like it wasn’t a big deal?

Journalism Student: I guess he seemed okay. Like, he didn’t get angry with me. But I still felt weird, so I had to get out of there.

Therapist: That’s a perfectly reasonable response. I’m saying, if you still need more information to write your article for the paper, you could call him with those follow-up questions, and act like nothing happened. You can’t let what he did get in the way of you completing your assignment. Even if he didn’t do that on purpose, you deserve to do your job. You never know, he could be talking with his own therapist right now about how that interaction made him feel. If you treat him with respect, he’ll either be relieved that it didn’t seem to ruin your life, or he’ll be pissed you’re bothering him again, but still without giving him a chance at whatever relationship he feels entitled to. To put it another way, either you make things better for him—and I think for you too, since you can get some closure—or you force him to show his true colors. Either way, it’ll be good to get this resolved.

Journalism Student: What if he turns out to be a stalker, or something? What if engaging him again is just leading him on?

Therapist: [...] As a woman, everything you do will be scrutinized and interpreted. The fact is that you could smile at the grocery store cashier a little too widely, and make him think you want to have his baby. This is a dangerous world, and there are lots of dangerous people in it who are looking for an excuse to justify their thoughts. We can’t let them have that much power. I’m not saying don’t be cautious, but you have the right to write your article, just as much as you have the right to smile without also agreeing to marriage. You see what I’m saying?

Journalism Student: Yeah, I guess.

Therapist: We can keep talking about this as long as you want, but I do what to make sure we have time to discuss your former teacher’s death. This virus hit us all really hard, and I don’t want you ignoring the loss, even if you didn’t know her very well.

Journalism Student: Okay.

Microstory 235: Perspective Ten

Click here for a list of every perspective.
Perspective Nine

My pot dealer is an idiot. I mean, of course he’s an idiot; I don’t know what I should have expected, but it’s pretty irritating having to deal with him. He’s always trying to tell me stories, especially about his FBI agent roommate, but he bungles them up because he can barely remember his own name. I would like to find a new dealer, but this isn’t my world, so I wouldn’t know where to begin. I’ve actually tried to hint to him that I’m interested in taking my business elsewhere, but he lacks the brain capacity to understand subtext, and if I were to just straight up ask him, he would be offended. I don’t know why I should be worried about offending a stoner, but I guess a part of me is afraid that he’ll turn me in, even if it means he gets caught too. He’s that dumb. We live in a state where marijuana is completely illegal, and in a part of the state that’s too far from states where it is allowed. When I was first diagnosed, my doctor prescribed me certain medication, but warned me that it was only going to take me so far. She said that my best option was medical marijuana, but admitted that this put me in a pickle. My worsening condition has made it impossible to continue being driver, and so I had to drop down to an entirely different field. Because of the decrease in pay, I can’t just up and move to somewhere that can serve my needs, especially not since I’m still responsible for taking care of my aunt. And so I’m stuck with this doofus. I think I got lucky with him, though. I’m all right with further decriminalization of marijuana, especially for medical purposes. My problem with it is that everyone wants to smoke, which is disgusting. My dealer has an inventory of edibles which work just as well, and don’t muck up the air around me. And bonus, I get to eat brownies and cookies all day without feeling guilty about gaining a few extra pounds. Why people insist on lighting things on fire and putting them in their mouths is something I’ll never understand. The truth is that they think it’s fun, and the damage to their physiology is apparently irrelevant. I’m not saying that I want it to be me, but I do think if we changed the face of weed legalization to someone legitimate, things might actually change. If it weren’t so terribly obvious that the majority of people in favor of such bills were just wastoids in their parents’ basements, we might have something here. Promote your cause by pointing out the medical and psychological benefits of this medicine, and people who would otherwise be against you might actually start listening. I would give almost anything to not have to interact with this moron again.

Perspective Eleven

Microstory 78: Self-Abandon

I’m cradling my assortment of unhealthy snacks when I look outside and see a figure start to step into my car. I’m normally religious about locking it, but since I was only going to be a second and I parked in front of the door, I figured it would be okay. What kind of crazy person steals a car from a convenience store in the middle of the day? The man takes something out of his pocket and turns the car over. He must have had a key, because it didn’t look like he hotwired it. I drop my snacks, letting the slushie spill all over the floor. As people inch away from the ever-spreading pink liquid and give me funny looks, I pad myself down, feeling the familiar sharp edges of my keys, so I know that the thief didn’t pick my pocket. “Oh my God!” I exclaim. “He’s stealing my car! Somebody stop him!” But no one does. I remember this as the bystander effect wherein nobody in a crowd helps in a crisis because each person will assume that someone else will help instead. I rush out the door and try to stop the man. As he backs up, the tires squeal, crying out their need to be replaced. I could not before see the man’s face from the tint of the windshield, but the window is down and I can see him clearly now. It’s me; from an alternate reality, or the future, or something. He looks at me like this absolutely had to happen. I let him go, because I must have had a good reason. I walk back inside to assure the bystanders that it was just my jerk brother, playing a prank.