Anonymous Fillers

“Fuck you Corporate America!” John Smith said aloud, while walking back to his house in the suburbs. Everything had been going great until Corporate had decided to upgrade the department. What the hell is this! Was his exclamation and honest question in response to finding that moving monitors had replaced half of his coworkers, upon returning to work. His colleagues, Patrick, Jacquelin, Derek, and Samantha were gone. Now all that remained of his social circle from work was Matthew, and Matthew had never really been a big part of the group anyways. 

After having rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t imagining things (which wasn’t unreasonable, considering all he’d been dealing with, on top of having just returned from sick leave), he walked over to his bosses office to inquire of the sudden change. His boss, however, hadn’t arrived yet. Change without understanding, this was the worst, and to add this on top of everything else! His exhausted state from lack of sleep the night before; his wife’s awaited breakdown over her mother’s recent passing finally hit. He’d seen this coming, as she’d been un-emotive at both the funeral and wake, prepare for it as he may, the night before was the one night he’d not been ready.

This was the month of October, yes, the month of Halloween scares, horror movies, and every kid in the neighborhoods just itching for the end of the month to arrive, so they could get their sugar fix. But for John, this year, it had been full of adult scares, drama in reality was so horrible it reflected a dramatic film. And in John’s world, there were no kids to speak of, they’d been trying for months, but to no avail. Just fifteen days into the month, and he, likewise, wished it would just end. So that the hostile clown sightings would cease, maybe his wife’s mourning period would lessen, and so he could become comfortable with the new system at work. 

“Fuck the system, Meredith! It’s not working!” John muttered to himself. He blamed all the changes on his boss, even though she wasn’t the one who’d made the executive decision to replace all his friends with robots. John had questions for the people who ran the company, why had they chosen to replace his friends, all of them had been productive, all of them did their jobs and were cool to get along with, so why them? In addition, why keep Matthew? Matthew wasn’t particularly easy to mingle with, he wore his social awkwardness and anxiety like a mask, you couldn’t not see it in his behavior. “It’s like get it together, man! Nobodies out to get you.” That’s what Patrick had said once, when they’d been drinking at the group’s usual Friday night gathering. One Matthew hadn’t been able to make it. Though John wasn’t necessarily onboard with putting him down, Patrick hadn’t been wrong, and they were all a little intoxicated anyways. 

Why had it happened overnight? Though the company wasn’t the best at making decisions, it wasn’t known to make such critical changes overnight. The answers to some of his questions would come two hours later, when Meredith arrived. 

“It’s all Corporate, John, that’s really all i can say. Corporate thought the machines would make things work faster, and be more cost effective.” Cost effective? He’d said in response, How? She folded her hands, though Meredith was his boss, and had to make hard decisions, John could see she was only human. But a pawn in the system, nonetheless. But that wasn’t what ran through his mind when she was trying to explain. 

“I know you were close with them, but, we had to let people go.” But why them? She sighed in response.

 “John, regardless of what I tell you, you’re still going to be upset with me. Is there anything that I can do to make this easier for you?” John wanted to curse her out, even considered walking out and quitting on the spot. But luckily, despite his state, he managed to hold his tongue, and instead just shook his head and shuffled out, head down. As he was about to leave, she spoke once more.

“John, listen, I wanna speak out of term here with you. Will you allow me that?”

When John turned around to face her, she no doubt could see the emotional wear and tear the last week had had on him. She ushered him to close the door and sit. She leaned in and began.

“Listen John, don’t repeat what I’m about to say to anyone, alright? This job isn’t that great, sure it pays good, but do you really want to spend the rest of your life staring at a screen full of statistics and charts? I mean, maybe you do, and I apologize for the comment if so. But I don’t think that’s the case. Look, this company sucks, we both know that. And if you feel so inclined, i’ll promote you, hell, I’ll give you my job, because honestly, I don’t see myself working here much longer anyways.” She paused, “I agree with you, this new automation thing sucks, but do you really want to be crunching numbers, when you could be making numbers?” 

John’s desperate plea came again in response to her laid out heart on the table. 

Meredith showed some more human emotion.

“Jesus Christ, John, if you really want to know, I didn’t make the decision, it was Corporate! They sent me an email with the list of names! I didn’t have any say, I just had to do as they said. And before you continue on your anger fuelled interrogation, let me tell you, I was here till midnight last night fucking installing these things! Now go back to your desk! I’ve got a splitting headache.”

And that’s just what he did, he’d gone back to his desk, and remained there. For two weeks now, he’d kept his mouth shut and done the job. And endured the cringeworthy attempts at conversation from Matthew. Then the public transit system upped their price, which meant other things in his budget had to be cut back. And with the wife mourning the death of her mother, John prepared his budget accordingly. Unfortunately though, it’s hard to tell someone to cut down on their grieving indulgence, when they are mourning that kind of loss. So John had done what he saw as right and supportive, he cut the bus pass out of his budget. This meant he’d have to walk half a mile from the train stop to get home, as supposed to the bus, which dropped him off two streets over. He wasn’t going to tell her about this sacrifice. He wanted to be supportive during this time, not a burden. 

But his wife’s catatonic state was now entering its third week, and that also meant her third week out of work. Everything had been going downhill since the month began, beginning with the massive plumet, and then the slow disintegration, like the erosion of land against the raging tide. Money was being spent, and not replenished, and his temper was being tried by the new system, that really wasn’t working. John was on the brink of a total freakout, he realized that just one more thing would’ve pushed him over the edge. So instead of blowing up, he left early. The issues with the robots had become a routine issue. One of the robots would start malfunctioning, and everything the remaining workers were doing would cease so that it could be fixed. Today it had happened right next to his desk. He’d gone to give it a piece of data, and it’d started sputtering and asking him the same thing over and over again. Matthew had taken notice and let out a little nervous giggle, John had glared at him, a hostile evil eye. He’d been on the cusp of committing violence, when Meredith walked by. 

She asked what had happened, John was so livid he could hardly speak. All he said was “was leaving early”. And if she’d tried to stop him, he would’ve flipped. But instead, she’d just nodded in acceptance, she understood. There was a part of John that had really wanted her not to, and question him, so that he could blow up at her. But that dramatic movie was not going to be the one showing today. 

And now, as he walked home with the setting sun, just on the horizon, casting shades of dark pink on the suburban neighborhood, he was in no mood to be interacting with anyone. Then something occurred to him. He pictured Meredith speaking to some “Corporate” figure, as a matter of factly, saying: “I hate to admit it, but you’ve really hit it on the head with this automation thing. We can’t have disgruntled employees leaving early, and blowing up over decisions being made.” This angered John so much he bit his lip, trying to stifle a roar of rage. As he walked, his eyes remained fixed on the ground, while the images of Meredith flipping filled his vision.“I mean, what happens if one day one of those disgruntled employees came in with a gun and started shooting up the-” but then the scene was interrupted and dispersed. 

John had bumped into someone he hadn’t seen standing there. This time though, he couldn’t stifle his rage.

“WATCH WHERE YOU’RE FUCKING GOING!” 

John stopped walking after he’d gone a couple paces, he turned to face them, and continued. 

“THERE IS A WHOLE FUCKING SIDEWALK AND you...”

John trailed off. Something wasn’t right here. The person, whom he’d bumped into wasn’t moving, they hadn’t even turned around. They were just standing, erect, and facing in the direction John had come from. 

It appeared to be a white man in a regular looking suit. His hair was brown and short, looked like any average business man’s haircut. There didn’t seem to be any defining features about him. But, strangest of all, the man wasn’t moving, he just continued to stand there, despite the rage that had just assaulted him. He was so still he could’ve been a statue. 

A slow wave of discomfort crept over John, as his anger turned into confusion and uneasiness. Goosebumps prickled his skin, as an unexpected shiver came over him. Had he affected the man so badly that he’d put him into a catatonic state? How long had he been standing there for? Despite the non-threatening pose, terror filled John at the mere thought of walking around front to see if the man looked alright. But what was his sudden fixation with this man? Why didn’t he just continue on his way home? Maybe if he got home he could get his night started early, and potentially get to sleep early as well!

But no. This man shouldn't be here, the direction the man was facing meant he’d been walking in that direction when he’d stopped. But, in a business suit? Was he walking to work? Had he parked his car and was returning home? No, there was no evidence of any previous movements, the man didn’t even have keys in-hand. Building up the courage to venture a look around to the front, John put one foot forward towards the man, a small stride, but a stride nonetheless. His focus was fixated on the man, a look of caution stuck on John’s face, as he hesitantly attempted to make contact. 

“Hey there, guy, you alright?”

No response, he waits, still no response. Having stepped a little closer, John could now see part of the man’s face. 

Just like the back of him had appeared, the part of the man’s face he could see was also plain, no defining feature stood out from the rest. It was almost as if the man was perfect, not like a model, but stripped of any characteristic. Any characteristic that would make him human. And then a terrifying thought occurred to him. That’s it! This isn’t a man, this is a robot! 

Had they finally done it? Created robots that looked perfectly human? But if so, then, why was it here? Who had just left it here? The fear of the man being out of place is quickly replaced by the anger that’d fuelled him prior. Throwing caution to the wind with the renewed rage burning inside, John stepped to face the front. The thing that looked back at him wasn’t disfigured, it didn’t have a monster mouth, it had eyeballs, it’s mouth was normal. Everything about the face was extremely normal, just like the rest of it. The face reminded him of a Vinyl cover he’d seen in some storefront that’d frightened him, the face on it had had a glassy sort of look to it. The only noticeable feature from it was that one eyelid was slightly lower than the other, which gave the man’s face a pre-stroke look to it. 

John Cale’s Vintage Violence had been the name of it. John had never heard of him before, but he just couldn’t get that face out of his mind. And now, it was almost as if his mind had opened up and made it come to life.

“Sir?”

John inquires again, but the face and body remained. The fear was creeping back again. What was going on? There is no way this thing could be a robot! John wasn’t sure what to do next, afraid to make the next move. The thought of this man-thing suddenly coming to life behind him as he walked away, shot spears of terror through his spine. But, at the same time, just continuing to remain there also gave him chills, especially since the sun was setting fast, and very soon it would be dark out. If that became the case, he’d be alone with this strange man-thing, in the dark. The thought of that frightened him even more. 

As this thought process went on, he studied the plain man’s face, at this point, he did begin to notice a slight variance in the man’s eyelid levels. But whether he was making himself see that was also a possibility, as when you look at something long enough you can make yourself see anything. The sun was just about to dip under the horizon, dusk was setting in, John had to make his decision fast. 

Just then, however, the sound of a car approaching from behind stole his attention. The cars headlights were on, it startled John, he took his gaze off of the man-thing for a second. Upon turning back to face him, however, immediately he noticed the face was closer, and then it moved. It twitched. Mere inches away, it tilted its head cockeyed. The thing, with its mouth still closed, almost mouthless, jerked its head just like a malfunctioning robot might!

The shock of this sudden change and movement from the bizarre man-thing caused a whimper of terror to escape John’s mouth, as he startled backwards. The thing in front of him stepped forward as soon as John stepped back.

“Fuck this!”

John let out in a terrified shrill voice. He took off down the sidewalk, his breath shallow, his legs shaking from the terror of this thing’s sudden animation. Was it following him? He turned to look over his shoulder to see if it was still standing there. To his horror, not only was the thing still behind him, but it was now in a full on sprint, chasing him. 

He reaches the front of his house, stops and does a quick review. After all the attempts to hide all stressors from his wife, wouldn’t bringing this hellish nightmare to their house break another dam? Before he could conclude that thought though, the thing was right there. John fled across the street, heading back in the direction of the city. How long could he keep this up before the thing caught him? He reached the station breathless, just as a train into the city was arriving. He entered with the few who were going to work. He jerked his head back to see if it had caught the train as well. It had. Just as the train doors were closing. 

John tried not to make eye-contact, but the thing’s gaze remained fixed on him, then suddenly went stale and looked away. Becoming like anyone else’s on the train. John looked back and thought it odd how it was behaving. As he scanned the car he suddenly realized there was a couple other people, who were just as plain as the thing. They gave occasional glances over at John with that same stale look. 

When the train arrived downtown everybody got out, the man-thing came back to life and resumed following him. John kept looking over his shoulder, hoping it would get lost in a crowd, but it was almost as if it knew where John was going.  As John fled through the streets, he began to notice the stale look more often, every other person in the crowds was one. Where could he go that was safe, police station? In order to get there he’d have to traverse through the sketchy part of town. Should he call the police? No, I have to resolve this on my own. I’ll be safe at work, and if he tries anything, the security guard will intervene. 

John entered the lobby and informed the security guard of the situation. He stood ready to defend. When the man entered the building, the guard stood down, John tensed up. 

“That’s the guy! Stop him!”

The guard waves it off, “That’s Brandon, he’s not gonna hurt ya, he works here.”

John fled to the elevator, Brandon, as he followed John, put his hand up in the robot way. 

Brandon caught the door before it could close. The door closed.

“Why are you doing this?”

Brandon turned to John. 

“To assimilate and segregate.”