The Flicker Men Read Online Free PDF

was trying not to smile. We were in his office, eating lunch across his desk—the one surface of the room not covered in file folders or books or electronic parts. Light streamed through the windows.
    He continued, “I told her, well, maybe she is like me and she forgets. But my daughter says, ‘No, it has been more than one week now.’”
    This amused Satvik greatly—the talk of ChapStick and the prayers of children. He spooned another bite of rice and red peppers into his mouth. This was the simple and searing conflagration that passed for his lunch.
    â€œI’m tired of eating in your cluttered office,” I said. “We should try something different.”
    â€œDifferent how?”
    â€œAct like normal human adults. Visit a restaurant.”
    â€œA restaurant? You insult me. I am a simple man trying to save for my daughter’s college.” Satvik spread his hands in mock outrage. “Do you think I am born with golden spoon?”
    And then he regaled me with the tragedy of his nephews, both raised in New York on American food. “They are both taller than six feet,” he said, shaking his head. “Much too big. My sister must buy new shoes all the time. In my family back home, nobody is that tall. Not one person. But here, same family, they are six feet.”
    â€œAnd American food’s to blame?”
    â€œYou eat the cow, you look like the cow.” He took the last bite of his meal and winced, sucking air through his teeth. He closed the plastic lid on his bowl.
    â€œThose peppers too hot?” I asked. The possibility intrigued me. I’d seen him eat food that would have melted my fillings.
    â€œNo,” he said. “When I eat on the tobacco side, it stings me bad.”
    When we finished packing up the last of our lunchtime mess, I told him I wasn’t going to be hired after my probationary period.
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œI just know.”
    His face grew serious. “You are certain you are to be fired?”
    Blunt Satvik. Fired . A word I hadn’t used, but accurate, in the only way that mattered. Soon I’d be unemployed. Unemployable. My career over. I tried to imagine that moment, and my stomach clenched into a fist. Shame and dread. The moment when it would all come crashing down.
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Fired.”
    â€œWell, if you are certain, then don’t worry about it.” He leaned across his desk and clapped me on the shoulder. “Sometimes the boat just sinks, my friend.”
    I thought about this for a moment. “Did you just tell me that you win some and you lose some?”
    Satvik considered this. “Yes,” he said. “Except I did not mention the win part.”
    *   *   *
    It was during my fifth week at the lab that I found the box from Docent.
    It started as an automated e-mail from the Transport Department saying there were some crates I might be interested in. Crates labeled PHYSICS, sitting on the loading dock.
    I found them on the far loading bay, huddled together as if for warmth. Four wooden boxes of different sizes. I got out the crowbar and opened them one by one. Three of the boxes held only weights, scales, and glassware. But the fourth box was different. Larger, heavier.
    What have we here? I said to myself. I blew the dust off the top and pried the lid open. The crowbar slipped from my hand and clanged to the floor. I stared into the fourth box for a long time.
    It took me a minute to convince myself that it might be what I thought it was.
    Very quickly, I closed the box, hammered the lid down, and went to the transport computer. The paper trail started with a company called Ingral in New York. Ingral had been bought by Docent, and now Docent had been bought by Hansen. The box had been in storage the whole time, gradually moving between trophic levels of the corporate food web. Who owned it before Ingral was anyone’s guess. The