Technological Wonderland

It was the middle of the night and he always hated the middle of the night, but he had a job to do. He carried a large bag as he slunk through the dark alley. It was a simple job and he'd done it plenty of times. He'd even gotten pretty good at it. Between the city’s limited lighting and his black cloak, which he always carried just in case, it was easy to get where he needed to be. Organs, they always asked for organs, which he never bothered to wonder why. It wasn't like they'd hurt him; they'd offered the money and there was nothing else they could do to him that he wasn't already hurting.

Finally, he reached the heavy metal door and knocked. Hard. He had to make sure they heard him. He knew how to wait, though, how to stand at the door and wait for it to open. Sometimes it would be a long wait, sometimes a short one. He was always prepared for either. This was not a particularly long wait; the door opened and a young, pretty woman appeared.

"Are you here about the organs?"

"Yes," he said and handed her the bag.

"I don't know...can I?"

"I don't care," he said and turned to leave. "Just give me the money. It's half upfront."

She looked at him quizzically as she tucked the bag under her arm. He'd never had to explain that it was half upfront before. Ever. Especially not to a pretty girl.

"You've never had a problem before," she said.

"Yes, well," he said, "I always said I'd do better if I was paid."

"Is it my fault you turned out to be a liar?"

"I'm letting you off easy. I could have kept the five. I could have just kept the organs. I'm doing you a favor."

"My sister died last week," she said as she locked the door.

"What?"

"Took one of the organ donations. It's complicated because of this. Is it even possible to do it without the organ? Organs?"

"I want money," he said. "Cash."

He'd never had to pay a lot for organs, but he wasn't going to argue. Especially not when it was so close to his end. He could always go to the other side, but he wasn't interested in that. He'd seen what that was like. There was something to be said for a clean, quick and simple end.

"There's a problem," she said as she opened the private entrance. "And I really am sorry about your sister. Are you kidding? It's never easy losing someone."

He entered the room, which was empty save the large operating table. There was a small chair in the corner: one smooth rock, the right size and comfortably waiting for someone. The lights were already dimmed and he couldn't begrudge them that. He didn't mind the darkness. He didn't mind the way they kept their silence. There was a small pain in his chest.

"So," he said, "where's my money?"

"I'll get you the money," she said. "But you're going to have to help me."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're going to save this girl's life. The only way to do that is to do that. And you're going to do whatever it is I ask in return. Nothing will happen to you. Nothing will happen to you if she doesn't survive."

"You know me," he said, "it's not going to happen. It's not going to end. It's just going to happen again."

"It's not going to end," she said, a piece of paper pressed into his hand. "One thing I'll never forget. She was my sister. She was my little sister. She was my baby sister. I'm never going to forget that."

"What is this?"

"I'll explain it all on the way. You're not going to have time to think it over."

"I'm not doing anything."

"I'll let you know what I'm going to do while you're in there. I'm going to leave the money on the table and then come through the door. I'll be carrying that blue gun box of yours. I'll be carrying it on my shoulder. I'll be wearing a blue sweater and jeans."

He rose from the work table and stepped into the hallway. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness and he used his squint to make out the forms of the furniture in the room. A hospital bed, a chair, two desks, a private bathroom and a gun box, just as she said. There was a single small window, which he hoped he could squeeze through.

"Count five minutes starting from when you finish counting," she said. "Then knock twice."

He heard her leave the room and he heard the door close behind her. He watched the door for a moment, but he didn't want to take too long. He knew how long five minutes could be, but even if he didn't, he'd just have to start counting regardless.

He headed towards the small window. His time in the dark alley had already allowed his eyes to adjust; it was just a matter of moving slowly and making sure he didn't bump into anything. He reached the window, slid it open and felt around the edge. There was a grate on the outside and he moved towards that. He carefully stuck one arm through the bars and felt around the outside of the grating. He'd always been able to find something to use for this, whenever he was trapped. It was just a matter of time.