Doors Closing
“Like.”
“Like”
LOL
[sad emoji]
[care emoji]
[heart emoji]
Terrell absentmindedly thumbed through his social media accounts. A video on Instagram. A trending topic on Twitter. A friend’s promotion announced on LinkedIn. A meme war on Facebook. Terrell wasn’t really paying attention as he thumbed through the various accounts. He was more focused on what got him on the train in the first place, and now he feared for his life. And part of him is still wondering if he should have notified the police, his friends, or anyone. A darker part of him wanted to see just how far down the rabbit hole he had gone. He was calm now, but how long will this peace last?
It began with a simple email. The email looked innocent enough, just official enough to not be spam. And Terrell knew better than to fall for spam emails. “I remember the time that scammer pulled the ‘pigeon drop’ scam on me, robbing me of my deposit for my first apartment”, he told himself. And THAT happened back when dinosaurs walked the earth, before email was as ubiquitous as it is now, and scammers had to confront you in person to hoodwink you, and not rely on Nigerian prince email gimmicks.
The email was from a source he recognized. It was from a boutique market research firm where he applied for work a few years ago. He had long-since forgotten about them, because that was many rejection letters and online applications ago. And although he wasn’t looking for work now, he was curious about what they could want.
“Mr. Evans”, the email read, “Your name came up as a candidate for a position we had open some time ago. We regret that we couldn’t take you on at the time, but we would like to consider you for a special one-time project. This is a highly-sensitive, confidential, and important short-term project, with a very generous one-time payout. If you are interested, call us at (888) 555–5120, and listen to the automated system.”
When Terrell called the number, he was stunned at how detailed the supposed automated system was. “Good day, Mr. Evans. Thank you for taking the time to discuss this project. Remember, confidentiality is of the utmost importance. Upon the completion of this call, $20,000 from an untraceable account will be deposited into your Bank of America checking account, with the routing number of 701000123, and the account number of 10431038. Please follow these instructions to the letter.
“Do not withdraw any of the funds deposited for 72 hours after the deposit has been made. Your bank account will be locked.
“After 72 hours, you will receive detailed instructions regarding the assignment. Instructions will be sent to your cell phone via text. Your account will then be unlocked.
“Upon accepting the assignment, you understand that any deviation from the instructions can result in civil and criminal liabilities, up to and including prison.
“If the assignment is not completed within the allotted time frame, or if you fail to follow the instructions to the letter, there will be consequences.
“If you complete the assignment within the allotted time frame, you may be eligible for a tax-free bonus of up to 100% of your original stipend.
“If you choose to accept this assignment, simply say ‘Yes’ at the beep and await further instructions. If you choose to decline, simply hang up, and we will wish you the best of luck on your future endeavors. BEEEEEP.”
“Eh, what’s the worst that can happen if I say ‘Yes’”, Terrell mused to himself. At best, he’d get 20 stacks dropped into his bank account, if all of this is real. At worst, what? A slap on the wrist? He was intrigued about the level of knowledge they had on him. How did they know his bank account information? Were they expecting him to call?
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“Yes”, Terrell responded to the automated system. “Thank you, Mr. Evans. PROJECT MOLESKINE begins now. Further instructions will be sent to you soon. Goodbye.”
Terrell remembered that he needed to stop by the ATM for a little cash, without thinking twice about the phone call that had taken place. He inserted his debit card into the ATM, entered his PIN code, and before he realized it, a message was flashing on the ATM screen: DUE TO YOUR INVOLVEMENT WITH PROJECT MOLESKINE, YOUR BANK ACCOUNT IS TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE. Within seconds, the message disappeared, and the ATM gave him a receipt. The “Pending Account” balance read: $20,134.39.
Terrell’s eyes grew as big as saucers and a chill crept down his spine. His bank account was never that huge. He had a few dollars in his wallet to hold him over for the next few days, and he still had a few credit cards. So, there was no immediate need for some cash, and he’d just have to wait. “And just what the heck is a ‘MOLESKIN’ or ‘MOLESKINE’ or ‘GUACAMOLE’ anyway? Well, the heat is on the sausage now, so no turning back, I guess.”
Three days later, Terrell was at the bookstore, looking for vintage Calvin & Hobbes books. “SIMON SAYS GET THE F*** UP!!!!”, his phone blared, to the amusement of other customers and the clerk. He’s been meaning to change that incoming text ring tone. The message read: “Good afternoon, Terrell. Your bank deposit has cleared. Your assignment is to pick up a small black notebook from the lobby of the Prudential Building and deliver it directly to Mr. Gerald Eisner at the address the receptionist gives you. You may not ask any questions. Do this now, and once you are in possession of the notebook, you are not to open it under any circumstances. You have five hours to complete this task.”
Wanting to feel like a VIP, Terrell Uber’ed a ride to the Prudential Building. He approached the receptionist, and before he could say anything, she handed him a black notebook, made with Italian leather. And seconds later, she vanished without a trace. Terrell noticed a Post-It note on the cover, and it read:
Gerald Eisner
10 Half Day Road, Suite 450
Lincolnshire, IL
Terrell knew that it would take a while to get to Lincolnshire from downtown, so he hopped on the Red Line going northbound. While he was on the train, he eyed the notebook sitting in his lap. It wasn’t secured by anything but the gold bookmark ribbon.
“A peek wouldn’t hurt”, he told himself. He removed the ribbon and opened the notebook and thumbed through the pages. They were all completely blank. “Ohhhh-kay”, he mused to himself. He knew that he still had a job to complete, and he was still eligible for a possible bonus. He dozed off after the train departed Belmont, only to be stunned awake by a new incoming email notification.
“Mr. Evans, you failed to follow instructions. Your stipend has been withdrawn, and additional consequences are forthcoming. You were warned.” Attached to the email was a copy of his bank statement, with a balance of -$5,000. Terrell was speechless, and a sense of dread fell over him as he realized that there was another attachment. Terrell reluctantly opened this attachment, and to his shock, it was a short video of him on the train, with the caption “SELECTED FOR TERMINATION… SELECTED FOR TERMINATION…”
“WHAT THE F…”, Terrell exclaimed loudly enough for the entire car to hear him. He threw the notebook and ran to the next car. His heart was racing! He finally took a seat when a text message popped up: “ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES, MR. EVANS. You were warned.” The train approached the Howard Street terminal, and Terrell shut his phone completely off. As the train pulled in, Terrell was stunned to find that his phone was remotely turned back on!
Message after message started flooding his inbox.
“YOU HAVE SOWN THE WIND. PREPARE TO REAP THE WHIRLWIND.”
“THE BELL TOLLS FOR THEE.”
“IT IS JUDGEMENT DAY.”
He powered down his phone again and boarded the southbound train. Minutes passed, and he powered his phone back on. No more unusual messages. No more new e-mails with attachments. Beads of sweat popped on his forehead, and he checked his bank account. “Your current balance is $134.39.” He loudly sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow.
The train left the Cermak Chinatown station, and Terrell became even more relaxed. He began to see the usual “Transit Tetris” cast of characters: The guy selling loose cigarettes, the lady preaching and praying loudly, schoolkids roughhousing. At 47th Street, a homeless man who was silent since he boarded the train, began his pitch for spare change: “Excuse me, but if you can spare 25 to 50 cents to get me something to eat and to invest in your freedom, I would thank you.” And when no one answered his plea, he continued with “You see, that’s why we can’t get anywhere. I’m a pope of the orthodoxy, and I can make you enough money to be an oligarch on the level of Queen Elizabeth or David Koch. You just have to trust me, and pay no attention to what the Disney Channel is telling you about a hashtag and a challenge.”
The train approached the Garfield station, and Terrell was that much closer to his Hyde Park apartment and a nice shower to wash the day’s events away. He made his way to the door, and the “pope of orthodoxy” stumbled into him and hugged him. Before Terrell could move past the pope, he felt a sharp pain in his back. He was unable to gasp and could barely breathe. The “pope” held on to him and whispered in his ear “Courtesy of Project Moleskine. Encryption measures and nanotech tracking devices were embedded within the blank pages of the notebook and the ribbon, and it reported that you failed to follow the instructions. You were told that there were consequences for not following the instructions.”
The train approached the station, the door opened, and the “pope” disappeared into the crowd. Terrell was getting weaker, and couldn’t muster the strength to ask for help. He fell face down in the door, blood pooling onto the floor. And the last thing he heard before fading away was “** DING DONG ** Doors closing. 63rd Street is next. Doors open on the left at 63rd Street.”
