The Mystery Drink
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A young man who has just moved to New York from the Midwest, looking for new opportunities, is sitting on a crowded subway train when he notices his neighbor staring at him. The man gets up and walks over to the young man’s seat and says in a whisper, “Would you like something to drink?”
“Yes,” says the young man and asks what he can get. The other man replies that all they have are cans of beer or sodas in bags. He points at some people standing along the aisle and tells him there are plenty of people selling drinks. “That’s not really an option,” says the young man, “I’m on my way home.”
“Don’t worry,” says the man, “we’ll make sure you don’t miss your stop.” They walk out into the station together. As soon as the door opens, however, he turns around and goes back inside. Once inside, the young man finds himself alone. The train pulls away immediately without any announcement being made.
The young man stands at the front of the car wondering why no one else got off the train; then finally realizing where they were going—he sees the doors close behind him without anyone getting off.
This happened to me once, said a voice from across the room.
“Excuse me?” replied the young man. It was too dark to see if it was someone in the group, but he didn’t think so. He’d been listening carefully to hear who would speak next but hadn’t heard anything unusual, aside from what seemed to be an unusually deep voice, which surprised him given how many people had gathered.
“It happens to everyone,” continued the voice. “We’re sorry about that. That’s part of what we need you to do here tonight. Would you care for a drink?”
He turned around slowly. In the dim light, he could see a tall, thin man dressed in black, with long white hair and a beard. His head looked balding, yet his beard had a lot of grey in it. There was something strange about him, but the young man couldn’t quite put his finger on exactly what.
“I wouldn’t mind having a drink,” said the young man.
“Excellent choice!” exclaimed the stranger, taking a bottle out of his pocket. He uncapped it and handed it to the young man, who took it and drank a few gulps of water right away.
“You’ve done well so far, but now comes the difficult part. We want you to drink this.”
The young man held the wine bottle tightly in both hands, not knowing what else to do. The man took the bottle back and poured a small amount onto his hand. The young man watched closely, not believing what was happening. The man placed the bottle under his nose and inhaled deeply.
After a moment, he handed the bottle back to the young man, who was still stunned by what had taken place. The man told him to smell the wine again, and after a minute or two of sniffing and drinking, he felt dizzy. The room seemed to spin and he felt warm all over. Then the lights went out.
When they came back on, he was in a room much larger than before. He recognized it immediately: it was a hotel lobby that he used to visit with his ex-girlfriend. She had always loved to go dancing here, though they only danced once or twice.
Their relationship had ended badly because of their different life paths, and even though they were still good friends, neither of them thought it was possible to rekindle what they once shared.
Then a woman in her mid-fifties approached him and introduced herself as the manager. “We appreciate your patronage. Your bill will be sent to you tomorrow.”
She smiled politely and walked away. The young man stood and looked around, noticing a large mirror at the end of the corridor. In the reflection he saw a tall man in his thirties wearing an expensive suit, with a long beard and a cane, walking quickly toward the elevator. It wasn’t until he reached the elevator that he realized what he had seen in the mirror; there was no cane.
The young man followed the tall man through the halls until they arrived at his door. The man knocked three times; then when he didn’t answer, opened the door and stepped inside.
“Hello!” said the tall man in a booming voice. “Sorry, I’m late! Have you eaten?”
“Uh…no…”
“Well, I’m afraid we haven’t prepared anything for dinner tonight. But I have made a reservation for us at Chez Marcel.”
Chez Marcel? Where is that? asked the young man.
“It’s one of our finest establishments,” explained the other man, “and it happens to be one of our newest restaurants. You’ll enjoy it.”
“I guess so,” said the young man, unsure of what to say next.
As soon as he entered the elevator, the young man felt better; he knew his ordeal was almost over. He was looking forward to getting home and calling his girlfriend to tell her everything she wanted to know—about where he was and why he never returned home that evening, and how much he missed her.
***
There are two men in a dark room with one light, sitting on chairs that are positioned opposite each other, facing the wall directly opposite them. They look tired as if they’d just been working very hard for hours, which they had. Now they’re relaxing a little before leaving.
They turn around on their chairs and take in the room, taking in every detail. There’s a desk against the wall with some papers on top of it. A lamp sits next to the chair where the taller man sits. To either side of the desk sit two chairs, also facing the wall. On the walls hang paintings in frames, along with a variety of other objects like candlesticks, books, and vases.
One corner of the ceiling has a painting of a woman in the middle of a forest; another has a picture of a lake on a cloudy day with mountains nearby. The floor is wooden and covered with rugs. There are several tables scattered around, but the only ones currently occupied are those holding a bottle of wine, four glasses, and a bowl containing nuts and fruit.
The men notice this but pay no attention.
“What a beautiful room!” exclaims the shorter of the men, a slight smile playing across his lips.
“Yes, quite nice,” replies the taller man in a monotone voice.
The shorter man nods enthusiastically and continues: “And look at this bottle of wine! And these nuts. This place looks wonderful.”
“That’s exactly what I thought too,” said the tall man.
The shorter man turns to his companion and smiles brightly as if he’s just come up with something very clever and wants to share it with someone who appreciates it. But the other man doesn’t respond, and instead takes a sip from his glass of wine. After a few minutes of silence, the smaller man gets bored of waiting and begins to fidget, pulling at his shirt collar.
His companion notices this and tells him to stop; he can do it later. The small man reluctantly complies. He drinks more wine from his own glass.
They’ve both noticed that the other man seems preoccupied and distracted, but the smaller man assumes this is normal behavior for an adult. He asks a question he knows will help to draw him out. “Do you work at the bank?”
“No. I’m a doctor.”
The shorter man shakes his head. “A doctor? I didn’t know doctors worked here.”
“Of course they do. We’re all bankers here.”
This time the younger man laughs and claps his hands together, causing an echo as his friend tries not to laugh aloud. “That’s a good line!” says the younger man, laughing even harder as his companion scowls slightly. “You’re really funny! How did you think of it?”
“Well,” replies his companion after taking a deep breath, “when people come into my office they often ask me how much I make per year.”
“Oh yes! I’ve heard that too!” exclaims the younger man.
“But when I tell them how much money they need to earn to reach that number, they don’t believe me, saying that it must be wrong because nobody makes enough to achieve that amount without cutting corners or skirting regulations.”
His companion shrugs and smiles. “That’s right; everybody knows banks and lawyers are always cheating the government.”
“Right. And we all know there isn’t one honest lawyer in Manhattan.”
The tall man smiles again.
“So I use that as my punchline. Then it becomes obvious that I’m telling the truth and they go away feeling foolish.”
The shorter man nods enthusiastically, pleased with himself. His friend continues. “Then I get back to work. It helps me relax a bit.”
After he leaves the elevator, the small man pauses for a moment by his desk and peers down through his open window onto the street below. As far as he can see, every single person on the street is staring straight ahead at the buildings on either side of the street. Only the occasional car, bus, or truck breaks the silence, sounding its horn.
He feels a strange sense of foreboding. For a long time, he stares at the faces in the crowd—the people walking past his office, going wherever they’re going. They have no idea how many lives their movements affect. Their lives aren’t affected by any of the things he does for them on a daily basis, and they never will be.
In a way, it’s a blessing, but sometimes he feels trapped inside the walls of the building, and his life is no different than theirs.
There’s a loud bang from somewhere outside the building, followed by an ear-splitting scream. Everyone in the area stops and stares at the source of the noise. The small man watches intently as two men walk out onto a sidewalk and begin beating each other with sticks, kicking feet, and swinging fists.
A woman walks up beside them and shouts at them, but neither one responds. The woman turns around and yells at another passerby. No response. She looks up at the sky and screams at God, and then at the two men still fighting, asking why she can’t find anyone to listen to her pleas.
She’s ignored as well.
When the commotion finally dies down, the man who started the fight comes over and grabs the other man by the lapels, and shoves him against a building. Then the man who has been beaten stands and approaches him. They glare at each other, and suddenly one of the men draws a pistol from beneath his coat.
He points it directly at the other man. The tall man pulls out his own handgun and points it at the attacker, who lowers his weapon and backs up slowly until he’s out of range of the taller man’s bullet. The man who fired the gun is smiling; he waves to his opponent, thanking him for the compliment.
As the taller man begins reloading his weapon, a police cruiser screeches to a halt in front of the entrance to the building, blocking it off completely. Two cops jump out and start running toward where the fight took place.
The short man takes a deep breath before returning to his seat.
The End