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  PLUS ONE

  By

  Antony Bennison

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  Plus One

  Copyright 2012 by Antony Bennison

  Cover image "Lucky Escape" by Tophee on Flickr

  Released under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 licence

  Thank you for downloading this eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for personal purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form, with the exception of quotes used in reviews.

  Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

  Find the author at www.antonybennison.com

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  PLUS ONE

  The chicken hit his plate with a hollow thunk, while the fries slid off the server's spatula as one soggy mass. Winstanley slid the tray along the cafeteria rails, towards the sweet counter, and grabbed a plastic tub of jellybeans.

  Malka waited there, studying the large jar above the shelf. A handwritten sticker said if you guessed the amount of jellybeans in the jar then the employee with the closest guess by the end of the week would win the lot. He asked Malka how many there were.

  'Four hundred and fourteen,' she said, her mental calculation at an end. She would be right too. Malka wrote down the number and her name on a competition slip, then dropped it into a box. 'Not that I need to win, the amount you buy. Another tub?'

  His little plastic tub contained no more than eight jellybeans. Winstanley knew they equalled ten calories each. Knew because Malka had insisted he download a diet app on his phone.

  She went to sit down at one of the few white Formica tables that wasn't covered in trays of half-eaten food. Winstanley didn't get how supposedly smart people, like the technicians and theorists that worked here, couldn't clean up after themselves.

  Malka had chosen a table by the glass wall with a view that looked over the street outside. Winstanley picked a jellybean out of his tub and dropped it into the jar.

  Four hundred and fifteen now.

  He sat opposite Malka and sawed at the chicken kiev. He said, 'Your company party been cancelled or not?'

  Malka leant forward and smoothed the name tag stuck to his shirt's breast pocket. The one that said GUEST in huge letters, just above his name in smaller type. She said, 'It's not happening, I'm pretty sure.'

  'So we may as well go after I finish this?' Winstanley said, pointing his fork at his meal, ready for her bullshit response.

  And there it was. 'You go, I need to stick around and try and work out how to fix the machine. My experiment has gone... it's not gone well.'

  Winstanley chewed a mouthful of chicken and put down his cutlery. He felt his phone vibrate in his trouser pocket. A text, but one he wasn't going to check now.

  'How's the kiev?' she asked.

  'Cold and dry,' Winstanley said. 'Like they cooked it a dozen times and left it out twice as long. Funny that. You always went on about how nice it was here. That was why you didn't mind working late, missing dinner with me all those times.'

  'Usually the food is pretty good,' Malka said, staring out the window again.

  'Uh-hu, and now I should go home and leave you here to, what, work late again?'

  That got her to look at him. 'Don't be an arse, dear. It doesn't suit you. I've got enough on my mind without you coming here and acting up.'

  'You didn't have to bring me,' Winstanley said, 'You didn't have to tell me the invitation was for you and a plus one.' Reminding her that she hadn't told him when she first got the invite card. He had to find out for himself when he was emptying her pockets before putting on a clothes wash.

  'You want to see what I'm dealing with?' she said, standing up then heading to the glass panel doors at the far end of the cafeteria.

  A favourite trick of hers. Ask a question with that pissed off tone then walk away before he could respond. Winstanley shoved in another mouthful of kiev then went to join her.

  The only other employee in the cafeteria carried a cup of coffee to her table. She was a woman with frizzy hair, tired eyes, and a stained blouse that he remembered spotting when he had come in here. That was after Malka had insisted showing him where she worked.

  This frizzy haired woman clearly needed the caffeine. A shame because, as Winstanley passed her, she spilled the coffee down her blouse.

  Malka swiped her pass card against the sensor on the wall and the glass doors slid open. He followed her through as she said, 'The experiment has led to some unexpected results.'

  Winstanley didn't ask more. His ignorance of her job was one area of their relationship where he knew he was in the wrong. She had tried to explain it to him. How it was related to time and space formulas and simulated universe theories. He had lost track and asked if it was anything like what they were doing at CERN in Switzerland. She said not really. However, since then, he always described her job to friends and family as "like what they do at that Large Hadron Collider".

  They walked down a blank corridor, the only area he had seen that didn't have large windows or glass doors. At the far end a security officer, sitting at a desk two sizes too small, asked for their passes. Malka showed the officer hers and gave him Winstanley's name. Winstanley watched as the officer, with a chewed up pencil, wrote it down in a logbook, made a spelling mistake, then rubbed it out with the wet eraser end and tried again.

  Winstanley and Malka went through the doors then Malka nodded back at the security officer, who was shaking his head. He rubbed out Winstanley's name again and had another attempt at filling in the logbook.

  Winstanley turned back and saw where they were standing. This place again. Malka had been so proud showing it to him, but at no point offered to tell him what the hell it actually did. Copper pipes covered the walls of the large, circular room. He didn't know if they were decorative or functional. In the centre, at least twenty feet wide, built from floor to ceiling, stood a concrete pillar.

  Malka said, 'Impressive, huh?' then walked round the edge, circling the pillar. Winstanley followed until they were half way round. Here, embedded into the concrete, was a black metal plate with a keypad and a digital display like on an alarm clock.

  The display flicked between reading 00:00 and 00:01, then back again. Malka gave him a moment to look at it, then continued around the pillar.

  They approached two men in suits talking to each other. The closest was saying how wasted he was going to get at the party.

  The second said, 'Very attractive, mate. You'll do well slurring your words and dribbling on the ladies.'

  'Nah, I can hold my booze.'

  'You didn't say you were gonna drink loads, Leon, you said you were gonna get wasted. Meaning you're planning on drinking more than you can handle.'

  'Ah, who cares, the girls'll be drunk too,' Leon said. 'We're celebrating. Today's launch day and, man, I'm gonna get so wasted.'

  'Very attractive, mate. You'll do well slurring your words and dribbling on the ladies.'

  As Malka passed, Leon said, 'Nah, I can hold my booze. Hey Malka, you coming tonight?'

  She ignored him and continued.

  Winstanley said to Leon, 'The party's on?'

  'Hell yes. It's gonna be off the hook.'

  Malka grabbed Winstanley's arm and pulled him away. She said, 'Don't talk to them. Seriously. Not a good idea.'

  They completed their orbit of the pillar and headed back to the doors. Winstanley could hear the second man saying, 'You made out you were gonna do more than just drink, Leon. You said you were getting wasted. That means you're planning to go beyond your limit and drink more than you can handle.'

  The security guard was still rubbing, writing, rubbing then writing. Winstanley thought to spell out his name to him,
but couldn't be bothered. It wasn't that hard.

  Back in the cafeteria Malka said, 'It's worse the closer you are to the machine. People get caught in loops. Though they're almost logical. Like a software program running a GoTo loop until a condition is met. I need to figure out the condition or force the program to continue.'

  'Sounded like the party is on to me,' Winstanley said.

  Malka pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

  Winstanley's phone vibrated in his pocket again, and again he didn't acknowledge it. He knew who it was. The cute girl who lived across from them. He'd always got on with her, flirted with her, and recently the flirting had got a little stronger. Suggestions of meeting for a drink had been made. He had told her he'd meet her if his plans tonight were cancelled.

  Winstanley knew he should back away from the neighbour, but he told himself that it wasn't as though he had done anything. Not yet. He was keeping the girl on hold, wanting her there in case Malka hurt him. He wanted to know he had options for when it went bad.

  He said, 'Why couldn't I talk to that Leon guy? Scared I'll hear something about you that I shouldn't?'

  'Did you even listen to them? You talk to them and you could get stuck too. At first it was just John there, making the same calculations for the machine, over and over. Then Leon went to try and snap him out of it, tried to start with casual talk, and they've been having that same conversation ever since. I've been walking around, sweeping past them, every fifteen minutes. I always hear the same words. Also, each time I go past, Leon asks about the party. I might think I'm going there to check on them, see they've not got any worse. But... but I'm not entirely sure I have the choice. I'm scared that I'm doomed to walk around that blasted pillar for the rest of my life.'

  Winstanley said, 'You're working too hard.'

  She shrugged and gazed out the window. 'The machine was designed to test various theories to do with, well, with my field. That's why they hired me. The idea that a simulated universe might have limits beyond physics. Might have behavioural restrictions. We wanted to stress those. Only I think I went and broke it.'

  "The concrete thing there? Wouldn't worry about it." Something was bugging Winstanley. 'Hang on, Leon? He's the one you claim you've been working late with.'

  'I swear that Volkswagen outside has passed three times now. What if the field of effect is expanding? Wait a minute. Claim? What are you saying?'

  Winstanley held up his hands. 'I'm not talking about this now. You're stressed, it wouldn't be fair.'

  Malka tilted her head and stared at him. Finally she said, 'Fuck you. You've been hinting at something all evening and as soon as I call you on it you back down. You can fuck off with that shit right now. I'm done playing those games.'

  'You're done? What does done mean?'

  'I don't know what done means.'

  'You said it.' He watched the frizzy-haired woman go to her table with a fresh cup of coffee and, as soon as she sat down, spill it down herself again.

  Unlucky.

  Malka said, 'We really having this conversation here?'

  'Fine, don't tell me. I'm staying for the party though. I'm sure it won't be awkward with me there, watching Leon dribble on you.'

  'If the party's even on. The room they've decorated is located on the floor above the machine. I'm scared we go in there we'll see nothing but scientists walking in circles or dancing the tango by way of the Mandelbrot Set.'

  'Whatever. Can I at least eat before we go see? I'm still bloody hungry.'

  Malka grabbed a tray and slammed it into his hands. 'Get some more food if you must.'

  Winstanley went and asked for the same as before. The chicken hit his plate with a hollow thunk, while the fries slid off the server's spatula as one soggy mass. Winstanley slid the tray along the cafeteria rails, towards the sweet counter, and grabbed a plastic tub of jellybeans.

  Malka waited there, studying the large jar above the shelf. A handwritten sticker said if you guessed the amount of jellybeans in the jar then the employee with the closest guess by the end of the week would win the lot. He asked Malka how many there were.

  'Four hundred and fifteen,' she said. Malka wrote down the number and her name on a competition slip and dropped it into a box. 'Not that I need to win, the amount you buy. Another tub?'

  She went to sit down at one of the few white Formica tables that wasn't covered in trays of half-eaten food. Winstanley picked a jellybean out of his tub and dropped it into the jar.

  Four hundred and sixteen now.

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