Jack returned his glasses to the bridge of his nose. He swallowed down the bolus that had slowly been rising in the back of his throat and fidgeted his eyes back up the desk to the suited woman sitting behind it; her arms were folded in front of her.  Her laugh lines were not doing much laughing at the moment. Her nameplate proudly boasted the name ‘Dr. Barr.’

“Would you like me to repeat the question Mr. Wynn?” she raised her eyebrows in a tired sort of way. Her dirty blond hair sat just behind her shoulders, their roots had gone prematurely grey from too many long nights of paperwork. Jack cleared his throat.

“Could you? I guess im just having a little trouble understanding what the issue here is.”

“The trouble here, Mr. Wynn, is you. Let us take a little trip down memory lane, shall we?” Her voice sounded like a triumphant weasel. She turned the computer monitor into view of Jack. A file with the name ‘Wynn, Jack, M.’ boldy beamed from it. “No job experience, no references, an arrest record, you flunked out of college-” Jack interrupted her

“I dropped out of college.”

“Why, pray tell, did you drop out of college Mr. Wynn?” Jack leaned back in his chair and put on quizzical look on hi face. He stroked his bare chin in thought as Dr. Barr looked increasingly more annoyed.

“Well,” Jack shifted back up in his seat. “I suppose I left college because I was failing all my classes.”

“Get out of my office Jack.” Her quiet voice screamed at Jack. He stood up from his chair. Dr. Barr did not follow him. She closed the folder that she had open on her desk and did not look up as Jack went to leave. He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Dr. Barr, who had not looked up as she put the folder on the top of the shredder. “Mr. Wynn, let me assure you that I have heard them all. I know you think that you will someday see your name in lights, that you will one day get the one up on me and someday i’ll be the one asking you for a job but let me tell you something. That day will never come for you, Jack. Your life is not a book. You won't be the hero. You won’t get the girl and you definitely won't save the day. You are not the main character, Jack.  Time to turn up, log on, and get some serious work done.” Jack shut his mouth, readjusted his glasses, and shifted his way out of the office. He heard the shredder start up as he shut the door.

Jack was not excited to return home. He shared a condo with his roommate and long-term pain-in-the-ass, Andrew Roper. Andrew was only a couple years Jack’s junior but didn't let that stop him from treating Jack like sod. But they didn’t always fight, they did have a relationship of sorts; Jack paid the rent, Andrew didn’t kick him out.

Jack fumbled around the pocket of his khakis, trying to get his house key. November had reared it’s ugly head, however, and he found it hard to grip anything in this cold weather. It didn’t help that it was quarter to seven either. When he was finally confident of the grip he had on his keys he pulled them out. He put his put the key in the lock, twisted, and heard the familiar and satisfying ‘click’ of the door unlocking. Jack gave a sigh of relief and began turning the door knob.

“Are you Jack Wynn?” The voice came from behind him. Jack hit his head against his door. His complex was riddled with people either trying to get something or sign something. Jack turned his head tiredly to the voice. He didn’t look like a salesman or preacher of any sort. In fact he looked quite out of place. He was a few inches taller than Jack and at least ten years older than him. He had dark blonde hair that was parted down the middle which covered his ears that was polluted with grey hairs.  His eyes had a muddy green color and he looked as if he had forgotten to shave that morning. The most striking feature of this man, however, was his cleanliness. He looked impeccable, not mark of dirt or dust was present on him. In his hand was a piece of paper.

“Ah, no. No i’m not Jack Wynn. I’m roomates with him though, is it anything important?” Jack responded. These kinds of people really annoyed Jack. He just wanted to go home and get harassed by his roommate. Is that really too much to ask for?

“No, it’s nothing terribly important. I’m Quinton, by the way.” He put his gloved hand out for a handshake. Once he noticed he had the glove on he gave a worried sigh, took it off, and put the bare hand back out to Jack.

    Jack, not one to seem rude, put his own hand out and shook hands with Quinton. As soon as he touched Quinton’s hand Jack felt a jolt of recoil from him. It was a short handshake as Quinton pulled away quickly. He looked a little flustered as he recomposed himself and surreptitiously slid the piece of paper he was brandishing into his coat pocket. He wore a black overcoat that fell to around his ankles; it had white buttons and appeared to be tricot. After he secreted the piece of paper away, he gave a great huff, fixed his jacket, and briskly walked away with a large gait and without so much as a goodbye. Jack, finally, entered his condo.

The condo (or ‘Echo Base’ as Andrew would like to call it.) was nicer than Jack felt he deserved. It was two stories, three bath, and two bedroom. The kitchen that opened up next to the door smelt of a hearty dinner that he had purposefully missed. Andrew and whatever company he may or may not have were on the second floor. Jack quickly hung a left into the garage which held Andrew’s car and quickly shuffled his way down the stairs into his room.

The room that Jack spent most of his time was a converted basement. It still shared many qualities with the basement. It was dank, cold, and more often than not quite dark. Big support pillars were dotted around the room and the walls were coated with a dark shade of green. Green also emanated from a CRT monitor that hummed in the back. The room was littered with tools and parts. In Jack’s spare time he liked to tinker with computers and had tried to invent things as a hobby. He had cases and CPUs and motherboards all over the room. Most of the stuff was broken but Jack couldn’t bring himself to throw away computer parts. He threw his pack on his couch and slumped himself into his computer chair. He wheeled around to his computer. Two new emails. One of them was from his sister, Gwen . Jack’s eyes darted to the dusty picture of her that he had next to his computer.

It was a photo of Jack and Gwen on Jack’s 17th birthday at the aquarium. She was only 6 in the picture. They both looked so happy. Jack quickly opened the email from Gwen.

Dear Jack-

Hi Jack! It’s Gwen! How have you been? I really really miss you the house has been really quiet lately. Mom has been at work at lot lately so we haven’t talked much. I got an A on my spelling test last week. I put it on the fridge. Im very proud of it. Please come around soon. I really miss you.

                    -Love, Gwen

    Gwen was right. He longed to visit Gwen again although present circumstances had made that difficult. He moved out of state about a year ago and that made contact with her entirely email based. Gwen lived with her mother who Jack always regarded as a very attractive woman. High cheekbones, long nose, and the most beautiful ebony skin that Jack had ever seen. Jack and Gwen’s father, in a word, was a deadbeat. In two words, an alcoholic deadbeat. In three words, an alcoholic deadbeat druggie. But that was neither here nor there.

    Jack clicked on the second email. It was a notice about the annual invention convention at the local rec center. Jack had signed up for their newsletter, he quite enjoyed the yearly invention convention. It was an excuse from him to get out and actually get some work done. Jack heard a knock on the door. He prayed it wasn’t Quinton again. He heard Andrew thunder down the stairs from his room, march to the door and open it. He heard the thud of someone dropping something, silence for a minute or so, then the door slammed shut. Jack payed no mind.

⟻⥌⟼

    It took a few hours but eventually Jack succumbed to his hunger. Jack didn’t eat much, he just didn’t get hungry. After a few hours of losing himself into the internet his belly began to quiver. He climbed out of his chair sleepily and stepped on a screw. He began cursing the screw as he hopped up the stairs on one foot. The garage was very dark and Jack had to fumble around in the blackness to find his way to the door. He opened the door, stepped over Andrew’s body, yawned, and dragged himself into the kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets, the kitchen, and finally settled on some ice-cream in the freezer. He took out the ice-cream and pried open the tub, making sure it was still good. He put it in the microwave, set it for six seconds, and looked around the kitchen. It was then that he noticed the dead body.

Jack rushed over to the body and threw himself on top of it. It was Andrew’s body. His eyes were glazed over and a slight dribble of what Jack could only assume to be a spittle of some sort going down his chin. He felt cold. Jack ripped the shirt off of the body of Andrew. There wasnt any puncture wound or blood. There was, however, a rectangular bruise (or burn, Jack couldn’t properly tell in the panic.) on the top of his collar bone. Jack checked for a pulse. He didn’t know why he did, he knew Andrew had been dead, he was just in a panic. He heard the microwave beep.