"world peace"

In the port city of Bristol, a branch of the Crisp Toothpaste Company could be found in an old office building which sat resolutely on Madison Street, its parking lot empty up until 5:37 when Walter Green, an accountant there, arrived promptly everyday. The manager of the Bristol branch was Nick Thomas and he often told Walter that he did not need to come in on weekends. But Walter would just insist that he had nothing better to do, and, to be frank, he didn’t.

Every morning Walter woke up at 4:53 and put on a pair of khaki pants and a short-sleeved, white button-down shirt, both of which were usually stained. He would walk into the kitchenette in his apartment and pull two boiled eggs and a pitcher of homemade orange juice from his refrigerator. Then he would eat the eggs and drink the juice. The routine was straight-forward and somewhat tedious, much like Walter himself.

At 5:18, a time which had been calculated after countless days of arriving too early or too late, Walter would leave the apartment, leather messenger bag strung over his shoulder. He would pass by Bertha Prince’s apartment, an old woman whose name Walter thought to be rather unfortunate. Walter and Bertha’s contact was limited to hallway pleasantries and Wednesday evenings, when Bertha would bring over oatmeal cookies which Walter hated but hadn’t the heart to tell her. Then, as he exited, Billy Trent, a boy who was about 6 years old, would run after Walter and throw a toy car at him. Lamentably, the boy had rather good aim. Walter drove a silver Volkswagen Jetta, a small car which smelled like wax since the previous owner’s child had stuck a crayon in the heater, and at 5:19 he would unlock it and climb inside.

Most mornings were insignificant, so the fact that the morning of November 12th was not so insignificant made the date stick out in Walter’s head. It had started with his alarm breaking, which had led to his waking up 7 minutes late, which had led to rushing and, subsequently, more and more belatedness. Perhaps one of the most surprising parts of the morning was Bertha Prince. She stood outside her apartment, holding a tupperware container of oatmeal cookies with one hand, and a cane with the other. On any other morning, Walter would have welcomed the exchange, but this was not just any morning. Walter was late, very late, and he did not have time for small talk about Bertha’s grandchildren.

“Oh, Walter dear, I have got to tell you all about-” Bertha began, a smile growing on her face. But walter didn’t let her finish. He just ran past her and yelled “Sorry!”

When Walter finally made it out of the elevator, he shielded his head, awaiting Billy Trent’s toy car which would inevitably fly at him. Except, it didn’t. Walter took his hands off his head and looked around. Billy was no where to be seen and there was no toy car flying. Relief flooded through him, but it only lasted for a moment. As Walter turned around to face the door, there was Billy, holding a water gun and snickering.

“No, don’t!” But it was no use, Billy pulled the trigger and just like that Walter was soaking wet and dripping onto the carpet. Letting out a grunt of utter frustration, Walter put his hands in his hair and pulled, while Billy ran to the elevator. There was no time to go all the way back upstairs and change, so Walter just headed to the garage and hoped that Nick would let him go back and dry off later.

When Walter got in the dimly lit, concrete garage, he sprinted to his car and unlocked the door. He slid in and for a bit there he actually thought he might make it on time. But then he turned his key and stepped on the gas. But the car didn’t move. It just let a loud, sputtering noise. Walter sighed and slouched back in his chair. He didn’t have the energy or time to throw a fit. Walter went over his options in his mind. He could call the auto shop, but it would take at least 15 minutes to get off hold, let alone get his car fixed. He could also walk. Crisp Toothpaste wasn’t far, it’d take 20 minutes or so to get there and that way he might even be dry by then. Walter nodded to himself and hopped out of the car, locking it as he went.

By the time Walter had gotten to work, a meeting had already begun and he was forced to sneak in. His attempt at stealth was unsuccessful when he tripped over a potted plant and it shattered; dirt and shards of dried clay scattered across the floor. Even though Walter had squeezed his eyes shut, he could tell that every person in the room was staring at him. Walter could feel hot blood rush to his cheeks.

“Ah, Walter, so glad you could make it. I see you’ve broken the fern, that’s too bad. Why don’t you fetch a maintenance man to clean it up.” Nick said, and although his words were kind, his voice was not. Walter opened his eyes and looked up at his boss, a moustached man with a huge belly.

“Yes, I’m on it!” Walter said quickly. He rushed from the room, hoping to avoid the judgmental eyes of his coworkers. After closing the door he took a deep breath in an attempt to collect himself and then headed for the stairs, wanting to avoid the elevators after his encounter by the things earlier that morning.

At the Bristol branch of the Crisp Toothpaste Company, there had been an altercation between the maintenance workers and the salesman which had resulted in a suit, which was later dropped. Walter didn’t know much about the details of the ordeal but he did know that right after the suit was dropped the maintenance workers had ended up with their very own office and bonuses to boot. And so, because of that suit, Walter was now racing down flights of stairs to the second floor, where the Maintenance and Preservation of the Crisp Toothpaste Company Building and Facility(M.P.C.T.C.B.F.) Office was. Clearly, the maintenance workers had not been as successful with name choosing as they had been with the suit.

When Walter finally came to the second floor, he hauled the cool grey door to the floor open and entered the level, gasping for breath from the exertion of running downstairs. Walter rarely ventured outside of the fifth floor, Accounting, and even more rare was a venture to the second floor, which was home to not only Maintenance but also the building Security. This made for simultaneously the safest and cleanest floor in the building, since somehow the maintenance workers and security guards weren’t quite motivated to take care of the other floors just as much as their own. But, no matter how much cleaning the maintenance workers did, the floor was still just as dismal as the rest of the building, although it did have much shinier glass. Walter hurried past cubicles to a corner office which bore the label “Renee Fanta, Maintenance Supervisor.” The shades in the glass office were pulled down, shielding the inside from those on the outside. Walter pushed the door to the office open and immediately regretted.

“Yes, I do think that we will be able to do business, Mister… what was your name again?” Renee, a woman with broad shoulders, a hooked nose, and mousy brown hair, was saying to a man whose face Walter couldn’t see but was sitting in the chair across from her. Walter pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his cheeks go red yet again. Renee looked up at Walter and furrowed her eyebrows.

“Are you that guy from accounting?” She sounded more exasperated than truly curious.
“Um, yes?” The man in the chair across from Renee didn’t turn around, or even acknowledge his presence.
“Great, why don’t you wait outside?” Renee asked rhetorically, through gritted teeth.
“Right…” Walter muttered and spun around, feeling like an idiot for the umpteenth time that day. But he was stopped in his tracks by the gravelly sound of the man’s voice.

“Nonsense, we were just finishing up. I’ll get out of your hair.” He spoke almost under his breath, in an odd sort of stage whisper. The man stood up, shook a shaken-looking Renee’s hand, and turned to flash Walter a smile, before exiting the office. But, before the man exited, Walter caught a glimpse of his face. The man had a greying beard that came down to his chest and dark blue eyes that were so startlingly familiar it made Walter’s pulse quicken. His black suit was spotless. Walter squinted at the man, watching him leave until he was snapped out of the trance by Renee’s voice.

“Hello? What did you want anyway?” She asked, sounding more than a little frustrated. Ignoring Renee, Walter just shook his head and followed the man without thinking. There was something about the man that intrigued him.

By the time Walter had finally caught up with the man, they were just outside of the building. Walter was right behind the man, preparing to ask him for his name, when the man stopped. Walter walked into his back and nearly fell over.

“Walter Green.” The man said Walter’s name like he was some sort of celebrity that he had heard many good things about.

“H-how do you know my name?” Was all Walter could get out.

“Never mind that. The important thing is that you listen to me and listen carefully.” By now the man had turned around so that he was facing Walter and Walter could see a grim look on his face. “I want you to promise to me that you will listen and that, no matter how difficult for you it may be, you do not do anything stupid.”
Walter stared at him, mouth hanging slightly open, completely dumbfounded. “I’ll do my best? But, what’s your name? Why are you here?” Walter began to wonder why on earth he had followed this name and couldn’t seem to remember.

The old man rolled his navy eyes. “Who cares? Look, here’s the deal, Mr. Green, I’m gonna give you three wishes and you’re gonna use ‘em and try not to be stupid about it. Think you can do that?” The man’s hushed voice sent shivers down Walter’s spine.

“I’m sorry,” Walter was trembling and starting to feel like he might faint. “I don’t think I heard you right, could you repeat that?”

“Oh, you heard me just fine. I was sent here by… well that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was sent here because you have the power to disrupt the fate of the human race and I’ve gotta teach you a lesson so that you don’t.” The old man was looking at Walter like he was the most incompetent person he had ever met, and perhaps he was.

“Now wait just a second here! I think you owe me some sort of explanation!” Walter tried to sound firm, but his voice came out shaky.

“What do you think that whole bit about the human race was? It was an explanation! And, just so you know, I don’t owe you anything.” The man sounded thoroughly offended. “Anyways, if you keep this up I’m going to give you 30 seconds to choose your wishes and if you don’t choose ‘em all in time… well, too bad so sad.”

“Wishes?”

The old man let out a rather dramatic sigh. “Why don’t we start from the beginning, hmm?” The man pointed at himself. “Me got sent here.” He began to mime flying a paper plane. “To stop you.” He pointed at Walter. “From being stupid.” The man didn’t mime anything this time, he just gave Walter a very judgemental look. “Think you can handle that?” He didn’t wait for Walter to answer, he just went on. “Look, the future is a very complex thing.” The man stopped for a moment as if searching for the right word. “Do you know what the butterfly effect is?”

“No.” Walter was almost used to feeling idiotic at this point.

“Well, it’s this theory that a butterfly flapping its wings could potentially result in a hurricane on the other side of the world. The future is a whole lot like that. The smallest change in the usual order of things could result in the biggest change. Like, if I were to spill coffee on you so then you had to go clean it off your shirt in the bathroom and you meet the love of your life on the way there. If I hadn’t spilled my coffee on you, you never would have met the love of your life! See what I mean?”

Walter didn’t see. But, he wasn’t about to admit that, not when the man was looking at him like he was stating the most obvious thing in the world and one would have to be a fool not to understand. So Walter nodded.
“Great. Now, choose your wishes.” The man looked at him expectantly.

“Okay, now you lost me.”

After another melodramatic sigh, the man tried to explain. “I have the power to grant you three wishes. However, you should know that there are some… exceptions. Your wish has to have nothing to do with love, money, or rodents.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Rodents?” Walter asked incredulously.

“Rodents.” The man repeated, and gave him a look that said “Don’t ask.”

“Right, okay, can I wish for a thousand wishes then?”

The old man rolled his eyes again. “Why does everyone say that? Of course not!”

“Fine, can I save my wishes for when I need them?” Walter asked.

The man paused in consideration. “I… suppose. But not all three of them. You can save one. How’s that?”

Now it was Walter’s turn to roll his eyes. “This is ridiculous! There aren’t any rules you’re just making them up as you go along!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The old man sniffed. “But that’s beside the point. Now, you’ve used up one wish. What’s your second?”

Walter went silent, deep in thought. When the man tried to say something, Walter shushed him. “When you say it has to have nothing to do with money… what about power?”

The man grinned mischievously. “Well, I can give you any job you like and make you good at it to boot. But, you’ve got to earn your own money.”

“Right. Then I guess I’d like to be the manager of the Crisp Toothpaste Company’s Bristol branch. Not that it’ll actually happen!” Walter added when the man smirked.

“Done! Though, I must say, that was a bit of a let down. When you said power I was thinking president or prime minister but… oh well. What’s your third wish?”

Walter considered this. Both his wishes had been about himself so far, and, if this really did work, it would be awfully selfish not to do something for others when he had the chance. “World peace.” Walter said firmly.

The man’s smile vanished and his eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, you don’t want to do that.”

“Why, yes, I do.” Walter responded, giving the man a quizzical look.

“Look, kid, here’s the deal. I could pretty much give you anything. Anything! And, yes, I could give you world peace but, trust me, you don’t want it!”

Walter scoffed at this. “Actually, I think that I just told you that I do, in fact, want world peace!” Walter said indignantly.

“One last chance to change your mind…” The man said in a sing-song voice.

“I’m good, thanks.” Walter retorted coldly. Then Walter blinked and when he opened his eyes, after just a millisecond of having them closed, the man was gone.

Walter scoffed, thoroughly irritated by the man’s lack of decorum. He ran a cold hand through his hair, shivering slightly when a particularly harsh breeze hit him. Shaking his head, he began to walk home. He was almost completely sure that either A.) he was totally insane, B.) that man was totally insane, C.) he was dreaming, or D.) someone had put something in his drink. But he also thought that insane people didn’t think that they were insane, so he supposed that that ruled out option A. And that man hadn’t seemed crazy. After all, he had spoken to Renee and it had sounded like they were doing business, which ruled out option B. As far as someone drugging him, the only person who had had the chance was Bertha, but he hadn’t eaten any of her cookies.That left option C. Yes, Walter was sure of it: he was dreaming. The whole morning had felt like something out of a nightmare, and now this? It was the only rational explanation.

When Walter reached his shabby apartment building, he looked up at it for a moment. It had 10 floors and was made of grey brick, making it look like some sort of old prison. Sighing, Walter looked back down at the door and entered. He took the stairs two at a time, each one creaking under his weight, a constant reminder of how old the apartment building was. Walter raced down the hallway to his apartment, wanting to end this dream as quickly as he could. He flung the door open and then himself, up and onto the bed, willing himself to wake up from this nightmare.

But Walter didn’t wake up. He fell asleep.

When Walter woke from his slumber, he was startled by the blob of greyness that was the outside of his window. Brow furrowed, shoes still on from the previous day, he made his way to the dew covered window. His apartment was toward the top of the building, so he found himself looking down on dozens of people walking through the streets in perfectly uniform straight lines. Each person wore the same clothing: a grey, short-sleeved shirt on top of grey trousers. Each shade of grey the people wore matched the cloudless sky to a t, for, though it was cloudless, it was grey as smoke. Walter looked away from the window.

He walked to his apartment’s kitchenette and picked up the phone that had been on the counter. He dialed the first number he thought of: Nick’s. Though they weren’t friends, Walter had Nick’s number so that Nick could call if he was ever late. Walter placed the phone to his ear and listened to the ringing that signaled that the call had worked, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Hello, you have reached Nick Thomas.” Something about Nick’s voice made Walter’s heart stop. He sounded nothing like himself, he sounded so monotone at first Walter thought he had been sent to voicemail.
“Hi, Nick, it’s Walter. I just wanted to let you know that I don’t think I’ll be able to come in to work today. Bad case of the flu. You know how it goes.” Walter hadn’t decided to say this before he said, it had just seemed like the obvious thing to do.

“I appreciate the update, Walter Green. However, you should probably let your secretary know, not me.”

“My secretary?”

“Yes, Martha is the secretary to the manager, if I remember correctly.” Nick’s voice was free of all inflection or emotion.

“Oh.” Realization flooded over Walter like a tidal wave. “Oh. Yes, thank you, Nick.” Walter hung up the phone. So, the wish had worked after all. He was the manager of the Crisp Toothpaste Bristol branch. Remorse and pity hit him almost as forcibly as realization; remorse for his selfish wish and pity for Nick.
 
But if his wishes had come true, would the world not be at peace? Was this the reason behind the grey people and their odd formation?

Walter turned to the television set and clicked it on and he had his finger on “3” for channel 36, the news channel, when he noticed that he didn’t need to change channels. It seemed as if he was already watching the news, or at least something like it. There was a pale blond woman with a beaky nose sitting at a desk on the screen. She wore sky grey, like the people outside. But there weren’t any headlines, there was just a logo in the top right corner and on the woman’s desk. It bore the letters W and I.

“Welcome to your Daily Reminders, brought to you by World Incorporated.” Her voice reminded him of Nick’s only more pleasant, almost cheerier. The screen flashed and changed to a picture of what looked like a mechanical spider. Insectile metal legs led up to a bright orange center. The woman’s voice continued over the image. “Your first Daily Reminder is to make sure you Filter is fastened correctly. If you see anyone without a Filter, remember to dial 9-1-1 and help will be on the way. Your second Daily Reminder is-”

But Walter had stopped listening and was instead racking his brains. He had never seen the object before and had never heard of any kind of Filter that he was supposed to have. Did this mean that he would go to jail? How did this have anything to do with peace? There was only one person who could answer these questions.

At first, no one turned to look at the gangly, mousy man who was anxiously weaving through the lines of grey people. But then they started to notice that he wasn’t wearing grey, he was wearing khakis and a white dress shirt. Furthermore, he wasn’t following the Patterns and instead was bumping almost everyone he passed. When the grey people noticed this, they all turned to look, or rather glare. But their glares faded to terrified stares and soon enough almost every grey person on the block had pulled out a grey cell phone and had begun to dial three digits.

As soon as they did this, Walter broke into a sprint. He was headed for Crisp Toothpaste Company, to find the man from his dream. Or maybe it hadn’t been a dream; Walter wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Before long, Walter started to hear sirens. Except, they weren’t sirens. The sound emanating from the grey cars headed for him wasn’t a siren at all. It sounded like a hundred mosquitos joined as one, all buzzing, creating a high pitched hum. Through the haze of grey Walter spotted a flash of red brick: the office. But just before he reached the doors, he was so close it ached, he felt a prick in his shoulder. He turned so that he was looking at a dart protruding from his left shoulder and squinted. There was a short burst of grey, and then it was all black.

Walter woke to white. In fact, he was so surprised to see anything other than the dreary grey that had haunted him that morning that he nearly gasped. Then Walter noticed a cold sensation on his wrists and looked at them. Silver metal semicircles bound his wrist to the arms of a white leather chair. His ankles were strapped in the same fashion, but to a leg rest that jutted out from the chair. Above Walter was a light. For the time being it had been turned off but it gave Walter the odd sensation that he was in some sort of futuristic dentist’s office. After all, there was a table with various instruments laid on it just to his right.

Almost seconds after Walter had woken up, a short bearded man entered the room wearing grey scrubs and a white lab coat.

“Welcome, Walter Green. We have been waiting for you. You will be receiving your Filter today. Aren’t you excited?” The man’s mouth smiled, but his eyes didn’t. It was as if his mouth wasn’t connected to his eyes, since his voice was all happiness and his eyes all despair.

“What’s a Filter? And why am I here? Where am I? I demand some answers?” Walter said, the indignance and fear in his voice echoing around the room. He hadn’t meant to sound scared, but he couldn’t help it.

“A Filter helps us stay at peace. We have World Incorporated to thank for that.” The man said simply, seemingly unfazed by Walter’s voice seeing as his smile was even bigger than before.

“Okay, sure, but what is it?” Walter demanded, his voice still somewhat shaky.

“They had said you wouldn’t know much. That is all right, I have been authorized to explain. The Filter will go in your neck and attach to your brain. Then it will filter out all your ideas and opinions.” The man said matter-of-factly.

“What?” Walter shrieked, pulling against his restraints uselessly.

“The Filter helps us stay at peace. We have World Incorporated to thank for that.” The man repeated.

“I’m not letting you put anything inside me!” Walter shouted, thinking of the spider-like machine from his television.

“The Filter helps us stay-” The man began again but he was cut off by a stocky woman with copper hair entering the room. She wore the same thing as the man but something about the way she carried herself told Walter that she was the man’s superior.

“That’s enough, Jeremiah. Thank you.” The woman smiled and put a hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder. Jeremiah returned the smile and left. “Walter Green, so good to meet you. I understand you do not want a Filter.” The woman’s voice was different from the others’ he had heard that day. Her words carried emotion, to a certain extent anyway.

“Yes.” Walter stated, glad someone was finally listening to him.

“I will have you know,” the woman’s pleasant facial expression changed to one of utter sardonicism. “that although you may be afraid, the implantation of the Filter will neither hurt nor affect your brain. Jeremiah was… lying.” The woman looked like she was holding back a laugh.

Walter narrowed his eyes. “Don’t mock me! You’re clearly lying, not Jeremiah. Where is Jeremiah, I’d like to speak with him.”

The woman looked at Walter with such loathing he half expected her to jump at him. She took out a grey phone, the same kind the grey people had had, and dialed a number. “Jeremiah?” She paused. “Yes, where are you? Oh, you’re busy? That’s really too bad.” The woman slapped her phone shut and smirked. “A pity.”

Just then, some sort of alarm similar to the ringing of the police cars sounded and Walter’s silver restraints receded into the white chair. Walter leaped at the woman and pushed her to the wall before she could do anything. She slumped against the wall, passing out from the force to her head. Before he left the room, a thought occurred to Walter. He retrieved a grey and white key card from the inside of the woman’s jacket. Then he ran.

Walter had never been particularly athletic, which accounted for his scrawny frame and soft stomach. But right then he ran so desperately fast that a wave of satisfaction washed over him at the fact that he wasn’t half bad at running for his life. But right when Walter felt like he had to be nearing an exit, the sound of shouts and running came from behind him, and then, just afterward, he heard the same noises up ahead. Frantic and sweaty, Walter hauled open the first heavy metal door he saw.

Walter took a moment to catch his breath before he examined the room that was laid out in front of him. This room was rather incongruous against the futuristic whites, greys, and silvers of the rooms and hallways that had come before it. Its walls and floor were made of wood, as if the building Walter was in had once been a small cabin that someone had added onto. But the room wasn’t nearly big enough to be a cabin, even a very small one, and a dull buzz could be heard coming from somewhere in it. It was around the size of Walter’s bedroom; cramped. The whole room smelled like summer camp which was probably due to its wood and the dust that had piled up in the corners, as if someone had swept it there.

When Walter walked inside a step further, a chorus of creaks followed him and he squeezed his eyes shut in stifled panic, hoping the grey people hadn’t heard. The sound of them was beginning to fade as they walked away from Walter’s hiding place and, when Walter couldn’t hear them at all anymore, he exhaled. While the room was full of wood, it was not full of light and Walter probed the wall next to him with his hand in search of a lightswitch. When he finally found one, he flipped it up a lone, pathetic light bulb that hung from the ceiling without a lampshade lit up.

As Walter’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, the room became clearer. There was a wooden table in the center of the room with a humongous computer on it that took up the whole surface of the table. A rickety-looking wooden chair was tucked underneath the table, as if someone had just stepped out of the room and had pushed their chair in as they left. It was then that Walter realized what the buzzing noise had been: the computer. The plastic and metal device stuck out against the wood of the room almost as much as the room itself stuck out from the rest of the building. Although the computer was big, like most older computers were, the computer didn’t seem old. In fact, it seemed quite technologically advanced with its sleek silver edging and gigantic, television-like screen.

Walter moved toward the chair and pulled it out from under the table, sitting on it carefully, somewhat afraid of it breaking underneath him. There was no mouse or trackpad, and the screen was blank. Out of pure curiosity, Walter reached out touched the screen with the tip of his index finger. As soon as he did so, it sprung to life, lighting up the room. Walter now saw why there was such poor lighting; anything more and the whole room would have been blinding. On the screen of the computer was some sort of video. A man in a similar lab coat to the grey people from the room he’d woken up in was frozen. In the bottom left corner there were play, pause, and fast forward buttons. Walter instinctively reached out and tapped the play button. The man on the screen began to speak.

“I am speaking to you today because I have found that World Incorporated is not what I thought it was. Not what anyone thinks it is. They claim to be uniting the world in peace but it is not true. The Filter that they have put in the civilians does not simply dispose of bad thoughts, opinions, and ideas. It steals the good ones! This is how World Incorporated keeps advancing! They’ve turned the whole world into their own little company and we let them do it. Even I practically begged them to.” Walter’s hot sweat from his run down the hallways had turned icy. How had all this happened overnight? The man seemed completely convinced of everything he was speaking of. His pale blue eyes showed his every emotion, and right now they showed fear and yet also understanding. And maybe just a little bit of sorrow. “I am sending this video to all of you after I have successfully uninstalled all of the Filters. I fear for my life, but, more importantly, I fear for the lives of the citizens of Earth. World Incorporated has taken our free will and called it peace. And maybe it is peace. But there are more important things than peace. Yes, much more important things. There is love and freedom and discovery and even anger. Even anger is more important than peace, for it fuels humans with the wish to succeed, to avenge. So I say to you that we must rebel against World Incorporated, before it is all too late. Please, citizens of Earth-”

But then there was the sound of someone coming into the room the man was in, which was followed by shouting. The man’s face was contorted in terror as a large hand grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of frame.
In the background of the video, Walter heard a muffled gunshot.

He hadn’t realized that he had been crying but when Walter touched his cheek his finger came back wet and salty. It was then that Walter remembered his first wish.

A feeling of total foolishness hit him. He could stop this all with just a few words.

“I wish that I had never wished for world peace! I wish everything was back to normal!”