I grab an empty crate from a stack and run it back up the scaffolding, huffing and puffing from exertion. I let it drop to the ground, using all fours to slip on top of it before hauling myself up to the third floor balcony. I slither across on my belly, peeking through the drawn curtains for any sign of life. Seeing moving feet, I pick up the pace, narrowly managing to make it behind the air-con before the curtains open and an officer stares out the sliding glass door. He stands there for a moment, and then leaves, talking into his radio. I scrabble at the air vent for a good minute before giving up. I need a tool of some sort.

I unhook my belt, and use the small metal arm as a flat-head screwdriver to unscrew the vent cover. I works, not as well as I thought it would after seeing it on MacGuyver, but acceptably well. I have trouble fitting my shoulders through, but once in, I have a claustrophobia-inducing trip ahead of me.

Wiggling quietly, sounding like an elephant trapped in a saltshaker, I manage to make my way past the offices, my black clothing fooling every worker that looked up to see what was in the vent. Upon getting to the end, however, I realize that the grate in my way cannot be craftily manhandled out of my way. I backtrack until I see an empty office. I use my foot to kick out the vent cover, and drop in. I only have a second to hide before the sounds rouse the other workers from their stupor. I slip myself under the coffee table just as the door bursts open, and people rush in. They all congregate around the broken vent, chattering. I decide to take what I can get and slip out the door.

Once in the hallways, I look around. The signs are confusing at best, with directions not making any sense. I decide to take the stairs down to the second floor. On my way there, I trip over a very large kink in the carpet, but manage not to make more noise than a few screams and the sound of my face hitting the wall. Once I regain my composure, I jot off down a side hall to wait the mess out. Nobody comes to investigate, and after a while, I figure it’s okay to move on. I mutter to myself. “I don’t enjoy this, but I know me. Sorry, me.”

I shrug. “Forgiven.” Finding the stairs, I take them slowly, with bent knees and ears perked. Reachin the second floor, I find even more undecipherable directions, so I pick a direction and hope for the best. Noticing signs on doors for various rooms, I eventually find the Agriculture room.

I open the door to find rows of plants growing, some vegetables, others flowers, each in a wooden planter with a spray nozzle above it. I think back to what I know, and start searching for carnations. As I search, I smirk. “Not bad, you sly old dog. Still got a bit in you, eh?”

Finding the flowers in pots, I flip the first one over. Taped to the bottom is a keycard. I flip the second one over to reveal a map, and the third one has a note stuck on its seat. It reads: Merry Christmas. Own it, boy.

I smile. “Thanks, Watchman.” I take all three items and place the plants back as they’re supposed to be, except for the fact that I just dumped dirt all over the floor. I cringe. “Don’t suppose I could rewrite that?”

I shake my head. “Not life-threatening.”

I sigh. “Oh well.” Leaving the dirt as is, I follow the map to a uniform room. Using the keycard on the scanner, I get in, and start stripping. Once all my clothes are off, I toss them in the laundry bin, shuffling the other things around to hide my own clothes. Hopefully I’ll get them back clean.

I slip on a guard uniform, and step out of the room with confidence. I walk through the hallways down to the prison courtyard. As I descend the final flight of stairs, I step into the gated block. I slip through the gate into the guard corridor, and then through another into the inmates’ field. I use the doors on the opposite side to take me to the showers. Bypassing them completely, I make it into the bunkrooms, where most are sleeping peacefully.

I knock on the bars of cell 10, although someone has scratched out the numbers so it looks like it’s just blank. One inmate quickly scuttles up to the bars. “Ach,” he spits, “ya got me blarney, aye?”

I shake my head. “No game, Doif. Cut the crap.”

He smiles. “Knew you’d come. When?”

I motion. “Now. I have the pass.”

He passes a small package through the bars. “One deer’s reed, as promised.”

I slip him a keycard in return. “Thanks, Doif. Good luck getting out.”

He chuckles. “Don’t need luck. You do.”

I nod. “See you around.”

He waves me off, and gets back in his sleeping bag. I take off the same way I came, making my way back to the third floor. I locate the main office, and open the door, entering in.

At the desk across the room is a man sitting in an office chair. He laughs. “I’ve been expecting you, Caleb.”

I recoil in shock. “No! You couldn’t have...!”

He cackles. “Yes! Already I’ve watched Season Two, and now, I’ll spoil it for you!”

I fall to my knees and scream, holding my hands to my ears. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo...?”

I turn my head, and look at myself. “You what?”

I rub my eyes. “Sorry, I’m really not trying to write badly, I’m just tired. It’s 11:55 and I want to go to bed because I work at 9.”

I shrug. “Okay, but at least be nice to yourself, eh?”

I look off to the side. “Okay, fine, but this better be good.”

He waves me off, and slips back into his sleeping bag, emulating the sounds of snores very well. I leave the same way I came, making my way back to the third floor with relative ease. I manage to find my way to the head office, which means I just walked past it by chance, and open the door, entering in, figuring I might be able to line my pockets while I’m here.

Inside, a man with brownish-blond hair sits on a couch, his face buried in what looks to be an Apple iPad. He sports an ill-fitting T-shirt and denim blue jeans. He pushes his glasses up his nose as he types.

I gasp, and shut the door, leaving as quickly as I came in. “Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb me. Keep writing, I have a date in ten minutes.”

As I walk away, I can hear him shout from his room. “I know me. I couldn’t get a date if I tried.”

I chuckle as I stroll into the furthest office, with the balcony. I move to the sliding door, and try to move it, but it’s locked. I bite my lip. “Oh, no.”

The guard behind the desk chuckles. “What?”

I turn around, and sigh dramatically. “My wife is releasing fireworks for the anniversary of our wedding, and I promised her I’d see them tonight. Well, they called me in to work tonight, but I’d still like to see them. Could you help me?”

He laughs. “If I didn’t know any better, and if I wasn’t a filler character meant to move the story along, whose presence means nothing and will soon be forgotten by both reader and writer, I’d say you were lying just to get out onto the balcony.”

I hold my breath.

He moves towards the door, smiling cordially. “However, I have the intelligence of a peanut and serve as nothing more than a glorified housekey right now. Once this is done, I will have no purpose, just like the rest of the kids nowadays, and I’ll be a waste of air and space once again. Ah, career security.” He opens the door, grinning. “Go for it, champ.”

I nod, and move through, only to have him shut it behind me. “No matter,” I scoff as I jump down the scaffolding, which, miraculously, has not moved, “I’ll make sure to write him in later.”

I jump in my car, and speed away, taking obscure road after obscure road down to a secret mountain facility near the sea, in the desert. A metal door opens up, and I drive right into the opening before it closes back down.

Once inside, I get out, and take an elevator down to the 100th floor, overlooking the rest of the city of Polisky. As I ride, I shake my head. “Too many tropes and it doesn’t make sense, Caleb. Keep it simple.”

As the doors open up, I step into my the office my boss inhabits. He stands, looking out a window. As I approach, he turns to me. “Caleb, you’ve done well. I think it’s time you know who I truly am.

With a start, as he turns and the light plays across his features, I recognize his face. “You’re...!”

He laughs. “That’s right. It’s me, the clinically depressed security guard with no will to live! But what you didn’t know, Caleb, is that I’m also...”

I gasp. “No.”

He whips off his skintight mask to reveal the face of the Watchman, the man who has mentored me for so long. I exclaim in wonder. “You sly old dog!”

He laughs. “You have the deer reed?”

I pull the package out of my pocket, dumbfounded. “I’m dumbfounded...!”

He nods, laughing. “So much so that you said it twice.”

I babble a bit before becoming coherent. “I-but-I-no... I’m the one writing this and I didn’t see that coming!”

He turns back to his magnificent view. “That’s the beauty of Palindrome, kid. That’s why we do what we do.”

I start to smile slightly. “If that’s what we do, I’m glad I joined this organization.”

He points at a stack of objects in the corner. “That, and we collect expensive stuff. But mostly that.”

I join him in looking out the window, as the rising sun sets on the city, sending burning orange light across it at near-horizontal angles. “Good to know. Hey, do you know how to get rid of Too-Many-Trope syndrome? I’ve had it since I got here.”

He coughs. “Just go to bed. It’ll sort itself out.”

I nod. “Alright. Thanks, man.”

————

I unplug my headphones from the top of my iPad, and stand up off the couch, stretching. I plug it into its charger and turn the lamp beside me off. Exiting the room I was writing in for almost two hours, I plod up the stairs, quietly so as to not wake my mum, to my bedroom. Throwing my dirty clothes in my basket, I slip into my pajamas and slide under my covers, snuggling in tightly to conserve heat.

As my breathing slows, I hear something move. I open one eye. “What was that?”

Hone sticks his face out of the closet. “Hey, you’ll never believe what I found!”

I roll over and sigh, knowing I’m most obviously dreaming. “What, Hone?”

He waves a smartphone in the air. “Hot local singles in my area want to go out with me! This website says so! All I have to do is put in my credit card number, sell my kidneys, and sign my soul over to the devil!”

I cough. “Good luck with that, Hone. Now go back to sleep, so I can too.”

He nods. “Okay, whatever you say. I still think you should have let me wait, though.”

“Shut it and go to sleep.”

He waves his hands. “Okay, okay, goodnight.”

I smile as I drift off. If he suggests another rewrite, I’ll use him as the dead body in my next story.

Fin