And there’s a room, on the 11th floor of a
building situated in the heart of a city. The city is quite crowded, because it
is Tuesday and most of the people regardless of their acquired possessions are
scrambled across the city surface to gain some wealth for their pockets, or
something to eat when they get home. The building is quite big, the logo on top
of it is obviously recognizable and the design looks professional. Not so
flashy but when you look at it you know it generates a lot of money to people
associated with it. The people who getting in and out of the building always
look serious, sometimes exchanging smile but then they look serious again, when
they get back to their phones.
And this story happens in a room, inside what I assume a
corporate building, even when at this point I’m really not sure what do
corporate means. In this room, there is a long table, specifically divided into
three parts where three people would sit alongside each other. It has three
chairs, swivel chairs to be precise. And the room is painted white, with glass
windows which covered with grey blinds which limit what we can see, if we are
standing outside the room. The room is cold, and on the table lays three
glasses of plain water, with half-empty bottles accompanying each one of them.
Oh and the highlight of the room is a chair, a lonely chair situated in the
centre of the room.
The chair is a symbol, of how we could subject a person to
our own criticism, as the chair couldn’t hide behind a desk like the three
swivel chairs. Yet, it is situated vulnerably in the middle, without any chance
of defending himself, from the three chairs, and the remaining invisible chairs
behind them. And who knows, there might be a giant chair, behind all this, who
always want this lonely chair to fail according to popular ideas. And yet we
continue the story, as the time pass, three men sit on the three chairs.
And there’s a knock on the door, and a young man come in
white shirts. He’s fine looking, what we could describe as a normal guy, but
with a warm bright smile. The man who sits on the centre of the table gives him
a signal to sit, and the guy in the white shirt follow his suggestion. If we
look at the situation through the point of view of the young man who just
entered the room, we can see that the room now seems quite big, but the three
men sitting in front of you gives quite a presence. You can tell that by their
look, they are not quite happy to be here, except for the man in the middle,
who look quite awesome in his 40’s who keep smiling at you, trying to keep the situation
as comfortable as possible. On his left there is a guy, which is slightly older
and more serious in his expression. Undeniably he’s the one who gives out
negative vibe the most in this room, with his unshaven beard which makes him
look like not quite a reasonable man, when it comes to serious matter.
And the third man on the left of the table, the youngest, is
not looking at the man which you are in his head right now at all. He keep
looking at the papers on his desk, writing something, as the young man in his
white shirt is not the first person who comes into the room. If the older guy
with a beard looks like he’s angry; this guy in glasses doesn’t seem to have
any emotion at all. He keeps writing and writing until the young man look
uneasy but still keeping his composure. It’s just 30 second since he enter the
room, but the pressure make everyone and even me feels like it has been hours
of awkward staring and silence
And the man in the middle break the silence, as we get out
from the young man’s head and watch this story from a third person point of
view, which create much more suspense as we don’t know what the characters are
thinking about, what they are saying to themselves. Much more like real life
and I’m sorry if you don’t enjoy it, not knowing what the person next to you
are thinking about as you are sick of it happening every day, and you know the
world would be a better place if we know what each others are thinking about.
“And your name is?”
“Ahmad Azizi. Nice to meet you Mr..”
“Kamal. I’m sorry for the distance. Can you tell us more
about yourself Mr Ahmad. I believe we need to know a little bit more about you
before we get started,”
“Hm. First of all thank you for this chance to be here, it
is a pleasure to meet all of you today. My name is Ahmad Azizi bin Ayob. I'm 25
years old, I graduated with a degree in computer science from Universiti Malayo and blablabla....."
“Aha I can see that ambition in you young man. Quite bold.
I’m thrilled to work with young people like you. As I would like you to know, you are
already shortlisted for our most possible recruit from the beginning. And I do
expect this from you, so don’t worry, I'm not offended if you think I am,”
“Wow that’s quite a relief. Thank you,”
“Thank you Mr Kamal. Can I proceed?” suddenly the man in
beard begins to talk. His voice displays a visible authority over the man in
the middle.
“I can see, in your papers that you are quite a fine man.
From this papers. It does look promising enough for us but as you know, Ikram
Enterprise is not your average company, where you can come here and sit for few
hours expecting us to put some money in your bank account, I believe that is
not possible. Here you are hired, to be a representative for our company, and I
think you need to display a much more promising value instead of just coming
here and claiming that you are something from the previous employment, and we
value nothing of your college degree. Here we want you to have the ability to
talk, not to speak your mind but to talk your way out of the daily problems we
have here, without making yourself look stupid. You should know when to fire
your stupid employee which his son is needing 20k for his heart operation, and
to do it without hesitation. And you should know when to take some money, and
from who, and which names you need to say when you get caught. It’s not just
about which computer has a problem; your job got nothing to do with any of
that. Am I being clear enough for you boy?”
“Yes, and thank you for the tips. I hope that I can use that
in the future, but I think I would try my best to stick with the job scope at
this moment, which is if you are thinking about hiring me,”
“Enough with you polite ‘thank you’s, and now tell me, do
you think that you’re up for this?”
The man in the middle takes a sip from his glass. He seems
okay with the conversation between the beardy man and the young man in the
middle of the room.
“Yes, I do. I do have the capability to come up with the
solution with whatever problem that I might face if I have the chance to work
with this company, and I think I have the intellectual capability with the best
solution to every problems. I might be young , but I think I’ve started quite
early for a guy at my age and I think my capabilities are beyond anyone at my
maturity, and I really hope that would satisfy your requirement.”
The man with glasses, which is about few years older than
him, had stopped writing while listening to him.
“This guy sure talks a lot, I wish I was like him when I was
young. Full of bullshit,” says the bearded man to the man in the middle, which
laugh casually at the right time, fulfilling the illusion that he agrees with
him.
“Hey. Tell me. What is our company motto? The one that keeps
everyone motivated to fill Dato’ Ikram’s pockets more and more,”
The room is in silence for few seconds. Everyone in the room
keeps staring at the same guy, the one on the lonely chair in the middle of the
room. And he keeps staring back to the eyes of the person who ask him the
question.
“I might be creative at this moment, and come up with a
made-up answer which obviously everyone in this room know is wrong, and I don’t
find it professional to do that, and it would risk my position as your possible
new employee, I would prefer to be honest and tell you that of all the research
I made to prepare for this moment, I forget to spend a few minutes to google
your company motto, and at this moment I wish that all of you here, know that I
didn’t mean to ruin my own interview, but
how forgetful a man could be as now I wish you can tell me the motto of
your company, so that I can tell it to anyone who ask me the same question
after I leave this room,”
The man with the beard can’t seem more disappointed.
“The truth is son, I don’t even know what our motto is. I
would just fucking agree with you of you just say something that sounds
brilliant enough for me. This company got nothing to do with its motto. If they
ask me to suggest one, I would like to suggest one that sounds about like this
“Sell anything with double the price and Ikram would love you” and all I think
about now is how to get more money from each projects I handle without getting
caught. So you failed the first test. You can’t lie. So get your ass out of
this room and try to make money out of being honest. Be a teacher or
something,”
“Ok there is something wrong here, are we being recorded at
this moment?” said the guy in the glasses.
“Is this the normal way we interview people here?”
“I wish, as I know I'm not a normal guy. And I wish I'm not
the only one here. Shut the fuck up everyone this is for your safety. I chose
this venue due to the convenience of this situation, to minimize the collateral
damage as I'm trying to do my job here. But this interview is fucking stupid, I
don’t know if this is the way you do it here. Mr Beard, I know that at this moment
you will assume me as rude, but trust me you will thank me for today, but first
of all, fuck you for being so poyo and assume you know the world more than
anyone. Shut up. I’ll take this gun out of my pocket and I want all of you to
calm your tits up as I won’t shoot anyone yet. And don’t fucking mess with your
phone I don’t mind someone going out of this room with a messed up hand,”
The guy in the glasses looks so terrified. The beardy man
seems sweaty, but trying hard to maintain his cool. The man in the middle seems
calm enough to stay on his chair. But neither one of them are moving.
The man in the lonely chair begins to stand up, while
pointing the gun to the terrified trio. He then points out to the man with the
glasses, while taking a notebook from his back pocket.
“Let’s see, Akmal Hakim, 28, Kajang, drive a Myvi, sometimes
at his girlfriend’s house in Bangi, sometimes at Cheras, starting to consume
alcohol few years, some pills, blablabla. Cool. Some details about sexual abuse
in teenage years but we’re cool. Don’t worry after this you can go to the
toilet to clean up.”
And know we’re in the guy with the glasses head
“Fuck fuck how did he know? Is he some kind of agent from a
secret service? What the fuck did I get myself involved in I should listen to
my mum and accept the job with the government ya Allah....”
And we’re out. The three of them can hear the sound of water
dripping from the man with glasses seat, but the only guy who can had the
authority to laugh in this situation is the one holding the gun, but he’s not.
And he keeps flipping pages in his notebook.
“Ahah you Mr Beard. Mustafa bin Koyang haha I'm sorry. 57, a
father of three, wife Marlini bt Musa, third property purchase this year, wow,
and a golf enthusiast. Proved not guilty from the charges of killing Mr Tan
Chua Siaw in 2002, by the fact that we did hide the weapon used in this case,
making it a mystery for everyone until today, even for you, and no, don’t
fucking think about it,” he pointed out to the man in the middle.
“Fuck you. Who sent you here?” the bearded man demands for
an answer
“I promise you, you don’t wanna know. Now take this,”
He took out a gun from his left pocket. Calmly.
“Now I will hand this gun to you, as I need you to control
the situation as I proceed. I will alwas keep my gun pointed at you, so don’t
think of anything funny of I might leave this room covered pieces of brain that
belongs to you,”
“I’ll give this to you and we’ll play this the way I suggest
it,”
The man with the beard nods. He stands up and then he took
the gun, while he give the young man, who’s now in control of the room a suspicious
look. He then pointed the gun to man in the middle, who is sitting beside him, as the young man suggest him to by pointing his gun to the man in the middle, who now seem a little bit uneasy.
“Now in this book it is said that you are the primary
suspect. And we couldn’t find any details about your previous record at all,
and it is quite an achievement for me. You should be proud of that. But I think
your time is up, and I know you are a bit surprised as we are getting better in
our disguise haha. You would never think of this, in this kind of situation
right? Mr Kamal?”
“I don’t understand what you are talking about, young man.”
“Hahahaha fuck you. How long have you been here old man? You
seem quite energetic at this age. May I know where are you from?”
“I believe you are going nowhere with this nonsense. And the
security must be on their way here”
“Don’t you try to fool me you ugly fuck. I know you, and you
know that I won’t hesitate to drill a hole I your brain with this gun. Mr
Glasses, do you have a stamp pad with you?”
“This man here is not who you both think he is. He might
look like Mr Kamal but actually he is not. Sadly. You can assume that Mr Kamal
has been dead for years, earlier then you know. This guy here is not him. This
sick ugly bastard carries Mr Kamal’s thumb everywhere he goes, for official
purposes. Funny. If you don’t believe me you can check his drawer after this,
and to prove that I'm right I want Mr Glasses here to hand him the stamp pad,
and prove to us that he have a fingerprint of Mr Kamal so that all of us here can be sure
that he is an innocent man,”
And all of the sudden the air in the room seems heavy, both
man beside the man in the middle realise this, and well aware that the man in
the middle is the source of this disturbing atmosphere. The man with the beard holds
his gun tight, pointing it straight to the man in the middle’s head. The man
with the glasses is ready to hand him the stamp pad. The young man seems calm,
and he seems to know what he’s dealing with.
“Hand him the stamp pad. I wanna see a clear one on this
paper right he...”
With a swift movement, he snapped the neck of the bearded
man and took his gun. The man with the glasses stumbled to the ground leaving
his wet chair toppled. The look in the face of the man in the middle change,
now standing calmly while pointing the gun to the young man in white, standing
in the middle of the room. The man in glasses crawl slowly to the wall,
silently, as both man are paying no attention to him standing at the perfect
spot to shoot each other with gun in hand, pointing towards each other.
“Young man, we can leave here in peace. There’s no need to
spill more blood as I'm only working for someone else’s profit. If you let me
go you might find it a lot more easier for him to forgive you, and won’t kill
your beloved Alia and Natasya,”
“Haha first of all, you kill a man in front of this guy?
Fuck you, he’s gonna be traumatised for life. Second, don’t you dare to talk
about my kids as I will tear your mouth apart before you die, it would be so
painful you’ll be so sorry. And third, do you think I’ll give dead Mr Beard
there a loaded gun?”
Gunshots. Ear-splitting gunshots heard from the 11th
floor of the corporate building, and I think now I got a little knowledge
about what corporate means. The man with glasses doesn’t even have a voice
anymore. He’s seen enough for that day and he wish he’s at his girlfriend’s
house right now. Mr Kamal as he knows him is lying on the ground, with gunshots
through his chest. Three of them. The young man standing silently on the middle
of the room, reloading his gun, while mumbling something cannot be heard by the
guy with the glasses who is now pissing in his pants real bad.
And now he begin to puke as he realise there’s a dead body in front of him.
“Hey. Enough with the acting. Talk to me while you still
can,”
“FUCK YOU YOU SON OF A BITCH. YOU DOG YOU SCUM OF YOUR DOG
MOTHER I’LL MAKE YOUR KIDS DANCE ON YOUR GRAVE YOU COCKY BASTARD!!”
I can’t put it into words how fucked up his voice was. The
man in the glasses now saying Allah non-stop, begging for god to take him out
of that room. The man who is supposed to be dead are now on his feet with blood gushing out from the holes on his chest, and then
he take a leap across the room to the young man, which is ready with his gun.
He didn’t waste any bullet, as one of his shot scatter the brain across the
room.
“Fuck me. They didn’t give me any money for my shirts you
stupid fuck,”
He gave the bloody man a kick to his body. The bullet
drilled a hole neatly on his forehead, leaving his face undamaged. This mangled
corpse-supposed-to-be keep rambling on and on in what only the young man seems to
understand. The young man takes a knife, out of his pocket, which now seems to
ridiculously have everything related to crime. The knife curved weirdly with
some inscription in unreadable script.
“I prefer to have this clean, but your mouth is a fucking
disaster. Its either you shut up or I’ll make this more painful to you,”
The man in glasses can’t imagine retelling this story to the
police, as he know the voice of what suppose to be Mr Kamal would haunt him for
years. It’s not even near to human at all, not even an animal. It sounds like a
pure evil as now he can see that Mr Kamal’s eyes is already covered in blood.
The hole in his forehead only adds to the horrifying details. And Mr Kamal keep talking on and on with that haunting sound of thousands donkey getting
slaughtered at the same time. He’s gonna be needing a long years of therapy
after this incident.
The young man is spinning the blade in his hand while
observing the man in a pool of blood with a smile. He then, with all his might,
step on the man’s jaw, hitting it with his heel few times until he’s satisfied,
but the man never stop talking in his horrific voice, even after his jaw was
dislocated. The young man than hold the man in his hair, and then use the sharp
edge of the blade to cut the man in his throat, and cut the head clean. He then
took the head and looks out the window as he open it.
“Fuck,”
With a silent head in his other hand, he waved at the man in
the glasses, who now on the verge of losing his consciousness. He then gets out
of the room while still having a dead man’s head in his hand, holding it by the
strings of his hair.
________________________________________________________________________
“Sir you gotta see this,”
“God, I don’t think anything, would surprise me at this
point,”
“Got names on them, I can’t believe this either,”
“Lord Jesus in heaven what do you have for us this time”
The drawer on the table with the name “Mr Kamal” left open.
Inside there’s numbers of fingers arranged carefully, each marked with names
and years. A young policeman can’t stop vomiting as he wondered what the fuck happened on the interview room. The pissing-crying man is not a help at all.
