This is not a test

Memorandum

To: File
From: Frank Flounder
Date: 12/11/10
Subject: This is not a test


Today I awoke to the sound of an alarm blaring outside my office door. This happens from time to time. I rose from my couch, glanced in the mirror, and pressed my hair back into place. It was 9:00 in the morning.  

My fire safety director's voice crackled through a hidden loudspeaker. I have heard this voice many times—most often in connection with issues related to fire safety. Today, however, my fire safety director informed us that there was a suspicious vehicle parked in front of our building. Outside my door, a woman screamed. My fire safety director asked that we immediately move away from the windows. While he did not say so, we were asked to do this to mitigate the effects of an explosion.  

I got up and went to the window. Lights flickered atop the squad cars gathered below as uniformed men cleared the street of living things. Barricades sprung up as swarms of fire engines gathered behind them. Soon, the street was empty, save for a lone van that sat like a stone some three hundred feet below. As I watched this scene, a man slipped through one of the barricades and proceeded to walk down the street in great, determined steps, and though there were dozens of people there, it was as if no one saw him; firemen readied their hoses and policemen barked orders into their walkie-talkies, yet no one so much as glanced at this man, as if he were a newspaper, blowing through the square. Then, he crossed another barricade on the far side of the street and was gone. 

It was the strangest thing. 

And so I pressed my forehead against the window and felt my weight against it. I watched and waited. Perhaps, I thought, today will be different from yesterday. 


F.F.