It was a bright, if not a tad blustery, fall day as Sam made his way to the local coffee shop. It was called Brett’s Beans. Sam didn’t know who Brett was but knew that the man made some good coffee. It was his daily ritual. Eat something at home, hop on the train, stop off at Brett’s, and then head to work.
Today was a little different. Sam had awoken late. Not super late, like, he was still going to be on time for work. He was just running a little later than usual. This forced him to skip breakfast. That was ok though. Brett’s also had an assortment of breakfast-y pastries. He was also mostly sure that they did bagels and stuff like that.
Bagels. That was definitely the choice. Sam saw the brown faux-rustic sign of Brett’s Bean’s hanging down from the front of the store. He felt his stomach growl. He was absolutely ready to eat that damn bagel.
Sam entered the small coffee shop. The walls were covered in a dark wood paneling with all sorts of odd clocks hanging on the walls. Most of them were cute or goofy, with a few weird ones. The one in particular sam liked was a clock based on Salvador Dali’s famous painting, which Sam always felt was a little cooler than the rest. There were large brown couches and chairs for people to sit. The intermittent table for people to set their drinks and laptops. A small bar facing the windows for people to longingly look as they sipped their hot beverage.
The line was long. Longer than Sam remembered. He glanced down at a paper on the small paper tray next to him. Brett’s was in the news! Sam picked up the paper. The headline read: Brett’s Beans Goes National, Country going Bananas for Brett’s Beans! Sam chuckled to himself. It was cute, if a little dumb.
Sam felt a little bit of pride, however. The coffee shop that he had been going to since he moved to the city was getting bigger. He couldn’t help but feel that he was a part of it. An integral piece to the growth of this little shop. He looked around and was genuinely proud to have helped build the ship into what it was.
The line chugged along and Sam glanced down at his cell phone. Nothing particularly new. Finally, he reached the register.
“Hello!” The young woman at the counter smiled. She couldn’t have been more than twenty. She had medium brown skin with just a few freckles peeking through. Her dark hair was mashed down underneath the Brett’s Beans hat on her head.
“Hi, one medium coffee please. And an onion bagel with cream cheese,” Sam responded.
“No problem.” She said and typed in the order, “That’ll be $6.45.” Sam pulled the money from his wallet. A $10 bill. He quickly did his best to put the change back in his wallet and step out of line. He awkwardly shoved his wallet in his pocket as he moved.
Sam glanced up to see that his bagel was about to get put into a toaster oven hanging out on a counter behind the front.
“Oh, not toasted please.” He said,
The woman behind the counter stopped. The bagel had been placed on one of those trays you can easily grab with tongs and was about to go in. She looked at him. Looked at him as if he had just commited some sort of personal affront. Sam blushed. He didn’t know what to say, he just didn’t like toasted bagels.
It came it him slowly. As his embarrassment from the barista began to fade, the silence around him filled his ears. The light, worn wood of the floors and kitschy clocks and knick-knacks that hung from the walls passed through his vision as he noticed the stares of all the patrons. Each person in the coffee shop had stopped what they were doing, some seemingly mid-drink, to stare at Sam.
“You don’t want it toasted?” The barista asked. Sam’s attention snapped back to her. She was frozen in the same position.
“I… uh, yeah?” Sam stuttered.
She dropped the tray, both it and the bagel falling to the ground behind the counter with a clatter. It startled Sam. He backed away from the counter. A sense of dread began to fill his stomach. He felt the clench of a hand on his arm. He looked to his right to see a young, blonde woman in a hooded sweatshirt, hair up in a bun, grasping his arm. He felt the same sense on his left as his arm was held by a large man in a tan jacket, carrying a lizard skin briefcase.
Sam being to struggle. Both his assailants proved too strong for him and begin to drag him behind the counter. The floor was a brown tile with black rubber mats covering most of it. Crumbs lined the mats. Sam continued his struggle as the two continued to drag him. He looked around frantically and noticed all the patrons of the coffee shop had gotten up. They were beginning to form a line, single file, to follow his captors.
His heart raced as he continued his struggle against the two hold him. He did his best to shift his weight and wiggle his arms free but it was no use. The sweat was beginning to soak through his light blue button down shirt. He realized he might be late for work. He realized these people might kill him.
They came to the basement stairs. They were old and looked as though they might collapse. The barista was holding the door and the man and woman lifted Sam off his feet and began to carry him down. Had he not been so frightened, he might have been impressed.
“These stairs are terrible,” said the woman who was holding Sam
“We keep asking corporate to replace them, but they say it’s too much money,” responded the barista.
“Well, I am sorry they are being so selfish.” The woman paused momentarily, “They should really think of these things if we’re going to sacrifice the non-believers.” Sam looked around, trying to look at the face of the woman.
“What!?!” Sam exclaimed. The woman looked down at him. She had brown-blonde hair with light blue eyes. Her hair was up in a ponytail and looked as though it would go just past her shoulders, were it down. Her cheeks were sharp and her lips were pursed as if she was annoyed with his question.
“You know what you’ve done.” She retorted.
“No, I don’t,” Sam’s legs flailed as he still tried to break free from their grasp. The man grunted. Sam looked to his other side to see a face with a good amount of stubble and rounded cheeks. His eyes were a light brown, and only a tad lighter than his hair. His hair was curly and kept closer to his head.
“Not fucking toasted,” The man grumbled looking back to his path down the stairs, “I don’t know how you’ve made it this long.”
“What the fuck are you talking about!” Sam shouted. The pair carrying him paused sending a ripple through the line of people following them. The man looked over to the women, who sam felt shrug. A moment later he was falling down the last few steps and landed with a sharp thud on the concrete floor of the basement.
For a moment everything was still, then pain filled his body. His chest throbbed and his right arm, which he had landed, let out a sharp streak of pain as he tried to move it. He could feel his knees which had skidded across the floor. They stung in a fashion similar to road burn, like when he fell off his bike as a kid. His head was pounding. He had managed to shield it from hitting the ground when the landed with his arm. However, its contact with his arm bone still hurt. He heard a voice from behind him.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” It was the barista.
“What does it matter?” It was the man’s voice.
“It’s not protocol.” Her voice was cool and unfazed.
“Well, I’m sick and tired of these fuckers just-” He was cut off, but Sam couldn’t tell by what. He heard footsteps coming down the stair. It was only one set, and they seemed to have hard soled shoes on. The step grew closer to Sam.
The footfalls stopped. Sam heard a small sigh. He felt an arm wrap around him and being helping him to his feet. His head was still pounding and his arm had gone from a sharp stabbing pain to a consistent ache. As he slowly made it to his feet, he glanced down at his arm to see a bruise about the size of his head forming on his arm. He looked up to see a well-dressed man, who’s face said that he was no more than 30, but his hair suggested mid-50’s with the amount of gray. He smiled at Sam.
“I am so sorry for the way you’ve been treated,” The man said. His voice was smooth and even. It had a depth to it that made it seem like he was even older than his appearance.
“I… Just…” Sam stammered, “I don’t know what’s going on.”
“That’s OK,” The man said. Sam couldn’t tell why, but even with all the pain he was in the man’s voice was very soothing.
“I think I need to go to the doctor,” Sam said, “Or, probably a hospital.”
“Of course. We’ll get you there.” The man smiled at Sam, “Before we do, can you please eat this bagel.” Sam paused. From somewhere the man had pulled out a bagel, already toasted. Sam just stared at the man, unsure of what to say. “It would be best if you just tried it.” The man cooed.
“I mean, I think I just really need to go to the hospital.” Sam was unsure what was happening, but he could feel the pain throbbing throughout his body, and it was screaming at him to get medical attention. He wasn’t even hungry.
“I had hoped you wouldn’t make this difficult.” He said. He looked back the man and woman who had thrown Sam down the stairs. Sam saw the man shrug and the woman simply stare right back at the man in the suit. There was a moment of silence.
“Can I go?” Sam said. The pain was beginning to move to his abdomen and arm. Hid head was clearing and the fear that had gripped him earlier was beginning to reestablish its hold. The man spoke without looking back at Sam.
“If you had not injured him, this would be much easier.”
“He was being insolent,” The man at the stairs responded.
“He was being ignorant,” The well-dressed man countered, “If he is ignorant to the truth then we must educate him, not injure. I understand your annoyance, I do, but if we treat everyone like this, how will we bring those to our cause?” There was a pause as the well-dressed man waited for an answer.
“Well… the ceremony should still-” the man at the stairs began.
“The ceremony won’t.” The well-dressed man interrupted, “He’s too hurt. The sub-hypnotic suggestions will be lost if his brain is too focused on pain. And if we give him anything to help the pain we can’t be sure that the suggestions will be heard at all.” Another pause. The man at the stairwell looked down at the ground. Sam’s fear turned partially to confusion.
He would have liked to take this moment to run, but he was in too much pain. Plus, both his original captors were at the end of the stairwell, along with the barista. At the top of the stairs two more patrons, a man in a full biking outfit with bright yellows and oranges in odd angled patterns, and another man wearing a simple jean and T-shirt combination. Both were murmuring back into what was undoubtedly a crowd of people behind.
“Well,” said the barista, “What do we do?” The man in the suit looked up at her.
“The only thing we can,” The well-dressed man responded. He turned back to Sam. “I am sorry about this.”
“It’s ok, just get me to a hospital,” Sam said. He hoped that this would be the end of this whole day. In fact, he really hoped that this was some sort of realistic dream, and he would wake up in his bed at home.
The well-dressed man just smiled. He made a quick movement and a black shape, something like an “L”swished by. There was a bright light, and then silence.
The well-dressed man looked up from Sam’s body. He sighed to himself. He looked over to the people. Those stupid sheep who had cost him another member of the flock. He wondered to himself if this whole world domination thing was really worth it. People were so obnoxious, was it really worth it to control them?
“Clean this up.” He said to the two standing at the stairs. The looks of shock on their faces had not subsided. He looked at the bagel in his other hand and took a bite as we walked past them and up the stairs. He chewed it as the throng of customers slowly went back to their daily routine as if nothing had happened. As he finished, he threw the rest of the bagel out. The kid was right, He thought to himself, bagels are really better untoasted.
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