So oblivious. All oblivious.
He sat on the edge of the park fountain. A laptop computer rested on his knees, but his eyes were on the people strolling around him. They chatted with each other; some laughed, some appeared in a deep conversation. Some walked by themselves, either with headphones crammed in their ears or simply viewing the park. A teenager sat nearby him, nose-deep in a thick novel, her eyes darting back and forth across the pages. He sighed, wondering how people can be so wrapped up in their own little worlds.
Turning his attention back to the screen, he adjusted his glasses and rushed his fingers over the keys. Codes and passwords meant nothing to him; it was child’s play. He took a small external hard drive from his pocket, inserting it into the USB port. The laptop beeped as it leaked the sickness into the other computers it was taking hold of. He thought of what the circuits looked like. Possibly human veins. But their white blood cells were no match for his disease.
After the drive was unloaded, he clicked on a file labelled “Home Run.” A window popped up, demanding yet another username and password combination. He huffed a short laugh, typing in –
“Shhh. Shhh, honey. It’s okay.”
His fingers slipped, hitting the enter key. Flashing in big red letters cried “ACCESS DENIED.” He grunted in frustration, raising his head to see what caused this disturbance. A woman sitting across from him cradled a baby in her arms and was rocking it back and forth while it whined. He looked away at another mother and daughter; the little girl must have been at least four. She held tightly onto her mother’s hand as they skipped down the cement path.
Fiona was the same age. Maybe if he had taken her down here today, she and the other little girl could have formed a bond, become friends. Instead, she was at home, a breathing tube shoved up her nose. The thought jolted his anger, and he typed away until the screen read “ACCESS GRANTED.” No one looked at him. No one had any idea what he was doing. No one knew that he was gaining entry to the U.S. Department of the Treasury.
One million dollars. Those three words looked miniscule when he typed them into the amount slot. How could something be so small, yet so large? One million dollars. How could something as simple as money make such a difference? It was only numbers after all, imprinted on paper and coins. Something you traded between each other. It wasn’t even indestructible. He could lift up a one hundred dollar bill, light it on fire, and watch as it crumbled into a useless pile of ash. Yet it had become a human need, like water or food. People endured hours of hard work for it, sacrificed for it, even killed for it. And that was what he was ready to do.
He ran his finger over the mouse, moving it to a silver button on the screen. The one button that, with a simple click, could change his life forever. Whether the consequences were good or bad. The button was “Transfer.” Another sigh, he stared at the button, rubbing his chin. All he had to do was tap his finger, and he would become a millionaire. Or sent to jail, depending on how moronic he assumed the department was. He thought of his little Fiona. What had the doctor called it? Gliobla—multi— . He didn’t even know how to fucking pronounce it, and his only daughter was its victim.
It’s very lethal. Only 2-3 people per 100,000 receive this tumour. Without proper treatment, sir, she only has 14 months to live.
Surgeries and therapies in the movies all seemed so easy, so curable. What they didn’t tell him was that it cost a shitload of green. And with a mother with unknown whereabouts, and a father who had a job as a fulltime store clerk, the girl didn’t have much of a chance. But as he sat on that concrete that circled around the fountain, he held that chance in the palm of his hands.
He was a slave to money under its sweet call. Barely living paycheque to paycheque in a beat up apartment, he never saw it coming when he was growing up. He never expected that he would have to choose between losing his loved one or himself. If he clicked that button, he would save his daughter, but he would transform himself into a villain. A fugitive. Twitching and gasping around every corner to avoid capture. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if someone found out.
The baby across from him had stopped crying, now sucking on a pacifier as its mother continued to rock her arms. It was a beautiful sight. He remembered when Fiona was born, crying like hell, but she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He swore on that day he would never let any shadows touch his little angel. His promise had been broken.
With clenched fists, he slammed his hands down on his laptop, not caring if anyone was watching. His teeth gritted up against each other as he pulled at his hair. A thief. A criminal. A villain. Fiona. What would she think? If she was old enough to understand, what would she tell him to do? No sacrifice, no gain.
One more deep sigh, he shut his laptop and walked away.
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