Fade to Grey

The train swayed from left to right, and the mass of people swayed with it, all grasping at the hand holds, to keep upright.

He put on his headphones, and world faded out. All the color faded away, as he lost himself in a sea of music. Everyone in a hurry, everyone equally important, in their minds at least. He pulled out a small mechanical calculator, and started running the algorithm through it. He didn’t trust digital calculators. He didn’t trust anything. He didn’t trust anyone. Even this small mechanical calculator was frequently disassembled, and reassembled, lest anyone mess with his measurements, or try to alter the algorithm. He couldn’t let anyone change it. He had worked on it all his life, and it was all coming together now. 

He got off the train. Or rather was pushed off. The crowd was an organism in itself, he was merely a cell. He had to go wherever the crowd wanted to go. Down from the train, and up the steps of the station. At the top he waited for a moment, as the rest of the crowd forced their way around him. He stood and thought for a second about what was about to happen. He looked down at the calculator, and the number it showed.

He made his way out from the station, and down a side street. He circled the area a few times, stopping at each corner, and looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He then cut across the street towards a metal fence. He felt around for a seam, and pulled back the steel wire mesh of the fence. It bent just enough to slip inside. The metal sprang shut behind him with a loud clank. It was another safety measure. Anyone entering this way would alert him.

He walked along the industrial estate. This areas would once have been teaming with people, loading and unloading goods from the trains. Coal dust and grease still darkened every surface, while the once beaming rails were now just lines of rot and rust.

He walked past abandoned and empty factories. A few scattered puddles and a light drizzle were the only remnants of last night's storm. He ducked into a pitted old train carriage. Inside too, only the frames of the seats and interior remained. He jumped out the other end, and made his way towards warehouse number 37B.

He kept looking back over his shoulder making sure no one was following him. He was right to be paranoid. The algorithm was too important. He cleared the calculator, and input a few more numbers into it, and examined the result. It wasn’t what he expected. He went over the number again in his mind, and input it into the calculator once again. The same result popped out. It was an anomaly. It had to be. He looked over his shoulder once again. He spotted large ripples in a puddle, and froze.

The blood drained from his face. He waited for a second, to see what made them. It could be an animal, or a bird. It could just be the rain. Or it could be them. He picked up a small rock, and threw it towards one of the train carriages. The loud clang cut through the slow, steady drone of the rain. A small white cat ran across, stopping only to stare at him. It made similar ripples in the puddles as it crossed. It was a small weight off his shoulders. He had bigger things to think about now. He hurried across towards the warehouse, not looking back again.

Warehouse 37B was just like any other warehouse on the lot. A large non-descript structure, one of dozens. The white stenciled numbers which were the only differentiator were slowly fading, like the rest of the building. The large steel front loading door was permanently shut. Only the old train tracks were allowed in.

The small fire escape on the side of the building was slightly ajar. He climbed up the steel stairs along the side of the warehouse, and squeezed his was in through the small gap. The secret world that lay inside was well hidden by its derelict exterior.

Among old machining equipment, and old trains, shrouded in sheets of plastic was his sanctuary. Hundreds of old computers lay in stacks, with a jungle of wires connecting them together. On one side was a large board, covered in what appeared to be the random scrawls and scribbles of a mad man, but were in fact a complex mathematical language he had developed for himself, written down in a cypher he had also developed for himself. He had to make sure that no one could read the algorithm or understand its use and importance. The computers meanwhile ran the numbers. Just like he did in his mind and in the calculator. He pulled across the translucent white plastic sheet, and stepped in to his lair.

He shook off as much water as he could, and shed his overcoat as he stepped into the plastic walled “room”. The equipment was delicate and temperamental, but it served its purpose. He looked down at the mechanical calculator, and the numbers it showed. There was something wrong, and he had to figure out what. He pulled out an old laptop from one of the racks, and connected it to his complex network of computers. They were far faster and more accurate than he ever could be, and ran every possible input through the algorithm many times a second.

Lines of code displayed in white letters against a black background on the computer's old screen. The screen often glitched or froze, but it would eventually show him what he needed to see. He sat down on an old leather covered engineer's chair he had salvaged from one of the trains. It was amazing how many useful parts and tools one could get for free by just digging around old structures and salvage yards. The old laptop slowly began running the program, and the lines of code switched to long strings of numbers. He scanned them carefully, looking for a certain string. Either the one displayed on the calculator, or the one he thought should've shown up on the calculator. Outside, the skies darkened, and rain was getting heavier. Another storm was brewing as well.

A shadowy figure dressed in black had been following the man from the train station. He knew he took the same train every morning, and wound up in the same abandoned industrial estate. He had been following him for weeks now, tracking his every movement, learning as much as he could about him. Not the usual data, like his name, or age, but about his personality. The small little ticks that made each human so odd and unique. So far he had avoided detection, staying in the shadows, staying out of sight. His dark black and grey attire helped. Even the inspector's badge he would proudly display on any other day was kept well hidden. He knew what he was up to, and had to stop him, to ensure the safety of the both the suspect, and everyone around. It was his job to flush out anyone with an overactive imagination, and the resources to act on it.

This case file was named "The Theologist". Not a name The Bureau came up with, but a moniker this lunatic had come up with himself. They had arrested him once before, for harassing members of the public. He spewed out lines of how the world was an illusion, God was in fact a computer, and about how he was going to prove it. He wasn’t deemed dangerous then. They assumed he was nothing more than a disillusioned hobo. He was now a disillusioned hobo with access to a whole lot of information and equipment. Which made him very very dangerous. That's how this game of cat and mouse had begun: "The Inspector" vs "The Theologist".

Although they were on opposite sides, they were in many ways very similar. That’s what the inspector admired about this case. Unlike the usual psychos and addicts and religious fanatics he was tasked with apprehending, the Theologist was different. He was smart, calculating. He was also creative, and he learned quickly. Very quickly. The moment he realized the bureau could get to him, he had all but disappeared. He was paranoid, constantly shifting his paths and routines to throw anyone off his scent. He worked nearly constantly, traveling from one hideout to another, checking his calculations. And when he wasn’t in front of a computer, he kept fiddling with his little calculator, or running through the numbers in his mind. He had achieved what the inspector regarded as the perfect work-life balance: All work and no life. All that was just a distraction to both men.

Inside the Theologist was frantically typing into the keyboard. He had made a small mistake and was hurriedly trying to fix it. Months of work had come down to this. These final few mistakes were the last hurdles. He was so close. So close to that final equation. To that final answer. He would finally know the true nature of the universe. He would finally transcend this artificial world. He would see the face of god itself, printed in lines of code on the screen. He was so close, but he was scared. They were too. And he knew all too well, that God didn’t like anyone messing around with his code. He wondered what would happen the moment he got in. Would it all just stop? Would it all fade away? He paused for moment, and then continued typing. Speculation was for fools and fanatics, especially when he was so close to the truth.

The Inspector slowly climbed the steel staircase, making sure not to make a noise, while looking out for traps or defenses. He slowly stepped over a trip wire, innocuously hidden as a rusted piece of wiring. He had seen it all before, but he was extra careful this time. It took him ages to climb to the top, but he managed to avoid all the traps. He was so close. Months of work were coming down to this. Any mistake here could ruin it all, and ruin his spotless, perfect career. At the top he slowly peeked through the door, his hand gripping his pistol. What he saw was just as he had imagined. The plastic sheets, the old, untraceable equipment, it was all shat he had imagined. Probably because that was exactly how he would have done it.

He heard him, frantically typing away. He knew he was close. And that scared him as well. He wondered what he would find. Even his seniors at The Bureau weren't too sure. They were just informed of their tasks and were sworn to secrecy. Most of the people they arrested wouldn’t know much. They were just warriors whose job was to get people to question The Bureau. That’s another reason this case was so intriguing. The Theologist was probably the only one who could actually find out the truth. He often wondered what would happens if he let him achieve his goal. What could he actually find?

He heard a noise again. He stopped typing and looked up, startled for a second. He knew for sure this time, it was Them.

The inspector saw the Theologist was startled. Or at least heard it. The way he abruptly stopped typing. The rustle of sheets. He moved away from the gap in the door, and signaled to his men. As he was inching his way up the ladder, they had slowly assembled below, and at his signal, pulled out from the shadows. 

He continued typing frantically. He was almost done. He would just have to let the computers do their job now.  

The Inspector guided his men to a spot on the wall, where they could enter. They peeled put one by one, and made their way to the side of the building. One of the men reached into another one’s backpack and pulled out a charge, scanning the wall for the perfect spot. The inspector would enter first, and at his signal, the men would breach a wall, and enter from the side, surrounding the suspect. He pulled out a set of ear plugs and popped them in. It was about to get loud.

Lines of code ran frantically across the screen. Individually they were meaningless, but the program was the culmination of his life's work. He almost instinctively raised his hands, as he heard the footsteps, and the distinctive sounds of plastic being spread apart. He could feel the gun being pointed at him.

Stop! 

Stop what you're doing. Put down the keyboard, and step away from the computers. You know how this will end. It could be clean and simple, or it could get messy and complicated. Save me the paperwork, and just stop everything and step away.

I can't. I'm too close. Don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to know what's so important that you have a whole Bureau to protect it? Haven't you ever wondered why we're here?

The lines on the screen cleared and were replaced by just one:
Calculation complete. View results? 

It was done. The blinking cursor highlighted the question mark. It all came down to this. He could dictate what would happen next, and he wasn’t the one holding the gun. 

The inspector was in two minds. He could end it right now, or he could wait a moment, and see for himself. This was exactly why this case was so interesting. It challenged him. Suddenly he realized he was on the back foot. He had a choice to make now.  

"Is it really worth risking your life for it?"  

The Theologist hit the enter key, as the inspector raised his gun. Both men smiled, but for very different reasons.