Duck Blind

Oliver Green was the thirty-second victim of what was called Jodie Syndrome. Just like the thirty-one victims before him, he woke up in the Contagious Disease Department of Bronzeville Hospital. And, just like all the victims before him, he woke up with a splitting headache. He had no memory of his life before he opened his eyes in the hospital. He remembered his name. He remembered how to speak. But nothing that could tell him who he really was—where he was from, who his family was, what his job had been, whether he had money. It was all gone.

Just like every victim before him, Oliver was given a place to stay: an apartment in District 39 set aside for the sufferers of Jodie Syndrome. It wasn’t luxury living, but it was something—a one-bedroom unit with a combined living room, dining room, and kitchen, and a small three-piece bathroom off the bedroom. They also received a modest food allowance. The food was cheap, so the money lasted a few weeks. But it wasn’t free, and eventually the allowance ran out. Like the others, Oliver had to find a job.

None of the victims could remember any specific skills, and even if they did, it wouldn’t have mattered. No one was hiring. The money was gone, and food was running low. If Oliver didn’t find work, he knew he would eventually starve.

In the entire district, only one business was looking for workers: Warehouse 79. Like everyone else, Oliver was hired immediately. His job was to move packages from the conveyors to the trucks. That was all he did—hour after hour, day after day.

As he walked back and forth, he kept glancing at a particular spot on the wall. He often stopped and stared for a second or two before resuming his work. Unlike the others, it looked to him as though there should have been a door, or a window, or a painting—something besides a plain industrial gray wall.

“Oliver, stop daydreaming and get back to work,” his supervisor snapped.

Oliver was a good worker—the strongest and fastest package mover in the building. Lingering for a few seconds didn’t make him look bad. But day by day, he lingered longer. He was becoming obsessed with that spot.

No one else saw anything special about the wall. All they saw was cold steel. Every warehouse they’d ever seen looked the same. They began whispering about him behind his back. They said he was weird, strange, odd. They avoided him at lunch and never invited him to their apartments after work. When they were forced to work together, they put on friendly faces; otherwise, they stayed away.

Oliver didn’t let it bother him. Each day, he arrived with a smile, doing his work as best he could. He spoke to the receptionist, the security guard, and everyone he passed. Whether they were nice to him or not, he was kind to all.

One morning—just an ordinary morning—Oliver arrived early. Instead of going to the break room for breakfast, he walked straight to that spot on the wall. He placed his hand against it. There was an energy coming from the wall. Not heat—just… something. A sensation he couldn’t describe.

“Paul,” he called to a coworker. “Come feel this. Put your hand here.”

Paul touched the wall, then looked at Oliver like he was insane.

“Do you feel that?” Oliver asked.

“Yes. It’s called cold. There’s nothing strange about it. It’s always cold.”

Paul felt nothing unusual. Neither did Matt, Tommy, Laura, Brandon, or Mike.

“Oliver,” Paul snapped, “stop this crazy obsession. You’re making yourself look insane.”

The rest of the staff agreed. They told him to let it go, to get professional help. But the more they urged him, the more fixated he became.

The next morning, when Oliver arrived at work, that section of wall had been painted. It now resembled a window and a door. Inside the painted window was a large mirror. When Oliver stood there, he could see his own reflection. As he stared, three men approached behind him.

“Oliver,” said the man in the black suit. “You need to come with us.”

“Of course, Mr. Konner. Right away.”

James Konner, CEO and majority stockholder of Warehouse 79, rarely mingled with the floor workers. No CEO did. But here he was, speaking directly to Oliver. Even if he was being fired, Oliver felt it was an honor to be noticed by him.

Oliver followed the three men to Konner’s office on the fifth floor. What he was told shocked him beyond words.

“Oliver,” Mr. Konner said, “we’ve noticed your exceptional work. We’ve decided to promote you to Vice President of Exports. Tomorrow, don’t start in the warehouse. Come directly here and we’ll get you set up with your new office.”

The next day, Oliver collected his things from his warehouse locker and took them to his new office. Before heading upstairs, he stopped and looked at the wall one more time. As he did, he gasped and nearly dropped all of his belongings. He turned around to see if anyone was watching. There was nobody. Everyone else was still in the break room eating breakfast. Yet he swore he was able to see a group of people watching him. It was just a faint image, but he saw it. And he wasn’t sure if it was people who were watching. He placed his face against the mirror but wasn’t able to see anything. But he could still feel the energy coming from the wall. He could almost see it—a faint glow. He didn’t tell anyone. They already thought he was crazy.

Upstairs, Oliver was taken to his new office. It wasn’t large—about eight feet by eight feet. It had a desk with a computer, a comfortable chair, and a file cabinet. As he sat down, there was a list of things being shipped out. This was the first time he had any idea what was sold from Warehouse 79. It was mostly computer components, but at least he knew.

“How does it feel to be off your feet?” Mr. Konner asked.

“It feels great. Thank you so much.”

“Okay! I’ll leave you to your work.”

When he left, Oliver’s computer screen changed. An image of the wall he was so focused on appeared. It was glowing. He got up to go investigate, but before he could go downstairs, Mr. Roberts, one of the three men, approached him.

“Mr. Green,” he said. “I have some papers that I need you to sign. These make your new position official.”

Oliver took the papers back to his office. There were about one hundred of them. He read each paper, front and back, before signing. This took him a few hours, but he got it done. When he finished, he took them to Mr. Roberts and proceeded downstairs. However, before he could view the wall, Mr. Michales—the third man—stopped him.

“Mr. Green,” he said. “Mr. Konner needs to have a meeting with the top executives. Your new appointment makes you one of them.”

It appeared as if this new job was a ruse. They were trying to stop him from seeing the wall. He realized this when he found out that his position had no real duties. All he did was keep an eye on what items were going out. He didn’t need to order anything. He didn’t have to approve anything. All he did was watch a computer screen all day. What were they trying to keep him away from? This made it all the more desirable to him. But his new job made it nearly impossible to view it.

As Oliver sat at the computer, he started to remember that he had exceptional computer skills. He was able to gain access to information that others could not. For the most part, it was information about the customers ordering the parts and the salary of each worker, including himself. His file contained one called “Memory.” He clicked on it, but nothing happened. The one that interested him most was labeled “Duck Blind,” which referred to a place where a predator can hide while watching its prey.

“Are we prey?” he said under his breath.

When he clicked on the file, he saw the same image he had seen while staring at the mirror. He gasped. “They’re watching us!”

Although he had whispered the words, it seemed as if those watching had heard him. For as soon as he spoke them, red lights started to flash in the hidden room, and all of the people vacated. He closed the file and pulled up the list of outbound orders. He knew they would soon be after him.

Mr. Konner, Mr. Roberts, and Mr. Michales came into Oliver’s office.

“Mr. Green!”

Oliver didn’t know which one of them called him.

“How may I help you?” he asked.

“You are required to meet in the Black Room,” Mr. Konner said.

“Is something wrong, sir?”

“Don’t be alarmed. You’re due for a medical exam. All new executives are required to have one.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a moment.”

The Black Room was in near total darkness. There was a single spotlight shining on an exam table in the middle of the room. Oliver sat down and waited for instructions. A mechanical voice said, “Lie down and remain relaxed at all times.”

As he lay down, a beam of light scanned his entire body. His head was scanned four times. When the scan was completed, the mechanical voice returned. “Memory wipe completed. Twenty-four hours erased.”

They didn’t want to completely erase his memory—just one day.

“Oliver,” Mr. Roberts said. “Are you okay?”

“What happened?”

“You fell and hit your head.”

He did have a headache. Thus, the story could have been believable. The only problem was that the memory wipe didn’t work. Instead of wiping his memory, his memory was slowly being restored. Oliver didn’t sabotage the memory wipe— not deliberately. When he clicked on his memory file, the process had begun. Putting him in the memory wipe completed the process. All that was needed now was a good night’s sleep.

“You’re fine now,” Mr. Roberts said. “But if you wish to go home for the evening, you won’t be penalized.”

“Yes. I think I will.”

The next day, as Oliver got out of bed, he came to a shocking realization. Warehouse 79 was not a real business. All workers were part of an experiment. But the greatest issue was its true location.

Oliver returned to work acting as if he had lost several days of memory. He went back to his old job moving packages to the trucks. He continued to stare at the wall where the mirror now hung. He acted as if nothing had ever happened. When break time came, he made his way upstairs to his office. He entered a few commands into the computer and returned to the ground level. He did this as quickly as possible so as not to be discovered.

As Oliver passed the wall, the lights began to flash. It was only for two seconds, and it did not cause any alarm. He used this time to act out a plan. He touched the window just as the lights started to flash, and the wall opened. He walked through, and everybody was watching.

He had proven that the wall was fake. He had proven that they were all being watched. The next step was proving why.

“You are all part of an alien experiment. You were abducted from various planets and are currently on an alien spaceship.”

They all laughed. They had no problem being watched. They felt that if they were doing a good job, let them be watched. The job was putting food on their tables.

When other workers entered the Duck Blind, they all learned that what Oliver was saying was true. For those who still didn’t believe, Oliver touched the back of his neck and morphed into his original form: a reptilian humanoid with red scaly skin and six jet-black eyes. His mouth was a beak that opened four ways.

As everyone stared in amazement, Mr. Konner, Mr. Roberts, and Mr. Michales came with six others.

“Mr. Green,” Mr. Konner called. “This whole thing was your idea. Why get a conscience now?”

“I never approved of this.”

“Do you think you’ve saved anyone? We’ll just wipe their memory again and start over.”

“I won’t let you.”

“You can’t stop all of us.”

Mr. Roberts started a mass memory wipe. The entire staff forgot everything that had happened. Then, the next day, they started to remember everything. The rebellion lasted only a few hours. The nine executives fled the ship, never to be seen again. The Duck Blind was permanently closed off—until a new generation found it and started their own experiments.