Your Truth is Out There (Find Your Truth Book 1) Page 2

  “Okay, but what does that have to do with me?”

  “Henry, I was going over your presentation, you know, giving it a closer look to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

  “And …?”

  “And … well, your artwork is … is amazing.”

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “Henry, please don’t call me sir, you don’t work for me anymore. I’m here as a friend. You are a truly gifted artist, I mean beyond anything I’ve ever seen before and I have a pretty good eye for this kind of thing. Henry, if I can offer you this one piece of advice, don’t think of the fact that you no longer work at Telasco as a setback, but as an opportunity for you to chase your dream as an artist. Do what I didn’t. You weren’t meant to work the eight-to-five shift in the corporate world; you’re far too talented for that.”

  Jason reached over and put his hand on Henry’s shoulder.

  “You’re going to be just fine,” he said, “and to make sure, I added a little extra to your check. Think of it as an investment in your new future.”

  Henry felt a lump in his throat, but fought it down with another drink.

  “Thank you, Jason,” he said when he finally regained his composure. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Jason got up and held his hand out.

  “Say that you’ll consider my advice and pursue your dream.”

  “I will,” said Henry.

  “Good luck to you.”

  “Thank you,” said Henry, standing up as well. “I hope you find someone who can create the right campaign for you.”

  Jason nodded, then turned around and left.

  Henry sat back down and looked at the glass in front of him, which a moment before seemed half-empty but was now clearly half-full.

  “Everything okay?” asked Craig coming back from the other end of the bar.

  “Yeah,” replied Henry as he picked up the glass and downed the rest.

  “Did he take you back?”

  “Nope,” said Henry. “Better. He told me to chase my dream.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “It would be, except for one problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Not a that, but a who.”

  Not bothering with the glass, Henry grabbed the Jack and drank it straight from the bottle.

  “My wife,” he said as he set the bottle back down on the bar. “You’d best call me a cab.”

  Chapter 2

  A Slow, Tedious Affair

  “We have a major snarl along Channel 1753, where a multi-vehicle wreck has completely blocked traffic. Clean-up crews are on their way, but those traveling along 1753 may want to consider alternate routes …”

  Gsefx turned the vidcon off. He’d heard enough.

  “Great, just great,” he said aloud, as his vehicle crawled forward, along with the rest of the inbound commuters. Like Gsefx, they were all making their way in from the thousands of outlying systems they called home, to their jobs on Laxor, the primary business hub for this sector.

  He glanced at the console chronometer for the third time in the last five ebyts and slammed a fist into the top of the console.

  “Gralt!” he shouted. “So much for getting to the juricking office early and catching up on my juricking work. At this rate, I’ll be lucky just to arrive in time for my first meeting.”

  Even under the best of circumstances, the commute to Laxor from his home on Clangdor was a slow, tedious affair, and after nearly ten turns of slogging his way through heavy traffic, Gsefx had, for the most part, resigned himself to the fact that the commute was simply a part of the job. Sometimes, when he allowed himself to escape into the music he loved so dearly, that resignation worked. The trip to and from the office provided Gsefx with the perfect opportunity to turn the volume up as loud as he wanted and kick everything else out of his mind, if only briefly. As the amount of free time he had to simply sit and enjoy his music was such a rarity, the privacy of his vehicle could be a welcome sanctuary—when he allowed it to be. At times like this, however, when there was so much work piled up and waiting for him, even his favorite music wasn't enough to keep him from exploding in frustration.

  “Gralt!” he shouted again, with another slam to the console.

  He took a deep breath in an effort to compose himself before briefly considering taking the next exit to access an alternate route. There were numerous ways to get to the Galacticount offices, of course, and Gsefx knew them all. He discarded the idea as quickly as it crossed his mind.

  Just be patient, Gsefx, and stay on course, he thought. As slow as traffic is moving, alternates never work and usually end up taking longer.

  He took another deep breath and attempted to steer his thoughts away from the traffic, and the trouble it was currently causing him.

  It's not like your life is going to come crashing down around you if you don't get there early, he told himself. After all, you have it pretty juricking good—a great career with the single most prestigious accounting firm in the galaxy. And, lest you forget, you just got a promotion. You have a beautiful home—even if it is a bit far from the office. Best of all, you're married to Lhvunsa, the woman of your dreams. How much better do you think you can do than that? No better, that's how much, so quit pitching a fit. You're only ten turns out of Higher Learning, so I'd say you're doing pretty juricking good. Certainly good enough to not let this traffic ruin everything for you. What if someone from the office were in a vehicle close by and saw you cursing and slamming your fists into the console? How good for your career do you think that would be?

  This wasn't Gsefx's first attempt at talking himself through his frustrations. He'd recited this script many times before. Too many times, in fact, for it to have the intended effect of taking his mind off the traffic. No matter that it was all true, the facts simply didn't matter at the moment. What did matter was that he’d awoken early, which in and of itself was no easy task, then left home early, hoping to beat the traffic and get to the office ahead of everyone else. All so he could catch up on his work before the chaos of the rotation put him even further behind than he already was. That was out of the question now.

  “Gralt!” He shouted again, this time refraining from hitting the console, or anything else. “I'm not asking for much! Just a little time to work without interruption so I can catch up a little. Now, thanks to this juricking traffic,” he waved two of his arms around wildly, “that's not going to happen, and I'm probably going to have to stay late again … or work through the break. Either way, Lhvunsa is not going to be happy about it.”

  He reached into his storage compartment and grabbed a snack bar, his fourth since leaving the house. He tore off the wrapper and tossed it to the floor with the others, then stuffed the entire bar into his mouth. As he did so, the console chronometer caught his attention once again.

  “Graulgh!” he shouted, as best he could around a mouthful of junk food. According to his onboard timekeeper, getting to work early was no longer his biggest concern. At his current rate of travel, simply arriving on time was going to be a stretch. Gsefx wasn’t sure how many times he’d been late this semi-turn, but he knew it was more than once. He also knew that his supervisor, a Dremin named Qilzar, definitely was keeping track of his tardies. After a quick calculation in his head, he decided he had time for at least one song, maybe two, before he’d have to call in and admit to Qilzar that he was going to be late again.

  “Albalan, random, play,” he said to the ship’s computer. Moments later, the cockpit filled with the wonderfully discordant sounds of this new form of music from a little-known planet called Irt.

  Night is day and day is night

  Don’t say I won’t ‘cause you know I might.

  You are wrong and I am right

  Don’t cross my path ‘less ya wanna fight.

  As the music engulfed him, his thoughts drifted back to his wife.

  Lhvunsa.

  They'd been together for twelve turns, married fo
r ten, and their love was as strong as ever—at least he believed so. From the time they’d left Higher Learning and entered the work force together, their careers had demanded a lot of them both. That was just a given with their chosen professions. But as her career in architecture advanced, she’d found more freedom—and clients—by working independently out of their home. Gsefx, on the other hand, only seemed to devote more of his time and energy to his work at Galacticount, especially since his promotion. And he knew it had taken its toll on their relationship. Still, he also knew his love for Lhvunsa hadn't changed, and he felt confident that her feelings hadn’t either. They just needed to find some time for each other—some time alone, without interruptions, to get their marriage back on track again.

  “This break will be different,” he had promised her, “we'll leave Clangdor and go to the fancy new resort on Alnost everyone's been talking about. We'll shut everything out and it will be just the two of us.”

  But once again, it looked like this break was going to end up just like all the others—with him working and Lhvunsa stuck at home, alone. She was not going to take the cancellation of their romantic getaway very well; she had been looking forward to it for quite some time. So had he. But they would work through it. She would be upset, no doubt about it, but Lhvunsa would understand. She always did.

  Rock on my children!

  Rock on my love!

  Rock all day and rock all night,

  Roll in the sounds from heaven above.

  The song came to a resounding end just ebyts before Gsefx was supposed to have arrived at work. Unfortunately for him, the traffic had not moved one bit. Far from just being a little late, it was clear now that he was going to miss most of a very important client meeting. He took another deep breath to calm himself before entering his boss’ dial-code into the vidcon. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

  The vidcon lit up and the thin, pale-gray face of Qilzar appeared.

  “My dear Gsefx,” he said casually, “late again, I see.” Strangely, he did not seem angry. In fact, he seemed quite pleased.

  “I’m truly sorry, Et Qilzar,” said Gsefx, “but it’s not my fault. I left the house thirty ebyts early. It’s this traffic, it’s …”

  Qilzar interrupted before he could completely justify himself.

  “Of course, traffic is always terrible at this time.” He paused for a moment. “You do realize this is the fifth time you’ve been late this semi-turn?”

  “Yes sir, and I am sorry. No matter what it takes, it won’t happen again, I promise.”

  “No need to concern yourself, Gsefx.”

  Qilzar was actually smiling now, an action that concerned Gsefx immensely.

  “In fact, there’s no need for you to come into the office at all.”

  Gsefx looked puzzled.

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Of course you do.” The smile left Qilzar’s face. “Galacticount employment policy 462b-7, paragraph 18c, specifically defines tardiness as arrival at the Galacticount offices by more than ten ebyts past the beginning of the established work rotation. Further, an employee is allowed no more than four unexcused tardies per semi-turn. Additional tardies are grounds for immediate dismissal.”

  “Now wait just a minute, you can’t possibly mean …”

  “The regulations are quite clear on the matter.” Qilzar’s expression remained blank and all emotion left his voice. “Et Gsefx, you are hereby terminated from the employ of Galacticount and your credentials revoked. Your final paycheck will be delivered to your home address within five working rotations. This transmission is ended.”

  “Wait! You can’t do this!” yelled Gsefx.

  His screaming had little effect, however, since the vidcon screen had already gone blank.

  As he sat there in stunned silence, the traffic began to move.

  Chapter 3

  Do Your Worst

  Henry counted the cash in his wallet, and then compared it to the amount due currently displayed by the cab’s meter. They were still more than a mile from his house and the meter was already demanding twenty-four dollars and thirty-seven cents, while he had just twenty-six in his wallet, along with an untold amount of loose change in his pocket.

  “Stop here,” he said to the cabby. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  “You sure?” asked the cabby. “It’s awful cold outside.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a sigh, “yeah, just pull over.”

  Once the car had come to a stop, Henry handed the cabbie all of his cash, change included, got out of the cab, pulled his coat tight and began walking. As the cab pulled away, Henry focused all of his energy into walking a straight line, but he’d had a lot to drink and it was all he could do to defy gravity and remain upright, something he wasn’t always successful at that. Weaving, stumbling, shuffling, and sometimes falling, Henry eventually made it to his block, where he leaned against the stop sign at the end of the street to rest for a moment and gather his strength before going the rest of the way. Before going home to face Lucy.

  Lucy was going to be angry, that much was a given. It was simply a question of degree, and whether or not he was drunk enough to deal with whatever she threw his way. He had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t be.

  Henry took a deep breath and let it out. How did I get here? He thought. How did I get to the point where I have no say over my own life?

  Deep down he already knew the answer. It was why he couldn’t face Lucy without downing the better part of a bottle of whiskey first. If he had dug deeper, he’d have uncovered the realization that he’d never had any say over his own life. From a childhood marked by parental neglect and no real friends, to his loveless marriage with the controlling Lucy—a woman chosen more as a way out of his parent’s house than out of any true affection for her—Henry had been overlooked for most of his life and bullied the rest of the time.

  The only thing that had sustained him was his art. Through drawing, sketching and painting the world around him, he had found a temporary respite, a brief sense of relief from the constant pain that enveloped his soul. But when he’d married Lucy, she insisted he quit tinkering around with his “silly hobby” and get a real job, one that paid real money. Henry reluctantly agreed to put away his pencils and brushes and focus on finding, and keeping, a “real” job. Now, however, with Jason’s encouragement, he was going to start again. He was going to stand up to Lucy and make her understand how important his art was to him. He had to make her understand.

  “Well,” he said aloud after a few minutes, “standing here isn’t helping any, I’m only getting more sober. I might as well get on with it.”

  Henry took a step forward and released his grip on the stop sign. At that very moment, a horn sounded from behind, startling him, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

  “Hey you drunken idiot,” yelled a voice from the car that had sounded the horn, barely audible over the laughter coming from the same car, “what happened? Did they throw you out of the bar for being too damned ugly?”

  More laughter from the car.

  “Either that or they figured out that losers like him can’t pay their bills.”

  The laughter turned raucous, followed by more jeers.

  Henry turned to look at his admirers. It was a car full of college frat boys, out looking for an evening of trouble. He didn’t recognize any of them, and he didn’t want to be their source of fun for the evening. He got up and started walking toward his house.

  “Hey,” yelled a voice that quieted the others, “where are you going? We’re not done talking with you.”

  Henry heard car doors open, then slam shut, and feet running after him. He did his best to start running, but in his state, he knew he wouldn’t get far. It was only seconds before several pairs of hands grabbed him.

  “That’s far enough,” said the leader, spinning Henry around. “It’s time to have some fun.” He grabbed a hold of Henry’s shirt col
lar, picked him up by it, and slammed him against a nearby tree.

  “Perhaps …,” said Henry, trying to hold back a nasty burp. “… if I might … oh my … I really think you should put me down now …”

  “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen,” said the frat-pack leader, pulling his fist back, “it’s time to say goodnight, drunk, because I’m about to turn out your lights.”

  Henry didn’t actually say anything at this point, but instead, like anyone who’s had too much to drink and then been tossed around like a rag doll, he proceeded to spew the contents of his stomach all over his captor.

  “Oh my God!” cried the leader. He threw Henry to the ground. “You sorry son-of-a-bitch … you’ll pay for this … oh God, this is disgusting!”

  “Hey, I told you to put me down,” said Henry, still gasping. “I can’t help it you’re too stupid to understand English.”

  “You’re a dead man! You’re gonna die and no one will ever find what’s left of you, if anyone even bothers to look.”

  Lying there on the ground, looking up at this hulk of a man-boy, a being bereft of everything except testosterone and muscle, Henry knew he was about to get the beating of his life. Glancing down, he realized how close he was to the man’s knee, and without waiting to think about his actions, he pulled his leg back and kicked him with every bit of strength he could muster, then climbed to his feet and ran away as fast as his drunken state would allow.

  The frat-pack leader let out a scream and dropped to the ground.

  “Get him!”

  Whether it was fear or adrenaline, Henry’s senses seemed to be somewhat clearer now, and he was more stable as he ran toward his house, although he still wasn’t moving that fast. He heard the footsteps of the frat boys chasing him and it wasn’t long before he could hear them getting closer. Fortunately, he was almost home.