Curse of the Potency Page 2

  People do always say you should read any contract before signing, so I attempted to do this, scanning my eyes over the long and dull document. Most of it was standard stuff, as far as I could tell, having had to sign a similar document to enable me to go through the daily paid drudgery that was my former job at the call centre. Now that I thought of it, it was strange to think I’d never work there again. Indeed, I must admit I was struggling to concentrate. I’d had a long day, and aside from anything else, I really was very hungry. I needed food, meat, fizzy pop, beer, chocolate, crisps, or whatever I could lay my hands on round here in this new part of the world I knew very little about.

  As I forced myself to scan through, a few things did catch my eye, and I took the opportunity to mention these to Daryl, thinking at the very least it would look strange not to raise any points at all.

  “It says that my contract is with the Omega Group as well as Solar Ray?”

  “Yes,” said Daryl. “Solar Ray is a fully invested Omega Group company. That’s a standard clause for all companies affiliated with the Omega Group. It gives Omega rights to intellectual property and assets—in case Solar Ray goes down the toilet, you know, though of course that won’t happen. Don’t you worry about that.”

  “Right,” I said, not really understanding but remembering what Daryl had said in the hearing about the Omega Group, how it was some sort of global network that shared ideas, had money and wanted to make the world a better place. I’d given it little thought during the hearing and saw no reason to give it any particular thought now.

  I continued scanning through the document, though it was giving me an awful headache, I can tell you. In the “remuneration” section, the number £60,000 caught my eye. Very tidy. I also saw a bit about “shareholdings” and saw that I had been allocated two per cent of the company.

  “Two per cent. Hmmm. Doesn’t sound like very much.”

  Daryl looked up from the computer screen and gave me what I’d call a strained frown.

  “Well, Dave, it depends on the total value of the company, doesn’t it? Do you know if you had just two per cent of shares in Apple today, you’d be worth around twelve billion dollars?”

  “Right…” I said, not convinced. “And how much are Solar Ray shares worth?”

  “I really don’t see how that’s relevant. We’re just starting out. In a couple of years, with you on board and the material reaching product stage, we could be supplying NASA with the next generation of shielding for their rockets. The sky’s the limit, you know.”

  “Good point.” I nodded and coughed.

  When he put it that way, he did have a point. Perhaps I was being a bit of a prat. And to be fair, the whole business world did rather overwhelm me at the best of times.

  I continued leafing through, trying and failing to find anything else of note to question Daryl about, telling myself that it was okay to sign, that I had to sign, that it was just a piece of paper and I shouldn’t get overly hung up about small print I’d never understand anyway. People never did, did they, when they got a job—you signed, didn’t you? On the dotted line. That’s what you did if you wanted the mullah.

  “Well okay, Daryl,” I said, trying to sound as assertive and thoughtful as I could. “I’ve read through and it looks okay to me. Is there anything else I should know about in there?”

  “It’s a legal contract, Dave,” said Daryl, looking at me down his nose in that way of his. “It says lots of legal stuff to protect everyone involved. Standard stuff, you know? Look, if you want to hire a lawyer to go through it, you’re welcome to. Only we can’t pay you anything till you sign.”

  I stared at him, wondering if I should get angry with him, wondering if he was going to be a surly git like this the whole time. I guess he probably would be, but also, maybe once we got through all the initial bollocks and things settled down, I wouldn’t have to deal with him much on a personal level. Plus, I thought, once I got what I wanted from the deal, I could probably be as much of git back to him as I wanted. Or just ignore him. I really hoped that day would come soon.

  He frowned at me. “You’re going to have to trust me if this is going to work, Dave.”

  I didn’t really trust him. I hardly knew him really, but his mum was nice, he’d won over everyone in that hearing, and it was only a contract. Everything I’d seen on it seemed normal, as far as I knew. You’ll be fine, I kept telling myself. No point delaying getting paid. Also, I was very keen to get away from having to talk to Daryl anymore in his big posh office. I had decided to go with him already and told the judge that decision. I was a man of my word, and it wasn’t like I had any better offers. Look on the bright side, I told myself. Sixty grand would do nicely, thank you very much.

  “Alright.”

  I reached for the pen.

  “Oh, hang on,” he said, laughing to himself. “You know, there is one bit I did want to discuss with you.”

  He took the document and flipped to the second page. “Here.” He pointed to around halfway down the page, to the “Non-Disclosure Agreement” part.

  “That’s like what the judge said, right?” I asked. “Not to go blabbing about peeing acid and all that?”

  “Yes, Dave, you’ve hit the nail on the head. But in this context, it also means you can’t go talking about the specifics of our arrangement. Not to anyone.”

  “Not to anyone?”

  “Even your mum,” he said with a little smile.

  “How do I explain the money to people?”

  He pursed his lips.

  “Say whatever you want. Just don’t mention the fact that your pee is”—he searched for the word—“special. And don’t go talking specifically about the fact that you are working for Solar Ray.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, Dave, it will cause people to ask unwanted questions.”

  “Will it?”

  “Yes. You’re not exactly a typical sort of employee in our industry, you know.”

  I had to agree with him there. And it wouldn’t really matter, I supposed. I mean, no one was interested in me. No one knew about me. Not in London. And I wasn’t the sort to go around blabbing and mouthing off. At least not about myself. At least not when I wasn’t pissed up or in one of my moods.

  “Basically, we don’t want the competition getting wind of this,” he said. “Believe it or not, you will be our greatest asset.”

  “Right.”

  And so, having exhausted all the lines of questioning that had occurred to me, more or less satisfied with the answers, and to be frank not seeing any other path to take, I took the pen and signed.

  “Very good. Thank you,” said Daryl, swiftly placing the papers into a drawer, which he then locked. “We can sort out your salary tomorrow, okay? I’ll have Christine look into it with you.”

  “Christine?”

  “My secretary. You can find her in the lobby tomorrow morning. On this floor.”

  He meant the girl I’d spoken to with the jokey T-shirt.

  “Great,” I said. “Thanks, Daryl.”

  “No problem,” he said, giving me that beaming smile. “Come back up here to floor five first thing tomorrow. There’s a board meeting you should attend, then some further activities I’ve scheduled in for the afternoon.”

  “Sounds busy.”

  “Well, yes, we’re not paying you for nothing. Think of it as an induction.”

  It sounded a lot more like a ball-ache.

  “Now I’m sorry,” he said, “but I have some work to catch up on. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

  He had already turned back rather pensively to his computer screen, so I let myself out.

  All in a day’s work, I thought to myself.

  Little did I know I had just signed away my life.

  *****

  That night, after another tinkle and visit from mister grumpy nerd to change the tank, and after sitting and staring at my mobile for several minutes, wondering once again if I dared to charge it and see
who had called, or not called, and to agonise over whether to call anyone and what I would say anyway, I decided to put off the decision for now. I was hungry after all.

  I went straight out into Shoreditch.

  I was careful to keep my head down. Of course, that is what I normally did, but after what the judge and Daryl had said about keeping it all secret, I felt a little bit paranoid talking to anyone. But it was nice to walk freely again, breathe the air of a free man.

  I ended up in a local curry house called Big Chillies I spotted just down the road. Loved the name, loved the food too. And the beer. Probably had too much of that, as I did start blabbing away hard to the poor old waiters. Not that I mentioned anything about my situation, but they soon got tired of my crap jokes, most of which were related to the name of their restaurant, which, as I’ve already mentioned, I did find rather amusing. Pretty soon I had polished off two or three pints of Cobra along with a large balti, onion bhajis, rice, naan bread and a bunch of other stuff. Can’t remember exactly how much I had of anything, but there came a point as there always does when I suddenly and very violently needed to pee. I hassled them to get me the bill, and they couldn’t have been more helpful at that point, obviously keen to get rid of me. I left a well-deserved tip, and after stocking up on snacks and drinks in a local newsagent, I legged it back to the facility, my bladder chomping at the bit.

  It was bloody lucky Daryl had made me memorize the entry code; otherwise, I might have had a spot of bother getting in, and that would have meant rather more than a spot of bother for whichever unsuspecting wall I would have ended up taking a toxic leak on. But as I say, I had it memorized, so I got in fine and rushed straight down to the basement.

  My room was just as I’d left it, still a soulless overlit dump, but I was very pleased to be able to let it all out in that lovely, safe, luminous green tallish piss-bin thing. When I’d finished, I pushed the red button like a good boy and wondered vaguely who it would be this time to dispose of my excretion.

  Lo and behold, it was the same miserable bloke.

  “Hey, hey!” I rumbled as he came in. “How’s it going?”

  By now I’d clocked him to be some kind of an intern. No one else so obviously educated would work so late to do such a thankless task.

  He ignored me as usual, but this time I wasn’t having any of it.

  “Come on, mate. You are allowed to talk to me, you know. What’s your name?”

  “Bill,” he said without looking up from his work.

  “You alright, Bill?” I slurred my words terribly.

  “Yes,” he said, not sounding it.

  “How’d you end up with this funny little job then? Doesn’t seem exactly like something anybody would volunteer for.”

  “No,” he said, steadfastly refusing to engage me.

  “Did you then?” I said after an awkward moment.

  “What?”

  “Volunteer?”

  He put the tank down, which he had just finished unscrewing, and finally turned to face me.

  “Dave, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah!” I said far too loudly.

  “Well, Dave.” He looked proper tired and fed up. “Actually, you’re wrong. I did volunteer. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do in order to get ahead in this world.”

  “That’s not the way I see—”

  “Well I guess we’re not the same. I’m just trying to get a start in this industry, and working here is a great leg-up into the Omega Group.”

  It might have been the alcohol, but he definitely seemed to be getting a bit shirty. I could have had a problem with him, I supposed, but I did still feel a little sorry for the undignified job he’d acquired.

  “Omega Group?” I said, ending my question with an involuntary burp. On top of that, I was still being rather slurry. I’m sure I wasn’t giving the best impression.

  He laughed to himself and shook his head.

  “Yes. Perhaps you didn’t know, but they invested heavily in Solar Ray and own companies all over the world. As soon as I see my way to completing this placement, I’ll be putting in for a transfer.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. I might have been impressed by his career planning forethought if he wasn’t being so surly.

  “A big wad, is it?” I said, intrigued to learn some of the nitty-gritty of Daryl’s business dealings. “Their investment?”

  “You could say that.” He laughed. “As far as I understand, they’re pretty much bankrolling the company.”

  And with that, he picked up the tank and left.

  To be honest, I did feel a bit miffed now. Cheeky bugger had not even said goodnight.

  “Hey!” I stumbled to the door, shouting down the corridor. “What’s your name?”

  By now he was almost halfway down to the door at the end with the humming machines.

  “Bill!” he shouted back, laughing. “I told you already!”

  Of course I felt like an utter fool now. I always do that when I’ve had too many—talk crap and minutes later can’t even remember half of it.

  “Have a good night, Bill!” I called, trying to make up for it.

  Then the thought hit me: of course there was zero chance of him having a good night. He had to stick around, didn’t he? After all, what if I needed a cheeky midnight tinkle?

  I didn’t have time to dwell too much on my idiocy though, for just then I felt a rumbling in my tummy. This was another kind of rumbling, the kind that hits you in the gut and can’t be ignored, the kind you cook up for yourself when you shove too much spicy food down your gullet.

  I slammed the door shut and rushed back inside my room, straight to the toilet, the other toilet, the real one, which was located in the adjoining en suite shower room. It was unlucky for Bill though, I must say, since shortly after that I had to have another wee, and sure enough, back he was, unscrewing that tank again.

  I didn’t bother talking to him this time. I just lay on the bed, though of course I had accidentally-on-purpose failed to close the door to the en suite toilet, which was located a mere foot or two from the wee tank.

  Sorry about the smell, Bill, I thought with a dark smile. But do you know what? Friendliness really is a virtue.

  Chapter 3

  So of course, the next morning it was time for that bloody board meeting.

  As a rule, I dreaded such things, but it was what it was, and since it was taking place in a work environment, I decided it was probably worth putting on work clothes for. After all, Daryl had been kind enough to collect some of my stuff from the flat in Crawley, including a range of my office-wear. Boring shirts galore. I chose a light blue M&S button-down, probably the dullest item I owned, and some dark nylon trousers. I even tucked the shirt in, wore a belt, and stuck on a pair of once shiny shoes I used to wear to the call centre. Sort of an on-the-cheap spick-and-span effect—that was me.

  I always get this deep, unsettling dread of people going silent whenever I enter a room. That fear was magnified by the fact that everyone in this room would doubtless be highly educated success stories far above me in intelligence and in just about every other way besides. Moreover, there was the small matter of my toxic-urine-peeing condition and the role that I would play at that company, both of which they’d doubtless all know about. Cause enough for an uncomfortable silence, you’d think, but in fact, as I opened the door, slipped into the Solar Ray boardroom and stood there, strangely, it was the exact opposite.

  They all just chatted happily away as if I wasn’t there.

  There were four of them. Daryl was stood leaning on the whiteboard with one hand on his hip, chatting to a lovely-looking young woman with dyed red hair who sat on a chair at the large meeting table that dominated the room. At the far end of that table, two men stood chatting whilst making themselves hot drinks and helping themselves to an assortment of biscuits.

  Daryl glanced at me as I entered but continued his conversation anyway. The woman, listening to Daryl, had not noticed me, wh
ilst the two blokes must have seen me but nonetheless remained completely unaffected.

  I stood for a minute—hung, really, hands in pockets.

  Aside from the fact that they all were ignoring me, which, to be fair, I was fairly used to, something else wasn’t quite right.

  Then it dawned on me.

  I was dressed completely wrong for this occasion, whatever this occasion was supposed to be. They were all in the most casual clothes imaginable. Daryl was wearing jeans and a plain black snug-fitting V-neck T-shirt. The woman’s hair was all sort of higgledy-piggledy and she had on blue corduroy dungarees with some kind of multicoloured tie-dye grunge blouse underneath, lots of purples and pinks. The other two blokes—well, they were the worst culprits. One of them was wearing brown corduroy trousers and a light blue T-shirt with some kind of bright orange Darth Vader artwork. Plus, he had this shiny, long, flowing, wispy brown hair that floated over his face and down to his shoulders. To cap it off, he was smoking one of those electronic ciggy things, letting off huge gusts of white smoke. The other bloke was even worse, wearing a Hawaiian shirt decorated with an assortment of rocket ships, a look that was completely at odds with the extremely serious look on his face as he listened intently to his floaty-haired friend.

  I soon got that they were all complete nerds, especially the one with the Hawaiian shirt, who was almost stereotypically nerdish, at least to my eyes: he had a thin, bony face covered in spots and finished off by a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, and his short hair comprised tightly compacted, oily brown curls. Basically, they all looked like they were on their way to how I imagine a summer beach party somewhere hot and nice—Spain, maybe, or California—even though this was London and it was fast approaching winter. I, on the other hand, in my cheap and massively dull Marks & Spencer’s best, looked as though I was on my way for an interview at the tax office.

  I struggled to imagine feeling more out of place, so I decided on the spot to nip back down to the basement and put on something trendier.

  “Hang on, Dave!” said Daryl as I turned. “Don’t think you can get out of it that easy.”