The Man the system forgot to Name

Elias Cross did not need to open his eyes before the city was already awake.

He might hear it by the walls of his apartment, which were too thin, the engines snorting to start, the voices of people at the street below, the scream of a siren somewhere in the distance. The city was never awaiting anyone. It moved first. It always did.

Elias sat up in his wretched bed and gazed at a crack in the ceiling which seemed to me a crooked question mark. He had allowed months to repair it. Now, to repair a thing needed money and money was something he had been taught to do without.

He awoke and put his feet upon the damp floor.

Another day, he thought.

The other opportunity to be invisible.

His face was weary in the bathroom mirror. Late twenties. Dark eyes which saw too much. A jaw that seemed sharper when he did not eat his food right which was different often. He dipped his face in water and plumped up his collar. His shirt was dirty but old, one that had been washed too often.

His phone was lying on the small table next to the door. No missed calls. No messages. Nothing but a bank message to remind him of what he was already aware of.

Low balance.

He smiled faintly. Not because it was a joke, but as there would be too much truth to be struck with.

He was devoured by the city outside.

People moved with purpose. Fast. Focused. Important. Suits brushed past him. Comedy flowed out of a cafe where he could not afford to drink. Glass towers were a reflection of the sky and they possessed the sky.

No one looked at him twice.

That was fine. Elias had been taught at a young age that attention was dangerous. The wrong kind ruined lives. The right sort hardly ever came to pass freely.

He worked in a downtown logistics company. He was neither management nor operations. He was dealing with back-end reports, those files which people never looked at unless something had gone amiss.

Which was that in cases of success no one recalled his name.

And when they did not, somebody always had a silent man to play the blame game.

There was no sound in the elevator ride up. Elias was standing in the corner with folded hands and lowered eyes. He listened instead.

Two men were talking about investments. One of the women was complaining about her assistant. Someone laughed so much at what was not a funny joke.

Power, as Elias had observed, declared itself without any trouble.

He went out into the twelfth floor and strolled towards his desk.

"Morning," he said softly.

No one replied.

Numbers made sense to him. Patterns too. He was able to see inconsistencies that other people overlooked- not because he was a gifted person but because he listened. To focus was his silent disobedience.

By noon his stomach was telling him that he had not eaten breakfast.

He ignored it.

Then the email arrived.

The window is to be utilized in the immediate future, as per the subject.

His chest tightened.

At the time of Elias Cross being called it was never good news.

It was a smaller conference room than normal. At the top of the table was his manager who had crossed his arms. Next to him was a man that Elias had never seen--expensive watch, even smile, eyes that put people together as inventory.

There is a discrepancy between us, the man said. "A missing shipment. High value."

Elias nodded. I had reported an irregularity a week ago. I sent a report."

His manager had at last come to his gaze, look of annoyance. "Yes. You sent an email."

I acted out of procedure, Elias stated. "The system logs--"

The man had just made a polite interruption by mentioning that the clearance had been approved by your department according to the system logs. "Your login."

Silence fell.

No, that is not possible, Elias said.

His manager sighed. "Your credentials were used. This is at your expense, whether willingly or unwillingly.

Elias was hot right up his neck. Some other might have accessed--

"Enough," the manager snapped. "We're here to resolve this."

Settle, Elias thought, was another term sacrifice.

The man stood. An internally based review. Elias Cross is suspended until he is investigated.

Suspended.

The word landed hard.

The manager added, "Effective immediately," to this.

No one defended him. No questions. No discomfort.

I did not do this, Elias said to himself.

The man smiled. "Intent is difficult to prove."

Elias walked out.

The city hadn't changed. Still loud. Still busy. Still uncaring.

His phone rang out and he walked on the sidewalk.

Bank checks: Late installment.

He stopped.

Men were the water round him and stone.

Invisible again.

He laughed softly, once.

He did not know where to go but he could not go home yet. Home did not allow this kind of thought.

So he walked.

Past glass towers. Older structures in the past that were worn and sincere. These are shadows of the past, which grew out of length as evening came.

At the corner of a street, between an out of business bookstore and a glowing clue, Elias was experiencing pressure behind his eyes. Not pain. Awareness.

The world thinned.

A voice surfaced. Not loud. Not commanding.

Almost unsure.

Eligibility check... incomplete.

Elias froze.

"What?" he whispered.

No answer.

The sensation vanished. The urban city scurried back in-there was the noise, movement, life going on as usual.

Elias stood and had heart pounding.

Had he imagined it?

People passed. Cars honked. Reality asserted itself.

Nothing had changed.

Except him.

Quiet  men were not recognized in the city.

But somewhere, something had.

And Elias Cross knew not whether that was an omen or a curse