One Thousand Typewriters
Daniel Yetman September 19 2013
“Excuse me
miss!” Eric calls out frantically, to the woman who currently strolls absentmindedly
down the hall, two paces in front of him.
“Miss!” He
calls again, this time building up the nerve to tap her on the shoulder. She
turns around and gives him the most peculiar of gazes—it’s a look that causes
Eric to pause before speaking again.
“Yes, what
is it?” She asks, assuming that Eric’s primary motive for calling her to
attention is to deviously attempt to advance his fervent desire for her.
“What brilliant, and well-constructed pickup
line will this fool attempt?” She asks herself. Her assumption is merited,
since it wouldn’t be the first time today some arrogant simpleton has
approached her with sexual intent. It wouldn’t even be the second or third
time. Part of her hates them—all of them—but a greater part of her loves the
attention. Perhaps that’s the reason why a part of her deflates when she
realizes that she is the fool in the
present circumstance. For Eric has no intention to even go so far as to smile
at her politely, let alone try a falsely constructed juxtaposition that might
win over her heart, or at least blind her long enough for him to win a date
with her.
Eric’s
compulsion for meeting her gaze is rooted from the pen that she had dropped
several steps back, which he feels obligated to return to her.
“I believe
this is yours,” he says innocently, almost as if it hasn’t yet occurred to him
that, she is in fact, pretty.
“Oh… Yes…
Thank you,” she responds, begrudgingly.
Fate could
have easily swayed either of these strangers in completely opposite directions
if it felt inclined to do so—for if Eric had not missed his original flight
this morning, he would have arrived at the hotel they are both standing in at
this moment hours before, meaning he likely wouldn’t have bumped into this
woman. And if she, who does in fact have a name, which is Kate, had not dropped
the pen then who knows how long they would have remain unbeknownst to one
another.
“You are
very welcome.” Eric eventually responds. And for all intents and purposes, they
should have parted at that moment—but he remained with a blank stare, and she
was still bewildered to the fact that, as of yet, he has not shown even a hint
of attraction towards her.
After
realizing that she’s gawking, with a distraught look upon her face, she turns
back towards the door she was about to walk through when Eric called her name.
It is the door that leads to the lobby of the hotel.
Before she
can reach for the handle, Eric subtlety sneaks by her and pulls the door open
so that she may walk through. He stares back at her with the same blank look he
has portrayed since they’ve met, and waits for her to step through.
Part of her
wants to slap him across the face and tell him that she can open her own doors
but another part of her wants to reach out and kiss him—not because she at all
feels herself attracted towards this stranger—but because she would like to
reiterate to herself that she could
if so felt so inclined.
She does
neither of these things, but instead walks steadily forward, towards the glass
door, but before she makes it through the barrier, any chivalry that was
oriented towards her dies in an instant. A loud siren sounds, which Kate
realizes is Eric’s phone, and the device erupts into a green, blinking
lightshow.
“Oh my!” He
exclaims, while flinging himself in front of her and racing down the corridor
at a full out sprint. As he does so, the door that he was holding springs back
and hits Kate in the nose, not enough to hurt her, but enough to farther her
disdain, lust and questions about this man.
Before he
races around the corner, he utters a weak “Sorry!”
Kate shakes
off the odd occurrence and continues on her original quest of trying to obtain
a room to stay in for the week. This hotel wouldn’t be her first choice, but
the price is right, and it is proving to be significantly more difficult to
find a room in this city than she originally thought it would be. The paint on
the outside is chipping and the building looks like it may have once been a
mansion, or some type of expansive home that got converted to a hotel later.
There are parts of the building that have clearly been added on, after the
original foundation had been laid, as the paint doesn’t match and the building
has an odd “L” shape that seems
suspiciously inefficient. If she had to guess, she would say there are about
100 rooms in total, and as long as at least one of them are unoccupied, she
will be satisfied.
She lurches
towards the front desk, as she trips over a precarious curl in the red carpeted
flooring, where the floral design extrapolates itself from the two dimensional
plane it rightfully belongs in. Kate catches herself on the edge of the desk in
the front of lobby, nearly rolling her ankle in the process. Needless to say,
it only farther dampens her spirits. To her dismay there is nobody working on
the desk and she is left to caress the silver bell on top of the oaken surface,
in hopes that somebody within earshot will come running to her.
She rings
the bell twice at first, two gentle taps, but when she isn’t met with a
response, she begins to fear that she may have wandered into some backwards,
phantom hotel where she is the only guest. Beyond Eric at the
door of the hotel, she hasn’t seen a single guest walk by in either direction.
She rings the bell twice more, for good measure, before backing away and turning from the desk. She
sourly ponders if she may be spending the night in a cardboard box underneath
the highway tonight, but her pessimistic drivel gets cut short when a voice
calls out to her—a remotely familiar voice that both makes her nauseous and
plucks the strings of her heart at the same time.
“Madam!” calls out Eric.
“You
again?” She asks, callously.
Eric slips behind the desk and gives her the
same stare, that at this point, he has become notorious for—void of emotion…
Just waiting for her to say something—anything. When she continues to stay
silent, and the reticence becomes prolonged, Eric literally slaps his forehead
and kneels down behind the desk.
“Oh, I know why you’re confused!” His voice
is muffled but Kate can still make out his words.
He stands up again, this time wearing a red,
bellboy hat. He gives her a smile and taps his thumbs against the desk as he
waits for her to collect her thoughts.
“You—you work here?” She asks, a little
confused but quickly begins collecting her thoughts.
“Oh yes, I’m actually the owner,” responds
Eric.
“Really? Well then you might be interested
to know that I nearly sprained my ankle on your carpet a few seconds ago.” She
points to the spot.
“Oh no! That’s no good.” He races over to
the spot where the carpet is raised up, feels around for a tear, pulls out a
banana peel and pats the carpet back down flat with his heel.
“Sorry about that!” He throws the banana
into a nearby garbage can, repositions himself behind the desk and resets his
visage.
“What… Never mind, I don’t think I want to
know, to be honest. Well give me a room then, I suppose.”
“Oh?
You want a room then?”
“Ummm…
Yes, this is a hotel, isn’t it?”
“I suppose you’re right, but there might be
a slight complication with your request, I’m afraid.”
“You don’t have any rooms left? Hmm, looks
like I’ll be sleeping on the street tonight after all.”
“Well, it’s not that we are all booked up…
It’s just that—well—may I ask how you found out about us?”
“I came across an advertisement online, your
price was one of the lowest, hence why I’m here.”
Eric smiles back at her dumbly, not
attempting to respond at first, to her utter frustration. She is becoming
progressively more convinced that she hates
this man. His overly polite behaviour, and the stupid grin that he
constantly wears. And she can’t help but admit that she also is undoubtedly
curious about how the banana peel worked its way beneath the carpet, but she
will not give him the satisfaction of portraying interest, but such is her
stubborn predisposition.
“You see, the thing is… I actually recently
purchased this establishment and, how silly of me, I forget to stop advertising
the price of a—“
“If it’s a little more expensive, that’s not
a problem—I’m pretty desperate at the moment, like I mentioned earlier, my
alternative is to sleep on the streets. It seems like every hotel, inn, hostel,
and motel is booked up for the night.”
“Fair enough, but it’s not that the prices
are a little more expensive, it’s just that… Well, we aren’t really a hotel
anymore.”
“Not a hotel?”
“Yes, we… Aren’t really renting any rooms at
the moment. But that being said, I can’t let a young woman like yourself go
homeless, even if it is just for one night. So if this is your only option I
have one room that I’ve kept prepared, for just such a case, that you may spend
the night in for whatever rate you saw online.”
“Fine, fine, I just want this night to be
over, give me the key so I can get to bed then get out of here as quick as
possible.”
The perpetual empty gaze that Eric has been
wearing, the one that has Kate steaming and ready to leap across the counter
and grab him by the throat, finally disappears as he opens up a cabinet behind
the counter and peruses the list of keys available. His eyes scroll from the
top row to the very bottom, his eyes pass over one hundred individual room
keys, which farther proves that not a single room in the hotel has been checked
out. His gaze finally ends on the 101st key.
“You may stay in room 426, if you so
desire.”
She grabs the key and begins to storm off
before a moment of levity causes her to finally explode.
“Madam! You forgot your bag.”
She lets out a yell that may be human, or
may have been bore from some animal deep within her.
“Madam, are you alright?”
“Stop calling me madam, and don’t bother me
anymore. I am sick of your phony, polite disposition, your weird, convoluted,
ghost hotel and that stupid, stupid smile.
“I shan’t bother you anymore, my apologies,”
he responds, taken aback.
She lets out another exasperated yell and
finally disappears to her room.
***
After
laying down for about an hour, and letting herself cool off, she finds herself
frustrated and can’t help but feel as though she has been made a fool of. It’s
not that she feels as though she would like revenge… But still, if she could
somehow make a fool of the man at the front desk then, well, that wouldn’t the worst
thing in the world.
She muses with the idea of attempting to
seduce him, to put her witted charm to use… She slips into an outfit, which is by
definition is a little less comfortable, but a more enchanting than the skirt
she was wearing before.
Kate
swings her room door open with authority and sneaks into the hallway, but
before she reaches the spiralling staircase that will take her back to the
first floor, curiosity gets the best of her. When she passes by a door with the
number 423 scribbled above it, she pauses and gingerly rests her hand on the
doorknob. Though, intuitively she knows that the room must be empty, since she
saw all the keys hanging by the front desk, for a split second, she suddenly
has an overwhelming sensation that the room my actually be occupied. She
removes her hand from the handle, takes a deep breath and knocks instead. With
her breath held, and her tiny frame remaining perfect still, she can
distinctively hear the sound of computer keys being pounded upon fiercely, as
if somebody is typing madly, worrying more about getting their thoughts to the
page than they are about syntax. After the knock, there is a pause in the
typing and Kate waits for whoever is in the room to come to the door to let her
in, but there isn’t so much as a rustling.
Kate reluctantly backs away from the door,
and continues back on her quest to return to the front desk, to either seduce,
yell at, or make pleasant conversation with the man who is likely there still.
Eric is, in fact, at the front desk, hunched
over a book that lies open on the table. He stands with both of his palms
pressed against the table and his fingers turned towards him for support. It
seems like an odd position to be reading in, but Kate doesn’t give it much thought.
Instead, she whistles twice to get his attention and gives the most innocent
smile she can muster.
“Oh, hello there, Eric” she states sweetly,
noticing his nametag for the first time. “I was just wondering if—”
She is interrupted by the sporadic whaling and
blinking of Eric’s phone once again.
“Sorry, miss, I have to run, but don’t move!”
He sprints wildly down the hallway, nearly tripping over his own feet twice.
The bellboy hat he was wearing (for whatever purpose) sails off his head,
landing at Kate’s feet. Once again she is dumbstruck.
It takes about five minutes before Eric comes
racing back, panting and sweating. “I
am…. I am… I am…” He’s so tired that he can’t articulate his speech. “I’m sorry
that I had to run, what can I help you with now, Madam?”
She tries to remain composed, and regain the
flirtatious voice she had previously introduced herself with. “Oh, well I was
just wondering how you are on this dark, and lonely night?” She leans against the
table and playfully grins.
“I am very well, thank you for asking, and
how are you this evening?”
“I am—”
She is cut off by a loud screeching from the
floor above them. She is likely mistaken, but it reminds her of a primal
screech of some type of wild ape.
“I am very, very, very, very sorry! But I
must run again! Stay here.” Eric races down the hall again, a little more
nimbly then last time and is gone for about another five minutes before
returning once more.
“May I ask what that was about?” She
inquires.
“It’s hard to explain but—” There’s another
screech, but this time it sounds as if it is coming from somewhere down the
hall.
“Last time, I promise!” The ritual continues
for a third time, but this time when he returns he retrieves his hat and places
it, slightly askew, back on his head.
“Okay, what is going on in this ungodly hotel?!”
She exclaims, unbearably quizzical and more than a little afraid.
“Technically, we are not a hotel anymore,”
he responds. She stares at him, her mouth ajar, as she begins to storm away
once more.
“But okay, moot point. It will be much
easier to show you.” He beckons her forth, to her reluctance, but she follows
the man down the hallway.
“Are you familiar with the infinite monkey
theorem?” He asks her.
“You mean the expression, if you give enough
monkeys typewriters they will eventually produce Shakespeare?”
“Yes! That’s the one.” Eric puts his hand on
the handle of a door with the number 127 written above. “Well, this is surely
going to be the most maddening thing you’ve ever witnessed in your life.”
He opens the door and Kate is absolutely
speechless, as she is faced with the most peculiar sight she could have
possible imagined. Sitting at a row of desks are ten chimpanzees all bashing furiously
on computer keys. She looks at Eric for a possible explanation, but he instead
leads her to the next room, opens the door, and reveals a similar sight. They
wander into two more rooms, all with ten chimpanzees in each.
“Well, it’s not exactly an infinite number
of monkeys—and technically they’re chimps anyway—but the principle is the same.
This may come off as a little strange, but likely no more strange than the
sudden apparition of a thousand chimpanzees, but I have this desire to… To find
the perfect metaphor, and I think I’m close—close to the inner personification
that reflects back on the window of my soul. You see, one day I was lying
awake, and I started to think how, in many ways, I am the living embodiment of
a thousand chimpanzees, for often it feels as though I attempt to move towards my
aspirations with no real plan, just a cornucopia of wild attempts.”
“That got me thinking, hey, that sounds like
a really good metaphor. So, I won’t bore you with the details, but I bought
this hotel, that was on its way out anyway, and filled it with a thousand
chimps. But here’s the really exciting part, look!” He walks towards one of the
computers, unplugs it and brings it over to Kate.
“See, every time one of them writes
something literate, the computer automatically calls my phone and I come running
over. Sadly in the last year I’ve collected less than a page of genuinely
poetic verses.” He sounds quite disheartened, and pauses before continuing.
“But that’s okay! Because I’m hopeful that
very soon I will have, in my possession, the greatest piece of literature ever
written!”
There is no possible response that Kate can
counter with. There are too many holes in Eric’s logic to even begin pointing
them all out. But, for the first time since there original encounter, she
examines the man before her. She sees the touches of grey in his hair, that don’t
belong on the scalp of somebody his age. She does not see insanity, that she
likely should see, but instead she
gazes upon hope, desire, longing and happiness. She is faced with somebody who
seems determined, and she sees kindness buried deep within.
Her initial reaction is to run away, to get
as far away as possible and to call the police, or at least a zookeeper, but
instead she paces around the room and starts to giggle uncontrollably. “This is,
undoubtedly, the craziest thing that any human being has done, ever.” She puts
her hand on his shoulder. “But I hope you find whatever it is you are looking
for. It may take you years, or decades even, but never give up. Don’t lose your
faith. For all the insanity that is present in this room, faith is such a rare
trait these days. Never lose it.” She begins to leave the room but he calls out
into the stillness of the evening.
“And, madam, I hope you find whatever it is
you are looking for too,” he responds with sincerity.
“Thank you, sir.”
Kate spent the night in the hotel-that’s-not-a-hotel
but never returned again. Although, if nothing else she learned a lesson that
evening—in humility—about how odd the world can be. Although she never came
back, she often wonders if Eric ever found what it was he was truly looking for
that evening.
All
rights belong to the original author, as defined under the Canadian Copyright
Law.
DannYetman
www.DanielYetman.com
0 comments:
Post a Comment