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I found Screen E after a few minutes and a drained pair of lungs. Beads of sweat raced down my face as my drumming heart rejoiced from the sight of a giant E etched onto one of the many double doors in the cinema.

Stalling was the last thing in my mind. I made a beeline straight through the doors. It took a split second for my eyes to be accustomed to the sudden darkness. I had to use the glow from the movie screen to find my way. I found myself breaking into the middle of a kid's movie. I was fortunate enough to intrude during an emotional climax where my footsteps were buried beneath swelling, dramatic orchestral music, complete with wailing strings and blaring synths. I didn’t bother checking the screen to see what was playing. I was busy scanning the seats for clues.

I couldn’t see anything. The most I could discern were the silhouettes of people’s heads and horns and wings and tails and not much else. I was out of all but one option; get up close and personal.

There was a problem, however. The hall was at a near full-house. It was a lottery to get a seat that didn’t have occupied armrests on both sides. I was bound to grab attention if I sped across the hall in search. Attention was the last thing I needed at the moment. All I could do was wait out the time - the one single commodity I couldn’t afford at the moment.

I slanted over the wall behind the crowd as I prayed and hoped the movie had passed through most of its runtime With nothing else to do, my attention soon shifted towards the movie screen. As it was a kids’ film, the movie was animated. The characters had their proportions exaggerated for juvenile entertainment and were dressed in colours bright enough to drown out rainbows. Everything was so fast-paced that I lost the plot three minutes into the watch. As my focus slipped, the screen began to blur in my eyes as my other senses began picking up the ambience.

The hall was cool and chilling, blowing relief to my tired, burnt-out limbs. I could catch whiffs of caramel trailing the air, teasing my already thirsty and salivating mouth with a craving for something crisp. It didn’t help that I could hear an occasional crunch coming from a snacking patron. I tried to ignore the noise and divert my mind to the quiet gasps and cheers coming from the excited kids sitting in the row before me. It was a poor alternative, as their elation was no match against the ravenous crowd I’ve found myself infiltrating as the bites and slurps from the further seats surged back into the soundscape in my head with a vengeance. It was almost comedic. I couldn’t even wait in peace.

It was to the point where I could think of nothing but snacks. It was almost as if the patrons were using the movie as an excuse to down chips and popcorn.

Then it hit me like an oasis in a desert. I thought it was a mirage at first, but after further consideration, the water was as clear as it’s real.

Elated by the fair kiss from Lady Luck herself, I sped out of the hall, rejuvenated from my sudden enlightenment.

 

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I was grateful for the door fate had opened for me; I just wished it wasn’t a non-stop three-to-four-minute sprint towards there. Still, for my circumstances, I can’t be a chooser. My heart may complain, but I couldn’t. Since I knew my way this time, my travel time was cut short. Before I knew it, I was walking down the corridor where the double doors with the giant J etched onto its surface sat at the dead end.

I took a turn and ran into the open janitor closet that's been left ajar since I last saw it. As if Lady Luck wasn't sufficed with a kiss, she also decided to go deep and stick her tongue in for a deep, wet, passionate smooch. The cart was still there where it's been left, complete with a change of clothes and a set of cleaning agents at my unauthorised disposal. It was to the point where I was terrified of what karma would befall me soon if I were to be this fortuitous, this consistent. I searched for the light switch, flicked it on, closed the door behind me and went to work.

I checked the cart first. There was the usual mop, broom, dustpan, sprayer, spare plastic bags, various cleaning agents, and everything else you’d expect to find in a janitor’s cart. All the equipment sat close to the front bumper while the bulk of the back was dominated by a giant, portable bin. There wasn't much I could use, but with a situation like this, I could never tell.

My comeuppance came sooner than expected and was rather uneventful. As it turned out, the cinema gave its janitors jumpsuits as uniforms, and it just so happened that the spare one lying around was two sizes too small for me, so much so that I had to strip myself nude just to fit in it. It also had a strong bitter smell radiating from its surface. I prayed that the scent came from all the bottles of detergent laying around. I dumped my clothes in a spare plastic bag, tied it up, and hid it in a bucket beneath the cart. As a final touch, I took another plastic bag and wrapped it over the big bin on the back of the cart itself.

With my belongings stashed and equipment prepared, I did a raincheck, starting with my new clothes.

My jumpsuit concealed my figure well enough to hide the fact that I was buck naked beneath everything. For insurance's sake, I fumbled through the pockets of the jumpsuit to make sure I wasn't giving wrong ideas. I managed to find a cap, a mask, and a pair of gloves. I wore the cap and the gloves but threw away the mask. I was already playing with dangerous circumstances as I wore the foreign clothes on my body; I didn’t need anything else alien entering my mouth.

In a hot minute, I've turned from a patron to an employee. A perfect cover against other patrons; a hard risk against other employees. The cap and the mask could silent some alarms, but I doubt it’ll work up close. I wouldn’t expect myself to go up close and personal with one of the staff members. Just in case, I took a look at myself over a tiny, cracked square mirror that hung over one of the racks in the closet. Sure enough, even I wouldn't recognize myself in a fast glaze of an eye.

 

 

With that, I made my way out of the broom closet. I knocked the door open, shut off the lights, and pushed the cart out.

 

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The journey back to Screen E took an extra minute. I had to go look for an elevator to accommodate the cart I was bringing.

I checked inside before getting to work. The movie was just over. A double-door was left open on the bottom of the slanting hall, directing patrons to an exit leading out to the mall. What's left on the screen were the credits scrolling down as light, cinematic music played in the background. The lights had returned to the hall, illuminating the caramelized mess left by the previous patrons. There were still a few left in the seats, eager to squeeze the absolute worth out of their tickets as they gazed at the rolling text on the screen. I can respect that. Money’s hard to come by, after all.

With that, I pushed open the doors and let myself in. An ogre sitting a few rows before the screen caught my footsteps and looked to his back. As expected, he gave me the most disinterested gaze I could wish for. He could’ve been looking at a tree in a forest, or a car on a highway. To him, I was part of the cinema’s habitat; just an unsuspecting janitor going about his scheduled rounds. He looked away with so much as an acknowledgement to my presence, reassuring my cover.

With my greatest concern resolved, I moved on down my list of priorities - to search the third set of seats in Screen E for something.

Problem was that there were four third sets of seats in Screen E; I could count it from the top to the bottom, or from left to right. There weren’t any clues left for me to ponder on. Left without other options, I went with the direct solution.

I began with the third row of seats, starting from the top. I pulled down my new-found gloves, brought a plastic bag from the cart with me, and began searching.

My efforts were fruitless. I went in from one end with hope and came out with stained elbows, a sticky kernel stuck to one of my ankles, and disappointment. By then, the credits just so happened to have finished rolling, and the final few from the screening hall left. Among them were an ogre couple, a family of goblins, a sheep demihuman, and an angel clad in clothing so thick that the only specific indicative I could see from her was the pure, white feathers poking out from the collar of her trench coat.

Left alone with the entirety of Screen E to myself, I sped up my search. The actual janitor in charge of cleaning the hall would be here any minute now.

I began work on the third column of seats, starting from the right, searching from top to bottom. It yielded nothing. I did find a spilt cup of soda and an unfinished bag of chips, but I wasn't in a scavenging mood, nor was I hungry in particular at the moment.

I went to the third row of seats, counting from the bottom, going from right to left. It was the cleanest row of seats I've ever seen in a cinema. There was an exception of a small backpack left in the legroom that piqued my interest. My excitement dissipated in an instant, however, as I checked its contents. There was a colouring book, a pack of crayons, and a dozen other trinkets designed to put a hold on a child's short attention span.

On my last leg, I went forth to the other third column of seats, starting from the left, probing from bottom to top. I put all my hopes and prayers into this as I didn’t want to break open the whole hall just to find one item of interest. I still have Sin to go back to. I figured I could come up with an excuse if she inquired. Something akin to a broken popcorn machine, or a sudden bowel movement, or that every escalator in the vicinity broke down at the same time, or that I had to run out of the cinema to get her lemon tea, or that there was a spontaneous terrorist attack, and some superheroes came in, saved the day, and left with the perpetrators before anyone noticed.

Then I found a duffel bag. Old, big, black, tattered, made of canvas, and with a small tag hanging off one of its handles. With my gloved fingers, I raised the tag and read it.

There were five letters written on one side - an alphabet with the rest being numbers. The alphabet read a thick, bold G. The numbers, on the other hand, were sequenced in a way that resembled a time written in a 24-hour format. I didn’t have a watch with me, but judging from the last sighting I had of the sun, I’d say I’m either on time or comfortably late by a margin or an hour or two. I didn’t waste time to pray for the former as I flipped over to the other side of the tag for good measure.

Sure enough, my vigilance was rewarded with more information. This time, there was a drawing, a number, and an alphabet, in that order. The drawing, which resembled more like a mindless doodle, depicted a circle with an arrow sticking into its body followed by a rather thick trunk below. After that was the number 1 written on the side, followed by the alphabet Ü.

At that point, I’ve grasped the full picture. Without a second of delay, I snapped the tag off the handle of the duffel bag and stuffed it into the jumpsuit’s pocket. I pulled out the plastic bag I had stashed with me and zipped open the duffel bag, finding a wealth of paper strips inside, stuffed to be tightly packed against one another with next to no space in between. With gentle hands, I brought the bag down to the ground and grabbed a big chunk of paper strips, tossing them into the plastic bag. Sure enough, after half a minute’s worth of careful scooping, the duffel bag’s true contents began to emerge.

Unmarked pillboxes. Tens of them, in fact, all stuffed within the centre of the paper strips. They were stripped of their usual, cherry colours and had their translucent casings painted over in black to obscure their contents. I gave one of them a rattle. They felt heavy for their size in my palm as light, hollow knocks sounded off from within.

I had my hunches, but my initial guesses were just confirmed.

I quickened my pace.

I finished stuffing everything into the plastic bag; all the paper strips and pillboxes. I checked the floor too, making sure I hadn’t left any incriminating trace behind me.

I was in the clear. I picked up the plastic bag and the now emptied duffel bag. Before proceeding, however, I went back down to pick up the small backpack too. I suspected that it might be put to good use soon.

I headed off to the cart. I put the backpack and the filled plastic bag to the side and dumped the duffel bag to the bottom of the bin, leaving the zip open. I then went back to the seats, grabbing as much trash as I could in one go. I prioritised unfinished cups of soda, half-eaten bags of popcorn and snacks, used tissues, or anything wet and sticky. As long as it’s a mess to wash off, I picked it with me. I brought everything back to the cart and tossed them into the bin. More specifically, I dumped all the food and water into the open mouth of the duffel bag, tainting the inside with as much moist gunk as possible. I covered the bag itself with the discarded packaging and cups and tissues. It wasn’t enough to fill even half of the cart, but it was all I needed.

I grabbed the filled plastic bag and stuffed it into the bucket where I put my clothes. As for the small backpack, I had it hanging over the front of the cart, suspending over a broom handle.

I pushed the cart through the double doors and found myself back out of the cinema’s corridors. I made a glance to check the coast. It was as clear as it was deserted.

Contrary to Screen E, Screen G wasn’t hard to find. It’s only two alphabets away. It was a thirty seconds’ push of the janitor cart from one end of a corridor to another. Before I knew it, I was standing before a new pair of double doors, this time with a giant G etched to its surface. I left the cart outside of the screening hall beside the doors and grabbed the filled plastic bag from the bucket.

I paused right before the double doors to take a deep breath, but not because I felt nervous. I did it because I wasn’t.

There were so many things that could’ve gone wrong in the past hour, and it was a miracle that there hadn’t been a single accident so far. Right now, the biggest mistake could be standing right behind the double doors, and I’m as calm as a stroll down a park on a sunny, Sunday afternoon. I was doing the worst emergency work a guy with my job could be tasked to do in spontaneity as nothing more than a break from a date with a cute girl.

But what else can I do?

Sighing, I pushed through the double doors.

Empty, Screen G was. The lights of the hall were turned on, revealing the vacant, clean seats; a far cry from Screen E. I could actually breathe without the risk of a foul stench. Even as a trespasser, I could finally feel some hospitality coming from the cinema. The service for this particular hall was so good that it even had a private attendant to welcome me.

The old human lady from the turnstiles was there to meet me.

We stared at one another for a breathless moment as I waited for something to happen. There she stood. As I saw her before the backdrop of an empty screening hall, I didn’t realize how crooked her back was. She was close to snapping in half if she’d bent any further.

I held off from giving the first word as I waited for the old lady to react. She didn’t let out a hint of emotion on her face, though I suspected it would’ve been impossible under all those wrinkles.

Then she lifted her finger towards me, “Give…”

As she spoke, I kept a keen eye on her mouth.

The old lady had lost a handful of her teeth, and what she had left on her gums were coated in such a thick layer of yellow that they seemed to have grown solid as the new surface to her oral appearance.

The absolute crisis was averted.

I swung the bag behind my back as I approached the old lady, “You know the deal.”

The old lady had to glance up from the difference in our height to see my face, “Please… I’ll pay later… Now…”

I kept my silence as I stood my ground.

She extended both hands, cupping her palms together like a bowl, “Please…”

I could tell from the folds on her cheeks that she was attempting to eke out a sympathetic look in her eyes. It didn’t work, not to any degree. I’ve seen this so many times I could write an instructional guide on how to deal with the situation.

The old lady caved after a few seconds of unresponsiveness from yours truly. The weight of my prolonged silence was enough for her to capitulate.

She reached into her uniform’s pocket and pulled out a short piece of paper, folded down at the middle at a pressure soft enough to avoid a permanent crease from running across the surface. With shaking palms, she handed the paper to me. I grabbed it from between her fingers and opened the paper up.

It was a cheque, with a modest, three-figure amount written in the small box to the side. The whole thing seemed complete, with the date and the signature jotted down with no clear indication of a typo or a misprint. The only thing missing from the cheque was the recipient's name.

I took a closer look at the memo written on the bottom. Stated below were next month's name and this year's date.

The old lady just gave me an advance to her salary with its beneficiary being anyone with the first pen.

This wouldn’t do. A cheque needs to be cashed in at a special machine. Those machines could only be found in a bank. Banks have cameras. Cameras can see faces and keep records. The trouble would keep snowballing until it becomes something uncontrollable.

"No," I passed the cheque back to the old lady, "Cash."

The words hit the old lady like a lightning strike, "Please… Need now…"

I kept my arms straight, pointing the folded cheque toward the old lady.

The old lady began bending down to my abdomen, her voice growing louder, "Can't… No cash… This is all… I have…"

I didn't budge, but my stance was beginning to waver out of necessity. Things were looking worse by the moment.

"Please… please…" the old lady dropped to her knees, grabbing me by the arms as she reached to my back, "Just give…"

I felt the panic bubbling into my stomach as the old lady’s pleadings morphed into crying wails. If there was a textbook example of a withdrawal symptom, the old lady would be uncontended. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve just booked it and ran out of the deal. Not this time. I was in an enclosed space with cameras recording every trespassing step I’m taking. If I leave, there is no telling if the old lady might throw a fit that would most likely lead to an incriminating investigation. Plus, there was already an onset risk when the old lady met my bare face in the turnstiles. I couldn’t tell if she recognized me under the cap, but the danger pertains.

Worse, Sin was next to me with an absent weapon’s registration - an incident of interest. An unrelated case, but one that draws unwanted attention nonetheless.

The woman had nothing to do with this, and I intend to keep it that way.

Before I knew it, the old lady was shouting at the top of her lungs, “GIVE… THIS IS ALL… I HAVE… THE BOX… PLEASE… I NEED…GIVE TO ME… NOW…”

I didn’t need to run away for the old lady to make a scene. It was loud enough for anyone outside the corridor to hear, and the sorrowful cries of the elderly weren’t something easy to ignore. One whining senior was all I could handle at the time. I didn’t need some curious stranger poking their heads as another witness to handle.

Cornered with no escape, I made a split-second decision and retracted the cheque. I made a quick glance at the amount and stuffed it into my pocket next to the duffel bag’s tag. I skipped backwards, pulling my arm away from the old lady as she fell over herself, crashing onto the ground. I opened up the plastic bag behind me and grabbed two pillboxes, casting them towards the old lady’s way.

As the pillboxes tumbled over the ground, the rattling snatched the old lady’s attention like a snap of a whip. In an instant, her geriatric eyes burnt to life and down came her body, shielding the pillboxes with her torso like a precious treasure.

“Thank you…” she wheezed as she pried open one of the pillboxes with trembling hands, “Thank you…”

I didn’t bother to stay. I had other things to deal with. I left the old lady to her own device in Screen G and stormed out of the double doors. I tied the filled plastic bag up and threw it beneath the cart.

I went to look for the restrooms. That was the easiest part of my day. There were signs showing the way at every turn of the corridor. I was there in less than thirty seconds, even as I’m pushing the cart with me. The restroom was a small corridor cut to the side of the walls that split two ways in the end, each leading towards the two different sexes.

I left the cart outside the entrance and grabbed the filled plastic bag again. I made a beeline towards the restrooms and made a turn towards the women’s restroom. I made sure I pulled my cap real low before setting foot. I made a glance at the layout of the restroom. It was simple, with a row of lavatories sitting on one side of the wall and the basins and the mirrors sitting on the opposite. There was a distinct lack of urinals, and I had to remind myself I’m entering a whole new world here.

Sure enough, a few ladies were minding their business there. Some were already on their way out after a moment’s relief. One of them was reapplying her make-up at the mirrors, while another was catching a private phone call as she stood at the corner of the room.

I turned my back against the two and began checking the stalls. More specifically, the first and the last ones from the rows. The former had its unlocked doors swung wide, revealing the vacant loo sitting within the cubicle. I didn’t need further checking.

I made my way towards the last stall, gripping the filled plastic bag tight in my hands.

After the panic that was the half-hour before this, my emotional well had been wrung. What was left at the bottom was frustration and anger.

As I reached the end of the row of cubicles, I found the last stall closed, but the door unlocked. Just before I was about to push the door open, a thought seeped into my head. A cautious premonition that I might not even be in the correct restroom.

Then halfway through that thought process, I stopped caring.

I pushed the door open.

My frustration and anger became justified.

Just in case, I slid the lock shut behind me in stealth.

There, sitting on the lid of a closed toilet bowl, scrolling through her phone.

Lüd.

This fucking bitch.

 

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