(Reduce this by ~30%)
The breakfast joint around the corner was crowded, so Benny suggested that they take the subway downtown and eat near his office. The ride would be an opportunity to chat and see a little of the city. They rode a long escalator down underground and Elliot said, “I might need to get some change.”
Washington Metro
“Ah! Thanks for reminding me.” Benny reached into his pocket and took out what looked like a deck of cardboard credit cards held together by a rubber band. He pulled two from the pack and handed them to Elliot. “Farecards,” Benny said. “You pay in advance and the cards keep track of your balance. There should be enough to get you where you need to go for a couple of days or so.” They joined the rush of commuters toward the sound of trains and were funneled into an electronic turnstile. Elliot had to wrestle his FareCard into the correct position a couple of times before the machinery would let him pass.
Guided by Benny’s gentle but firm hand through the mass of milling humanity, Elliot landed inside closing doors that seemed to be the right train, standing in the crowd, and secured with his arms around a pole. The subway was surprising quiet and Benny didn’t have to raise his voice as he said, “So! I understand you’re here to write a travelogue. Have you written many others?”
“No,” said Elliot. “This is my first travelogue, I’m afraid.”
Benny asked, “You’ve been to Washington before, have you?”
“No, this is my first trip.”
Benny paused for a nanosecond and said, “And you’re writing a travelogue on the place. Sure. I can see that.”
Elliot said, “You put it that way and it does sound a little off base.”
Benny tried to casually reassure Elliot, “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job. Writing a book isn’t much different than writing anything else. Just put ten or twelve topics together, and there’s your travelogue.”
But Elliot was skeptical. “I’m not so sure it’s as simple as that.”
“It’s exactly as simple as that,” Benny said. “I can show you. But I need a pencil and paper so I can sketch it out. Later. I’ll show you later.”
After a few stops, enough commuters had disembarked that they could sit. Benny picked up a newspaper someone had left and busied himself with a puzzle on an inside section. Elliot retrieved the front page and began to read an article on some local scandal. Most cities had their fair share of political corruption. It seemed that the nation’s capital was no exception. The more money floating around with more and more expensive political campaigns, the more opportunity there was for skullduggery. The race between candidates was more a race to raise capital than it was a contest of ideas, values, or common sense.
After a few minutes, Benny slapped Elliot on the knee and said, “Here’s our stop.” On the long escalator ride back up into the terrestrial world, Elliot was surprised to find himself still holding the newspaper he’d been reading on the train. At the top of the moving stairs, he squinted from the daylight as he entered a cacophony of people, cars, and buses packed into the urban streets and sidewalks, missing each other by mere inches as if guided by an invisible hand. Looking up and all around, overhead and in each direction, cranes and construction sites sought to replace the old with the new.
A panhandler appeared before them on the sidewalk with his palm outstretched and said, “Got a quarter?”
Stepping around the man without breaking his stride, Benny said, “Where would I get that kind of money?”
They continued up the frenzied sidewalk as Benny pointed one way and then the other as he gave Elliot a brief tour as the morning throng hurried about them. “Up that way is Chinatown. Down that way is the Capitol Building. Over there and down a few streets is the White House. It’s funny – I’ve lived here for years and never been any of those touristy places. Listen, do you mind if we stop by my office and pick something up before we eat?”
After a block or two, the modern metropolis began to give way to more ramshackle neighborhoods with buildings between four and eight stories tall that must have been well over a century old. Benny stopped and pointed towards what must once have been a grand impressive stone facade, but had faded and cracked with age and neglect. He mysteriously put a finger to his lips indicating silence and slowly pushed open the massive wooden door. Carefully peering inside, Benny motioned for Elliot to follow. They quietly entered a cool dark lobby reeking of stale tobacco smoke. At the far end of the lobby through a set of wide open doors was an empty bar and row of stools. Another line of about a dozen doors led to an auditorium beyond where, Elliot surmised by the rock & roll posters lining the walls, ear-splitting music would emanate at night. Instead of proceeding toward the elevator, Benny pointed to an inside doorway nearby and whispered, “We’ll take the stairs.”
They began to climb an ornate stone staircase that must have been impressive at one time. Mosaic wall tiles depicting some archaic mythology were covered with years of dirt, grime, and graffiti. Faded leaves of peeling paint occasionally drifted down the open stairwell. A waft of light shone through a dirty skylight far overhead illuminating the dry dust in the air. Elliot recalled reading an article somewhere on lead paint hazards in old buildings. They climbed on as Benny set an impressive pace up the stairs. But Elliot felt his legs grow heavier with each step and fell further behind. “You’re in pretty good shape,” Elliot puffed.
Benny stopped, turned about and again put his finger to his lips, whispering, “Shhh!”
Elliot trod on, but after another flight of stairs, he was sweating profusely and panting so hard that his chest hurt. He gasped as he sank to sit on the landing, “I’m sorry. I just have to slow down.”
Benny came back down to Elliot’s level and asked softly with a look of concern, “Hey, are you all right?”
“I just need to rest up a bit.”
“A young man like you should get out and walk some more. Get some fresh air and exercise.”
“Do you suppose we could take the elevator the rest of the way?” Elliot pleaded.
“Hmm…” Benny hesitated for a second, then agreed uncertainly. “Su-u-u-re.”
He helped Elliot to his feet and they exited the stairway through a heavy metal door. Benny winced when Elliot let the door thunder shut, sending booming echoes through the stairwell despite efforts at stealth. Benny pushed the button to summon the elevator and distant machinery roared and whirred from somewhere deep in the bowels of the building. The needle of an old-fashioned floor indicator twitched from its resting position on the numeral one. The hallway was very dark, lit by a single bare bulb hanging jerry-rigged from a frayed lamp cord in the center of the ceiling. Anyone could peer through black, lightless glass doors into abandoned offices that may have last sold buggy whips or patent medicines. Benny noticed Elliot observing the long-ago forsaken offices and said, “Most have moved or gone out of business. There’s talk of tearing the place down. ”
“How many businesses are still here in the building?”
“Pretty much just us – that is, the Herald – and the nightclub on the first floor.”
Finally a weak bell attempted a ding and the elevator doors creaked open. Elliot was surprised to find a rather large burly man inside who looked equally surprised to see Elliot staring in. His bald head glistened with sweat and dark wet spots showed through his shirt below his arms. Out of his rolled up sleeves, a pair of hairy arms and hands hung on old leather suspenders. He started to growl, “What are you … ” and stopped when he saw Benny as the slow door opened the rest of the way. “Well, well,” he continued with patronizing glee. “If it isn’t my favorite tenant!” He bounced on his heels and drummed his fingers on his suspenders. “I was just on my way to your hideout to see if you were in. But what could you be doing here on the fourth floor?”
“Hi Sid,” said Benny sounding clearly unhappy to see him.
Sid stopped his bouncing. “You weren’t avoiding me, were you, by taking the stairs?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” said Benny. “Why would I be avoiding you?”
Sid took an angry step forward and thundered, “Maybe because you’re a miserable two-bit dead-beat who doesn’t pay his rent!”
In an offended tone, Benny said, “Actually my friend here has a fear of elevators. Our new writer, actually.”
“And that’s why you were waiting for the elevator?”
Caught in his own circular logic, Benny stammered, “Uh, yes, exactly, as a matter of fact. It’s a curious fear of … uh … I believe it’s called…”
“Shut up!” Sid barked. “The only thing I want to hear out of you is when I’m getting my money. You owe me for six months.”
“Actually, Sid, I think if you check your records you’ll find that we’re square on the rent through last month.”
“Our deal was you’d run ads for the night club and pay half the regular rent. You haven’t paid one red cent.”
“Sid, be realistic! Those are full-page ads!”
“A deal’s a deal. I want that money by tomorrow or I’m changing the locks. Get it?”
Sid didn’t wait for an answer as he stepped back into the elevator to leave. He pointed a threatening finger Benny’s way and said, “I mean it this time. Tomorrow!” As the doors closed, he reverted to his former patronizing tone. “Oh, and by the way, you can use the stairs until you pay. Have a pleasant day, and I hope your friend gets over his phobia real soon.”
Benny sighed, watched the doors close, and turned to Elliot with an inquiring look, about to ask if he could walk up some more stairs. But instead he turned back to the elevator doors and listened for the machinery to finish its complaint. When it finally stopped, Benny hesitated and muttered, “Knowing Sid, he’ll probably lock the elevator to keep us from using it.” But after a minute, when the ancient motors answered the elevator button again, Benny commented happily, “Great! He probably didn’t have his key with him. Don’t let Sid scare you. His bark is worse than his bite.”
He did sort of resemble a bulldog, Elliot thought.
Finally the elevator doors opened – without Sid this time – and the pair continued on their way. The unsettling groans and whines were even more pronounced inside the elevator as it seemed to struggle slowly climbing upward. Elliot noticed a small frame where an elevator inspection license was so covered with graffiti that he couldn’t read the date. Elliot nervously clinched his fists so tightly that his hands grew red and his fingers ached. Benny’s bogus diagnosis of elevator-phobia wasn’t so far off after all. Elliot asked, “Are you sure this thing is safe?”
“Absolutely! No question about it!” Benny replied confidently.
The elevator quivered and shook, at one time stopping and dropping back a little before rising again. Elliot asked for the sake of nervous conversation, “You owe him six months rent?”
“No, no, no! Of course not … Well, it depends how you look at it. Sort of, I guess. Verbal agreements are easily misunderstood. I was very clear in my position. Sid misinterpreted what I said for what he wanted to hear. That happens a lot in the newspaper business.”
Trying to mask his apprehension over their transport, Elliot peppered Benny with questions. “Can he really lock you out? Isn’t there something you can do? Can’t you call the police or the housing authorities or someone?”
Elliot thought he was being helpful, but only managed to be irritating. Benny replied patiently, “I believe in conflict resolution… It’s not a big deal… It just means a slight change of plans.”
“Change of plans. You mean like paying your rent?”
“Uh, not necessarily, although that’s certainly one of a universe of possibilities. You see, problems are normal. The real test of a creative intellect is to be able to analyze a range of alternatives, seek equitable compromise, and make the best decision you can.”
“So you think you can compromise with Sid?”
Benny considered aloud the words, “… compromise … Sid …” in the same sentence and said, “Probably not. But there are still other alternatives.”
Finally, the doors slid most of the way open and Elliot jumped out for dear life. “Don’t worry,” said Benny. “It works better going down.”
The eighth floor foyer was identical to the fourth except that one of the doors had a hand written sign that stated, “DC Herald. Please Knock Loudly.” Benny noisily withdrew a jingling bundle of keys from his pocket, squinted through the fist-sized assortment in the dim light, and attempted a series of tries.
Elliot said, “You mentioned other alternatives.”
Benny held a key up to the light to confirm that he had the right one. “Sure. You’ve always got alternatives … oomph!” Benny pushed and tugged on the door trying to get the key to engage. “Like moving out sooner instead of later, for example,” he continued. “I heard of a much better office near-by, just around the corner. Ah-ha!” Finally, the latch clicked and the door swung open to a sparse office reception area. Benny waved a hand over his head indicating the sum total of the enterprise and said, “You’ll have to excuse the mess. It gets like this around the end of the month after we go to press. Have a seat and make yourself at home while I check my messages.”
Elliot gawked in amazement, turning slowly to view the place in its entirety. He had never seen such utter chaos. Tied bundles of newspapers were piled in short stacks up and down the interior hallway and around the rooms like park benches. Every horizontal surface was completely covered with loose papers, pens, pencils, every type of office equipment; empty Styrofoam coffee cups, and old cardboard carryout food containers. He slid a crisp new DC Herald out of a tightly bound bundle and sat down to glance through the new issue as Benny’s answering machine beeped and whirred in the next room. He couldn’t help but overhear messages from creditors demanding payment. “We still haven’t received … Beep! Message erased… Hello, this is ABC Equipment Rental … Beep! Message erased…” and so on.
Elliot paged through the Herald he had extricated from his makeshift chair. The cover pictured a sweaty rock and roller screaming something under a caption that read “Chaos out of Order with Mob Rule”, which Elliot took to be the name of the singer’s band. He was about to browse further when Benny came back and said, “The good news is that my inquiries about the new office space have proven to be successful. All I have to do is sign on the dotted line. The bad news is that my summer intern called to say she wouldn’t be coming back. Some nonsense about classes. I’ll have to figure out how to move all this stuff to the new office. First of all, we’re going to need boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. I was hoping my assistant would get you started on some projects. But I guess I’ll have to do it myself.” He retrieved a thick wallet from his back pocket and wrote a note in his pocket calendar: Boxes.
Elliot cocked his head in confusion. What did he mean, We? Get you started on what projects? He stammered sheepishly, “What? Here? Work for your paper? Gee, I don’t know if I can be of much help. I’ll be working on my travelogue every day. I’ve only got about six weeks to get it done. Maybe stretch it to eight.”
Benny looked taken aback in surprise. “Oh? I understood you were coming to work for me on the newspaper in exchange for your rent.”
“Rent?” Elliot shifted foot to foot. “Uh, this is news to me. I’ve got a small advance, but (Ed) didn’t say anything about that to me. Is that he what told you?”
“More or less. Yeah,” said Benny.
“Geesh, I just thought … um.” Elliot worried that any added distractions could prove to be a severe detriment to his rather tight work schedule. On the other hand, how much time could it take to help out occasionally on a monthly newspaper? “Well, what do you print in your newspaper?”
“Local politics and entertainment,” said Benny.
“I see,” said Elliot, mentally calculating the time he had allotted for writing his travelogue. “So you want me to write an article or two for your next paper? Is that what you were thinking about?”
Benny picked up a heavy bundle of DC Heralds from the floor, dropped them noisily on the desk, and said, “Maybe to start out, we’ll just deliver some newspapers.”
thermodynamics of ideas 