The postcard for South Carolina was an unusually thick postcard. It was a laminated card the kind that shifted between two images when tilted in one direction and another. The photo was of a group of people seated at some restaurant holding up fancy drinks and smiling, which changed into an obviously manipulated photo of the people acting extremely inebriated with oversize eyes, missing clothing, and the fancy drink glasses emptied. The caption said, "Change your perspective at Dirk's" Darren shook his head. Some people would do anything to promote their business. He turned the card over and started to read.
FAÇADES
As soon as
Fred hung up on his ex-girlfriend, after having delivering a particularly
stinging retort, he went into his preparation room.
Although an
object associated with omen, Fred found the vanity desk a valuable asset in his
routine. Now he sat down at the desk, centering his reflection in the mirror
and studied the face he saw in there.
Handsome,
yes. The lips held a sardonic curve though.
A touch of cruelty in the eyes. The face of someone who often reminded
others they were beneath him, because he could afford to do so. He opened the
top drawer on his left, and reached inside. Selecting the tool he wanted, a
palette knife, he lifted it out. He leaned forward closer towards the mirror
and squinted slightly. Perhaps it was time he looked into contacts. Sometimes
it was really hard to see the edges.
Ah. There.
Fred took the knife and carefully inserted it just underneath his jawline. He
pushed the blade in slowly, to avoid creating any punctures in the skin. Then
he began prying his face off, whispering words of power all the while.
Fred moved
his hands in a deft, practical manner, and in less than two minutes, he was
able to peel the entire face off.
Placing the thin layer of epidermis
flat upon his right palm, he uttered another word of power, and the
slack, rubbery skin snapped into a rigid mask.
He stood up
and carried the mask to the large cabinet that lined an entire wall of his
preparation room. He slid open the panel constructed to appear as two hinged
doors, scanning the dozens of compartments within for the empty support. He
spotted it to his upper right. Carefully placing the mask upon the support, he
stepped back and closed his eyes.
He planned
to go out later that evening with Charles and Brad, plus possibly Gail. It’d be
a mellow evening. But he needed to know if Gail was going to be present or not.
It made a difference.
Walking
back out into his kitchen, he picked up his phone and dialed Brad’s number.
After the fourth ring, Brad picked up.
“Brad, it’s
Fred. How you doing?”
Bra’s reply
was enthusiastic. Brad tended to be enthusiastic, often more than enough for
everyone else in a group. “Fred! I’m doing just awesome! You’re not gonna bail
tonight, right man?”
“No, I’m
still in. I was just checking to see if Gail did decide to join us or not?”
“Why? You
hoping to go somewhere with her?”
“What? No,
no. Just figuring out if I’m gonna drive. I could pick her up. If not, I’ll
just call a cab.”
“Gotcha!
How ‘bout I check in with her, call you back, let ya know?”
“Yeah,
that’d be great. Thanks.”
“No sweat
pal! Call ya back soon!”
Fred put
the phone down on the counter. He might
not be certain yet what he would be wearing for the evening yet, but he could
at least narrow down his choices, save some time.
Returning
to the cabinet, Fred surveyed the different masks. There was the obvious option
if Gail didn’t come along- the same one he always wore when with Brad and
Charles. Although, that mask was starting to show some wear, and while not in
danger of cracking or crumbling just yet, he needed to be careful with it. It
would be time to make a duplicate quite soon, but just the thought of starting
that process from scratch washed Fred over with exhaustion. He went back into
the kitchen and plugged in his coffee machine, allowing a fresh pot to brew
while he continued his deliberations on what to wear.
If Gail was
coming along, Fred was indeed interested in her, as he was interested in each
and every one of his conquests. Fred found the analysis, the search of each
person he interacted with fascinating enough, but when he set his sights on
someone he wanted to seduce, then it became much more than a simple pursuit.
It became
Art.
A project
of psychology, sculpture, and conversational dexterity. There was nothing like the initial starburst of desire and intrigue to motivate
Fred to begin the creation of a new face.
When it came to the other faces, the ones he used for work, errands,
friends, family, Fred was not as eager, but he understood the need to craft as
many faces for the mundane as for the more exciting aspects of his lifestyle.
So, Gail.
He’d taken some months to increase his knowledge of her personality, her
intellect, and her interests. He’d been
a friend to her. But now Fred wanted to be a lover. So he began a new face.
Each face
took months, but Fred knew the end result would be extraordinary, so he always
had just enough patience for each project.
Years of experience had honed his craft into artwork so impeccable that
no one had ever guessed his secret.
The Gail
face was one with a little bit of stubble, but it wasn’t the physical aspect of
the mask that Fred was most proud of. There were the faint creases of one used
to much laughter, the slight flush underneath the coppery tone of a outdoorsy,
active person.
It wasn’t
until Fred had finished his second cup of coffee that his phone rang. Fred
picked it up and checked to see if it was Brad’s number. Upon confirmation that
it was, Fred pressed the connect button.
“Fred!
Better make sure your tank is full! You’re picking Gail up!”
Fred spent
a few more minutes discussing the evening details with his effervescent friend,
then called Gail to set up the pick-up time, which would be in about an hour.
Just enough time to prepare.
He put his
coffee cup in the sink, rinsed it out, then opened a drawer and pulled out one of his
cloth napkins and wiped his lips carefully. Any kind of substance on his skin
could affect the mask placement, so he took care to make sure no drop of coffee
remained on his mouth. Then he smiled, excitement beginning to rise within. It
was going to be a fun evening. He needed to hurry, though. He tossed the napkin
onto the counter, where it landed next to the coffee machine, and wiping his
hands on his pants, he went into his preparation room.
Removing
the Gail face from its support, he returned to the desk. He crossed his eyes
slightly to keep his focus a bit blurry so that he would not have to see the
details of his own real, lifeless, and boring face, the one he’d hidden from
all eyes ever since he’d learned the craft of creating new faces, many years
ago.
He began
reciting the words of power that would allow the mask to transform into organic,
living flesh. Within moments, the rigid edges of the mask collapsed into warm,
pliant skin.
Fred lifted
the face up, and began pressing it onto his own skin, still chanting. The face
merged seamlessly, flesh joining together.
When he was done, Fred studied the result in the mirror, and smiled,
pleased. He could already feel his
muscles twitching, unknitting then rebuilding themselves. His physique and
movements would now match the entire persona that his face reflected.
Stretching
as he stood, Fred began to strip, checking his watch. He’d have to hurry.
Quickly he headed into his bathroom for a perfunctory shower. Dressing swiftly,
he hurried out of his apartment.
The evening
progressed much as Fred had anticipated. He’d caught Gail glancing at him out
of the corner of her eyes several times during their dinner, and knew that she
was beginning to find him attractive on a deeper level than his looks. He had
surprised her (and himself) by dancing with her afterwards, something he
normally was neither very much good at nor inclined to do. After the movie,
Gail had requested they all go for dessert, but Bred and Charlie had declined.
So Fred and Gail were able to have some time to themselves over coffee and
tiramisu.
When Fred
dropped Gail off at her apartment, he parked the car and walked with her into
the lobby, then up the stairs to her apartment door. There, she’d looked at
Fred with speculation, then mischief. She’d leaned in and crushed his lips with
her own, before giggling and slipping into her apartment, exclaiming “Call me
soon!” just before closing the door.
Fred had grinned broadly. Soon, he would know Gail much more intimately.
He stroked his own cheek, nodding slowly with pride at his accomplishment.
The traffic
en route to his own place was unusually congested, especially for that lateness
of the hour. Fred fidgeted in his seat, drumming with impatient fingers upon
the steering wheel. When he neared his own street, Fred could see the
undulating light waves throbbing amongst the rooftops and trees, and realized
there was some kind of emergency situation in his neighborhood. Frowning, he
turned the corner and beheld-
No. No,
ohmygodno, Nononononononitcoudlntbe.
Gone.
His
apartment was gone.
A smoking,
charred wreck, the walls collapsed. He could see right into his kitchen, his
bedroom, and the-
Oh god.
The
preparation room. Now just charcoal and ashes.
A sudden,
painful recollection. He’d tossed the napkin onto the counter, and it’d landed
against the coffee machine. The coffee machine he’d forgotten to unplug in his
haste to go pick up Gail. The linen must have caught fire at some point. And
now his faces were all gone. Years of work.
Without
being conscious of his own movements, Fred staggered out of his car, and
stumbled towards the plastic ribbon cordon. An uniformed officer stepped into Fred’s path, holding an hand up. Fred
dug into his picket, pulling out his wallet and held it out to the officer
desperately. “That’s my home, check my license address,” Fred cried,
sidestepping the officer and running towards his place. He was vaguely aware of
the officer calling after him as he ducked under the cordon, but he didn’t stop
moving.
At least,
not until he was restrained by another officer and a firefighter, both covered
in soot and ashes. Fred struggled against their grip for a few moments, then
went limp and sank to his knees.
Fred felt
nothing but a hole within himself, so cold it burned. He knelt with head bowed
so far his chin pressed into his chest and wept. He had no idea how he could
live through the next few months with only his own face, the face that had no
personality. No life.
No life.
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