“The Escalator” – Short Fiction by Allan Raible

George Schneider was a hard-working man.  He had a corporate job with an ad agency.  It was nothing fancy.  He was mainly a copy-writer.  In his thirty-eight years, he hadn’t amounted to much.  In fact, the actual copy was being written by the newly-hired twenty-somethings.  George was merely a glorified proof-reader, cleaning up syntax and phrasing to make sure that little Johnny Suburban really believed that that cologne might make him score.  Yes… George was going nowhere.   The promises of tomorrow had never come to fruition. 

He was loved, though.  He had a wife, Stephanie and two daughters, Willa and Taft.  They had a nice house in the suburbs of New Jersey.  Stephanie was from money and so in spite of George’s lack of career propulsion, they could afford a good life. 

On one particular Wednesday afternoon, George was heading out of his office building.  As he boarded the escalator, a chill hit him.  Something strange was about to happen.  And so he held onto the railing as tightly as he could.  Just then, the railing stopped moving, but the escalator itself continued its trajectory downward.  George could feel the veins in his eyes beginning to burst as he tried to regain his composure.  He was fifteen steps up.  The fall would be messy and there was a clean, hard layer of greenish grey marble awaiting his soon clattering body.  He summoned all his might to keep himself upright, but as he moved his feet back and forth, he caught an edge of his left shoelace with his right foot.  It would soon be over.

Screams echoed through the hollow halls.  It was a horror like no one had ever seen.  Wasn’t a man in a Brooks Brothers suit being catapulted across a lobby a routine sight?  George was completely aware of his fate.  As he flew, he took a few milliseconds to remember his childhood, remember his first date with Stephanie and remember the short, but treasured time he had raising Willa and Taft.  As he was beginning to feel the air envelop his body, everything went dark and the last sound he heard was his wounded skeleton being served to the marble. 

As it hit George that he was in fact dead, he suddenly got alert again.  He opened his eyes to find he had actually dozed off in a business meeting.  Considering this a new lease on life, George vowed he was going to change his reality.  He walked into his boss’ office and asked for more responsibility and a raise.  He was not going to have the escalator be a metaphor for his aimless career. 

Upon said requests, George was told to pack up his things and leave.   And so, that’s how George discovered that in a round-about way he could in fact predict the future.  

He now works children’s parties as an (assistant) clown.  It’s quite sad, really.  But his family still loves him.  So, that’s good!