The Whale in the Cave

When the moon gets bored, it kills whales. Blue whales and fin whales and humpback, sperm and orca whales; centrifugal forces don’t discriminate.

- Marina Keegan, The Opposite of Loneliness

One

Do you know why you’re here?

I look away from the window, wincing when our eyes meet. It’s not because I’m scared. It’s just...that question was so deep, I wasn’t expecting it.

Do you mean...how do you mean? Like on a metaphysical level, do I know why I’m here? How I got here, what my purpose is? What my destiny is? Like that?

He stares at me without any expression. I want to continue guessing. This could be a huge moment in my life! This might be the gateway to a new realization about myself. I could be on the verge of enlightenment here. This is huge. Maybe.

"I mean, no one has ever asked me this before. Why are you here? Or is it, why are you here? Is that what you mean? Why is it me that’s here, in front of you, being asked this question? Like that?"

He just keeps staring at me, but really it’s like he’s staring through me.

"Okay. Well, you’re asking me this, so obviously you think I know the answer. But I don’t. I mean, do you know why you’re here?"

I pause, and a smile cracks my lips apart. My mom always used to say that I had the perfect smile as a kid. I don’t know if it was true, but it did give me the confidence to smile all the time. Even when it’s not appropriate, I’m smiling. Funerals, sex, staring contests. You name it. I don’t think there’s a single picture of me where you can’t see at least 14 of my teeth. So I keep smiling at this guy, knowing that I absolutely nailed the answer to his question and ignoring the fact that I probably would be smiling if I bombed it too. He takes a deep breath before speaking.

Can you tell me how you heard about us? About what we’re doing here?

"What do you mean? You guys mailed me the invitation and that packet of information. I hadn’t even heard of Malibu Oaks before. I mean, I had heard of Malibu...everyone has. But not this place."

The invitation came in the mail, addressed to you?

Yeah, it came in the mail. Like a week ago.

Addressed to you?

I shrug.

Sure. I don’t know. I left it at my apartment. By the way, nice digs you got me set up in! I wasn’t expecting something that nice. You guys really over-delivered.

The guy sighs so forcefully that I can smell what he had for lunch. I turn my head away. Tuna sandwich.

Well done, Tony, he mumbles.

Oh, it’s Luke, I correct him.

He looks up at me and starts staring right through me again. I smile and shrug. A hummingbird is hovering outside the window, and I watch it for a little while. Hummingbirds are so cool.

Luke, he starts. Did you read the packet before you came in here today?

You bet. Every word. Though I have to say...

Every word, he whispers, shaking his head as he stares into his lap.

Why, was I not supposed to?

He looks up sharply at me, then eyes me up and down.

Do you feel confident that you’ll be able to pass a standard employment drug test?

There’s a drug test? Is it today? I mean, that’s fine. That should be fine. I just didn’t know.

Do you even know why you are here? he repeats.

Alright, man. No. I don’t know. Maybe I should have read the packet more closely. I look around the room. It’s relatively stark, but it still feels comfortable. There must be good Feng Shui; that always helps.

Sorry, how do you mean?

Jesus, he mutters. Take a seat over here.

He motions to the right side of the room. There are no chairs or tables or couches or anything that you would normally expect to sit on.

Over here?

I point to the same side of the room where he had just motioned. I think he might be crazy. There’s nowhere to sit. Not even a beanbag.

Over here, he repeats.

A beanbag would be great right about now. In my mind it’s a blue one. I like them under stuffed. The kind that I can just sink into as I shed my tension from the day. It doesn’t matter that it’s 2:00 pm and I haven’t had a job in weeks. A man can get tense at any time of day, in any circumstance. It doesn’t matter if he’s working or married or possibly still high from the joint he lit when he woke up earlier that day. Or none of those things. They’re just examples.

I’m looking around the room, and there’s nothing for me to sit on. Just me and this guy with the impatient face, and I don’t think he wants me to sit on that either.

Okay.

I reluctantly take a seat on the floor. I’m near a large window. I feel stupid, and for once I’m not smiling; but then I remember how white my teeth are, and a smile spreads across my face again.

I’ll be back in a moment with your written examination materials.

Okay.

He walks out a different door than the one that we had walked in a few minutes earlier. He comes back almost instantly and hands me a tablet.

You will have twenty minutes to complete the examination.

On this thing?

He nods as he looks out the window and lets out a very audible sigh.

"Sorry, I just thought this was going to be written written. Is this an iPad?"

I look at the device, and I don’t recognize the style and shape.

It doesn’t look like an iPad, I tell him. But I’m sure I can figure out how to use it.

Your twenty minutes have already begun, he adds quietly, refusing to break his stare out the window.

Really? Okay. Okay. I’ll get started then.

He doesn’t look back at me again. He just keeps staring out the window. Maybe my answer to his question has made him start to question why he is here. Or why any of us are here at all. It is a pretty poignant question. I could spend at least twenty minutes staring out a window thinking about it, I know that.

When you’re done, set the tablet on the table and wait for me to return.

He turns around and walks out the door, leaving me alone in the room with the tablet and this weird exam. It’s not what I’m expecting, but then again, I wasn’t expecting anything. It’s one of those cause-and-effect exams where each answer determines the next question that pops up, like a fucked up choose your own adventure story.

8.  What is Kanye West?

a.  Egotist

b.  Talented

c.  Too black

d.  Trustworthy

Damn, ball so hard. I like Kanye as an artist, but I’m not really into the things he says when he isn’t recording music. Have you heard him speak recently? It’s not just what he says, it’s how he says it. That said, I am impressed that he was able to create a fashion line by designing clothes for homeless people. Not everyone could do that.

I don’t have any problem with his level of blackness, and I’m confused that this is one of the possible answers. A part of me wants to see what’ll happen if I choose it, but I feel like it can’t be the right answer, unless they’re all racist here. And I don’t want to work for a racist company. I also don’t want to get the question wrong.

On the other hand, I have no idea if he’s trustworthy. He seems to tell a lot of truths. Remember that time that he said George Bush doesn’t care about black people? I think that’s true. But he’s also an artist, so maybe his statements are all just part of his act. I don’t know. I’m torn. He’s obviously an egotist, but I don’t think that’s my full opinion of him either. That leaves me with B. I tap the tablet, but it misreads my tap and selects C.

What the hell! Hey, this thing just screwed up!

I look around the empty room for some sympathy, but the walls don’t offer me any.

Wouldn’t have happened on an iPad, I mumble.

9.  What is your favorite Kanye West album?

a.  One of the ones with the bear on the cover

b.  The auto-tune one

c.  Too black

d.  The one with Jay-Z

Great. More Kanye questions. Can’t we just leave the guy alone? I don’t pay attention to which songs are on what album, so this one’s harder for me to answer. I also don’t know why too black is here for this question as well. He doesn’t have an album by that name. This poorly concealed racism is starting to make me uncomfortable. I go with my gut. I choose D.

11.  What is the worst thing that someone could do to you?

a.  Lie

b.  Be dishonest

c.  Present false information at a critical time

d.  Flee

I don’t know. D. I’m just glad it has nothing to do with Kanye.

14.  Are lakes better than rivers?

a.  Yes

b.  No

c.  The ocean

d.  Define better

A. But D is pretty tempting.

18.  Should you believe everything that you are told from an authority figure?

a.  Yes

b.  No

c.  Yes

C. I guess. After this question, the exam ends abruptly. I look up, and the guy hasn’t come back yet. It’s just me and this tablet.

I’m done, I announce, hoping that someone will hear me.

No one comes to check on me, so I just stand here for a few minutes, shifting my weight back and forth.

I’m done, I repeat, a little louder this time.

Still nothing. I place the fake iPad on the ground where I’m sitting, and I stand up and brush myself off. Then I walk toward one of the doors on the far wall. Maybe the guy is deep in thought somewhere and forgot to come back. I’d believe it. I probably threw him for an existential loop.

It smells like flowers as I pass through the doorway. I think it’s lilacs, though maybe it’s lavender. Or maybe it’s something else that’s purple and starts with an L. There’s a woman sitting behind a desk on the far side of the room. It doesn’t look like this is her office. It just looks like a holding room that happens to have a desk in it. Despite that, she looks pretty comfortable sitting there. Probably more good Feng Shui.

Hi, I say as I walk in. Should I close the door behind me?

Oh! Hello there, she greets me, ignoring my question. You finished early. Please have a seat.

There’s an overstuffed chair on the other side of the desk where you would expect there to be a chair. She’s leaning back in it, her arms running along her sides. Her hands are clasped together on her lap. I sit down on a chair in front of the desk, and I mimic her body position. I’ve heard that people feel powerful when you mimic them, and I like to empower women whenever I can.

This room makes a lot more sense than the last room, I tell her.

That’s good. So, what’s your name? she says as she smiles.

Luke. Nice to meet you.

And you got an invite from us in the mail, yes?

That’s right.

And you just passed the exam in the other room?

Sure, I think so. How do you know? Does it tell you? I don’t think it told me either way.

She raises her eyebrows.

You don’t know if you passed or not?

No, I passed. Definitely, I confirm.

Man, I really need this job. I can’t have some stupid fake iPad test stand between me and an opportunity like this. A free apartment? In Malibu? Please.

Good! That’s good.

Mmm-hmm.

I’m sure you have plenty of questions already. But if you’ll allow me, I’d like to explain to you why exactly we brought you here.

Good, I’m glad you said that. That last guy—I mean, no offense if you guys are friends—but he wasn’t very helpful. And that packet you guys sent out? Forget it.

You didn’t read the packet? she asks.

Shit.

No, I did. I did.

"OK, how about we start over? In front of you is a contract. In it, you will see that for all references to our company, we are referred to as The Board. This is the business entity that we use when hiring all our staff members."

So, wait. This is not Malibu Oaks? The invitation said...

The invitation’s not important. All you need to know is that all the people working for us here in the community are technically employed by The Board, okay?

Does it have quotes around it?

What? The Board? No.

The Board. Got it.

Anyway, that is the name of the company on your paperwork, but for everyone else out there, we are Malibu Oaks, and you can refer to us as Malibu Oaks.

Okay. I lean forward and lower my voice. "So who does work for Malibu Oaks then?"

Please don’t ask me this again, she sighs.

Got it.

You don’t have to keep confirming you hear what I’m saying.

Okay.

She raises her eyebrows again.

I mean...alright.

So, a little history lesson, shall we? Malibu Oaks was formed in the early 1920s. Droves of people from the East Coast were moving out west as the film industry was just starting to take off. As more and more people arrived, more and more wealth was being created, but the housing market was slow to catch up to all the demand. A few years before the great depression, a group of the wealthiest men in town got together and purchased this parcel of land that we’re on today. It sat undeveloped until the end of World War II, but after just a few short years, it had become internationally known as the pinnacle of private community living.

Really? I’ve never even heard of it before.

She chuckles.

Well, it’s world-renowned among, shall we say, the elite? In total the property is about 500 acres. All privately owned and unlike anything else in the world.

I saw that there’s a lake somewhere in the middle of everything? I thought that we have no fresh water. How does that work?

It’s man-made. It all but dried up in the sixties. We had to bring in a professional rain dancer to get the lake back to boating levels again.

For real?

It’s all on Wikipedia. You can look it up.

Why did they choose to buy land all the way over here by the beach and not in the valley near all the studios? It seems so inconvenient.

Who doesn’t love the sea air? she asks blandly.

That’s it?

Luke, I think we’re deviating from the topic at hand. What you need to understand is that the Malibu Oaks community has been here for a very, very long time. And it will continue to be here for a very long time. And it is our job to ensure that it can do this. Do you understand?

No, not really.

Luke, she says, tapping a pen on her knee. We would like to maintain our community and the company that manages it as long as we possibly can.

She crosses her right leg over her left. I attempt to do the same, but my balls get in the way and I squirm uncomfortably.

OK. But isn’t that the goal of every company? Like, who has a goal to exist only for a few more years and then to get run out of business? That seems like a pretty standard goal to me.

Please let me continue. It is important to understand how we make our money. As you can imagine, living in a community like this does not come cheap.

Sure. But don’t rich people love spending their money?

She shakes her head.

There’s a whole slew of funding sources that funnel into The Board. We have community fees, association fees, conservation fees, heritage society fees...the list goes on and on.

OK. Sorry, what does this have to do with me? I thought this...

These fees are what keep us afloat! she blurts out, her hands slamming against the edge of the desk as she lurches up out of her seat. "And we need them to continue to come in. That is, we need the residents to continue to pay them. And to do that, they have to perceive that there is an immense value in them paying these fees. Do you understand?"

Sure, yeah. Value. Got it.

She slowly sits back down, though her eyes are still a bit frantic.

That’s why we’ve started this program here, the one you’ve been invited to join.

Program? You mean, this job that I’m interviewing for?

"Exactly. This job is a part of a brand new program, and it’s very confidential. Understand? It is absolutely imperative that no one outside of The Board even knows about its existence."

You got it. I can keep a secret.

Good, Luke. That’s what we like to hear. I mean, you can imagine the kind of situation we’d cause if the residents learned that we’ve been hiring actors to make their community seem better than it is. It would be devastating! Absolutely devastating.

She leans back in her chair and laughs softly.

Sorry?

Suddenly, the door behind me swings open, and the man from earlier storms over to the desk, stopping abruptly alongside me.

Did I not tell you to wait in the other room until I returned? he barks.

I look up at him, and he looks pretty upset, so I smile.

I finished the test early, so I came in here. She was just telling me about...

Is something wrong? the woman asks.

The guy doesn’t say anything and, instead, nods his head to the corner of the room. She follows him over there. They’re whispering like I can’t hear them, but three can play at this game. I lean over in my chair and cup my hand to my ear. I still can’t hear them. Oh well. The woman looks back at me a few times, shaking her head. The guy is doing the same thing. After a couple of minutes of whispering, they both walk back toward me.

Luke, she croons, sliding back down into her chair and flashing a wide smile. "There’s been a slight change of plans. Have you ever fancied yourself as a secret investigator?"

Two

As I open the door to my apartment, that stupid packet is sitting in plain sight on the counter. I don’t waste any time. I grab it and plop myself down onto my couch. I’ve had this couch for longer than I can remember. I think it might have been a wedding present that someone gave to my parents; it’s that old. But to me, this couch is home. It smells like home, that unmistakable aroma of some precious nostalgia that’s tucked deep in my temporal lobe. I breathe in through my nose as I flip through the pages, trying to locate that memory, also trying to find where I left off. I don’t believe in dog-earing pages. I do not like to deface property, and I refuse to let this be the peak of the slippery slope to a criminal life that I’m not cut out for.

I’ll just start from the beginning. I’m reading every word of this fucking packet forwards and backwards. It still doesn’t make any sense to me, especially when I read it backwards. That is a terrible way to try to understand something further. As a word of advice, you are better off reading something forwards twice than reading it forwards and backwards. I don’t know who came up with this saying, but it is very misleading.

I kind of got the feeling earlier today that they were on the fence about hiring me, but it didn’t seem to matter. By the end of the interview, they had offered me the job. I was told to expect a call the next day with the details about my training program. And all of this was before I even took a drug test. Unbelievable.

The packet is resting against my chest as I fall asleep on the couch. I dream that I’m a cube in a two-dimensional world.

It’s tomorrow. I mean, it’s today. Fuck. My phone is ringing.

The hell? I whisper.

I can’t find my phone. My brain has a boot up time that’s roughly equivalent to a 1996 Dell PC. My senses are not yet on board, and I can’t determine where the sound is coming from. My phone eventually kicks over to voicemail, and the room goes silent.

Hello? I rasp.

I don’t know who I’m talking to; there’s nobody here.

Be at the main office at 8:00 am tomorrow, the voicemail says.

I push myself upright, and I look into my kitchen and at a magnetic calendar hanging on the fridge. It was hanging there when I moved in. If the calendar is to be trusted, yesterday was a Wednesday. So that means tomorrow is a Friday. I learned the days of the week at a young age and have not yet forgotten them.

Who starts a new job on a Friday? I ask my couch, patting it softly to let it know that I’m addressing it directly.

The couch doesn’t respond. It’s probably sleeping.

* * *

The training is in a different building than the one that I had visited for my exam and interview. I find this to be acceptable. I’m standing outside the training facility, looking in through a pair of conjoined glass doors. Inside is a large, open space that looks like a refurbished airport hangar, exposed beams and trusses and all kinds of cool looking shit lining the ceiling. The floors are, well, floors. I don’t pay attention to the things on the ground as much. There’s a simple-looking sign erected on a simple-looking easel that faces out to the steps of the building where I’m standing. It says HAPPIES and then has an arrow pointing to the right.

Over on the far side of the room is a group of about 12 to 15 people. They’re all standing around talking to each other, but I can tell by their body language that none of them had met until this morning. Still, they’re all smiling, and for the most part, they’re a very attractive group of people. They’ve formed a sort of semi-circle, and I add myself on to the end of the chain.

Hey. Happies! I announce with mock enthusiasm.

Happies! one of the girls cheerfully responds back.

Uh, you guys all just get here too?

Yes!

Yup!

Uh-huh!

Whoa. Much more energy than I was