Mr. Feeney's Birthday Party

Mr. Feeney yawned and looked around the room. It was time for coffee. He pressed the required buttons and the machine creaked into action, pouring steam out under the little Perspex hatch. He waited for the cup to fill and then strode over to watch the world from his office window. There were some boys in the park throwing bottles at the ducks.He turned away.
“ Something ought to be done about that” he said as if addressing some invisible authority.
His words faded into meaninglessness and he repositioned himself at the computer. Program time again. He really would have to do something about those damned lights. They should have been replaced weeks ago. Somebody was not doing their job.
The program began to run through.
…WATER…OK….ELECTRICITY….OK…..HAPPY..BIRTHDAY…
Mr. Feeney sat stunned as if he was having a coronary. It was impossible. It was his birthday. He’d remembered on the way into work while scouring the paper, but how…? How did the computer know.
The program carried on functioning normally and Mr. Feeney regained his composure. It must be some sort of practical joke by those apes in Central Control. They must have pre-programmed a birthday message for him. It was very nice of them considering he had never actually met any of the operators from Central Control. He didn’t think they were capable.
His eyes returned to the screen. The program had finished. The screen reflected the sun into his face. It was a nice day. He turned off the computer and wondered to the window. He looked out. The boys had vanished. The ducks were waddling around poking at bits of grass and bullying sparrows. It was such a nice day he thought he would go for a stroll around the lake once the next program was completed. He always appreciated nice weather on his birthday.
He looked at the coffee machine. He realized he had forgotten his coffee. It lay there next to the keyboard, cold with a horrible scum around the perimeter of the surface. He was glad that he’d forgotten to drink it. He could use it as evidence that the machine was playing up again. He looked at his watch. Catering would be down the pub by now.
There was a beep from the computer. The program had finished. Time for another one. When it was complete he fetched his sandwich box and descended the stairs. He hoped Security hadn’t locked the back door. He could take the short cut to the park. He walked into the foyer. There was no one about. He went out through the fire exit at the back and walked across the car park, weaving diagonally in the direction of the lake on the other side of the road.
He crossed and walked to the side of the lake, treading carefully to avoid the ducks mess. There was a boy on the bench shouting at the ducks. Mr. Feeney strode over to confront him. “Long haired yob”. He faltered remembering a long forgotten incident in his childhood. It had earned his father’s disapproval and subsequent punishment. He had electrocuted a toad with a twelve volt battery - he did not kill it though.
He sat down on the bench. The boy turned to look. His hair blew over his eyes giving him the appearance of some ancient cave-dweller. Mr. Feeney opted for the subtle approach
“You could have returned them.”
The boy turned and glared. “You what?”
“You could have returned the bottles”
The boy said nothing. Mr. Feeney opened his sandwich box and delved for the chicken pâté. The boy turned towards him. Mr. Feeney shrank back a little but the boy just stared at him making him feel very self conscious.
“I’m hungry”
Mr. Feeney felt more self conscious. The cheek of the devil.
The boy shook his head and grimaced, searching Mr. Feeney’s face for signs of generosity.
Mr. Feeney felt more self conscious - the cheek of the devil.
“Haven’t you any money? He asked tentatively.
Mr. Feeney began to speak resisting the urge to chide him about throwing away returnable bottles.
“Ham or Chicken pate…there’s a tomato if you want.”
The boy reached for the tomato grinning triumphantly.
“I’m vegetarian”
Mr. Feeney was taken aback by the boys statement.
“I haven’t eaten meat for years.”
Mr. Feeney muttered acknowledgment. Such high ideals in one so young - except for the ducks of course.
“What are you doing here”
“I’m unemployed” replied the boy.
“Can’t find a job? Continued Mr. Feeney.
“Don’t want one “
What a strange character thought Mr. Feeney. Doesn’t want a job.
He looked at the boy. He had just bitten a large chunk out of the tomato, splattering juice on to his fingers and the pavement. He seemed very hungry. Very thin and rakish - no good for manual labour.
“You a civ?” questioned the boy.
Mr Feeney looked at him enquiringly.
“Civ?”
“Yeah. You know. Civil servant. Don’t you work in that office over there?
“That’s right” replied Mr Feeney. The boy was observant.
“I’m a computer programmer.”
“Do you like it?”
He thought for a while. The money was good but the monotony, the endless repetition of the routine. He hadn’t really thought about it before.
“It’s fine” he lied.
The same as any other way of making a living. He hated it but what could he do.
“It’s not living - it’s dying”
Mr Feeney was put off balance by this philosophical intrusion. The lad was really quite intelligent. University material if it wasn’t for the long hair and general appearance.
He turned and looked at the ducks. He tossed a crust into the water and watched as the ducks battled for possession. A big duck instead of heading straight for the food, rounded on its nearest rival and flapped viciously with its wings. The smaller bird turned and sloped off at an angle, eying the bread.
“Do you want some cake?”
The boy nodded and Mr Feeney divided up his piece of cake.
“Its birthday cake actually. Forty nine today”
The boy munched and smiled.
“It’s not proper cake of course just a bun really.
“Aren’t you having an office party?”
Mr Feeney winced and adjusted his spectacles.
“I am the office…there’s only me…in the department I mean.. and the computer of course, but that doesn’t talk - just gives a read out.”
He faltered. Happy Birthday. Was it central control. He looked at his watch.
“I’ll have to go now.
The boy turned and said “Bye” mockingly.
Mr Feeney stood and headed back to the office. No use being late after all.
He walked into the office and logged onto the computer. A few minutes later it clicked and started to give readings. Every thing normal He sat hunched at the console, scanning the read out for faults. It was no use replying on the those damn lights. The routine finished and Mr. Feeney stretched himself. A flight of ducks passed the window returning to the lake I a graceful spiral. Nature’s routine.
He checked his pockets for change. There wasn’t any. He would go without coffee. The computer clicked. It was early. He read the messages.
“Water OK”
“Electricity OK”
“Gas OK”
No message. He re-checked the print out…there was no message.
Suddenly on impulse he went to the window and looked out. The ducks were fishing on the far side of the lake. There was no one on the bench. He turned and listened. It was very quiet. The computer went click. Unheard as Mr Feeney descended the stairs.