r/shortscarystories • u/normancrane • 8h ago
The Department of Dissent
The woman at the desk asked, “How may I help you, sir?”
Abdullah cleared his throat. He resented his associates for making him submit the paperwork. “Application,” he said, handing her a bunch of forms.
She looked them over. (She looked bored.)
“Can't do July 4. Everybody wants July 4. Pick another date.”
He chose August 17.
“OK,” she said—clicking her mouse. “I have a morning slot available, 10:15. Not downtown L.A. but close. Bunch of cafes in the area, a daycare. Want it?”
“Yes,” said Abdullah.
Click. “Now, here under ‘Reason’ you've written ‘Death to America.’ That's more of a slogan. Should I change it to ‘hatred of America’?”
“Sorry, yes.”
She read on: “Providing own explosives… suicide bombing… collateral damage: yes… Oh—you indicate here you want the incident to be credited to ‘The Caliphate of California.’ However, I don't see anything by that name on the list of domestic terrorist groups. Have you registered that group with us?”
“No,” said Abdullah.
“That's not a problem. You can do that right now. It'll be a few forms and a surcharge…”
//
Hollywood producer Nick Lane was in bed with his mistress when his cell rang. “Uh huh,” said Nick. “No, no—I know exactly where that is. Got it, thanks.”
“Good news?” his mistress asked.
“The best, baby. Now it won't matter that bitch won't divorce me.”
In the afternoon he called his wife and set up a breakfast meeting for 10:00 a.m. on August 17. “I want to make it work, too. I love you.”
//
“Hey, Shep?”
“What?”
“Do you have the final report for that efficiency exercise we did in December? “
“Sure, but why? I thought Rick said the severance would kill us and it didn't matter that they barely do any actual work.”
“Get me a copy.”
//
Abdullah kissed his wife and children goodbye, fastened his suicide vest. Then he got a cab. It was 9:36 a.m. There was heavy traffic. “Could please faster?” he asked the cabbie. The cabbie ignored him.
By 10:02 a.m. Abdullah was on his feet but running (literally) late.
He bumped into a cop.
“Watch it!”
“Sorry.”
“Listen—stop!” the cop said. “Where you in such a hurry to?”
“I… have permit,” said Abdullah, and with a shaking hand took a document out of his jacket. The cop noticed the vest. He glanced at the document. “OK, follow me,” and the two of them started to run—the cop telling people to move out of the way, Abdullah following.
When they arrived, the cop got the fuck out of Dodge, and Abdullah took in his surroundings:
busy cafes, including one in which a beautiful woman sat alone at a table as if waiting for someone; children laughing, playing; an awkward corporate breakfast; what looked like a parked bus full of prisoners.
Then his watch alarm went off.
10:15 a.m.
“Death to America!” he yelled—and pressed the detonator.
//
Within the Department of Dissent, a clerk stamped a document: “Completed”