Attachment Unavailable

 

Ashish booked the cab. It was late, but so it was for Mikesh, Harish, Vighnesh, Aditya and Debjyoti. Not to mention the entire accounting department. But the Ubers and Olas knew that the Corporation worked its ‘employees’ hard and so the road outside the complex were littered with them, waiting in anticipation. His ride was confirmed in no time. With 4.7 stars, Suyog Kumar was highly rated. He took the employee lift down, his keycard beeping at every glass door. As he exited the gate, he glanced at the watchman. At least someone could sleep.

 

He got into the cab and recited the confirmation number. Why was Suyog Kumar so cheerful at this ungodly hour? It might work when the Sun was up. Definitely not getting an extra star from me.

 

As the cab began rolling down the empty, sodium lit street, the grey expanse became less empty. The silence of the night was rudely interrupted with more cab doors slamming shut and more engines igniting. The glass facades of the parks around him vibrated as victims disappeared into the holds of their transports.

 

Sir, you work for the Corporation?
Uff. Just when he was going to plug in his audio-book. Another star off for that.
Though it was a valid question. Incorporated, Firm, Partners, Limited, all shared the camp. All of them reluctantly released his clones at this hour.

 

Suyog Kumar’s “Good Conversation” badge was shining. He thought his one-word answer would cut the impending dialogue before it started. But it seemed the alternating orange and black patches of the journey mimicked a film reel. Another question was inevitable.

 

Yes.
Sir, how much salary do you get?
What the. How could this driver, he whose acquaintance was just one question so far, talk to him? A mere face to keep him company for one journey, along a line segment that joined the two points in his life?

 

He recited the number.
Nobody had asked him before anyway.

 

Sir is that why you work so late?
Ashish did not know how to answer that. He was tired. This cab-driver was tiring. His kindle lay to his side, headphones still tangled.
Why do you work so hard? He retorted.
Sir, I don’t have a choice.

 

As Ashish got out his cab, he looked in pity at the driver. Pity looked back at him.