Swallowed by the City
by Ijeoma Uzoma
The Student’s campus security email alert says a university research technician was killed last night. No name. Which campus? A stranger? Who was he?
The Student asks her lab mates if they’ve seen the news. “Another? Is this news? What happened?”
Expressions of unfortunate-but-not-shocking are briefly assumed on their faces. The psychic toll of endless victims fries their senses.
The lab mates begin another round of the game: Baltimore Murder Categories. What will it be? “Never should’ve happened,” “unlucky,” or “should’ve known better”?
They wait for updates.
The Student tries harder than most at not becoming a victim. She even has an anti-murder checklist: Never walk alone (not even two blocks!), don’t travel home by yourself after late nights out (stay over at a friend’s house!), don’t walk to your car after dark (request a campus security escort!).
It’s time to find out if the checklist would have worked. Would she be a survivor? Can she win the game?
The lab mates impatiently click refresh on their crime news feeds.
Would the game ever end? The Student hadn’t felt reprieve since the day she moved to the City. Like the others, she’d been beckoned by promises of being among “the best of the best!” If she wagered correctly, she could win. So, she stayed. Implicitly accepting the City’s challenge but vowing never to give the City the slightest excuse to claim her as its victim.
There’s an update: “University research technician was stabbed while walking to his apartment in the Village neighborhood at approximately 11 PM last night.”
The Village residents in the lab are jeering, “What was he thinking?! He didn’t take a cab?!” This might be a “Should’ve known better."
The Student knows they’re probably right. She remembers her friend who parked his car in that area. At 1 AM. Two blocks from his girlfriend’s house. They grabbed him, four of them, put a gun to his head and smashed his face into the concrete. Stole his phone but let him go. Lucky break! Should’ve known better.
Her thoughts jump to her neighbor, seldomly seen these days. She just heard he decided to give up on trying to save his eye. The surgeries were getting to be way too expensive, and the results were just mediocre. He opted for a glass eye instead. He’d been attacked in broad daylight. Walking alone on a bad street, not far from today’s victim. This one was tougher. “Never should’ve happened” or “Unlucky”?
Next update: “It says his lab is on THIS campus.”
The Student worries. The murder game only works with strangers, right? The circles are getting tighter. Well, maybe not, there’s hundreds of techs here. Practically one in every lab. And sometimes two! Even so, he’s not feeling like a stranger anymore. In her mind, she asks the Creators to restart the game. New prompt! New clues? Please!
The lab mates have deduced that his lab is in this building.
Next update: there is a name. A generic first name with an uncommon last name. The Student has seen this name somewhere. It’s the same generic name as the sandy-haired lab tech from upstairs who she exchanged an enthusiastic “Have a good weekend!” with on Friday. But this can’t be his last name. He couldn’t be walking around the building three days ago and stabbed to death today.
The Student checks her email. Now it’s her turn to use the clues. Ah ha! Last week she and the Tech were sent an email from their mutual friend. She will confirm his last name is not the last name in the alert. Then she will resume her morning routine and get a coffee. She’ll see him in the long line of caffeine fiends in the café down the hall—his head standing taller than the rest—she’ll easily make eye contact and wave. He won’t know how happy she is to see him smile back. The victim won’t be him.
Last week’s email showed the Tech’s full name. Same first and last name as the alert. The City got him.
She remembered how his face looked last Friday—radiating energy of youthful ambition. There was no warning that his time would be up in two days.
The chaos of the City won. He lost the game. The Student wished he had never thought about coming here.
The Student asks her lab mates if they’ve seen the news. “Another? Is this news? What happened?”
Expressions of unfortunate-but-not-shocking are briefly assumed on their faces. The psychic toll of endless victims fries their senses.
The lab mates begin another round of the game: Baltimore Murder Categories. What will it be? “Never should’ve happened,” “unlucky,” or “should’ve known better”?
They wait for updates.
The Student tries harder than most at not becoming a victim. She even has an anti-murder checklist: Never walk alone (not even two blocks!), don’t travel home by yourself after late nights out (stay over at a friend’s house!), don’t walk to your car after dark (request a campus security escort!).
It’s time to find out if the checklist would have worked. Would she be a survivor? Can she win the game?
The lab mates impatiently click refresh on their crime news feeds.
Would the game ever end? The Student hadn’t felt reprieve since the day she moved to the City. Like the others, she’d been beckoned by promises of being among “the best of the best!” If she wagered correctly, she could win. So, she stayed. Implicitly accepting the City’s challenge but vowing never to give the City the slightest excuse to claim her as its victim.
There’s an update: “University research technician was stabbed while walking to his apartment in the Village neighborhood at approximately 11 PM last night.”
The Village residents in the lab are jeering, “What was he thinking?! He didn’t take a cab?!” This might be a “Should’ve known better."
The Student knows they’re probably right. She remembers her friend who parked his car in that area. At 1 AM. Two blocks from his girlfriend’s house. They grabbed him, four of them, put a gun to his head and smashed his face into the concrete. Stole his phone but let him go. Lucky break! Should’ve known better.
Her thoughts jump to her neighbor, seldomly seen these days. She just heard he decided to give up on trying to save his eye. The surgeries were getting to be way too expensive, and the results were just mediocre. He opted for a glass eye instead. He’d been attacked in broad daylight. Walking alone on a bad street, not far from today’s victim. This one was tougher. “Never should’ve happened” or “Unlucky”?
Next update: “It says his lab is on THIS campus.”
The Student worries. The murder game only works with strangers, right? The circles are getting tighter. Well, maybe not, there’s hundreds of techs here. Practically one in every lab. And sometimes two! Even so, he’s not feeling like a stranger anymore. In her mind, she asks the Creators to restart the game. New prompt! New clues? Please!
The lab mates have deduced that his lab is in this building.
Next update: there is a name. A generic first name with an uncommon last name. The Student has seen this name somewhere. It’s the same generic name as the sandy-haired lab tech from upstairs who she exchanged an enthusiastic “Have a good weekend!” with on Friday. But this can’t be his last name. He couldn’t be walking around the building three days ago and stabbed to death today.
The Student checks her email. Now it’s her turn to use the clues. Ah ha! Last week she and the Tech were sent an email from their mutual friend. She will confirm his last name is not the last name in the alert. Then she will resume her morning routine and get a coffee. She’ll see him in the long line of caffeine fiends in the café down the hall—his head standing taller than the rest—she’ll easily make eye contact and wave. He won’t know how happy she is to see him smile back. The victim won’t be him.
Last week’s email showed the Tech’s full name. Same first and last name as the alert. The City got him.
She remembered how his face looked last Friday—radiating energy of youthful ambition. There was no warning that his time would be up in two days.
The chaos of the City won. He lost the game. The Student wished he had never thought about coming here.
Ijeoma Uzoma is a scientist and holds a Ph.D. in Pharmacology and Molecular Sciences. During her time in academia, she enjoyed writing and was fortunate to publish scientific research articles and contribute a chapter to a biochemistry textbook. She has been living and learning in Baltimore, Maryland since 2007.