Chapter 28:
A Golden Ticket?
In the three weeks since his Captain's invite, leading up to the Big Apple's biggest party, Mayfield had been finding much to cherish both on and off the clock. Whether he paid tributes to trailblazing delivery milestones, or opened drawers full of well-wadded cash, there'd been great causes for celebration since his days of disgrace.
But he'd admit to those warm & tipsy spirits turning cold sober as the days trickled by. Lately, any conversations had, if he could, would often force his leave, and if he didn't take the hint by word, then the impatient eyes, wry frowns & folded arms soon sold the idea.
Space deliveries, themselves more focused affairs, had been reduced to murmurs, foot taps, hums & occasional breaths. Learning lessons, he dared not betray a word, but had fumed when Leela ordered him into his cabin, insisting that she & Amy take the deliveries.
Taking his 20% cut for nothing was fine, but it still reminded him of his final months back home…
Mere days before the gala, he understood why.
Amped up yet reserved ('Amperved?' On second thought…) he had entered the lobby only to encounter the big boss & his bureaucrat, solemn & sombre even for how seldom happy they were. Several lights were off, casting shadows throughout. The kid had finally had enough.
"Okay guys, what the hell's up? It's been a funeral 'round here, when we should be celebrating."
The Professor did his level best to look anywhere but Mayfield's eyes, as Hermes sighed & groaned, standing resolutely and speaking to the lad before him.
"To be level with you, mon? It was a funeral, for your time here. Decision's been agreed upon, by your Captain and ourselves, that effective immediately, we're terminating your contract."
"Wait, WHAT?! How did that happen? All those milestones, all the money, just… Huh?"
"I handed you an ultimatum, we shook hands, and you failed to meet it. Just took us a couple weeks to organise 'de paperwork. It's really that simple. I don't offer these often, but I do apologise… Business is business."
Fuming & fitting to take this further, Mayfield rattled off reason after reason to remain, desperate to keep one of the only good things going in his life. No luck, as Hermes shot him down.
"I'll help you clean out your tings… 'Dis way, please."
Defeated, bowed & fighting tears, Mayfield dragged his feet, barely paying attention as he began his walk on Death Row. Hermes' face was still arctic, even for the minutes spent, and had only spoke once the young man lumbered towards the lobby, about to leave.
"Hold on one minute, Mayfield. Others wished to say goodbye, too… Could you follow me, and do them that kindness?"
"Yeah, fine I guess… Haven't got much else before you send me on a one-way trip."
Hermes said nothing as he redirected a sharp swerve towards the company lift; reaching conference, Mayfield gave a longing stare towards that spaceship. Fittingly, as Hermes swiped his employee card to total darkness, the kid saw his purgatory in front of him. At least until a detail struck out:
"After you." Hermes muttered.
"Wait a second. Say Hermes, if I'm s'posed to be leaving, how come you haven't taken my…"
The lights clicked on: "SURPRISE!" came the yells of several voices at once.
"OHHH, gee…"
He had trailed off stumbling, soon on his ass like Sonny Liston to the crew's Ali. Once he rubbed his backside & gathered his feet, he had come to notice a big table full of nibbles; chips, candies, chocolates and more, plus a giant strawberry & vanilla cake as the centrepiece.
Everyone had gotten together, and judging by the past few weeks, Mayfield had found himself stupefied, even questioning about whether he should've been searching for other work.
Such was the dedication & effort to this surprise party, and such was why he wanted to stay here.
"Wow, I don't believe it! You sneaky little…" Couldn't help but grin, as he began wrapping them all in a hug. "So you've done all this behind my back?"
"Hard enough keeping our mouths shut, actually." Leela had giggled. "To say nothing of our wealth, our stocks are way up, we've been knocking down new records, and morale has never been better."
"Stocks you say? Nobody ever told me… Ohhh. Maybe I did forget after all. Alright, now my cash doesn't have to gather dust!"
While Mayfield scratched his chin in contemplation, Hermes had clapped his shoulder.
"Hey mon, so I personally couldn't overlook your choice to leave, but I can credit a man who takes responsibility by putting forth such incredible efforts. I guess this surprise shindig is our own small, cheap way to say thank-you."
Mayfield motioned a palm to his heart. "Cheap & small, I don't care. You all gave me that one chance to prove myself, when most others didn't. So seriously, thank you. Now, how 'bout we party like we do business?"
And take it to the top, they did; games had gone off grandly, the food became a feast, and courtesy of The Champs and some impromptu Limbo Rock, they took the janitor's mop and got everyone to slide under. Mayfield had proven as flexible as a girder, so one got no prizes for guessing how he did…
He won, of course! At least, he bonked his head hard enough to believe it.
Giving it a tender rub, he soon saw Hermes crack his knuckles and stretch his legs, before taking off his jacket. Mayfield, expecting little, had kept a close eye in interest, and could've become a laughing clown for how that pudgy Patois man kept sliding under, an almost scornful ease in his eyes.
And just to smugly prove his point, he demanded the bar so low that it could've had intimate relations with the floor. Only brushed the tip of his nose, as everyone clapped.
"Wha? How in the… When did you…" Mayfield garbled, simply lost for words.
"Retired Olympian-grade Limbo athlete, at your service."
"Geeze, you think you get to know a fella…"
Speaking of such, he soon spotted that same janitor idly munching away at the nibbles. Fading red cap, thick sprouting moustache, worker's slacks & matching jacket. No bigger blue-collar sort you could ever find, which had drawn him right over.
"Huh, who in the heck are you?"
"Scruffy, the Janitor."
"I'm Mayfield, the delivery boy. Can't say I've seen you before, so what's brought you here?"
"I ain't never seen you before neither. And I heard there'd be cake. Mm-hmm."
"And being the janitor, that's been a good job for you?"
"A-yup. Boilers n' terlets, terlets n' boilers, that's the life for me."
"What'd you do before you came here?"
"Masseuse for the rich, roadie, conservationist. Whatever there's been, I've dern it."
"Alright, well, been nice to chat."
"Sure, bye."
One to save his words, he guessed. As delicious morning confections & cake disappeared down his throat, Mayfield had heard the lobby's doorbell ring: "I've got it!"
A strange alien creature (oh, but of course) in a postal outfit, who had hissed in addressing him: "Mail call for you, ssssir."
Handing a $30 tip: "Cheers mate, and for your trouble."
As the postman slithered away, a small nod in thanks, Mayfield grew surprised at the rather hefty envelopes held in his hand. A silken quilt to the touch, coated a shimmering onyx black, trimmed in pure gold. All addressed to everyone here, and obviously from one who had a taste for finer things in life.
Finding his name among them, he ripped that envelope across and gazed upon the details…
"Well I'll… be… buggered!"
To call it a surprise was to gravely devalue the treasure trove in his and everyone's hands. For the Audience with Archbury charity gala, they were top-class VIP Package invitations. Front-row seats to every event, every talk, and everything else. Chances to mingle & mix among the biggest names in the city, and across the galaxy…
Essentially, Planet Express had just received a bunch of $250,000 golden tickets.
Could only stop & stare, his eyes bigger than golf balls, before he took a brisk pace back to the lounge. Dared not rush, for fear he'd find it all a cruel joke, yet he arrived having clear commands in mind.
"Cut the music, cut the festivities! Our latest mail call demands a meeting. Conference room, now!"
Such an abrupt demand had really annoyed Farnsworth, and he made that clear as the confused co-workers followed out and took their seats:
"Mayfield! What's the big idea, I'm the one who calls meetings around here… NOT YOU!"
"You're right Professor, and I do apologise for going over your head, but it's important." He scanned the invites again to make sure. "Folks, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but… we've been outdone."
Murmurs and whispers across the table. Just what was the new kid trying to say?
"This whole surprise party you all planned? You've called this one, someone else has raised us theirs, and it's about time we fold."
"The hell are you talking about? Could you just get to the point?" Leela demanded.
He waved the envelopes in his hand: "Ladies & gentlemen, we're about to have an Audience with Archbury, and on a full ride…"
They were doubtful, and he still uncertain, until the loot had been handed over. Had alarmed him to hear cheers & hollers ring throughout HQ, high fives & hugs 'round the table, all while he stared in grim disbelief at his ticket. Leela, for her part, had let the helium balloons of joy & delirium lift her up, while only Mayfield had brought them to anchor. Amy wasn't having it.
"Are you crazy, Thomas? You're not celebrating this amazing occasion?"
"I want to Amy, but now, I can't emphasise enough how serious this is. So we've caught the attention of Archbury himself, that much is clear… The question that bothers me is, well, what DID we do? That I'm aware of, only one business every year gets invites like these, and I've never seen us short-listed for such a lottery."
Whether it was the coffee or excitement talking, Leela had been hopping from left to right, as if she'd been adopted a lifetime ago.
"Please tell me you're not joking, Thomas. Man, I dreamed of attending something like this!"
"Captain, I'd beg to share your happiness, but tell me if I'm mistaken… You were adamant—and I don't blame you—that you couldn't afford a single event, but according to his site, these tickets run upwards of fifty grand EACH. These specific ones? A quarter million! What, all to show up in formal wear and have a good time? Giving us such generous gifts, so readily… That doesn't strike you as being suspicious?"
"Oh take your own advice Thomas! Not everything has to have a sound explanation!" Leela teased.
Amy, an opened palm towards him, piped in: "Yeah, and think about this. Given how low we had fallen and who we once were, we'd be stupid to pass this up! Think of all the VIPs that could be there; Mayor Poopenmeyer, the U.S. President, tycoon Mom, Zapp Brannigan, my Kiffy…"
"That much is obvious, Amy. So much so that, he knows too, and that's what worries me. For one, why does he want all of us? Are we going for an award, a special show, what's the story here?"
Hermes chipped in, comparatively optimistic given his usual self: "Oh, why all 'de fuss? After years of being marked on, now WE can do the marking, thanks to our wonderful captain & crew here. Who knows where we could go?"
"You're kind, Hermes, but I'd imagine that such invites would only go to those who were established, as opposed to 'moving up'. I won't sneeze at our success, by any stretch, but in a crowd who could blow their nose or wipe their backside with $1000 bills, without batting an eyelid I might add, we'll be the odd ones out."
The Professor groaned in standing up. "You'll never establish yourself given that attitude! Think of all the prominent clients we could butter up for business, all the influence we could garner!" To say nothing of money, of course…"
"Attitude or no, Professor, I don't believe I'm desperate as to need Archbury's party to further myself. But you're right, we refuse these invites, and we refuse enormous money & powerful networks on the table. Can't help but think he must've known this, hence the dangling bait."
Leela's finger met her lips, while her eye shut halfway: "Amy, you think your parents pulled some strings to make this happen?"
"Shman, I doubt it. If they're going, I certainly won't be in their minds. Gluck, I hope I don't see them!"
Though he puzzled further, Mayfield stayed silent. Of course, he sparked upon hearing Leela groan.
"Just my luck that the absolute loathe of my life had to be there… Zapp Brannigan."
"Huh, what's about him's a problem? Saw his recruiting posters, he seemed heroic enough."
"Never judge a poster by its cover star, Thomas. Long ago, when I just started out, we crossed paths. In the years since, I've always regretted that day. In fact, I thought I'd see parts of him in you, wondered whether you'd turn out the same way."
"Turn out like an Army general instead of a delivery boy? That doesn't sound bad, I mean…"
"Let me put it this way, then. In a heartbeat, I'd take you over him. Seriously, however he became General, it just baffles me. His selfish attitude, spineless nonsense, saboteur-grade stupidity… And that's BEFORE I really lay into him. The man just sickens me, full stop."
"Damn, well if what you say's true, and I don't doubt your experiences, he'll be one problem of many."
Leela drew a furtive eyebrow as he spoke, still befuddled as to his hostility.
"I'm just curious. You seem so adamant to avoid this party, yet you've never expressed any kind of real hatred towards Archbury until now."
"Call it dread, call it foreboding, call it what you like, but I ain't calling THAT guy into my life! Don't know why, but that voice gave me shivers, shivers of plain bad news. And when his personal guard roared on my TV… God, I nearly shat myself! In fact, that was what got me researching in the first place."
"I don't get it." Amy groaned. "He seems more huggable than he does harmful!"
A quick trace of his scar: "I'd say the same of the Captain, and here's her handiwork, so what's your point?"
The two ladies demanded that he explain himself, and when Mayfield expressed, in absolute sincerity, that Archbury might've hidden a shadier past than first realised, that he might've proven a key figure in Planet Express's woes, they both gave a disdainful scoff. Leela especially had spared no punches whatsoever.
"That's the dumbest statement I've ever heard… How are you EVER going to prove that?"
"Thomas, only one I've known to have such a connection was The Zookeeper, and he'd been a small-time crook for decades." Amy added. "You really think he'd be topping the criminal food chain, never mind running this whole party?"
To that, Mayfield considered not just the connection between Leela's story and the themes of the gala, but also another theory; the compound interest of criminal activity. In his research, he told of how Archbury, though apparently reformed, had been a felon since he was a teen. At a glance now, looked in his mid-30s; every small crime escaped, every bit of loot cleaned, fenced & invested, every article of financial news he could've followed…
"Ladies, you're talking a good twenty years of this, plus whatever capital he had beforehand. Even in assuming an odd mistake or two, such patient, solid work would add up stupendously over the long run."
"Okay, I'll give you that one." Leela admitted. "I remember how Fry enjoyed a straight 1000 years of compound interest, from just 93 cents… When he got the final figure, damn near had a seizure."
Mayfield breathed out and shook his head… Hated to imagine that kind of money.
"Even so, won't he be checking everywhere around the party?"
"You can't be complacent & careless in growing wealth, and if my theory's correct, then he'll be plotting two steps ahead the whole night. I mean, look at all these events we're attending! Perfect distractions. Not to mention that given his usual crowd, he can EXPECT most to be on their best behaviour… Guess who that leaves out?"
Everyone's buzz well & truly killed by now, Hermes had stared down angrily at Mayfield. Seemed to harbour such suspicious paranoia that he accused him of lighting a funny cigar, which he quickly denied involvement. He then argued about why this 'Zookeeper' would take such keen interest in them so suddenly.
"Say he's hawkish in following financial news, Hermes. I've overheard at the party that we're up a hundred-fold since we got those creams cloned, so that has to get such sharks like him swimming."
"Oh wow, we're so lined in gold & riches!" Leela sniped. "Our stocks are a dollar apiece Thomas, what could they possibly want from us?"
"Sure, it's just a dollar, but we were once only good for a penny. If such riches were gained over 10 years, then I'd agree in not caring. But in two months? If he's truly the criminal at heart, and I'm sure you know about them Leela, then you know he won't care about our 'gold and riches'. It's the POTENTIAL of such that he's after."
Murmurs & whispers began to creep 'round the room; that must've convinced them somewhat. Sure, the whole 'mad professor' thing had scared off most thieves, lowlifes & drug addicts from HQ, but he was old & decrepit too. Lots of glaring issues inside and out, most of them security-related. If that ruthless, experienced billionaire wanted in, there'd be no way to stop him.
"So now what?" Amy asked.
"We start hiding those creams, ASAP. Any attempts at a raid, we'll be better insured."
"Thomas, I'm still not convinced that you haven't gone crazy." Leela inflected, quizzical.
"Sorry Captain, but I don't trust him for a New New York minute. Nobody's that generous, nobody, without a motive!"
"Uh, excuse me, who got you this entire job in the first place?"
"Come on, who are you kidding? I really appreciate that from you, don't get me wrong, but over a million dollars of invites versus a delivery boy role? You know good and Gods-damned well there's no contest to be had."
Valid arguments or no, Farnsworth had given them no choice. He had made thousands of questionable choices over the decades, that was true, but to leave such offers on the table, for seemingly no risk? He made it undeniably clear that he'd never make such a stupid choice, to which even Mayfield could agree.
Before Hermes kicked back and sent the crew off to work, Mayfield had called on everyone one last time.
"Guys, for that amazing party, I wanted to tell you all thank you, I love you, and rest assured that, till my time's over, I'll give every conceivable effort I can to help us succeed. But let's be clear, from this point forward… Keep your wits about you, at all times. Daresay this could be the beginning of something big."
In a typical chess game, it was wise to note that one's pieces had to be sacrificed for one to win. Such pieces could be picked up and reset…
And as for Mayfield, little did he realise that he had just spoken the understatement of a 'lifetime'…
