Here is a story form my college days:
The day was warm, the sky blue, the air crisp. Fall had officially begun, but the season had not quite accepted the change from lazy summer evenings to busy autumn afternoons. Class had been in session for about two weeks, and assignments were passing hands dailyfrom student to staff and back again in an endless progression of grades and revisions. While attempting to fill the space between classes, a larger group of students gathered together and began a game of Gotchaa version of elimination tag where each person playing has the name of another person in the group. The object of the game is to systematically eliminate each person until only one player remains.
Our game had been running for roughly a week, and I had personally eliminated three participants in that time. By entering and exiting my apartment through a ground floor window at the back of the apartment building, I felt fairly confident that I was safe from any attacker who was trying to monitor my movements. This game, if nothing else, had filled me with a very healthy sense of paranoia. There were a few safe zones, classrooms, work, church, and home, where elimination could not take place. I had plotted the best rout for getting to each location while maintaining the least amount of visibility possible. In some cases it meant that I had to leave for class 20-30 minutes early to make it there on time.
I plotted my eliminations meticulously, using the colleges student directory (aka the StalkerNet) to find their apartment address, class schedule, and in some rare cases pictures of the target. I would align their schedule and mine to make sure I knew the quickest rout to where they would be throughout the day. I moved through crowds like a breath of air, silent and imperceptible. There are, at times, advantages to being small in stature.
I was tailing my fourth target, intent on learning her path of safety before making an attempt at eliminating per prematurely. Always cautious, I would check my surroundings for anyone who looked suspicious of doing as I wasscouting for the best moment to make my move. In the corner of the room was a gentleman I had seen several times earlier in the day. Since this was a small college, it was not uncommon to run into the same people from time to time, but his presence seemed too calculated to be chance.
Perspiration began to bead on my forehead and the hairs on the back of my neck began to tingle a warning. This guy was going to try and make his move; in my gut I knew he was stalking me as I stalked my target. Two birds with one stone, this guy was good. In my mind I was wondered how long he had been watching my movements. Had he looked me up on the StalkerNet as well? Of course he had. As we passed, him sitting casually in a chair some forty feet from where I passed, our eyes met and he winked. The game was afoot and I knew it. My target would have to wait for another day; I needed to escape and time was not in my favor.
In a fraction of a second I needed to decide which of four possible exits would be my best option:
Exit number one was a stairwell that would take me to the ground level where I could leave from the closest set of doors and race across the quad, hoping to loose my pursuer in the crowd. Unfortunately, this was not an exceptionally busy time of day and the typical throng of students was replaced by a few stragglers working their way home at the end of class.
Exit number two required me to ascend the same set of stairs to the top floor, and either back track through the building to a service stairwell at the opposite end of the building or dodge into an unused classroom and hope to avoid detection while hiding under a desk or behind a podium. This option was the least desirable because it either left me trapped in a room where my only exit was blocked by my pursuer, or carelessly careening down halls and through doorways, making enough racket to raise the dead.
Exit number three would require me to stay on the same level and quickly make my way to a service elevator located at the far end of the building which could only be accessed by cleaning crew employees (which I just happened to be)! While this option seemed to be the safest in theory because it placed me in a position where my tracker could not follow, even if he wanted to, it also left me exposed to attack far too long. The elevator was located in hall way locked off to anyone save building employees. I would have to unlock the door before I could make my way to safety, needlessly using up precious seconds that could be the difference between survival and elimination.
Exit number four was by far the most risky, but potentially the safest. Because I worked on the late night cleaning crew, I was aware of a few rooms in the building that were never, if ever, used. One of these rooms just happened to be right off the entrance a womens room located on the bottom floor of the building; it had a window, roughly three feet tall by four feet wide, set about six feet off the ground. If I could make it to that window, I could get away with relative ease. In order to make my way to this room undetected I would have to descend one of two stairwells, backtrack through a bowling alley/arcade, and enter the restrooms at the back of the food court. A race that would leave me exposed even longer than option number three as the distance to safety was much greater.
Typically this latter route might be thought of as an inescapable trap like the classroom, and under normal circumstances I would never have considered it as an option, but desperate times left me no choice. I knew option four, as risky as it was, served the best possibility for escape. There were no exits close enough to the window that my pursuer could catch me in time, even if he discovered immediately that I had exited through a window in an unused womens restroom. The second door had a lock on it that would provide me time to make my escape and I could simply unlock it again that night as I cleaned. The plan was perfect despite its flaws.
No time to worry about the outcome, in two short strides I cleared the corner and the chase was on. If this kid was as good as I assumed he was, he would not simply jump up and start chasing me recklessly through the building. He would make sure I was aware of his presence first, and then the chase would begin. This knowledge bought me a few seconds of time to change aspects of my appearance. Fortunately, since I was not in class that day, I had left my backpack at home, opting instead to wear a light jacket and a stocking cap. I pulled the cap from my head, shoved it in my back pocket, stripped off my jacket, flipped it inside-out, and tied it around my waist. It wasnt the perfect disguise, but hopefully it would buy me a few more precious seconds to lengthen my lead and make my escape.
Less than ten feet ahead of me sat the first stairwell, the second set of stairs situated around a corner roughly thirty feet ahead of me and on the opposite side of the room I was passing through. The first stairwell had the advantage of doors at both the top and bottom which were held open with simple wooden wedges. The second stairwell was much too exposed and the risk of early detection was much too great. Quickening my pace, I passed through the first doorway, kicking the doorstop out of the way as I passed. The door began to slowly close on its spring hinges. I could only hope that it would close fast enough to either obstruct my pursuer or alert me to his approach. Near the bottom of the stairs I heard the first door begin to catch and then stop before being thrust open again. Hurried feet began to slap against the stairs indicating that the chase had officially begun. I darted through the second door, again kicking the door stop free to hinder pursuit.
Had my actions been enough to slow this chase? The entrance to the bowling alley/arcade stood roughly one hundred feet away, hidden behind a large planter filled with tall green stalks of various silken plants and Ficus trees. I ran for the doorway, pushing my way past a few people who happened to move into my path unaware of my flight. Instead of making my way around the planters box, I threw caution ahead and leapt over the box and through the silken fauna, rough and exposed wires raking against my arms. Behind me I heard the sounds of my pursuer pushing his way past the same people; he was much closer than I would have preferred and I needed to make an adjustment to my escape plan. While the bathroom still held the best chance for escape, fleeing through the open food court and arcade would not be advisable. Instead, upon entering the bowling ally I made my way down the side of the lanes and into the service area where the machinery sits. Hydraulic arms shifted up and down, back and forth, across my path as I made my way to a door that would deposit me in the exact hallway I needed, roughly fifty feet from the womens room and safety.
As luck would have it, the bowling ally attendant stopped the kid chasing me from entering the backroom as I had. Were he a little quicker, I would have been stopped too. His shouts and curses pushed the adrenaline coursing through my veins to surge even more violently. A sudden burst of speed overtook me and I crashed through the backdoor, barely getting it open in time to keep the door jam from exploding outward like in so many Hollywood films. I knew I was safe, the chase was over and I could casually make my way home to begin planning a new defensive strategy. I knew what my pursuer looked like now and I would be better prepared when next we met. I would need to change my routes, adjust my travel schedule, be less consistent in when I left my apartment and from which direction I went to and from class. I would blend in and become a shadow. If I could survive this, I could survive any attempt at elimination. My instincts were primed; I was as good or better than any secret agent employed by our government. For a moment I thought about changing my major to International Spy. How cool would that be! Think of all the dates I would get then!
Reaching for the door to the womens room I took one last look down the hallway. At the far end stood the kid who had pursued me, perspiration beginning to leave marks below his collar and armpits. In his hand he held my jacket. Apparently I had lost it during my flight, maybe snagged on a branch as I hurdled carelessly through the planters box. I gave him a saucy maybe next time grin, winked, and tugged on the door to freedom.
Something hard and cool pressed against my chest; looking forward I found myself staring into the crystal blue eyes of Jody, my co-worker from the nighttime cleaning crew. I knew she was part of the game, and earlier we had discussed exit strategies for several of the buildings on campus, but I never suspected her of such nefarious deceit. I looked down at the spoon pressed against my sternum and in a soft voice, as if from a great distance, I heard her say
Gotcha.
The day was warm, the sky blue, the air crisp. Fall had officially begun, but the season had not quite accepted the change from lazy summer evenings to busy autumn afternoons. Class had been in session for about two weeks, and assignments were passing hands dailyfrom student to staff and back again in an endless progression of grades and revisions. While attempting to fill the space between classes, a larger group of students gathered together and began a game of Gotchaa version of elimination tag where each person playing has the name of another person in the group. The object of the game is to systematically eliminate each person until only one player remains.
Our game had been running for roughly a week, and I had personally eliminated three participants in that time. By entering and exiting my apartment through a ground floor window at the back of the apartment building, I felt fairly confident that I was safe from any attacker who was trying to monitor my movements. This game, if nothing else, had filled me with a very healthy sense of paranoia. There were a few safe zones, classrooms, work, church, and home, where elimination could not take place. I had plotted the best rout for getting to each location while maintaining the least amount of visibility possible. In some cases it meant that I had to leave for class 20-30 minutes early to make it there on time.
I plotted my eliminations meticulously, using the colleges student directory (aka the StalkerNet) to find their apartment address, class schedule, and in some rare cases pictures of the target. I would align their schedule and mine to make sure I knew the quickest rout to where they would be throughout the day. I moved through crowds like a breath of air, silent and imperceptible. There are, at times, advantages to being small in stature.
I was tailing my fourth target, intent on learning her path of safety before making an attempt at eliminating per prematurely. Always cautious, I would check my surroundings for anyone who looked suspicious of doing as I wasscouting for the best moment to make my move. In the corner of the room was a gentleman I had seen several times earlier in the day. Since this was a small college, it was not uncommon to run into the same people from time to time, but his presence seemed too calculated to be chance.
Perspiration began to bead on my forehead and the hairs on the back of my neck began to tingle a warning. This guy was going to try and make his move; in my gut I knew he was stalking me as I stalked my target. Two birds with one stone, this guy was good. In my mind I was wondered how long he had been watching my movements. Had he looked me up on the StalkerNet as well? Of course he had. As we passed, him sitting casually in a chair some forty feet from where I passed, our eyes met and he winked. The game was afoot and I knew it. My target would have to wait for another day; I needed to escape and time was not in my favor.
In a fraction of a second I needed to decide which of four possible exits would be my best option:
Exit number one was a stairwell that would take me to the ground level where I could leave from the closest set of doors and race across the quad, hoping to loose my pursuer in the crowd. Unfortunately, this was not an exceptionally busy time of day and the typical throng of students was replaced by a few stragglers working their way home at the end of class.
Exit number two required me to ascend the same set of stairs to the top floor, and either back track through the building to a service stairwell at the opposite end of the building or dodge into an unused classroom and hope to avoid detection while hiding under a desk or behind a podium. This option was the least desirable because it either left me trapped in a room where my only exit was blocked by my pursuer, or carelessly careening down halls and through doorways, making enough racket to raise the dead.
Exit number three would require me to stay on the same level and quickly make my way to a service elevator located at the far end of the building which could only be accessed by cleaning crew employees (which I just happened to be)! While this option seemed to be the safest in theory because it placed me in a position where my tracker could not follow, even if he wanted to, it also left me exposed to attack far too long. The elevator was located in hall way locked off to anyone save building employees. I would have to unlock the door before I could make my way to safety, needlessly using up precious seconds that could be the difference between survival and elimination.
Exit number four was by far the most risky, but potentially the safest. Because I worked on the late night cleaning crew, I was aware of a few rooms in the building that were never, if ever, used. One of these rooms just happened to be right off the entrance a womens room located on the bottom floor of the building; it had a window, roughly three feet tall by four feet wide, set about six feet off the ground. If I could make it to that window, I could get away with relative ease. In order to make my way to this room undetected I would have to descend one of two stairwells, backtrack through a bowling alley/arcade, and enter the restrooms at the back of the food court. A race that would leave me exposed even longer than option number three as the distance to safety was much greater.
Typically this latter route might be thought of as an inescapable trap like the classroom, and under normal circumstances I would never have considered it as an option, but desperate times left me no choice. I knew option four, as risky as it was, served the best possibility for escape. There were no exits close enough to the window that my pursuer could catch me in time, even if he discovered immediately that I had exited through a window in an unused womens restroom. The second door had a lock on it that would provide me time to make my escape and I could simply unlock it again that night as I cleaned. The plan was perfect despite its flaws.
No time to worry about the outcome, in two short strides I cleared the corner and the chase was on. If this kid was as good as I assumed he was, he would not simply jump up and start chasing me recklessly through the building. He would make sure I was aware of his presence first, and then the chase would begin. This knowledge bought me a few seconds of time to change aspects of my appearance. Fortunately, since I was not in class that day, I had left my backpack at home, opting instead to wear a light jacket and a stocking cap. I pulled the cap from my head, shoved it in my back pocket, stripped off my jacket, flipped it inside-out, and tied it around my waist. It wasnt the perfect disguise, but hopefully it would buy me a few more precious seconds to lengthen my lead and make my escape.
Less than ten feet ahead of me sat the first stairwell, the second set of stairs situated around a corner roughly thirty feet ahead of me and on the opposite side of the room I was passing through. The first stairwell had the advantage of doors at both the top and bottom which were held open with simple wooden wedges. The second stairwell was much too exposed and the risk of early detection was much too great. Quickening my pace, I passed through the first doorway, kicking the doorstop out of the way as I passed. The door began to slowly close on its spring hinges. I could only hope that it would close fast enough to either obstruct my pursuer or alert me to his approach. Near the bottom of the stairs I heard the first door begin to catch and then stop before being thrust open again. Hurried feet began to slap against the stairs indicating that the chase had officially begun. I darted through the second door, again kicking the door stop free to hinder pursuit.
Had my actions been enough to slow this chase? The entrance to the bowling alley/arcade stood roughly one hundred feet away, hidden behind a large planter filled with tall green stalks of various silken plants and Ficus trees. I ran for the doorway, pushing my way past a few people who happened to move into my path unaware of my flight. Instead of making my way around the planters box, I threw caution ahead and leapt over the box and through the silken fauna, rough and exposed wires raking against my arms. Behind me I heard the sounds of my pursuer pushing his way past the same people; he was much closer than I would have preferred and I needed to make an adjustment to my escape plan. While the bathroom still held the best chance for escape, fleeing through the open food court and arcade would not be advisable. Instead, upon entering the bowling ally I made my way down the side of the lanes and into the service area where the machinery sits. Hydraulic arms shifted up and down, back and forth, across my path as I made my way to a door that would deposit me in the exact hallway I needed, roughly fifty feet from the womens room and safety.
As luck would have it, the bowling ally attendant stopped the kid chasing me from entering the backroom as I had. Were he a little quicker, I would have been stopped too. His shouts and curses pushed the adrenaline coursing through my veins to surge even more violently. A sudden burst of speed overtook me and I crashed through the backdoor, barely getting it open in time to keep the door jam from exploding outward like in so many Hollywood films. I knew I was safe, the chase was over and I could casually make my way home to begin planning a new defensive strategy. I knew what my pursuer looked like now and I would be better prepared when next we met. I would need to change my routes, adjust my travel schedule, be less consistent in when I left my apartment and from which direction I went to and from class. I would blend in and become a shadow. If I could survive this, I could survive any attempt at elimination. My instincts were primed; I was as good or better than any secret agent employed by our government. For a moment I thought about changing my major to International Spy. How cool would that be! Think of all the dates I would get then!
Reaching for the door to the womens room I took one last look down the hallway. At the far end stood the kid who had pursued me, perspiration beginning to leave marks below his collar and armpits. In his hand he held my jacket. Apparently I had lost it during my flight, maybe snagged on a branch as I hurdled carelessly through the planters box. I gave him a saucy maybe next time grin, winked, and tugged on the door to freedom.
Something hard and cool pressed against my chest; looking forward I found myself staring into the crystal blue eyes of Jody, my co-worker from the nighttime cleaning crew. I knew she was part of the game, and earlier we had discussed exit strategies for several of the buildings on campus, but I never suspected her of such nefarious deceit. I looked down at the spoon pressed against my sternum and in a soft voice, as if from a great distance, I heard her say
Gotcha.
totem:
Haha excellent! They had a society at Cambridge University that plays pretty much the same game but some of the members were taking it too far so it was banned..I hear it still goes on though! x