Chapter Two

Eric studied the man sitting across the table from him. His suit was expensive, not that off the rack crap that guys like him were forced to wear for interviews. He carried himself in a calm, yet confident manner. He raised his cup of coffee to his lips and sipped at the hot liquid. Bright blue eyes stared back at Eric over the rim of the mug.

“Nothing like a good cup of coffee,” Stafford said, taking another sip. It was his turn to study Eric. The kid didn’t look like much, but he knew that looks could be deceiving. His tall frame carried little muscle. His long hair reminded him of the hippies of another time.

“It certainly keeps me going,” Eric agreed. He raised his cup in a mock toast.

“This is a nice little shop,” Stafford continued. “I frankly wasn’t impressed when we entered, but the coffee is exceptional.”

Eric had been visiting Jittery Joe’s for most of his college career. He wondered again what the future held. He realized that he couldn’t even afford a cup of coffee and found himself even more curious about the man in the black suit.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Stafford?” He cut right to the point.

Stafford’s eyebrows arched in reply, and he smiled. “I think, more accurately, it’s what I can do for you, Eric.” He reached into his jacket’s inner pocket and produced a black business card. The overhead lights reflected off the shiny paper surface. He placed it on the table and slid it toward the young man.

“What you can do for me?” Eric didn’t understand. He reached out and picked up the card. Silver letters snaked across its surface: Exercitus Hominis.

“What we can do for each other,” he replied. “What we can do for the world.” He watched as Eric read the neat script on the card. “How’s your Latin?”

“Better than my Chinese,” Eric joked, “but not as good as my English. Exercitus Hominis?”

“The Army of the Man,” Stafford replied. “An idea. A movement. A chance for all of humanity.”

Crazy alarms started ringing in Eric’s head. “The Army of the Man? Sounds like something out of a movie.”

Stafford sat back and took another long drink. “Let me back up. I can sometimes come on a little strong, but it’s only because I believe in what he’s doing.”

“In what who is doing?”

“The Man, Eric.” He raised his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. “Let me explain.”

The guy had bought him a cup of coffee. Eric would at least give him a chance. “I’m listening.”

Stafford nodded his thanks and considered where to begin. “I work for an organization that is tired, Eric. The world is controlled by governments and corporations who are more interested in the bottom line than they are in the best interests of its people.”

“There’s no doubt about that,” Eric agreed.

“The government makes it illegal for you to lie to its agencies, but it can lie to you without repercussions. How is that right?”

“Are we talking about politics?” Eric asked. A ghost of a smile crinkled the corners of his mouth. The conversation appeared to be circling back toward where it began.

“It doesn’t matter how you label it, we’re talking about corruption and abuse of power. Something has to change.”

Eric wasn’t sure where Stafford was headed. “Some people might call that a revolution.” he forced himself to laugh.

Stafford considered his words with care. “Let’s look at you, Eric. You’ve worked hard in school, held multiple jobs while doing so, and still found time to stand up for what you believe.” He paused and glanced at Eric’s coffee cup. “And what do you have to show for it?”

“I’m graduating with a degree in a few weeks.”

“A piece of paper.” Stafford sat back and waited for Eric to reply. When none came, he continued. “What you really have is a mountain of debt, thirty-seven cents in your bank account, and no power in your apartment. How is that fair? Weren’t you always taught that if you stayed in school and worked hard, you would achieve the American Dream?”

Eric mouth went dry. His hands began to sweat. “How do you know about my power and my bank account,” he demanded.

Stafford eased out to the edge of his seat. “Because it’s my job to know, Eric. My employer is well-connected. We have money, and we have resources. What we need is people like you. My job is to find them and recruit them.”

Eric tried to make sense of what the man across the table said. “What’s so special about me? As you just pointed out, I’m broke. I can’t even afford to pay my bills.”

“You’d be surprised, young man. We’ve been watching you for a long time. I’ve kept up with your academic record and have been impressed with your heart. You’ve led some pretty inspiring protests.”

Eric shook his head. “There’s plenty of people who have good grades and are activists. There’s something you aren’t telling me.” He looked around the coffee shop hoping to see a friend or someone he recognized. A bad feeling crept up his spine and lodged itself at the base of his skull.

Stafford recognized the boy’s growing concern and did his best to put him at ease. “You’re very perceptive.” Stafford glanced around, mimicking Eric’s action, but instead of looking for support, he sought anonymity. He wanted to make sure that no one listened to their conversation. “I’m offering you a job, Eric. No, an opportunity. As you guessed, there’s more to the story than what I can tell you here. Are you interested in knowing more?”

Eric blew out a long breath. “Frankly, I’m a little creeped out that you know so much about me. I’d need more information before I could answer that question.”

Stafford stood. “Sounds like you’re interested to me.” He smiled and patted Eric on the shoulder. “I can’t go into detail here, but if you’d like to know more, I can arrange an in depth interview.”

Despite his misgivings, Eric found himself intrigued. “You haven’t even told me what kind of job it is that you’re offering.”

Stafford’s smile widened. “We’re building an army, Eric.”

“I’m not really what I’d consider soldier material.” He held his skinny arms out in front of himself. “The most exercise I get is playing Frisbee in the Quad.”

“There are different kinds of armies,” he continued. “We’re building an army to take the world back, to right the wrongs committed by corporations and big government. We’re building the Army of the Man.”

“That doesn’t really tell me much,” Eric protested. His frustration leaked into his voice. Stafford knew he had a fish on the hook. He also knew when to play out a little line.

“My card has my contact information on the reverse. Call me in a few days and we can talk more.” He turned to head for the door but stopped. “Oh, and as a thank you for talking with me today, The Man has squared away your power bill and deposited a little money into your bank account. Nobody should be hungry or have to rely on a pretty girl for food. No strings attached. I hope to hear from you soon.”

He walked away before Eric could reply. When he disappeared from view, Eric snatched his phone out of his pocket and checked his bank account. His balance showed as $2,500.37.

I wonder what he considers a lot of money, Eric thought. He was uneasy about everything that had just happened. The man in black seemed to know everything about him, but he knew nothing about this potential employer. He needed more information and decided not to spend any of the newly deposited funds in his account.

Not until he had done a little research.

He was about to return his phone to his pocket when a new text message popped up on the screen. He didn’t recognize the number.

We can change the world, but we need people like you who are willing to stand up for what they believe.

Eric dropped the phone on the table and picked up the shiny, black card. He studied the silver writing: Exercitus Hominis. “The Army of the Man,” he whispered. He turned the card over and saw the same number from which he had just received the text. Two questions popped into his head. How had Stafford gotten his phone number. He voiced the other aloud.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”