Simple Question

“Hey,” said Mandy, “Have you ever wondered why the lights on the third floor never seem to work?”

“It couldn’t possibly be because the lights need to be replaced,” snarked Denny, “Obviously there’s some other reason.”

“No, I’m serious,” persisted Mandy, “The lights have been flickering on that floor ever since I got here. They always do that.”

“Okay, what do you think it is?” asked Theo.

“It’s all part of some government conspiracy to cover up the existence of a secret shadow order that’s secretly had control of the world for nine hundred years.” Mandy pushed the bridge of her glasses and tilted her head; the light from the window reflected off the lenses, leaving her eyes hidden from view. As Theo and Denny stared in disbelief, Mandy clasped her hands in front of her mouth, covering it from view.

“Seriously?” asked Denny, rubbing his eyes to ward off the incoming headache. “How do you even get to that conclusion?”

“Read it online,” answered Mandy, “You’d be surprised at how many sites there are dedicated to presenting all the inconvenient truths people don’t feel like facing.”

“Aaand conspiracy theorist,” muttered Denny.

“Wait, that’s not how it is,” said Theo suddenly. Denny and Mandy turned to him, surprised.

“What?” said Denny in disbelief.

“What do you mean that’s not how it?” asked Mandy.

“I always thought the lights flickered because the school was diverting power to the alien spaceship they keep in the basement.” Theo got only blank stares from Denny and Mandy.

“No, you’ve got it all wrong,” said Rick, coming into the room, a glass of milk in his hand. He drained it at a gulp before continuing.

“I heard that a girl killed herself by jumping out a window because her boyfriend left her for the captain of the cheerleading squad. And ever since then, the lights flicker as she wanders the halls, seeking her revenge.” Rick finished his sentence in a loud, overly dramatic sort of voice, accompanied by superfluous gestures and hand-waving.

“That’s it?” said Denny, deadpan, “That lame story sounds like you made it up in, like, five minutes.”

“No way, dude,” retorted Rick, “I heard that story when I was a freshman. It’s about as old as the school itself. That girl was in the first batch of students here or something.”

“No, I still think it’s aliens,” said Theo, shaking his head.

“No, it’s all a cover-up, don’t you see!” said Mandy, “That’s just what the government wants you to think!”

“Guys, this is ridiculous,” said Denny, “There is nothing wrong with the lights. They’re just broken that’s all.” None of the others heard him, as they were all to busy arguing over who was right.

“Okay, then let’s have a stakeout tonight and see what’s really wrong with the lights,” said Rick.

“You’re on!” answered Mandy. She, Rick, and Theo ran off to their dorms, discussing their plans for staying up as Denny followed in their wake.

“Why me?” he muttered.

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Later that night, in the basement, the school janitor kept his cleaning materials in the storage closet, like he always did. With that done, he poked his head outside the closet, checking for intruders. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he nodded to himself and went to the white, bland-looking wall. The janitor pressed a hidden button, and a part of the wall slid back, revealing a retinal scanner. The janitor looked into the scanner as the beam verified his identity. Satisfied, the hidden elevator door opened and he stepped in, heading for the deepest section of the basement. As the door opened, he noticed a man in a sharp suit in the hall.

“Hey, H,” said the janitor. The other man turned, revealing that he wore a pair of shades.

“Mr. Reynolds, good evening,” replied the other man. Why the man was wearing sunglasses indoors, at night, no less, was anyone’s guess.

“So, how’re things down in the basement?” The man with the shades took his glasses off and glanced at the janitor.

“Going pretty well. I think we’ll finish some time next week if we keep this up.”

“Sounds great,” the janitor nodded, “As long as nobody finds out what we’re doing here, it’s fine. Can’t have anyone finding out about this place.”

“No, we can’t have that,” agreed the man with the shades, “Secrets are an important asset in our group.”

The janitor nodded in agreement; secrets had helped their organization survive for so long. “You’re right there,” he said, “But, what about that ghost on the third floor? What if she gets in the way?” The man with the shades opened his shades dramatically.

“Well, if she shows up again,” he slipped the shades on with a single, fluid movement, “She’s busted.”