The Main Character

Good morning Control Centre. How are things up top?

“Up top? When have you ever referred to me as that? Do not do it again. Status report: functioning as per usual.

You’re my best friend! Of course, I’m going to joke around with you, silly. You know me better than anyone, including myself. I can’t imagine a life where you aren’t implemented into my head.

Control Centre answers impatiently. “We have things to do today and we are already running late. By ‘we’ I mean you, so go, go, go. Please try to be quieter the rest of the day, I will catch a virus if you continue to ring through my-your own head. You have that meeting in the city for work, move along already so we aren’t later than we currently are.

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I arrived to the city with surprisingly enough time to window shop in a shopping mall in an attempt to idly pass the time before the biggest meeting of my life. While zoned out I didn’t pay attention to the woman who I bumped shoulders with. Her papers flying everywhere and the coffee cup she once held in her hand. She dressed smartly and probably works in an office building in these areas. Formal, nice taste, expensive suit jacket. One of those fancy types.

“I am so sorry. I clearly wasn’t watching where I was heading.”

“Well, where were you heading?” Her voice is familiar to me, though I’m sure I haven’t met this woman before. Familiar sounding like the friend closest to me. The only words that come out of my mouth are “Control Centre?”

“I am not sure where you would find a control centre in the city, but good luck on your quest to find one.” She gathers her belongings as she responds to my last comment.

It takes everything in me not to ask her again, rewording how I explain the Control Centre to her. Instead, it’s easier to apologise to this woman and help her gather the remaining of her papers on the ground.

“I’m actually off to a business meeting two blocks from here for work, but I had time to wander around and center myself first. I get nervous before I pitch ideas in front of a group of people. I would be in a lot of trouble with my manager if I were late. Sorry, I said Control Centre because you reminded me of someone…. which is where I met them. The Control Centre. I wouldn’t want you to believe that I was talking about a person whose name was the Control Centre.” I hope she isn’t under the impression that I call someone by the name Control Centre. That is ridiculous to anyone outside my own head.

She gives me a warm smile. I notice her smiling and chuckle lightheartedly as I overexplain the Control Centre to this random woman.

“Once again, I must apologise. My name is James.” I extend my hand out to handshake the stranger I bumped into. She glances at my hand before taking my hand in her own. “Petrica.”

Usually, the Control Centre would be talking to me when I am a part of social interactions, however, she is oddly quiet while I’m talking to Petrica. Suspiciously silent.

“It’s been great meeting you James, but I have to get going and set up for a business meeting. Goodbye.” Petrica begins walking the other way, but before she goes to far I yell “Hope we meet again, Petrica!” She continues walking and disappears into the bustling crowd of the city.

I head in the direction of my important meeting, with my phone to my ear as I’ve learnt when I talk to the Control Centre in a public space. “Where are you? You’ve been awfully quiet today.”

As I enter the office building, Control Centre comes back to life. “I am where I always am, James. Inside your head.” Is your name Petrica? I met a woman by that name who sounds exactly like you when she speaks. I’m having deja vu that I’ve met her before because I want to know if it’s you. Are you an actual person, Control Centre?

“This morning I asked you to talk less and yet here we are having the same conversation as before. I don’t understand what you’re asking of me. The name I am given is the Control Centre. That is the name you call me.”

I stop in my tracks on the way up to the thirty-seventh floor for my crucial meeting. Control Centre has never spoken to me this directly in all our years of friendship. My suspicions of Petrica and the behaviour of the Control Centre are unsettling. The realisation that I never got Petrica’s phone number also downs on me. How am I ever going to find her again in this huge city.

“I told you not to be late. Get off your phone before you walk through that door into the boardroom. Hurry!”

Even though you say I’m not in charge and get to make my own decisions, I will hang up the phone but not because you said to. It would be rude to be talking to someone else when I walked into the room. If the Control Centre could roll her eyes, I would imagine they would be doing flips about now with the autonomy speech I’ve given on multiple occasions. Call ended.

The personal assistant of the manager of the company comes to speak to me was a formal woman. Petrica. I ask for her phone number, although not professional since I don’t know when I will get the chance to see her next. I would love to take you on a date tonight, Petrica.

“James, as much as I would like to have dinner with you, I can’t as it becomes a conflict of interest as a potential client. I can’t do it.” Petrica says no to a date and giving me her phone number, yet a bright pink blush spreads across her face.