In which danger is underfoot.
Neither of us robbed the other.
We easily could have.
We met in the dark recesses of the internet. I expected him to bring the device to the bank where we were meeting. It seemed a logical place for us to exchange the goods. I had enough cash on me to complete the swap. We should at least be in the ATM vestibule, with cameras to ensure our safety.
On arrival, he lacked the merchandise. Told me we needed to walk to his apartment, 3 minutes from the bank. Aware of the potential danger, I entered first the aluminum cage of his elevator and then his apartment.
He had the immaculate house of a subtly nefarious weapons expert. He showed me the two boxes: not just the device box, but the shipping box, too. The item, unboxed, sat still nearby. He diligently showed me step by step how to use its key functions.
By the end I even believed him when he said that his new model – which he bought for four times the price he was selling this one to me – doesn’t satisfy him any better than this old one.
At the end, I packed up the device and handed him the cash. He offered me an extra piece of bubblewrap to protect it.
But I forgot one key piece. While standing near the elevator, he popped out of his apartment, waving it with a knowing smile and laugh.
I will almost certainly never see this man again. But for a moment, we were friends. Co-conspirators, even.
I never learned his name.
And that, my friends, is how I acquired a robot vacuum.
Julian Wise 