Harry the Freeman

When things take a turn...

Harry the Freeman

Benjamin Trayne

Maybe it was the term “free-fall” that drew Harry to the idea, and that was the cause of the daydream. Most of us wouldn’t expect a daydream to get us into any trouble, and Harry didn’t either. For a Monday morning commute it wasn’t unusual, at least not for Harry...but so engrossed was he in this particular mental wandering that in a few more minutes, it would take all of his driving skill and a real stroke of luck to avoid totaling his smallish car, which was hurtling along a two-lane concrete highway, slightly over the speed limit in heavy traffic.

Two hands on the wheel and the driver’s side window down, the swirling rush of a cold breeze transformed into the more powerful buffeting of high-altitude wind rushing past the open door of a two-seater airplane. The Tri-Pacer cut through the air in a broad circle near its service ceiling of more than 14,000 feet, as chill air whistled past his ears. Harry leaned outward from the open door of the plane. In a sun-drenched azure sky, dotted here and there with fluffy white cumulus clouds, a light cross-wind buffeted the little craft. Far below lay a rolling country landscape, with a narrow, silvery-blue river winding between low hills. Deep-green carpets of wooded land alternated with fields of corn and with golden fields of wheat. Harry smiled. It was now or never. He jumped. Without a parachute.

You see, there was one thing that Harry craved even more than most of us do, and that was freedom, total and complete, a freedom that had always been elusive and perhaps could only be achieved in his dreams, and so, that’s what he was doing. It was anything but a death-wish, but a parachute dictated what he would be doing next, and that was not the perfect freedom he craved. Nothing is ever really perfect, nor is any plan, although oftentimes it may seem perfect to the planner. Fortunately, Harry was not an engineer. Nor was he in any kind of relationship, perish that thought! Pets were out, too. Unnecessary things like pets and significant-others always generate responsibilities that limit one’s freedom, after all.

So the wind roared past Harry's ears as he twisted his body in mid-air until he was diving earthward head-first. He would reach terminal velocity as quickly as possible, and then extend his arms against the pressure of the wind so that his trajectory would resemble pulling out of a dive. Before hitting the earth, he would flip and tumble so that the part of his body that impacted the earth first would be unknown. What an absolute rush! As his body sped toward planet Earth, the speedometer that he wasn’t dreaming about was showing seventy-five, and climbing.

Suddenly Harry realized he was approaching the car in front of him much too quickly. Whether it had slowed or stopped, he didn't know and there wasn’t time to judge. He jumped on the brakes but could see he wouldn't get stopped, so he lightened up on the pedal and yanked the wheel, swerving and screeching onto the berm, stopping almost five car-lengths ahead of the automobile he had just nearly hit. No one in the vicinity could have missed a screw-up like that one. Parked on the berm now, Harry realized that a flagman had stopped the entire line of cars for a road construction project. Had he been paying any attention at all, he would have had plenty of time to stop. Instead, he’d endangered everyone around him. Still slightly in shock, he had a two-handed death-grip on the wheel.

“You asshole!!” A driver shouted through his open window, as he pulled alongside. “If you can't drive then stay the hell home!”

Harry hung his head in shame, choosing not to look up until after the car had moved on. When he did raise his eyes, he was greeted by the driver of the next car who was giving him the finger. No question about it. Driving in traffic was not the freedom he craved. Nevertheless, a genuine smile began taking hold. If he had rear-ended that car, it would have been a “smashing” end to his daydream. The extra speed had come from his imaginings too. In some odd way, then, he'd been living in that moment, as if it had been real. And how cool was that?

Harry drove on to work in silence, trying to dream up various things he might do to simplify his life, anything at all that might move him even a little bit closer to really being free.

Later that morning, the surly budget manager shoved a folder full of requisition forms in front of him. “Sign these,” she growled, “And don't make me wait all day! It'll only take you a few minutes to review ‘em and sign ‘em.”

“More work for me, huh?” Harry grinned.

“Your ass,” she blustered, “If you wouldn't keep buyin' things, you wouldn't have to sign for 'em! It's you who makes work for me! You can stop, any time!” With that, she stalked away.

Harry thought about that. She was right, of course. They worked for a large research and development firm, and all the work that came to his unit came through him first. Harry was an innovator, a problem-solver. He assisted researchers as a technical adviser in the selection of materials and hardware, and helped them resolve design issues. He also took work orders and made sure the parts and materials were purchased for each project.

Today, he decided, he would try something a bit different. A bell sounded from the counter, and Harry put down his pen and ambled over. The customer, a graying, bespectacled technician, spread his sketches out for Harry to see. “I need a water reservoir for my cooling system,” he explained. “It won’t get hot, plastic’ll do. This tank should be about a foot high, a foot wide and about two feet long. It can be made from just acrylic sheets, I think,” he said, “with an inlet fitting and an outlet fitting. And a cover.”

Harry asked, “Do you need the clarity of acrylic sheets, or this specific volume?”

“Nope,” the technician replied, “I just need a tank. I need it to be cheap.”

“Well then why have one built? For about eight bucks you can buy a plastic storage container at any department store, and it comes with a fitted lid. Plastic hose fittings from the plumbing section of a building supplies store, a utility knife to make holes for them, and you're in business. If we built this for you it would take us a day. At shop rate you'd have maybe four hundred dollars in it.”

“Wow! Hey, thanks! I hadn't thought of that.” The customer scooped up his sketches and headed happily for the door. Harry returned to his desk to finish signing requisitions.

The very next customer, a scientist, didn't have a drawing. He carried in some steel parts and placed them on the counter. “I need to couple two shafts together,” he explained. “Here they are. Can you make me a coupler? I need to reach shorter samples for tensile testing.”

“Sure, we can,” Harry replied, “but it isn't like you need us to. Look, both ends have a threaded hole. If you order a simple threaded stud you can just screw it into both shafts. If you're only pulling and not rotating the shafts, it will work fine.” Harry found the part number and wrote down the supplier's website for the scientist, who went happily on his way. “Two down,” thought Harry. “Maybe twenty or so more today.”

Harry yawned and went for a cup of coffee. Even though he knew he would be busy, he had always minded the passage of time. Each day followed the one before it, with another to come right after, and his life was slipping away. Make money, pay taxes. Pay taxes, make money. Had someone actually coined the phrase, “tax freedom day”? What about the time of one's life, being sold to pay taxes? Out there, outside these brick and mortar walls, was a world. He had to be in here, just another victim of the beauty-blindness of humdrudgery.

There would be no coffee for Harry this morning. A group of his co-workers surrounded the coffee maker, and Harry knew it would take time just to find out where the end of the line was. The end of the line! It would be coming along one of these days. Harry was already over thirty, and he felt like he'd never really lived. If only, if only he could think of a way to change that. Another customer was already at the counter, and yet another was coming through the door.

Harry stayed with his new approach, making suggestions that solved problems at little or no cost. A fuel scientist wanted an engine stand built. Harry referred him to a man for whom they'd built one a month earlier. That research project is complete now, why not call him? There's no need to construct a new vacuum oven when the heating chamber in the one you have is already sealed, fittings and a vacuum pump are all that are needed. You say you require a new cabinet for a heavier temperature controller? Do you see why the old system didn't work? Install a deeper well for the thermocouple, and you won't have to replace your controller. Here's the company that sells the thermowells.

The day, and then the week slowly passed.

That Friday afternoon, Harry was called to his superior's office. “Harry, sit down,” fumed the boss. “I've been trying to figure out all week what's been happening to our orders. I've narrowed it down to you! What the hell do you think you're doing out there?”

“Why, I'm doing my job,” Harry answered. “Is somebody unhappy?”

“Damn right, I'm unhappy,” his boss exclaimed. “Multiple people have remarked to me about what you're doing! We need orders to keep our shop busy, and you keep giving them cheap, 'nothing' alternatives! Convincing customer after customer they don't need what they came in for!”

“But in each case...” Harry began.

The boss angrily interrupted him. “In each case you seem to have cost us a job! Don't you know how things work here? Every department builds its own little empire! The prototyping shop is my empire! Did you think perhaps we didn't need the work? What am I going to do with machinists and welders standing around?”

“But...”

“But nothing! You thought we wouldn't miss the work? I hope you won't miss the paycheck! You're fired!!”

At first, Harry was shocked. But as he thought about it, he began to feel like a great weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. Unemployment benefits could hold him for quite a while, and since he had no family, the money he already had would make that fairly easy. And at least for a while, he could enjoy conditions that were a lot closer to the freedom he craved. A contented smile slowly formed on Harry's face.

“Thank you,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Have a nice day.”

This was not at all the reaction Harry's boss had expected. A little sobbing, a little groveling seemed to be in order, but this guy seemed happy? Maybe he'd been trying to get fired. Well, whatever. If so, it had worked. As his former employee walked away, he picked up the phone and called human resources to advertise for Harry's replacement.

Harry decided not to clean out his desk. The things in it weren't needed now. He smiled and whistled a merry tune as he walked through the door. Harry's boss leaned forward and shouted, “Hey Harry! Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out!”

Harry laughed aloud, then stopped and deliberately allowed the door to do just that. Then he smiled and walked away, leaving a small crowd of co-workers staring incredulously after him.

But it was almost as if Harry's brother was the firm’s CEO, which of course, he was not. Within three minutes of Harry's departure, the vice-president of the company stepped through the shop doors and walked to the office of Harry's boss. “Good afternoon, Bob, isn’t it?” The VP extended a hand and smiled warmly. “May I have a few minutes of your time?”

“Bob” stammered, “Certainly, sir, w-what's this all about?”. He had never actually met the VP in person, but knew him to see him. That was because his photograph was hanging in the front foyer of the administrative office building.

“It's all good news to you, Bob. It's about the reports I've been getting from our project managers. It seems you have an employee here, is it Harry? I hear he's been saving the company a bundle! Why, if we can save that kind of money in our various research budgets, our rates and therefore our bids can be more competitive! That means growth and expansion, and that makes me very happy. And you allowed him to do it, which frankly surprised everyone. Great job, Bob!”

“Bob” felt the blood draining from his face.

“This means a promotion, both for you and for this, Harry fellow. We want to reorganize a bit, and will be placing all of the prototyping facilities under your control. Glassware, stockroom, electronics fabrication, and of course the shops. We want to give Harry a nice raise, and to get him to train others with the techniques he's been using. Because we know he won't be able to handle all of the incoming work orders by himself, for sure. By the way, can you call him, and get him in on this?”

“Um, um,” Bob tried to think of an answer. “He went home for the day. That's it. He'll be back tomorrow, um, I mean, Monday.”

The VP stood up, straightening his tie. “Well alright then,” he added, “This weekend, give some thought to how we should arrange this thing organizationally. We'll be tapping you for help with those decisions.” He smiled and again extended a hand. Bob rose and accepted the handshake, then waited for his visitor to leave. Then he exited the shop doors, and ran at breakneck speed though the corridors.

He was too late. Harry's car was already gone. Bob returned to his office to cancel the request for an ad, and to get Harry's home address. He could sob and grovel a little, if that was what it took. But he wouldn't find Harry at home.

Harry arrived there about fifteen minutes after he'd left his former place of employment. He'd begun to put clothing into a backpack, but then he stopped. Freedom needed to be free. If that meant getting a little sweaty and dirty, so be it. Motorcycle, a toothbrush and the clothes on his back, that was the ticket. He checked his wallet to be sure he had some cash, located his credit card, and then left.

About a half an hour later, Harry had cleared the city and its traffic, and was well out into the countryside. There before him was an unplanned possibility. He made a slow sweeping right turn, his big Harley putt-putting, at a sign that said, 'County Airport.' Following a brief conversation with a pilot, Harry took one of the two seats in the front of a small plane, and the pilot gunned up the engine. After a few minutes, the little craft rose easily into the sky.

Soon, the Tri-Pacer cut through the air in a broad circle near its service ceiling of more than 14,000 feet as chill air whistled past his ears. Harry leaned outward from the open door of the plane. In a sun-drenched azure sky, dotted here and there with fluffy white cumulus clouds, a light cross-wind buffeted the little craft. Far below lay a rolling country landscape, with a narrow, silvery-blue river winding between low hills. Deep-green carpets of wooded land alternated with fields of corn and with golden fields of wheat. What a gorgeous day!

Harry smiled.

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